Free Sail Away by Lee Rowan Page A

change your mind,” he warned.
    "I will not.” She reached up and tugged at the ribbon that held up her hair and a cascade of shining black curls fell around her shoulders. “I made up my mind the moment I saw you that you were the one."
    "My mother warned me to beware the wiles of French women!” he said with a smile, reaching to touch her hair. It felt like silk sliding through his fingers.
    "My father never told me Englishmen could be so beautiful,” she returned.
    "Handsome, please! Ladies are beautiful, gentlemen are handsome. Though I think you flatter me."
    "You are ‘ansom to me, then,” she said. “I would like to see if you are—pretty? under your clothes. I have no brothers, Christophe, and what my friends tell me sounds very strange. I would like to see a man's body."
    He didn't feel pretty under his clothes, and could not imagine what the masculine adjective might be. Why was he worrying about that, anyway? This was no time for a language lesson, and if she wanted to call him pretty, why not? But if he was going to strip down, he'd have to convince her to shed a few garments, too. They had progressed from kissing to undoing the buttons on his waistcoat when Angelique popped in with a bottle of wine. “I return!"
    Three really was a crowd. Kit would have liked to ask Angelique to leave, but Zoe took the glass her friend poured for her. What a strange girl! He had a thousand questions that he could not ask unless they were alone together.
    "Zoe, silly girl, why are you two not en couchant ?” Angelique demanded.
    "You were right,” Zoe said. “The English have many manners, and they are slow!"
    Angelique poured another glass of sparkling wine and gave it to Kit. “Why is that, m'sieu?"
    A trifle annoyed, he replied, “Because she is a lady, and she is too young to be rushed!"
    Angelique laughed. “Ah, you chose well, Zoe! M'sieu Baron, you are tres gentil! But you wear too much clothing."
    "I suppose I do,” he said, coming to a decision. “Mademoiselle Angelique, you are une bonne femme , and I thank you for introducing me to this lady. But as you say, the English have many manners, and I fear I may have more than my share. Do you know where to find my cousin Philip?"
    "Ah, oui ,” she said. “He is in a room nearby."
    "Excellent.” Kit dug into his vest pocket and found a coin sufficient to pay twice over for the wine she'd brought. “If you would, go and get another bottle, and take it with you to my cousin, sil vous plait? He's twice my size and much more adventuresome. I think he would be very happy of your company."
    She feigned a pout. “And you would not?"
    "I—” He met Zoe's eyes and decided to tell the truth. “If you do not mind, mademoiselle ... I fear if I attempt to please two of you, I will end by pleasing neither."
    "You please me very much,” Zoe said, a touch of pink in her cheeks. “Go, Angelique. I am safe with Milord Christophe!"
    "I think you are.” Angelique dropped a quick kiss on Zoe's cheek, and on Kit's. “Bless you, children!” And she was off.
    Kit let out a sigh of relief. “Now, where were we?” he asked.
    "You are still wearing too many clothes."
    "So are you."
    Eyes sparkling, she began undoing the buttons of her bodice, and had the simple gown off in a trice while he was still unfastening his breeches. She sat on the edge of the bed wearing only her shift, sipping her wine. “Do you have a wife, Christophe?"
    "No. Beautiful as you are...” He considered whether to roll off his stockings before removing his breeches, decided that was sensible. “Beautiful as you are, my dear, when I take a vow, I keep it. If I had a wife, I would be home with her, not here with you.” He pulled off his stockings. Damn, the floor was cold.
    "I am glad you are here."
    "So am I.” Kit had worked his way down to his ruffled shirt. He looked at Zoe sitting in her sleeveless white shift, the gentle curve of her breasts showing above the deep neckline, and was struck