life. Almost. But not quite.
As he escorted Gina, Satyrâs panther gait was masculine, easy, and loose-limbed. It reminded her of how sheâd seen him in the park, moving on that other woman. Of how sheâd felt him moving inside her. Goosebumps rose on her arms.
If he was indeed the same man as the one sheâd seen earlier tonight at Pont Neuf, heâd changed his clothing in the last hour. Wool trousers dyed the color of mustard seed faithfully molded his derriere with each shift of his hips or step of his booted feet. These were paired with a natural linen cambric shirt and a casual jacket of drab olive. It was an attractive look on him, but so profoundly démodé that it could never have been considered modish in the first place by anyone of society.
Nevertheless, she saw how Agnes and the others eyed him. Against a backdrop of dandified peacocks, he stood out as a brawny, earthy animal in his prime. One who chose his own path and was confident enough not to bow too deeply to the whims of style.
For a man so large, he moved with sleek grace. But even as she made this observation, he contradicted it. She gasped as his elbow caught on the outstretched bow of a statue, sending it rocking. It was a sculpture of Diana, Roman goddess of the hunt, a favorite subject of Valmontâs.
Large pawlike hands caught at the wobbling goddess. An awkward juggling act ensued in which he fondled various portions of her anatomy before ultimately rescuing her from peril and returning her safely to her pedestal.
The attention of everyone in the room now on him, the giant rolled his shoulders and heaved a great sigh as though accustomed to causing such calamities in salons. His words didnât reach their hiding place, but whatever he said sent laughter rippling over the room.
âA man who can laugh at himselfâa rare animal,â murmured Juliette.
âBuffoon,â Valmont muttered. âHeâll pay for that if itâs damaged. Among other things.â
Juliette turned her head in time to surprise a vengeful expression on his face. âWhat do you mean?â
Avoiding a direct reply, he eyed her thoughtfully. âYou will favor him tonight. All those years you lived on the fringes of my familyâs vineyard should be to your advantage in snaring his interest. Flatter him and draw him out regarding his work.â
âWhat precisely do you wish me to glean from my conversation with him?â she asked guardedly.
âAny details about the inner workings of his estate. Any weaknesses in him or in his family. Ask the source of his vinesâ immunity to the phylloxera epidemic. If theyâve been infected and cured by some secret remedy, I want to know of it.â
âAnd you think heâll simply tell me all this for the asking?â
âDazzle him in your usual way,â Valmont went on, flicking his fingers in the air as if to whisk away her incredulity. He turned to quit their hiding place, indicating it was time to descend to the salon. âShow him the rooms. Whatever it takes to keep him with you long enough to pump him for information.â
âThe rooms? But you never ask that of me! Usually only Agnes or Gina or one of the othersâ¦â Stunned by his request, she turned blindly back to her study of the salon below.
Abruptly a pair of jeweled amber eyes cut to the nook where she was hidden. A wave of erotic awareness prickled over her.
God! It was him! She stepped back, knocking against Valmont. Recoiling from the contact, she whipped around accidentally brushing against the screen. For an instant, the grillwork singed her shoulder blade in that confusing metallic way that made it impossible to determine if it was chilling or heating her skin.
Catching her arm, Valmont jerked her away from it to study her face. Obviously disliking what he read there, he pulled her close and lifted her chin, brushing a dangerously gentle thumb along the underside of
As he escorted Gina, Satyrâs panther gait was masculine, easy, and loose-limbed. It reminded her of how sheâd seen him in the park, moving on that other woman. Of how sheâd felt him moving inside her. Goosebumps rose on her arms.
If he was indeed the same man as the one sheâd seen earlier tonight at Pont Neuf, heâd changed his clothing in the last hour. Wool trousers dyed the color of mustard seed faithfully molded his derriere with each shift of his hips or step of his booted feet. These were paired with a natural linen cambric shirt and a casual jacket of drab olive. It was an attractive look on him, but so profoundly démodé that it could never have been considered modish in the first place by anyone of society.
Nevertheless, she saw how Agnes and the others eyed him. Against a backdrop of dandified peacocks, he stood out as a brawny, earthy animal in his prime. One who chose his own path and was confident enough not to bow too deeply to the whims of style.
For a man so large, he moved with sleek grace. But even as she made this observation, he contradicted it. She gasped as his elbow caught on the outstretched bow of a statue, sending it rocking. It was a sculpture of Diana, Roman goddess of the hunt, a favorite subject of Valmontâs.
Large pawlike hands caught at the wobbling goddess. An awkward juggling act ensued in which he fondled various portions of her anatomy before ultimately rescuing her from peril and returning her safely to her pedestal.
The attention of everyone in the room now on him, the giant rolled his shoulders and heaved a great sigh as though accustomed to causing such calamities in salons. His words didnât reach their hiding place, but whatever he said sent laughter rippling over the room.
âA man who can laugh at himselfâa rare animal,â murmured Juliette.
âBuffoon,â Valmont muttered. âHeâll pay for that if itâs damaged. Among other things.â
Juliette turned her head in time to surprise a vengeful expression on his face. âWhat do you mean?â
Avoiding a direct reply, he eyed her thoughtfully. âYou will favor him tonight. All those years you lived on the fringes of my familyâs vineyard should be to your advantage in snaring his interest. Flatter him and draw him out regarding his work.â
âWhat precisely do you wish me to glean from my conversation with him?â she asked guardedly.
âAny details about the inner workings of his estate. Any weaknesses in him or in his family. Ask the source of his vinesâ immunity to the phylloxera epidemic. If theyâve been infected and cured by some secret remedy, I want to know of it.â
âAnd you think heâll simply tell me all this for the asking?â
âDazzle him in your usual way,â Valmont went on, flicking his fingers in the air as if to whisk away her incredulity. He turned to quit their hiding place, indicating it was time to descend to the salon. âShow him the rooms. Whatever it takes to keep him with you long enough to pump him for information.â
âThe rooms? But you never ask that of me! Usually only Agnes or Gina or one of the othersâ¦â Stunned by his request, she turned blindly back to her study of the salon below.
Abruptly a pair of jeweled amber eyes cut to the nook where she was hidden. A wave of erotic awareness prickled over her.
God! It was him! She stepped back, knocking against Valmont. Recoiling from the contact, she whipped around accidentally brushing against the screen. For an instant, the grillwork singed her shoulder blade in that confusing metallic way that made it impossible to determine if it was chilling or heating her skin.
Catching her arm, Valmont jerked her away from it to study her face. Obviously disliking what he read there, he pulled her close and lifted her chin, brushing a dangerously gentle thumb along the underside of
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