Arms of a Stranger by Danice Allen Read Free Book Online Page A

Bonjour , ladies, Monsieur Weston. I trust you are all well and happy this fine day?” He bared his teeth in the most insouciant smile he could manage. But Anne was watching, and it was hard to appear as unconcerned and carefree as he wanted to. He felt a tic in his jaw.
    “Certainly happier than your friend, Mr. Bodine,” said Katherine, tilting her chin in Bodine’s general direction.
    Lucien spread one hand in front of him to inspect his nails. Between his slightly splayed fingers, he saw Anne’s upper lip—still dusted with sugar—lift in a barely perceptible sneer. He had doubtless irritated her by flirting with all the women within hand-kissing range. How very satisfying.
    “ Oui , last night’s incident was most regrettable, n’est-ce pas? I understand he paid a pretty penny for the family of slaves. No matter how rich one gets, you know, it’s never easy to part with one’s property in such a manner. I’m sure it irks Bodine all the more because it was the doing of the outlaw Renard.”
    “Yes, Mr. Bodine does look dreadfully drawn this morning,” said Anne with sweet rancor. She sighed and looked mournful. “How I pity him. But perhaps he’ll improve once he’s eaten breakfast.”
    “With a thundering headache and a queasy stomach, he probably won’t order more than a cup of strong coffee,” Lucien said in a voice of mild concern. “But as his friend, it is my duty to persuade him to eat at least a little something. How are the beignets this morning, Mademoiselle Weston? I was going to kiss your hand, but once I got a taste of that sugar on your fingers, I might embarrass us both by lingering overly long … Sugar is so divinely sweet, like a woman’s lips.”
    He watched her blush. It was like watching a rose open, all dewy freshness and color. He stood there most rudely and smiled his enjoyment. Her uncle threw him a fretful glance, then leaned close to Anne’s ear and whispered something. She quickly wiped the sugar off her lip with a serviette, then briskly wiped her fingers, too. Recovering her composure, she lifted haughty eyes to Lucien’s mocking ones and said, “The beignets are especially light and delicious today, Mr. Delacroix, and perhaps even sweet enough to charm away Mr. Bodine’s sour mood. Perhaps you ought to advise him to order some before he sends the server away.”
    Lucien recognized a broad hint when he heard one. She was dismissing him. But it was time he got on with the business of pretending to soothe Bodine’s battered pride, anyway, and proving himself an excellent friend to the blackguard. His false friendship with Bodine was the most repugnant of his deceptions in the masquerade he played.
    “How right you are, mademoiselle,” conceded Lucien with a courtly bow. “I will advise Monsieur Bodine to order a plate of beignets immediately. Au revoir , ladies. Au revoir , Monsieur Weston. I hope we meet frequently in town.”
    Anne’s responding look assured him that she’d probably much prefer meeting the devil to meeting a wretch like him. He ought to be pleased that his wastrel act was convincing enough to make her dislike him so intensely. But instead he found it damned irritating. He returned to the table and Bodine, determined to put the saucy baggage out of his mind and keep his thoughts on the pressing matters at hand.
    As Lucien sat down, Bodine lifted his head from his hands. “Doing the pretty, Delacroix?”
    Lucien dispassionately observed Bodine’s bloated face. He looked as though he’d just walked through a sandstorm. His eyes were red and runny, his face unnaturally flushed. No one would think he was suffering from anything worse than a hangover, but Lucien knew differently. The sleeping herbs Armande had given him had done the job wonderfully. “Chirped a little too merry last night, eh, Bodine?”
    “No merrier than I have done on numerous other occasions,” he rasped. “You drank as much as I did, and I’d like to think I can throw