Part 6 (1/2)

”Angelica...”

She looked up into his eyes. Something in the way he gazed at her made her insides flutter. His perfect mouth was only inches away. He lowered his head. She held her breath in antic.i.p.ation, expectant.

He stopped short.

Looking away, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he grasped her wrists, pulled her hands off his waist, and eased her arms down to her sides.

He stepped back, breaking the tantalizing contact, and bellowed for Henri. The boom of his voice made her jump.

She placed her hand over her racing heart. The heat still coursing through her hadn't dissipated in the least once he'd stepped away.

His body rigid, he issued a curt order to Henri to escort her back to her chamber, then murmured good night to her, and strode out of the dining hall.

When Simon entered the library, he went straight to the brandy, poured himself a goblet, and downed the amber liquid. His body was tense. Aroused. Agitated in the extreme. What the h.e.l.l was he doing? His thoughts should be on Thomas. His men. Not on this woman. He was becoming drawn into her game of mystery. And he couldn't allow it.

The evening had been a fiasco. He'd learned nothing. It only made matters worse that she'd pressed herself against him with the most perfect pressure over the engorged head of his c.o.c.k and stared up at him with open curiosity.

Jesus-Christ. The urge to seduce her into indulging in the stunning desire that burned between them was so powerful, he'd all but run from the room.

And he'd never run from anyone.

He couldn't even trust himself to kiss those lush lips just once without surely deflowering her. What the f.u.c.k was the matter with him? What about her virginal ways could have possibly ignited his desire to this extent?

She was a problem he needed to rectify. He couldn't allow her to wield such power over him. He had enough people exerting their power to his detriment. Whatever game she was playing, he couldn't permit himself to be drawn into it. He'd no idea what to make of her secrets. Of her. And he shouldn't care to involve himself when his life was already far too involved.

He raked a hand through his hair, then slammed the goblet down on the wooden desk with a resounding clunk.

Tomorrow, he'd have a conversation with Gabriella and learn all that he wished to know about the green-eyed sorceress. Her friend would tell him what Angelica would not. Once he learned her secrets, her magic would be ineffective.

Dieu. What was he going to do with them if they didn't provide him with a destination-other than that horrible convent?

Chapter Six.

”Captain!” Henri approached Simon the next morning the moment he returned to Chateau Arles. Yet another night Simon hadn't slept. After tossing and turning in his bed for hours, he'd given up on sleep and gone down to briefly check on his s.h.i.+ps, then to Robert's stable. A long ride had improved his disposition somewhat this morning. It had cleared his head of his moonlight beauty. Though this perilous situation he was in with Fouquet still hung like a noose around his neck.

”Monsieur le Marquis wishes to see you. His things are packed, and he is ready to leave.”

Simon swore under his breath. He'd meant to join Robert early this morning, well before his departure.

”Wait, Captain. There is more,” his loyal servant advised. ”The king's s.h.i.+ps have just arrived. And the two missing men... They've been found.”

The words. .h.i.t Simon in the gut. ”Gilbert and Daniel? Are they...alive?”

”Yes, Captain. They were found at the French border and brought here while you were out. They are weak but alive.”

Relief flooded through him. ”Where are they now?”

”I had them placed in separate chambers, near yours.”

”And where are my commanders from the king's s.h.i.+ps?”

”All seven await you in the dining hall. Monsieur Armand has been reviewing the ledgers of each newly returned s.h.i.+p.”

Simon nodded, his mind racing. The king's wars.h.i.+ps had finally returned.

And Gilbert and Daniel had been found alive.

Would they be able to tell him what had happened to Thomas? How much did the Spaniards know? Jesus-Christ, he hoped the two men knew the answers to the questions that had plagued him since Thomas was found dead. He needed to speak to them, and he needed to speak to his seven commanders, who were awaiting further orders.

But first there was Robert. Robert always came first.

And then he would have his talk with Gilbert and Daniel.

Though thin and weak, Gilbert quaked with fury, his eyes alight with vengeance. ”Captain, I ask permission to work the cannons on the s.h.i.+p that strikes at La Estella Blanco,” he said. His voice quavered with emotion.

Daniel had asked the very same thing. In much the same way.

For the last two hours, Simon had questioned the men separately about their capture and escape, what they had learned and revealed while in the Spanish prison-and the specifics of what had happened to Thomas.

Simon rose. ”Rest now. Rebuild your strength.”

Stopping outside the chamber, Simon rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb, wis.h.i.+ng he could erase the images of Thomas's torturous death from his mind's eye.

In graphic detail, each man had recounted how the Spanish had killed Thomas. Slowly. Before them. Instead of breaking their wills, the horrific act had strengthened their resolve to maintain their silence long enough to escape. They had reached the French border by stealing horses and food along the way.

However, the most astounding news was that Thomas had provided the two men with one last bit of information before their capture.

Thomas had learned that a Spanish s.h.i.+p was due to reach Spain by the end of the month, with a cargo that promised to be heavy with precious metal.

La Estella Blanco.

In his insurgent frame of mind, striking at the Spanish s.h.i.+p was the last thing Simon wanted to do. The notion of handing over more riches to Fouquet made him sick.

But how could he not strike at the Spanish s.h.i.+p? Thomas had lost his life to provide them with this information. Furthermore, Simon hated to admit it, but he had to capture its rich cargo in case his wars.h.i.+ps failed to earn enough for the Crown.

Thomas's death wasn't just a terrible personal loss to Simon. It was also a devastating blow to their operations.

He'd have to meet with his commanders and a.s.sign the s.h.i.+ps' new positions blindly, without the usual insight gained by his spies-Thomas, Daniel, and Gilbert. Simon would have to rely on his instincts and judgment.

And lately, neither was reliable.

Providing results-weakening the Spanish financially-was not negotiable to Fouquet. They had to maintain their indispensability in his eyes or face the dire consequences. It wasn't above Fouquet to fabricate allegations of treason to remove Simon's wars.h.i.+ps from him. For Simon to die was one thing, but to have his men die because they'd followed him in his quest for promotion was another matter altogether.