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the froth of lace lying on the warm curve of Daisy's breast.

"You're irresponsible." She blocked the route of his fingers.

"You're irresistible." He was of course stronger than she. "I enjoyed the sight of your peaked nipples while they were dressing you. Were you thinking of me?" His query was a low lazy murmur, his fingers sliding under her décolletage to touch the stiff tingling buds. "You were…" he added in a whisper, his smile very close and warm.

"We shouldn't…" But her body was less prudent, Etienne's caresses bringing the focus of her world to the finite quickened object he held between his fingertips. An intoxicating pulsing raced downward to her impressionable sensual receptors, and she felt herself open as though he'd commanded her.

"You've too many petticoats," he said, one hand moving down to push the impeding fabric aside.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, her dark eyes heated and teasing and seductive.

"You won't be for long," he promised with a husky insinuating arrogance, his smile brushing her lips. "Kiss me."

The following Monday a note from Charles arrived for Daisy, brought over from Adelaide's by one of the servants. Daisy and the Duc were having breakfast on the balcony overlooking the river and even before Daisy finished reading it, the Duc could tell the message was unwelcome.

"He says problems have arisen in the processing of the papers for Empress's estate."

"What kind of problems?" The Duc's voice was extremely soft.

"He doesn't say." Daisy folded the note, returned it to its envelope, and set it on the table with a precision masking the intensity of her feelings. She was familiar with elusive denials, those vague refusals without substance; the kind one couldn't counter. She was, after all, an Absarokee in a land which denied the majority of Indians the right to vote;8 she was a woman prohibited entrance to the more prestigious law schools.9 And without her father's wealth and influence, it was questionable whether she would have been admitted to the bar in Montana. "Charles's retraction of help was really just a matter of time, wasn't it?" she quietly said. "Although I'd hoped he might have forgotten… with other more pressing issues on his mind," she added with a rueful smile.

"The two matters are not related. I thought Charles had more sense."

"He can't interdict those property transfers already accomplished and actually—" Daisy shrugged away a familiar resentment too old to dwell on at length, "there's very little left to do. The remainder of the transfer process can be done later."

"That's not the point," Etienne crisply said, protective of the woman he loved. How dare Charles involve Daisy's legal affairs in the struggle over his divorce.

"The point is, darling," Daisy replied, "you've fallen in love with the wrong woman." She smiled to mitigate the stark truth. "And Charles is only acting defensively. You had to expect this."

No, he hadn't expected it; he hadn't expected Charles to be so stupid; he hadn't expected Charles would risk trespassing on the extremely dangerous ground of his personal attachments. "Well, I didn't," he mildly said, already adjusting his afternoon schedule to accommodate a visit to his brother-in-law. "Charles is generally more prudent."

Daisy recognized that tone in a man's voice. Coming from a family of expeditious men who operated on the principle of never backing down, she understood masculine aggression. "Please don't do anything foolish. Empress's business is relatively complete. In fact, since Charles's note came so late in the legal process, it's probably a token gesture. A matter of form to please Isabelle."

"Perhaps you're right." The Duc wasn't about to become embroiled in an argument with Daisy over Charles's note. He'd handle it in his own way. "Charles is dutiful," he added with a bland smile. "You're sure then… the rest of your depositions can wait?"

Daisy smiled. "I'm sure. There's no point in antagonizing Charles further… over some rather trivial small bits of property."

"Very well." His lie was accompanied by a sunny smile.

Etienne was, in fact, furious, the extent of his anger evident when he broke into Charles's meeting after lunch. "A moment of your time, Charles, now!" he said, repressed rage in the intense quiet of his voice.

Charles's secretary, pressed against the doorjamb where Etienne had shoved him, together with the two men seated across the table from Charles stared wide-eyed at the Duc de Vec, standing perilously close to them all, his quirt swishing dangerously against his jodhpur-clad leg. With the good sense that had brought him to his present position of power, Charles politely said, "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, for a few moments."

Etienne remained scowling and silent while the two men were shown out by Charles's secretary, who had mastered his fear enough to pry himself away from the wall. Shutting the door on the Duc de Vec and his employer with trepidation and relief, the young secretary hoped the Minister survived unharmed. The Duc had brushed him aside with no more effort than that needed to sweep away a pesky fly.

"Relax, Etienne," Charles said, turning back from seeing his guests were out… and out of earshot. "Let's talk about this." Charles was the consummate politician, deft at reconciling divergent viewpoints and warring personalities. And he was operating from the miscomprehension that Daisy was like all the previous women in Etienne's life. "Sit down," he said, offering the Duc a chair with practiced courtesy.

"You surprise me, Charles," the Duc said, ignoring the invitation to sit, his scowl bordering glowering eyes. "I didn't think you so witless as to renege on your promises to Miss Black."

"I had no choice, Etienne. You know that." Charles returned to his chair at the table where his coffee cup and custard tart remained unfinished. He was reaching for his coffee when the Duc's quirt intercepted, pushing the cup away.

"You're not talking to a novice in the ways of the Montignys, Charles. You and I both know what you can and cannot do."

Charles sat back in his chair, his full attention on the lethal-looking whip, understanding he'd

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