The Caged Countess

Dumbly she obeyed, sliding across the chilly sheets to the far side. As she pulled the covers over herself Duval saw the soft gleam of metal on her hand and, for the first time, noticed her wedding band. He frowned.

‘Take off the ring.’

She struggled for a moment or two and then shook her head. ‘It’s too tight.’

‘Then keep your hand out of sight.’

Swiftly he drew the bed curtains closed and then came to join her. Outside, the booted feet came closer, punctuated at intervals by feminine screams and male oaths. Claudine shivered. He felt it.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ he murmured. ‘Just play your part and say as little as possible.’

Inwardly he wondered how long her nerve would hold. Alain had said she was a skilled operative but, just then, Duval was far from convinced.

The darkness inside the curtained bed made it impossible for him to see her face, a circumstance for which Claudine was devoutly thankful. His words, though kindly meant, demonstrated clearly what he thought her to be. It was all of a piece with his casual assumption that she would have no objection to their physical intimacy. Then all reflection was driven from her mind by the hands gathering up the fabric of her shift. Instinctively she reached to stop him.

‘No.’

He gritted his teeth. ‘If this is to be credible you must take it off.’

Another door crashed open, nearer this time, to be followed by more angry voices.

Claudine took a deep breath. ‘All right, damn it.’

Hurriedly she struggled out of the chemise. He grabbed it and flung it aside. The immediacy of the cool linen sheet against her skin raised goose bumps along her arms and intensified the feeling of vulnerability. Never in her life had she been so glad of the darkness which hid her face. Then the mattress shifted under his weight and a lean hard body pressed the length of hers. Strong arms drew her closer, sharing his warmth. The musky scent of his skin sent a tremor through her that was nothing to do with their present peril. She could feel his breath against her neck and then the soft pressure of his lips. The skin seemed to burn where they touched.

‘Kiss me.’

Claudine tensed. ‘What!’

‘Kiss me.’ This time the tone was a quiet command.

‘But I …’

His mouth slanted over hers cutting off protest, gentle at first, then gradually becoming more insistent, ignoring resistance. Slowly, gently, his hands began their own exploration, their touch sending a wave of flaring warmth down the length of her. Gradually, of its own volition, her body relaxed a little and her mouth opened beneath his. His tongue teased hers. She knew it was wrong to be doing this and it should have been repellent; instead it shocked and excited.

As he felt her yield to the kiss Duval felt a familiar tightening sensation in his gut. Her body was exquisite, made for a man’s touch and his own responded to it with a swiftness that astonished him. He didn’t have to pretend. He’d wanted her from the moment he saw her. She filled his senses. The din from the next room faded to background noise. Suddenly, in the dark cocoon of the bed anything was possible. His lips travelled down her neck and throat to her breast, gently sucking and teasing until the nipple grew erect. He heard her gasp, felt her body quiver again. An answering heat flared in his groin. Then his mouth was over hers again, hot, ardent, seeking her response while his hands continued what they had begun.

The touch sent another flush of treacherous warmth the length of her body and triggered sensations she had never dreamed existed. An equally treacherous inner voice whispered thoughts of surrender, of submitting completely to his will, of pursuing this to its conclusion. And if she did she might become pregnant. It only needed one occasion. Horrified by her lustful response, she tried to protest but the sound was trapped in her throat. What emerged was a groan. Immediately the kiss grew deeper and more demanding. A hand caressed the length of her waist to her hip and moved thence to the secret place between her thighs, stroking gently. The touch sent liquid fire to her loins. Claudine gasped. The stroking continued. Her body quivered in response. She felt him unfasten his breeches and, moments later, his arousal hard against her leg … And then the door was flung open and booted feet tramped across the room. Ruthless hands dragged the curtains apart to reveal three uniformed officers. Duval turned and swore. That too had the merit of being genuine. Beside him, Claudine stifled a scream, dragging the sheet over her bosom, her eyes wide with shock.

Duval mentally prayed as his hand closed over her wrist in silent warning. If she lost her nerve now it was all over. Could she be relied on to play her part? Then Madame Renaud pushed past the intruders to address him.

‘I’m so sorry, monsieur. It’s all a misunderstanding.’

‘It had damned well better be,’ he replied. ‘What the devil’s going on?’

‘We’re looking for a woman,’ replied the officer in charge.

‘You’ve come to the right establishment then,’ said Duval, ‘only this one’s spoken for.’

The officer ignored him and looked at Claudine. ‘Who is this?’

With pounding heart she forced herself to return his stare, assuming what she hoped was a sufficiently brazen manner. Then she opened her mouth to speak, but Madame Renaud was before her and bristling with indignation.

‘This is Fifi. She’s one of my girls.’

‘How long has she been in your employ?’

‘About six months now.’

‘Indeed.’ The officer’s gaze appraised Claudine silently, his gaze stripping the sheet away. ‘Pretty girl.’

She wanted to slap the leering expression off his face. Instead she returned a provocative smile and fluttered her eyelashes.

‘There are many pretty girls here,’ replied Madame Renaud. ‘And they can cater for all tastes.’

Sickened to the depths of her soul by the speculative looks directed her way, Claudine forced herself to sustain the role. Duval glared at the intruders.

‘The only taste she has to cater for right now is mine.’ He looked meaningfully at Madame Renaud. ‘I paid you in good faith for the whole night with Fifi, and I mean to have my money’s worth.’

The men standing behind their officer raised their eyebrows and exchanged knowing grins. Madame nodded.

‘Of course you do, monsieur,’ she soothed. ‘I can only apologise for the interruption. I hope she pleases you.’

‘Fifi pleases me very much.’ The inflection was impossible to miss.

‘Monsieur Fouché says the same,’ replied Madame.

The officer’s head jerked round and his face paled a little. ‘Monsieur Fouché? He is a patron here?’

‘That’s right. He values discretion, you see, and I run a discreet establishment. I don’t suppose he’ll be too happy when he learns about all this uproar. Nevertheless, learn of it he will because I shall certainly lodge a complaint.’

The man seemed much taken aback. ‘I was merely doing my duty by acting on information received. However, it seems our information may have been wrong after all.’

Madame gave him a pitying look. ‘I think someone’s having a joke at your expense.’

That possibility was dawning on him too. Spots of angry colour appeared in his cheeks. ‘We will withdraw.’ He inclined his head towards the two in the bed. ‘I beg your pardon, monsieur, mademoiselle.’

Duval eyed him coldly. ‘Close the door when you leave.’ Then, apparently considering the matter at an end, he turned his back on them and laid a hand over Claudine’s breast. ‘Now, chérie, where were we?’

For a moment the officer seemed rooted to the spot, not knowing quite how to respond. His men grinned broadly. Then Madame stepped in and chivvied them out into the corridor. Seeing the door finally close behind them Claudine let out the breath she had been holding and collapsed on to the pillows, trembling with relief. Duval smiled.

‘Well done.’

‘It is Madame who deserves our thanks,’ she replied.

‘She was wonderful. The police will have to look elsewhere for their spy.’ He paused. ‘Your performance too was … most creditable.’

‘I can act a part when I have to.’