Part 16 (1/2)

”Lovely answer.” His voice was bland. ”Too bad I no longer have any confidence in your sincerity. I no longer know when you are being true or false. I'd love to know, however, if I have sufficiently amused you with this game you choose to play with me.”

”I derive no amus.e.m.e.nt from any of this.”

”You must gain some benefit from it, chere. Why else would you do it?”

”It's complicated.”

”Really.”

He placed his strong hands on the arms of her chair and dragged it closer to him. Surprised, she stiffened.

”I have no problem with anonymous s.e.x, Angelica, since that seems to be your preference. What I do have a problem with, is being made a fool of.”

”Simon,” she began.

”Before you attempt to tell me that I have withheld information about myself as well, I wish to remind you that you know a good deal more about me than I know about you. Now then, if you have something to tell me-anything at all-this would be an excellent time to say it.”

She looked into his eyes, hating his sarcastic tone. Tell him, a voice inside her urged. Let him know. Perhaps he'll understand.

He waited. Time stretched.

She swallowed and to tried break the barrier of silence; she tried to select the words to say, but they all sounded sordid. Ugly. Faced with the moment of truth, she came to the defeating realization that she couldn't do it. There was still the chance that whenever he'd look at her, all he'd see was her soiling. And she couldn't stand that. She would rather deal with his anger, for anger fades, but disgust and pity linger on indefinitely.

”I wasn't trying to make a fool of you. I never said I was a virgin. I've told you, all personal information about me is irrelevant. I'm willing to wager that the women you have been with in the past haven't been virgins either. No?”

”What does that have to do with this?”

”If the others were not virgins, then what difference can it make if I wasn't one too? Why must it be important?”

He rose abruptly, startling her. Placing a hand on the arm of her chair and another under her chin, he said, ”You are correct. None of this is important.” He straightened. ”I suppose all that is left to say, mademoiselle, is thank you for the tumble.”

Standing in front of the window of his library, Simon stared outside as he braced his hands on the frame. He wrestled to get hold of his fury, resentful of the emotions clas.h.i.+ng inside of him. As a matter of pride, he'd refused to ask Angelica about her former lovers.

Since when had he ever cared about any woman's past?

He couldn't believe that on the day he'd had to tell Marie that Thomas was dead, he was wasting a moment's thought on a woman who toyed with him. He'd reviewed every detail of last night, every detail of every conversation they'd ever had, trying to understand how he could have been so mistaken about her, every time.

Was there anything else he'd b.l.o.o.d.y well missed that he should have noted?

He'd thought of every possible scenario to explain why she had not been a virgin-from rape to wh.o.r.edom, and everything in between. Each scenario churned his stomach. He had no idea who she was. Where she was born. Or when she'd lost her virginity.

Absolutely nothing!

She'd had him entangled in her game of mystery from the start. And he'd played along, panting after her all the while, devoting far more time and effort to her than he ever had to any other woman.

If all she was willing to offer him was her body for a night-fine. He had gladly accepted it and enjoyed it. The luscious memory conjured in his mind, and sure enough, predictably, he was stiff as a spike.

He was sick of the effect she had on him.

Turning away from the window, he walked over to the decanter of brandy, poured himself some, and drank it down.

Now was the time to move on.

He was glad to be home. Marguerite was special to him. It was his. The only place he could call his own. It was scenic and balmy. And there were women on Marguerite willing to indulge in s.e.x without the mental torment.

He was here for rest and to make key decisions about Fouquet's downfall, not to mention what he was going to do with the rest of his life, if he survived.

Simon poured himself another goblet of brandy.

So f.u.c.king Angelica had been even better than he'd antic.i.p.ated. So she had the sweetest s.e.x he'd ever known-all that snug heat squeezing him so tightly she'd made him throb. He'd wanted Angelica since he'd laid eyes on her. Last night, he'd had her. She wasn't a virgin. So what? He should be rejoicing. He didn't have to add dishonoring innocents to his lengthy list of sins.

What did he care if she lied to him in or out of bed?

He turned and whipped his goblet against the wall. Merde!

This was eating him up inside. And he hated it that it bothered him at all. Worse, he loathed the idea that she saw him as a man unworthy of her trust.

”Would it not be better to drink the brandy?”

Simon spun around and saw his friend, Jules de Moutier, standing at the entrance of the library, his brow c.o.c.ked.

Simon shook his head, embarra.s.sed at his display. ”Jules.” He forced a smile.

”Dieu, it's good to see you.” Jules approached with a broad grin. The two men of similar age and build exchanged greetings with a manly embrace.

Jules nodded at the mess on the floor. ”Does this have to do with Thomas? I saw Armand. He told me the news.”

It had to do with everything, including Thomas. His world was a snarled web, and somehow he'd allowed a woman to play him and turn him inside out. ”Let us say that I have had better days.”

Jules nodded. Then a slight smile tugged at his lips. ”What is this I hear about you finding women in a convent and bringing them to the island?”

Simon sat down behind his desk. ”Armand doesn't waste any time in filling your ears, does he?”

Jules chuckled. ”Is it true Domenico has decided to marry one of them?”

”Yes, it's true. And no, I don't intend to discuss the women today. We will talk tomorrow. You can fill me in on the details of Marguerite and our sugar profits then.”

Angelica was the very last subject he wanted to discuss at the moment. He hadn't seen his friend in almost two years. He and Jules had much to catch up on. In his absence, Simon had left the island in Jules's capable hands.

”Absolutely. I must confess, I'm looking forward to the convent story. What about the other woman? Are you keeping her for yourself?”

”Jules...” His exasperation was mounting.

Jules grinned. ”That beautiful, eh? Is she the reason you christened the floor with brandy?”