Surrender The Heart

His pale green eyes iced over so quickly that it took all her control not to step back before the cold, dangerous fury she saw there.

“Be grateful, madame la marquise—” although his tone was almost without inflection, he managed to make the title sound like an insult “—that we are in public and that I do not choose to make a scene.” He paused for a moment to make certain that he had been understood. “I will not be that lenient again.”

Slowly Chris turned away and went in search of brandy to wash away the memory of his mother’s tears and all the old childhood hurts that were suddenly clogging his throat.

With an outraged gasp Odile de Blanchard watched Charles’s bastard turn his back on her. Catching sight of her country cousin, Pierre, across the room, she hurried toward him to tell him just who his daughter had been dancing with.

Ariane had always prided herself on her ability to give her attention to more than one activity at a time. So while she whirled around in a succession of waltzes and polkas and quadrilles, while she carried on one conversation after another empty of everything but a little light flirtation, her mind clicked away efficiently.

Deciding that she did not have the patience to wait for the last waltz, she took advantage of the intermission between sets to look for Roger de Monnier. He was talking to his sister, she saw. Well, it could not be helped, she thought, and it really did not matter. Justine would know soon enough that she had no intention of taking her advice.

“May I interrupt?”

“You’re not interrupting, Ariane.” Justine hooked her arm around Ariane’s. “In fact, we were just talking about you.”

Ariane raised her eyes heavenward. “I can imagine.”

“I apologize for what I said, but you have no idea how people talk here in Paris.”

“Well,” Ariane said, “they’re going to have to talk some more.” Giving Justine’s arm a pat, she turned to Roger. “Would you give Monsieur Blanchard a message for me, Roger?”

“Of course.” Roger smiled brightly. Perhaps he would have a chance with the young countess after all.

“Please tell him that I would like to speak to him during the next intermission.”

“But—” He threw a helpless look at his sister.

“Please, Roger.”

With a bow Roger left the two young women.

“But Ariane, don’t you understand—”

“I understand perfectly.” Ariane smiled. “But let me explain so that you do.” Seeing yet another eligible young man bearing down on them, she deliberately turned away, pulling Justine along with her.

“I am here in Paris because my parents decided I could no longer do without a husband. But I have no intention of saddling myself with one. Thus it is of no import whether people gossip about me or not. Do you understand now?”

“You don’t want a husband?” Justine stared at Ariane with something resembling horror. “Ever?”

“Ever.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Justine,” she said with a touch of impatience. “I am twenty-five. I’ve lived as I please for a long time and I have no intention of changing that.”

“Oh, pooh.” Justine wiggled her fingers as if she were chasing a pesky fly. “The empress was twenty-six when she married, and from what one hears, she lived as she pleased and she still does.”

Ariane shook her head. “I want my life to stay just as it is. I love my home, my land.” Her eyes softened as she thought of the endless fields. “You have no idea how beautiful it is.” For a moment she considered explaining how she had made a moderately prosperous estate into very wealthy one, by running it behind her father’s back, but she rejected the notion. It was not something Justine would understand.

“And I have no desire to have a husband who will only want to mold me into an obedient wife.” Never, she thought, never did she want to be like her mother, who had no life but what her husband chose to give her.

“But what does Christopher Blanchard have to do with all this?”

“I need a smoke screen, Justine.”

The girl sighed dramatically. “I don’t understand a word.”

“Don’t worry.” Ariane patted Justine’s arm. “The main thing is that Christopher Blanchard understands.” It occurred to her that she was playing with fire, but, intent on her purpose, she pushed the thought away.

Chapter Four (#ulink_6002a561-5b5c-5f17-a71c-836f4292ca1f)

Chris watched Ariane from the edge of the dance floor, as he had been doing all evening. When her dance partner bent down and whispered something into her ear, he clenched his fists at his sides. When she lifted her face toward the baby-faced young man, revealing her radiant smile, he barely managed to prevent himself from barging onto the dance floor.

Pulling in a deep breath, he cursed himself for a fool. Perhaps it had been simply too long since he had had a woman, he thought Perhaps he should take Roger’s advice and see what Suzette Lavalier or one of her colleagues had to offer.

“What’s the matter, Chris? Aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

“Of course, I am.” Forcing himself to relax, he turned toward Roger. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re scowling like the very devil.” He grinned despite his misgivings. He had seen the direction of Chris’s gaze.

Shrugging, Chris said nothing, but his eyes returned to the dance floor.

“I have a message for you. From Ariane de Valmont.”

“Indeed?” His heartbeat leaped at Roger’s words, but his indifferent tone gave no hint of his sudden turmoil. If her message was to cancel the dance she had promised him, he swore to himself, she was in for a surprise.

“She would like your company during the next intermission between sets.”

“What does she want?”

“I am not her confidant.” He gnawed at his lip, wondering if he should dare Chris’s anger again.

“Don’t worry, Roger,” Chris said, feeling his friend’s discomfort. “You’ve done your duty and you can believe me when I tell you that I have never forced my attentions on a woman.”

“The question of force never entered my mind.” Roger smiled ruefully. “Ariane de Valmont is an inexperienced young woman, unused to society. She is no match for a man like you—”

Chris shot him a black look.

“A man like you—” Roger continued unperturbed “—who draws female stares as a magnet draws pins. A man who has enough charm to talk his way into any bed.”

“Should I be flattered or insulted?” Chris’s brows took on a mocking curve. Then he glanced across the ballroom, where Ariane stood surrounded by several young men while her parents looked on proudly.

“Don’t worry, Roger. I think the young Comtesse de Valmont can take care of herself just fine.”

“I got your message,” Chris said when he collected Ariane after the set had ended. He touched her elbow and soft flesh made his cool restraint disintegrate. “If you are going to tell me that you’ve decided to get rid of me after all, don’t.”

Ariane stopped in the middle of a movement, her eyebrows rising at the vehemence of his tone. “And if I was?”