Chapter 4
Four
“’Ere, citizeness, we’re just after a bit of fun. No need to act so high and mighty.”
Striding along the Rue de l’Université, his mind on the final shipment of silks, Rafe heard the man’s taunt.
He glanced across the street, his gaze following the harsh sound of the voice, and saw three men in the baggy pants and red wool caps of the sans-culottes looming over a young girl.
They’d backed her up the front stairs of an elegant home.
The sleeve of her jacket hung by a thread and her gown was torn.
In a twisted parody of the seminude women dancing along the frieze on the building’s facade behind her, she was clutching the front of her jacket with one hand and trying to fend the men off with the other.
Walk on Harcrest, walk on, he told himself, as his legs crossed the distance between them.
It’s not your city; it’s not your business.
You can’t save every poor soul you see. Someone else will come along and stop this, he said to himself, even as he saw people on the street quickening their pace to bypass the unfolding drama.
“Come give us a kiss, sweetheart,” one of the men said, “a kiss for the heroes of the Republic.”
“And then perhaps a bit more,” his friend said, crudely thrusting his hips at her.
The girl dodged the largest of the men and another man circled behind her and slipped a hand under her skirt. She slapped at him and backed against the heavy paneled front door of the home. She made no sound but her eyes scanned the street in a desperate cry for help.
When her gaze met his, Rafe caught a glimpse of wide-set gray eyes, a straight nose, and firm full lips beneath a tangle of dark curls and crushed ribbons.
For a moment, he had the oddest feeling they had met before, and that her face was somehow as familiar as his own.
But that was ridiculous he thought, as her eyes were torn from his.
One of the men snickered. “Don’t worry little one, you’ll see Alphonse knows how to treat a woman.”
A few more steps, a thrust of his shoulder past a brawny arm, and Rafe found himself standing between the girl and her attackers.
As he surveyed the reddened eyes and bristling faces of the men, it occurred to him that he needed to come up with a plan of action and fast, but before his mind could manufacture an idea, the girl swept the initiative from him.
“Darling,” she said, seizing his arm in a death grip, “you’re late, you naughty devil, and what’s worse, you’ve given me the wrong address.
” She burst into a tirade that made his ears burn, and Rafe wondered whether he was falling prey to some bizarre street scam.
He raised his elbow to shake her off, but as he did so he looked down and saw the look of defiance on her delicate features and his body stilled.
And then it was as if the rest of the world stilled.
He was once again swept by the odd feeling of familiarity; he was keenly aware of how her slim form fit against his body, her heart racing against his chest and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.
She was dirty and she smelled as if she’d been rolled through a barnyard, but he could see what had drawn the men.
“She yours then, citizen?” said one of the men, breaking the spell.
Though the man was nearly a foot shorter than Rafe, he stuck his face in so close Rafe could smell the sweat staining his woolen jacket and the wine he’d had for breakfast. He was seized by the strong desire to break the man’s jaw; he knew he could take all three.
But then there would be the problem of the French authorities.
These were, after all, revolutionary heroes. He’d have to play along with the girl.
He smiled pleasantly at the unshaven face abutting his, “Why yes, this sharp-tongued baggage is mine. Though why I put up with her is sometimes a mystery to me.” Drawing the clutching girl close to his chest, he swept his other arm around her slim waist. With a knowing wink over her head to the three men he added, “And so I find I must constantly remind myself.”
Slanting his mouth forcefully against hers, he swept his tongue along her plush lower lip and into the determined bar of her clamped teeth.
Rafe’s eyes flew open to meet a gray glare of shock.
He had meant it to be a forceful kiss, a kiss of possession that would leave no doubt in the men’s minds the girl belonged to him, but to his surprise her soft full lips remained resolutely closed.
He found himself sharply reminded of when he was fifteen and had attempted to kiss a fourteen-year-old chambermaid.
“Monsieur,” she whispered sternly, “let me assure you I am not the type of woman who kisses strangers in the street.”
He was not the only one who noticed the girl’s awkward reaction to his kiss.
“Here now, citizen, it don’t look like you and the citizeness are as familiar as you say,” said the largest of the three men in a leering tone.
“Or perhaps she needs a more experienced teacher.” He elbowed his friend in the red cap, and they both laughed like dogs growling in their throats.
The yellow-haired man with the pocked face stepped closer and made a grab for the girl’s skirt.
She shrank closer into the circle of Rafe’s arms, and he felt oddly protective.
“What can I say, citizens?” Rafe inquired with mock sorrow.
“The little one is shy. She prefers to display her talents in private rather than on a public street.” He heaved her up and over his shoulder, then turned as if he’d forgotten something.
“But I thank you for taking such good care of her.” Reaching into his pocket, he scattered a handful of gold coins in front of the men.
As they scrambled to pick his largesse out of the mud, Rafe carried his wriggling cargo off down the street.
The girl immediately began pounding his back with her fists. “I am not a baggage, I am not your little one, and I demand that you put me down this instant.”
Rafe ignored her outbursts. “Ungrateful wretch,” he said in a low tone.
“Have you noticed whether your friends are following us? I haven’t got eyes in the back of my head, though from your position you might do the job.
” She quieted, and he felt her elbows against his back as she maneuvered into a different position.
“They’re still looking for money,” she answered and then added in a strained voice, “Thank you for coming to my aid, citizen.”
Rafe acknowledged her thanks with a nod. “I would put you down, but I’m afraid that clad in your current attire, with no chaperone in attendance, I’d only have to come to your rescue again.”
The girl lay stiff and silent and Rafe imagined he could feel the heat of her frustration through his coat. Then there was a sudden wild motion, and she cried, “My hat, my hat!”
“Dreadful piece of millinery anyway, my dear,” Rafe responded without stopping his stride.
“But I haven’t got another,” she said in an exasperated tone. Her body fell limply against his, and he found himself acutely aware of the warm curves and slender legs draped against his chest.
“May I ask where you are taking me?”
“I confess,” Rafe said, “I’m not in the habit of rescuing damsels in distress, and so I haven’t thought this all the way through.
But as your gown is rather in disarray, and my lodgings are not far from here, might I suggest that you come with me and see what can be done?
Unless of course you’ve got somewhere else to go. ”
And that, of course, was the crux of it, Alix thought bitterly. She’d been overconfident and sent David home and now she had nowhere else to go.
“Very well, but I warn you, I am a lady, and I will not submit to any discourtesies.” Even as she said the words, she knew how ridiculous they sounded.
She was draped across this strange man’s shoulders like a sack of potatoes, her clothes were in tatters, and chickens had been nesting in her hair.
If the Chaumiers could see her now, she thought wryly, they’d have a hard time arguing that she looked too much like a gently bred lady.
Then again, she doubted she could pass as a courtesan either.
She closed her eyes as he carried her bouncing along the street. It was humiliating, but it was better than remaining behind with the sans-culottes. Her rescuer spoke a cultured, if oddly accented, French. Perhaps she could appeal to his gentlemanly sensibilities...
“Ah, here we are.”
From her position Alix could see nothing, but she was aware that he was turning and that she was being carried through a large, carved doorway.
The pungent smell of cooked meats, unwashed bodies, and wood smoke filled her nose as they entered the common room.
A break in the general hum of conversation followed by catcalls and scattered laughter told her that their entrance had not gone unnoticed.
She flushed and buried her face in the man’s dark blue coat, feeling the fine quality of the wool against her cheek and the hardness of muscle beneath.
As he took the crooked stairs two at a time, she was forced to grab at him to keep from falling.
Her hands scrabbled around his waistcoat, finding little handhold on his taut waist and belly.
Kicking open the door Rafe called loudly, “Jervis, tea for the lady,” strode through the small sitting room past his astonished manservant, kicked open a second door, and slid her to her feet.
Alix took the measure of the room in a glance.
It was modest and clean, with two windows overlooking the courtyard and stables below.
Two armchairs flanked the hearth where a small fire was burning.
A three-legged table was set between them and on it sat a silver chamberstick and several books.
But it was the large four-poster bed that caught and held her attention.
She whirled on Rafe. “While I am grateful for your aid, sir, you should know that I have no intention of, intention of...”