The Sheik's Son Page 17

  The noise from the audience below was loud and their private conversation could not be overheard by anyone.

  Leila opened her delicately painted fan and waved it once in front of her face. “Find us a room, Etienne. I’ll make an excuse to get away.” She spoke to him, but looked out over the audience.

  Etienne looked at her incredulously. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Not at all. I know exactly what I want.” Her blue eyes seemed almost black as they met his shocked ones.

  “I don’t think any man wants to be chased and hunted in quite this manner, Leila,” he told her sourly.

  “Oh! Is that what’s bothering you?” she said, smiling wildly behind the fan. “Then by all means, chase me.”

  Etienne made a sound. “What you need is a spanking!” he said sharply.

  Leila smiled. “I agree entirely. A spanking is exactly what I need.” She licked her lips provocatively.

  He smiled as well and stood up. He moved toward her in a solicitous manner and pulled her up by her right elbow. He didn’t want anyone watching to think there was something wrong. He moved away from the railing and behind the chairs, taking her with him. There was a piece of drapery that could be used as a divider between the chairs used for the entertainment and the area behind the curtain, where there was a small couch and table for relaxation after the concert.

  Etienne moved the drapes over to secure their privacy. He turned on her and his face was a mask of anger. “Leila, I swear on all that’s holy, I’ve had enough of your taunts and torments.” Etienne was being pushed to the breaking point.

  He had pressed her up against the wall and held her slim forearms in his hands. “Have you?” She smirked.

  “Yes. I want everything to stop. If you continue to tease me like a little slut I’m going to tell Sebastian everything.”

  Leila blushed at the harsh word he used because they both knew she had only known one man intimately. But she was behaving like a trollop with him.

  “Everything?” Leila gasped.

  “Everything,” he confirmed.

  “How many times did we make love at the chateau?” she asked, playing dumb.

  Etienne closed his eyes. Even now he wanted her. “Leila, you can’t do this. We can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “This. There are rules.”

  “Rules can be broken.”

  “No, they can’t. You can’t ask me to find us a room. We can’t meet. Nothing can happen. The chateau was a mistake.”

  “No. It wasn’t.” She moved her lips to his ear. “Even now I remember you inside me. I want you so badly.”

  Oh Jesus. He was fighting a losing battle. Why was he fighting? He growled.

  He took her mouth with his and the minute he released her arms, she was pulling him tighter to her. She was so luscious and sweet he couldn’t stop. Lord help him, he couldn’t stop. He was pulling up her skirt and petticoats and pushing her against the wall at the same time he was opening his breeches. Suddenly he was pressing into her tight, wet core as she was wrapping her legs around his waist.

  He took her against the wall like a common slut even as she moaned in his ear. He anchored her to the wall, pushing into her again and again. Her breathy sighs and moans filled his ear but no one past the drapes could hear them over the din of the loud audience. She climaxed with a breathy sigh in his ear as he emptied his seed deep inside her.

  She closed her eyes as she felt his thickness still within her but Etienne felt nothing but shame after the climax. He had taken her again. It was against everything he believed. He was not behaving honorably. He had soiled an innocent virgin and the sister of his friend, no less. It was only a few minutes later as the music began that Sebastian joined them and Etienne excused himself. He needed to get away from Leila.

  ***

  Sebastian had not planned to speak with Sophie until the ball, but when he saw her outside with her friend during intermission, he knew he must take this opportunity. The subject would place her on the defensive, so this was as good a time as any.

  “Mademoiselle Gauvreau.” He nodded to Sophie and to her friend, who he remembered as Lizette Robidoux. “Mademoiselle Robidoux.”

  Lizette nodded and politely excused herself. It was obvious that Sebastian had sought out her friend to speak with her.

  “Sophie.”

  “Yes, Sebastian?”

  “I think you’ve completely lost your mind.” He would not mince words.

  “Do you?”

  “Sophie, what are you doing?” Genuine concern showed across his face, and suddenly she knew what he was talking about.

  “I’m not a child.”

  “Does your father even know?”

  “Of course not.”

  “So you aren’t a child, yet you hide your writings.”

  “He wouldn’t understand.”

  “Half of France will not bloody well understand.” He cursed his English side and the words he had picked up from there.

  Sophie saw other couples out enjoying the evening air during intermission and she turned to Sebastian. “I won’t be silenced.”

  He felt himself drowning in her hazel eyes. “This is dangerous. Do you know there is an inspector who is searching for you?”

  Sophie looked at him and nodded. “Yes, I know.”

  “And yet still you write.”

  She jerked her chin up at him. “Yes.”

  “I thought to warn you, to keep you safe, but you seem quite intent on ruining yourself.” He looked at her, willing her to see the great folly of this path she was on.

  “Ruining myself? Why? Because I write the truth? Because I want others to know the truth?”

  “You love to hide behind your books and words,” Sebastian told her. “But these words are dangerous. And France is in a dangerous time.”

  Sophie turned from him. “I can’t refrain. I wish this door hadn’t been opened. Ever since Madame Necker’s salon, all I do is read and realize how different things are from what I thought they were.” She almost pleaded with him.

  “I’m sorry,” Sebastian said sincerely.

  “No. I’m glad. I would rather know than be ignorant.”

  “And you must write?” he asked.

  “Yes. Don’t you see? I was enlightened, and now I may enlighten others.”

  “At risk to yourself, Sophie.” He almost whispered the words.

  “They won’t find me, Bash. My maid’s nephew delivers to the printer and he thinks it’s a male cousin who writes the pamphlets,” she said with certainty.

  Sebastian shook his head. She was so naïve for all her learning. “Sophie.” He absently touched her face, even as he felt himself in turmoil. “They’ll find you. It’s what they do.”

  She tried to stop the wave of desire that threaded through her as he touched her skin. She shook her head. “I will be safe.”

  Sebastian felt sick to his stomach. Sophie was throwing herself into the fire and he couldn’t save her. He watched her walk back inside the theater and couldn’t stop the growing sense of unease that filled him.

  Chapter 17

  The inspector had made several inquiries and had narrowed down his search to a printer named Monsieur Blanche who was known to be sympathetic to the people. He had watched the printer for a week and had seen one young boy enter the premises, which seemed suspicious. A child would enter a printer’s shop only if it was on an errand for someone else. Perhaps this someone else wished to remain anonymous and so sent the boy instead. He had been told by several street vendors that a young maid named Marie visited the shop periodically.

  But when he saw the young boy enter the printer’s shop, his interest was piqued and he thought perhaps this boy might lead him to the writer. Once the writer was found, she would be stopped. For the consensus was that the writer was a woman, and a lower-class woman at that. He rubbed his hands together. Inspector Alain Vennard was young but known to be ruthless and cunning when required.
>
  He would track down the little upstart and make certain that these pamphlets would cease. He was not above using violence and it would be enjoyable to break the spirit of a young woman who obviously had foolish ideas of women’s equality.

  Alain might have been called handsome, for his reddish, gold hair and small mustache were meticulously cultivated. But his blue eyes were ice cold, which matched his distant personality. He was of medium height but was able to blend in to any scene required. He could become a working man, able to follow a suspect to a tavern, or attend the opera if need be. His ability to blend in was an asset.

  The young boy was followed home and it was determined that no woman by the name of Marie lived with his family. But further questioning of the servants found that he had an aunt named Marie who was maid to a prominent home in an upscale neighborhood in Paris.

  Alain smiled. He was getting closer. Perhaps the writer was a governess or maybe Marie herself. He had trusted his instincts and they had been proven right. He must move carefully now.

  ***

  Sebastian watched the rain pour down upon the Paris streets from the window in his office. The duke had returned to England for a family emergency and he was alone in their office. Besides opening mail, receiving visitors and attending events on the duke’s behalf, there was little to do.

  He had not been keen to return to his duties after the conversation he’d had with Sophie. He was growing more concerned about her and knew that she was putting herself in danger.

  These inspectors were assigned a case and would ferret out information accordingly. Sometimes a case of great importance could make or break a career. An Inspector worth his salt would easily find the writer and bring her in for interrogation. Though she was well educated and her father was powerful, it would only take one night of questioning for an unsavory fellow to beat and even rape Sophie.

  The inspector might be charged or commended but Sophie would be completely destroyed.

  He turned the issue over in his mind several times and had no solution. The ball in her honor was almost upon them and he would attend with Leila and Etienne. He still had no idea how to curb her, short of telling her father, and that would be a grave betrayal.

  ***

  Alain had been pleased with his findings and had informed his superior. He knew the commissioner was not overly fond of him, but that he also knew Alain did what was necessary so he asked no questions. That in itself was uncommon. He also knew that his superior was a stupid man who had managed to obtain his position somehow, probably through a bribe or knowing the right family, but would not keep it much longer if Alain could help it. The commissioner was a simpleton who was overly fond of drink.

  Alain knew that his methods were not the norm and he sometimes crossed the line, but it was necessary and acceptable. He was willing to get his hands dirty, as many inspectors were not. Alain was closing in and he smiled. He would relish bringing the stupid woman to heel.

  ***

  Etienne was drinking more than he should and could not get Leila out of his head. He knew that he was in love with her, but that hardly mattered. He didn’t know what Leila felt for him but knew that she enjoyed their intimate moments and seemed intent on pursuing him no matter the cost.

  When Leila had asked him to get them a room, he had been shocked. No well-brought-up, unmarried lady would ever seek to find time alone with a man, especially in a sexual nature. But he had already learned too late that Leila was a wild spirit and whatever she wanted, she achieved.

  After getting to know her, he believed that, all along, Leila’s goal had been to come to Paris away from the stifling life with her parents. Vaguely he recalled she had one married sister in England and another sister here in France shortly to take her religious vows. Though her father had sent Leila to Paris, she seemed to have calculated the maneuver in order to come to enjoy its entertainment and diversions.

  He was annoyed and irritated that she had chosen him. He had been quite happy with his friendship with Sebastian and his life in Paris before the succubus had come into his life. Now he was completely consumed. He wanted her, and when she was away, he was like a schoolboy, always thinking of her. It was unfair when he considered that he had asked for none of this.

  The bigger issue at hand was the guilt that he felt every time he was with Leila. He should have done the honorable thing after the chateau. The thought of marriage didn’t frighten him. It was a natural occurrence between men and women. The thought of spending years taming the wild Leila was a pleasing thought.

  The only thought which frightened him was if Sebastian demanded marriage between them and Leila refused him. To live without her was an unbearable thought. He took what she offered with all the guilt, nursing the truth only he knew. He was in love.

  ***

  Alain questioned several of the shopkeepers surrounding the printer and none had seemed that interested in the small print shop. However, one shopkeeper had spotted a woman entering the printer’s. The elderly grocer had particularly noted it because for the most part he had only seen men enter and leave the printer’s establishment. He had even remarked upon it to his wife and the older woman nodded in agreement at Alain.

  Alain was able to discover the woman was named Marie and she was maid to the Gauvreau family. The Gauvreau family was well known and the head of it was Jean Pierre Gauvreau, who worked for the Ferme générale. Alain wondered if the maid might indeed be working under an alias and was not called Marie at all. He even suspected she may be using the employment as a maid to hide her true desire—to bring down the French monarchy in secret.

  It was a slight setback. Though Alain was certain Monsieur Gauvreau would not want anyone under his roof writing these ridiculous pamphlets, he would also not simply hand over a member of his household to be interrogated. He must plan his next step carefully.

  ***

  The day of Sophie’s ball was a cloudy one, with a touch of rain in the air. The servants hurried throughout the elegant home, taking care of last-minute items that Eugenie deemed necessary.

  Sophie had slept well but the conversation with Sebastian played in her mind. She knew that he was worried about her and she understood that. But he didn’t understand the sheer need she felt to relay all that she learned. She had once been ignorant. There were people in the same position as she had been, and they must be told the truth.

  She knew of the inspector seeking her identity, but as a young lady of breeding she didn’t fear him. He would not hurt her or pursue it once she was discovered. He would probably speak to her father and there would be a tongue-lashing and she would have to stop writing for a time. After that, she would simply choose another name to write under and be more careful.

  She dressed for the morning and went downstairs to join her family for breakfast. Her father was reading the Gazette de France and in typical fashion, her grandmother was not yet downstairs.

  She was surprised when Marie came in and informed her father that a gentleman wished to speak with him in the front salon.

  Jean Pierre set aside his reading material and placed his linen napkin on the table, excusing himself. When he entered the front salon, a man dressed simply with red hair and clear blue eyes greeted him.

  “Monsieur Gauvreau. I’m Inspector Alain Vennard.” The man introduced himself and the men shook hands.

  Jean Pierre knew from his colleague that the inspector in the district was making inquiries into the writer of the pamphlets that had recently been circulating in the area, but he was surprised to find him on his doorstep.

  “Inspector.” He nodded to the chair before the fire. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m sure you are aware that I am searching for the writer of the recent pamphlets published under the name Jean Inconnu,” he began.

  “Yes, I have heard,” he admitted.

  “I have reason to believe your house may be involved.”

  “Indeed? How so?” Jean Pierre was startled by the revelation
but would not show it.

  “I have been watching a printer that I believe may be printing the offending pamphlets. Recently a young boy delivered him some writings, and the boy is a relative of your maid Marie.”

  “Indeed. I find that hard to believe.” Now Jean Pierre was certain the man was following the wrong lead.

  “No. It is all true.”

  Jean Pierre shook his head. That his maid Marie should be the writer of these pamphlets? Absolutely absurd.

  “I’m sorry, inspector. You picked a very poor day for this. We are having a ball to honor my daughter and the house is all sixes and sevens. Perhaps you would care to come tonight and we can discuss this over champagne,” he said smoothly.

  Jean Pierre had no time and little patience to deal with this obviously incorrect information. But he felt the invite would achieve the correct outcome, which was to pacify the inspector until he could speak to the fellow’s supervisor.

  Alain nodded coolly but was secretly pleased to receive the invite to the exclusive ball. “I accept.”

  As they exited the salon, Sophie was in the hallway, dressed in a white linen dress with her auburn hair falling down her back. Alain was instantly struck by her beauty.

  “Inspector Vennard, my daughter, Sophie.” He introduced them.

  Sophie didn’t have a chance to respond as Alain bent over her hand, kissing it. “Mademoiselle.”

  “Inspector,” she said quietly as she looked into the handsome man’s cool blue eyes.

  Alain gave Jean Pierre a jaunty salute before he spoke. “Until this evening.”

  “W-what was that about?” Sophie asked as she felt her heart beat quicker. Sebastian was right. He had found her.

  “Nothing. Pure nonsense. The man was talking about Marie. Mon Dieu! Can you imagine? Apparently our Marie is ironing our garments by day and writing pamphlets by night. Absurd!” He shook his head, chuckling.

  Sophie smiled. “Marie?”

  “Yes. The fellow has it all wrong. I invited him to the ball tonight to pacify him. But tomorrow I will talk to his superior. This is what happens when men step out of their class. Upstart.” He returned to the dining room, leaving Sophie to stare after the inspector.