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A Rose At Midnight
Sylvie Kurtz
THE PRICE OF PASSIONNine years ago, Christiane Lawrence surrendered her innocence to the mysterious young Daniel Moreau. Even after he left her without warning, the memory of his lovemaking haunted her. And as the child he left in her womb grew, she wondered who he'd really been–and why she felt an uneasy presence always by her side….Daniel had been working for the devil–a madman with an evil obsession for Christiane. He'd left Christi to keep her safe, but he had only intensified the devil's desire. Now Daniel's redemption was at hand. But he'd have to convince Christi he loved her before midnight of Mardi Gras, for there was only a week to go before the devil exacted his bloody price.
“I can protect you. I can give you security. I can give you the world.”
“But not your love.” She no longer seemed to feel anything—not the room’s cold air, not the fire in her stomach, not the feelings that should be ripping through her like a tornado.
“There are more solid things between a man and a woman than useless feelings.”
“Like what?” Could Daniel have forgotten the passion they’d once shared?
“Like the things you say you want, Christiane. Family, roots, security.”
Her voice could not climb up her throat. A tiny sound echoed inside her like a wounded cry. She checked her cheeks with a quick flick of her hand to make sure no moisture stained them, betraying the ease with which he could tear open old wounds.
“Trust me.” He said the words so softly, she had to strain to catch them. Their gazes met and held. His weighty sadness mixed with hers and wove a bond of regret for all that might have been, all that could never be.
“The last time I trusted you,” she blurted out, “I ended up pregnant.”
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
As we ring in a new year, we have another great month of mystery and suspense coupled with steamy passion.
Here are some juicy highlights from our six-book lineup:
• Julie Miller launches a new series, THE PRECINCT, beginning with Partner-Protector. These books revolve around the rugged Fourth Precinct lawmen of Kansas City whom you first fell in love with in the TAYLOR CLAN series!
• Rocky Mountain Mystery marks the beginning of Cassie Miles’s riveting new trilogy, COLORADO CRIME CONSULTANTS, about a network of private citizens who volunteer their expertise in solving criminal investigations.
• Those popular TOP SECRET BABIES return to our lineup for the next four months!
• Gothic-inspired tales continue in our spine-tingling ECLIPSE promotion.
And don’t forget to look for Debra Webb’s special Signature Spotlight title this month: Dying To Play.
Hopefully we’ve whetted your appetite for January’s thrilling lineup. And be sure to check back every month to satisfy your craving for outstanding suspense reading.
Enjoy!
Denise O’Sullivan
Senior Editor
Harlequin Intrigue
A Rose at Midnight
Sylvie Kurtz
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Pour Maman et Papa—avec amour.
and
For Linda Kruger and Denise O’Sullivan—with appreciation.
Author’s Note
Some of the dates, location and order of events of the Carnaval were altered to suit story purposes. The tale of Rose Latulippe is one I remember from my childhood—the most vivid version being the one from a children’s program called Franfreluche.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Flying an eight-hour solo cross-country in a Piper Arrow with only the airplane’s crackling radio and a large bag of M&M’s for company, Sylvie Kurtz realized a pilot’s life wasn’t for her. The stories zooming in and out of her mind proved more entertaining than the flight itself. Not a quitter, she finished her pilot’s course and earned her commercial license and instrument rating.
Since then, she has traded in her wings for a keyboard where she lets her imagination soar to create fictional adventures that explore the power of love and the thrill of suspense. When not writing, she enjoys the outdoors with her husband and two children, quilt-making, photography and reading whatever catches her interest.
You can write to Sylvie at
P.O. Box 702, Milford, NH 03055.
And visit her Web site at www.sylviekurtz.com.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Christiane Lawrence—She’s seeking roots in her history. She’s finding a whole lot more.
Daniel Moreau—He can speak with his music—words come much harder.
Rosane Lawrence—She’s the daughter Daniel tried to protect.
Armand Langelier—His obsession brought them all together.
Marguerite Langelier—The years have etched resentment on her face.
Caroline Lawrence—She’s the one mistake Armand has allowed himself.
Francine Beaulieu—She’s the curious next-door neighbor.
Jean-Paul Dubuc—He’s Daniel’s bulldog manager. He shaped Daniel’s career, and he won’t let Daniel lose his star status over a woman.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Feelings were for fools and Daniel Moreau hadn’t played the fool for anyone in years.
But he felt her presence before he turned around. Felt her in a way that grated against the ruthless control he’d cultivated since that night nine years ago when his world had turned upside down. Felt her and knew with certainty that her presence here was no accident of fate.
Did she know she was being used? Probably not. Christiane Lawrence was too trusting for her own good. That more than anything made her a threat to him.
He watched with predatory curiosity as the white-gloved butler took her snow-colored coat. Watched as red-jacketed waiters offered her tantalizing tidbits and generous goblets of wine from silver platters. Watched as Armand Langelier took her elbow and guided her to their hostess, Madame Bernier. And found an unexpected possessiveness grounding itself somewhere between his boots and his brain.
With a shake of his head, Daniel dismissed the errant feeling. She wasn’t his anymore.
Her dangling blue and silver icicle earrings were an anomaly in a sea of diamonds and sapphires. He guessed she’d worn them as a conversation starter. For all the quiet sophistication of her clothes and careful style of her short blond hair, he remembered her as shy. She moved with confidence, the soft silk and the flattering cut of her dove-gray cocktail dress shifting pleasantly with each of her steps. Subdued class—one of the many things he’d liked about Christiane.
Armand leaned down to whisper something in her ear, and she laughed in response. Though he could not hear the sound, it rippled through him. Her laughter. Her voice. They’d once cracked open a lock he’d thought rusted shut. Daniel’s fists tightened by his side. Not this time.
The older man’s gaze shifted to the crowd. Looking for him, no doubt. What was the point of making such a bold move if Armand couldn’t witness the expected reaction?
Daniel had worked hard to hide his secrets, to bury his past, to make amends. And now it could all change. Just like that. All because of this woman.
Funny how the world kept going as if nothing was wrong. People still laughed. The quartet still played. Sequined dresses still sparkled in the light on this cold February night. He’d expected the crack of thunder, the flare of lightning, the crash of a storm, some sort of force of nature to herald his doom.
But it came quietly—just when he’d started to think everything in his life had at last fallen into place.
“There you are.” Jean-Paul Dubuc, his manager, clasped an overeager hand around Daniel’s shoulder. He reminded Daniel of a bulldog—short, squat, bald and ugly, but fiercely loyal. A good man to have on your side. Except tonight. He’d ask too many questions, and Daniel would have too few answers.
“I’ve been looking all over for you.” Jean-Paul tried to shepherd him toward the ballroom where the piano stood waiting. “Time to get the show on the road.”
“Not now.” Daniel shrugged off Jean-Paul’s hold and searched the crowd for Christiane. The silver of her earrings winked in the distance.
“Daniel,” Jean-Paul insisted. “Madame Bernier is waiting.”
“Not now.”
“It’s you they came to hear, not some nameless quartet.”
“Then they’ll wait.” Daniel had to warn her. It was the least he could do.
“What’s wrong with you?” His manager frowned and looked him over for signs of disease or disaster—the latter probably being the more worrisome of the two for a scrapper like Jean-Paul.
“See that woman over there?” Daniel thrust his chin in Christiane’s direction. Armand gave her a little bow and headed for the bar.
“The one in the gray dress?”
Daniel nodded. “She’ll destroy me.”
He’d said it for shock value, and Jean-Paul didn’t disappoint him. “Who is she?” The creases above Jean-Paul’s eyes deepened. His jowls quivered. “What did you do? What’s she holding over you?”
A humorless grin tugged at the corners of Daniel’s mouth. He was sick of the whole business, of being handled, of never-ending expectations. He was sick of it all. “Worried about damage control?”
“Do I need to be?”
Daniel’s gaze raked the crowd until he found Christiane again, introducing herself to two women with overteased hair. “Not if I play the game right.”
“Non, mais t’as finalement perdu la boule! You’ve gone completely mad.” Jean-Paul stomped in a half-moon around Daniel as if his leash was too short. “It’s not exactly the time to go over the edge, Daniel.”
“I’m still in control. I know the rules this time.”
“This time?” Jean-Paul stopped short and stared at his client. “What are you talking about?”
“Strategy.”
“Now listen, Daniel.” Jean-Paul shook his finger at the middle of Daniel’s chest. “I’m depending on you. Madame Bernier is depending on you. All those people who paid a small fortune for a ticket to hear you play your new piece next week are depending on you. I need to know I didn’t waste my time promoting you to stardom just to have you crash when we’ve finally made it.”
Jean-Paul stopped waving his finger and planted it on Daniel’s chest. “You owe me. Where would you be today if it weren’t for me?”
Without looking at the annoying digit, Daniel swiped away Jean-Paul’s finger. “Right here.”
“Maybe.” Jean-Paul shrugged. “More likely you’d be sitting in a jail somewhere for banging your fists on somebody’s face instead of a keyboard.”
“Have I ever let you down?”
Jean-Paul shuffled his feet. “Not yet.”
