The Caged Countess. Joanna Fulford
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demanding. A hand caressed the length of her waist to her hip and moved thence to the secret place between her thighs, stroking gently. The touch sent liquid fire to her loins. Claudine gasped. The stroking continued. Her body quivered in response. She felt him unfasten his breeches and, moments later, his arousal hard against her leg … And then the door was flung open and booted feet tramped across the room. Ruthless hands dragged the curtains apart to reveal three uniformed officers. Duval turned and swore. That too had the merit of being genuine. Beside him, Claudine stifled a scream, dragging the sheet over her bosom, her eyes wide with shock.
Duval mentally prayed as his hand closed over her wrist in silent warning. If she lost her nerve now it was all over. Could she be relied on to play her part? Then Madame Renaud pushed past the intruders to address him.
‘I’m so sorry, monsieur. It’s all a misunderstanding.’
‘It had damned well better be,’ he replied. ‘What the devil’s going on?’
‘We’re looking for a woman,’ replied the officer in charge.
‘You’ve come to the right establishment then,’ said Duval, ‘only this one’s spoken for.’
The officer ignored him and looked at Claudine. ‘Who is this?’
With pounding heart she forced herself to return his stare, assuming what she hoped was a sufficiently brazen manner. Then she opened her mouth to speak, but Madame Renaud was before her and bristling with indignation.
‘This is Fifi. She’s one of my girls.’
‘How long has she been in your employ?’
‘About six months now.’
‘Indeed.’ The officer’s gaze appraised Claudine silently, his gaze stripping the sheet away. ‘Pretty girl.’
She wanted to slap the leering expression off his face. Instead she returned a provocative smile and fluttered her eyelashes.
‘There are many pretty girls here,’ replied Madame Renaud. ‘And they can cater for all tastes.’
Sickened to the depths of her soul by the speculative looks directed her way, Claudine forced herself to sustain the role. Duval glared at the intruders.
‘The only taste she has to cater for right now is mine.’ He looked meaningfully at Madame Renaud. ‘I paid you in good faith for the whole night with Fifi, and I mean to have my money’s worth.’
The men standing behind their officer raised their eyebrows and exchanged knowing grins. Madame nodded.
‘Of course you do, monsieur,’ she soothed. ‘I can only apologise for the interruption. I hope she pleases you.’
‘Fifi pleases me very much.’ The inflection was impossible to miss.
‘Monsieur Fouché says the same,’ replied Madame.
The officer’s head jerked round and his face paled a little. ‘Monsieur Fouché? He is a patron here?’
‘That’s right. He values discretion, you see, and I run a discreet establishment. I don’t suppose he’ll be too happy when he learns about all this uproar. Nevertheless, learn of it he will because I shall certainly lodge a complaint.’
The man seemed much taken aback. ‘I was merely doing my duty by acting on information received. However, it seems our information may have been wrong after all.’
Madame gave him a pitying look. ‘I think someone’s having a joke at your expense.’
That possibility was dawning on him too. Spots of angry colour appeared in his cheeks. ‘We will withdraw.’ He inclined his head towards the two in the bed. ‘I beg your pardon, monsieur, mademoiselle.’
Duval eyed him coldly. ‘Close the door when you leave.’ Then, apparently considering the matter at an end, he turned his back on them and laid a hand over Claudine’s breast. ‘Now, chérie, where were we?’
For a moment the officer seemed rooted to the spot, not knowing quite how to respond. His men grinned broadly. Then Madame stepped in and chivvied them out into the corridor. Seeing the door finally close behind them Claudine let out the breath she had been holding and collapsed on to the pillows, trembling with relief. Duval smiled.
‘Well done.’
‘It is Madame who deserves our thanks,’ she replied.
‘She was wonderful. The police will have to look elsewhere for their spy.’ He paused. ‘Your performance too was … most creditable.’
‘I can act a part when I have to.’
‘A part you play to perfection if I may say so.’
Indignation flared. ‘Yes, a part I play, and not at all what you think.’
Seeing the expression of amused scepticism that greeted these words, she squirmed inwardly. She was naked and in bed with a stranger in a brothel. Not what he thought? Dear heaven! He was only too justified in thinking it. Mortified now, she hurried on.
‘This was a necessary ruse. If there had been any other way I would have taken it.’
‘Of course.’ The tone was gently mocking like his smile.
Claudine gathered together the last shreds of her dignity. ‘I came here to meet Alain and to obtain the information he carried. The choice of venue was not mine. I would never have come here willingly any more than I would willingly have climbed into bed with you.’
She was unable to conceal the self-disgust she felt. However, Duval put a very different interpretation on her expression just then, and amusement ebbed. Despite his doubts she had indeed played her part well, but then the darkness hid all defects and she had been acting to save her life. The truth was that she found the thought of sexual congress with him to be abhorrent. The knowledge caused a sensation that was very like pain. He had thought himself past all this and it disturbed him to discover how far he was wrong. This woman had awoken something in him that he had believed dead. For a little while, in the forgiving darkness, he had thought she wanted him too. Now he felt angry with himself. His was no longer a face to attract the fair sex. That he had imagined such a woman might desire him was so pathetic it was laughable.
‘You need have no fear that I would force myself on you, chérie,’ he replied. ‘I prefer my women willing.’
The tone was perfectly even but she sensed the anger beneath. It served only to increase her shame. Mingled with it was an emotion that was disturbingly like regret.
Duval turned away and swung his legs over the side of the bed. When he had fastened his breeches he glanced over his shoulder.
‘Get dressed. We’re leaving as soon as the coast is clear.’
Claudine located her chemise and drew it on hurriedly. ‘I told you, I can take care of myself.’
She slid out of bed and reached for the pile of discarded clothing, supremely aware of the virile figure just feet away.
‘I gave my word to Alain and I mean to keep it,’ he replied.
‘You have already kept your word.’ She found her stays. ‘I am grateful, truly. But this is where we part company.’
‘We part company when I have delivered you safe on English soil. Now turn around.’
‘Why?’
‘So I can lace you up, why else?’ he growled. ‘Must you argue about everything?’
Claudine glared at him but, realising it would be impossible to manage alone, obeyed. ‘I do not argue about everything.’
His hands moved deftly to the task. ‘No?’
‘No. I was just telling you …’ She broke off with a startled gasp as the lacing was drawn tight.
‘I know full well