Unbitten Read Free Page B

going from early
     fortress-like Romanesque all the way through 19th century
     Neoclassicism. But remarkably, the building did not look
     like a crazy mish-mash, but almost as though it had been
     designed by one architect, who had been able to predict the
     styles of the future and thereby create a building with a
     coherent and powerful beauty as it developed over the
     centuries.
    France, thought Jo, really is a different world. It’s
     not like New Jersey with a different accent plus snails.
    Angélique expertly weaved through various
     obstacles–an old wooden cart, a sleek black Peugeot,
     several dogs–and parked next to what looked like a
     garage with wooden doors two stories high.
    “Here we are!” she said. “Let’s go
     straight in and see David. Someone will be out to take your
     bags to your room, don’t worry about that.”
    Jo followed Angélique inside, her eyes wide, taking
     everything in. Her jet-lag was forgotten as she felt a
     surge of her usual excitement and energy, wanting to get to
     know her new home. She was chattering to Angélique,
     wanting to know about the dogs, about the stable; she had
     questions about everything she saw.
    Then she saw him.
    David was striding down a corridor on his way to meet them.
     He was wearing a white shirt with several buttons open so
     she could see a wedge of his chest. Jodhpurs with suede
     patches on the inside of the thighs, with high black riding
     boots. Jo felt blood rising into her neck and face and she
     was helpless to stop it. It was infuriating. She wished as
     she had wished so many times before that her body would not
     so easily betray what she was feeling.
    “
Enchanté
,” said David, taking
     her hand and slowly raising it to his lips, a hank of hair
     falling over one eye. He smiled at her, a knowing smile, as
     if to say that they were in on a little joke together, that
     this being kissed on the hand by an aristocrat was not just
     a bit of old-world politeness, that it could also be
     modern.
    In other words, seriously and blazingly hot.
    She felt his lips brush her fingers and linger, just a
     moment, on her fingertips. Her blush intensified so
     dramatically that she looked feverish.
    “I am so very glad you are here,” David said,
     his English impeccable. “Please, let me know anything
     at all I can do for your comfort and happiness. I know you
     are a little bit, what is the expression, fish out of
     water? And I want you to feel at home here,” he said,
     licking his lips, his hands on his hips and legs apart,
     like he was thinking of straddling something.
    “Thank you,” said Jo, looking at his face
     intently, as though she needed to memorize every detail.
     She noticed a scar over one eye. It was a clean, smooth
     scar, like he had been sliced with something extremely
     sharp. She wanted to run her finger along it.
    “I’m afraid you have missed lunch,” David
     said, “but I can have someone bring you
     something–our dinner is later, I believe, than
     Americans are used to.” He smiled a smile of such
     confidence that Jo felt that she was in a place where the
     men were able and strong and knew what the hell they were
     doing. She smiled an ironic smile at herself for being at
     the Château for maybe fifteen minutes and already
     imagining she trusted this man.
    What would Marianne say, she said to herself.
    “Actually,” she said, “I’m
     starving.” Feeling her blush reignited, she looked
     down at the stone floor, silently swearing and praying for
     the blood to stop pumping into her face.
    David, meanwhile, was praying for just the opposite.
    The sight of this blonde American girl with her pale skin
     and excitable manner had him more inflamed than he could
     remember feeling in years. Her face kept becoming
     charmingly red, flushed with her hot blood–he could
     even see her carotid artery bulging and throbbing.
    Jo glanced at Angélique, thinking that David’s
     sexuality was so powerful, so