Three Reckless Wishes

by Lila DiPasqua

  He was every bit as complex, enticing, and fascinating as he’d always been.

  This man who wanted her naked and bound in his bedchamber and who could possibly collapse the foundation of her carefully crafted world, if she wasn’t careful.

  She’d always sensed there was more to him than just the physical appeal that set females aflutter.

  There was so much more she was curious about—such as what had caused those unexpected flashes of sadness in his eyes at her father’s theater on those rare occasions he’d let his guard down long enough for her to glimpse them? He’d had everything a man could want. Looks. Riches. Power. What could have caused him a moment’s melancholy back then? Was that sadness gone now? Or had he simply become better at disguising it over the years?

  Isabelle crossed the vestibule, stopped at the main entrance of the hôtel, and released his arm. The solid muscles she’d felt beneath her fingers were too much temptation for her liking. “My apologies again for the state of your clothing, my lord.”

  “Luc,” he said. “I much prefer it from your lips than ‘my lord.’”

  “Yes, well… Luc, I don’t allow men in my home where my son resides. Especially men that I have…Well, I’m sure you understand.”

  “I do.” He smiled and simply gazed at her in a way that made her want him to linger longer. Want more physical contact with him than she should. “May I ask you a personal question?”

  Isabelle stiffened, a visceral reaction, concerned his questioning would be about Gabriel. She didn’t try to hide him. But she didn’t offer information about him either. He was part of her private world and far too young to be part of Juliette’s existence. She didn’t want Juliette discussing details of her son. And she suspected he was going to ask about Gabriel’s father, which was none of his concern.

  “That depends on the question.” Her words came out sharper than she’d intended.

  It didn’t go unnoticed. His eyes searched hers briefly, the way she used to search his at the theater, trying to delve deeper into his innermost thoughts. Then his smile returned.

  “I simply wondered…why do you have a small horse in your house?”

  That made her laugh, tension melting from her muscles. Not exactly the query she’d anticipated. She had a strong feeling he’d graciously changed his question based on her curt response. He was too perfect in every way, this older version of Luc de Moutier.

  “Perhaps you’ve hit your head too hard?” She brushed an errant strand of his hair from his brow, unable to stop herself from indulging in another touch. “He’s not a horse. He’s a dog.”

  “And a rather large one for his already large breed. Most keep such dogs outdoors where they guard the property.”

  “Montague doesn’t mind his anomaly any more than we do. He’s rather special in many ways and prefers the indoors.”

  “I see.” There was amusement in his eyes. “Well, you may thank Montague for teaching me a valuable lesson in the follies of paying an impromptu visit to a certain beautiful woman.” Smiling, he opened his doublet wide, indicating the muddy smears on his white shirt. His smile moved her to one as well. What was it about this man that had her smiling and laughing so often?

  In a way no one had in a very long time.

  “Just one of his many talents,” she teased, enjoying the sound of his laughter once more. For God’s sake, stop flirting with him and get on with it, Isabelle! “I’m afraid I must insist you take your leave now.” She opened the door.

  Just then, a loud clap of thunder rattled the skies, and the rainfall suddenly increased to a strong downpour.

  With his hands on his hips, Luc shook his head. “Why am I not surprised this is happening. I can safely say that there is never a dull moment around you, chère.”

  The urge to ask him to stay was powerful. As was the desire for him bubbling in her blood. She swallowed down the words, reminding herself this was neither the place nor time to be in the company of Luc de Moutier.

  Especially the way he excited her body.

  “May I see you tomorrow?” he asked. “I could send my carriage.”

  Tomorrow was far too soon. But it didn’t matter anyway. “I’m sorry, but I shall be with my son all day. And night.” She’d promised him and she didn’t break her promises to Gabriel.

  “What about—”

  “I’ll be leaving the day after that and will be gone a week,” she said, anticipating his next question. “The Vicomtesse d’Appel is having a fête at her château in Magon.” She wasn’t relishing the sojourn away from Gabriel for several days, but she’d accepted the invitation weeks ago at Nicole’s behest, and she couldn’t disappoint her friend by denying her request to accompany her.

  It would allow her time to reassert some much-needed self-discipline where Luc was concerned and sort out the delicate situation she found herself in.

  “What a coincidence,” he said. “I’ll be there too.”

  Her stomach dropped. “You will?”

  Taking her hand, he bowed and pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckle, his warm lips lightly brushing against her skin. A hot pulse quivered through her core. “I will—as soon as I secure my invitation.” A glint of wicked promise entered those intoxicating green eyes. “To our week together, beautiful Juliette. Adieu,” was the last thing he said before sauntering into the rain to his waiting carriage.

  Chapter Seven

  “Darling, have you heard a word I’ve said?”

  Nicole’s voice pierced Isabelle’s reverie. She dragged her gaze away from the château and back to her friend. “I’m sorry, Nicole. I fear my mind was elsewhere.”

  Strolling in the manicured gardens of the Vicomtesse d’Appel’s château, arms looped, should have been relaxing—especially in a rare moment where she didn’t have a barrage of men vying for her attention. The chatter among Madame d’Appel’s guests melded with the sweet strains from the violins nearby and the trickling water of the fountains. It was late afternoon. The sun was out, and its rays gently warmed her shoulders. It couldn’t have been a more perfect day. And yet she was a bundle of jangled nerves. Isabelle glanced back at the château.

  Again.

  No sight of him. He isn’t coming. You can relax…

  She’d arrived last night along with most of the guests. A second wave had arrived early this afternoon. Surely all those who’d been invited were present by now?

  Nicole leaned into her and said, “I suspect I know what, or rather who, is running through your thoughts.”

  Isabelle took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m being foolish. I know. It’s all for naught, really. I doubt he secured an invitation in such a short amount of time. And even if he does arrive, I can manage this one man.”

  Who are you trying to convince? Nicole? Or you? She couldn’t even think of him without a thrill racing down her spine.

  Nicole simply smiled and said, “Of course you can, my dear. You can manage any man. Do not allow those doubts inside your mind to tell you otherwise.”

  “Am I that transparent to you? Or do you possess some magical power to read my thoughts?” she teased. God, how she deeply adored her. Nicole always understood. Always knew just the right fortifying words to say.

  That drew a soft laugh from Nicole. “No magical powers. I know your thoughts because I was in your position once. Now then, I was saying that Madame d’Appel was positively thrilled when she learned you’d accepted her invitation.” Nicole smiled. “Yet another example of your clear rise in influence. She doesn’t invite just anyone. I am delighted for you.”

  Ordinarily, that would have brought Isabelle a measure of satisfaction. But not today. Today, Luc was stealing her inner peace. And he’d begun to invade her dreams. She wasn’t prone to salacious dreams. Not for a very long time. Yet last night, a certain gorgeous aristo with irresistible eyes was naked in her bed. His hands and mouth grazing her skin and setting her body ablaze with desire.

  A hand touched her bare shoulder.
Isabelle jumped and spun to the left to find the Duc de Vannod looking as startled as she. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Isabelle smiled and recovered quickly, though her heart rate did not. “Good day, Your Grace.”

  He returned her smile and, with a bow, kissed her hand, then turned and greeted Nicole similarly. “Good day, mesdames, and please, I insist you call me Richard.”

  “Of course, Richard. It is good to see you here.” She couldn’t help notice that not a tingle—not the slightest stirring—had occurred when he’d kissed her hand.

  And she wished that wasn’t the case.

  The duke was attractive, with a slender build, dark curly hair, and blue eyes. His company was pleasant. And he was as enthralling as stale bread. It should appeal to her that he didn’t wreak havoc on her mind and body the way Luc did.

  But it didn’t.

  Luc de Moutier wasn’t even in attendance, though he might as well have been. His name was on the tongues of most every guest as news of his appearance at the Comtesse de Grandville’s masked ball the other night was now fodder for gossip.

  Especially by a number of women who’d feigned disinterest at his unexpected return. The tales they’d fabricated about the attention Luc had lavished on them the entire night had made her all but grit her teeth.

  When she shouldn’t care about their stories.

  Or that these unmarried young women were only lying simply to elevate their popularity. But the lies about Luc bothered her more than she could comfortably admit. As did the news that the reason for his return was to seek a wife.

  “He’s here!” Those words came from one of the two women nearby, snagging Isabelle’s attention.

  The phrase rippled through the crowd around her.

  Without turning around, she knew. Her heart had already begun to pound, hard steady thuds. Awareness shimmered over her nerve endings.

  Slowly, she turned to the château. Her mouth went dry.

  There at a distance, several stone steps above the throng, standing outside the large double doors of the vicomtesse’s grand salon with a man of similar age was none other than Luc de Moutier. The summer breeze blew open his green doublet, pressing his white shirt and tanned breeches against his tall, muscled form. Defining his masculine attributes for her hungry eyes.

  The stirring sight of a Greek god before mere mortals.

  He was handsome, intelligent, with polished charm and carnal talents too dangerous for any one man to possess.

  And she was gawking at him the way she used to at her father’s theater, with the same breathless awe. Only now she knew just how incredible his skin felt. How his hands felt on her body. How mind melting it was to have him so deep inside her.

  The murmur around her grew stronger.

  And so did the fire in her blood. Now that he was here, she had to behave far more urbane about his presence than this.

  Where on earth is the cold rain when you actually need it?

  *****

  “I just want you to know I had to agree to fuck Eléonore in order to get you this invitation,” Marc said.

  That yanked Luc’s searching gaze away from the guests in the garden to his friend. “Eléonore? You mean the attractive widow who is our hostess?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the hardship in that is…?”

  “That you have reduced me to swapping sexual favors for you. I feel so used.” Marc’s pathetic attempt at sounding wounded made Luc laugh.

  “Then I have only two words to say to you. You’re welcome.”

  At that, Marc laughed. “Yes, well, don’t expect a thank-you until after I’ve had her the better part of this week.”

  Luc returned his attention to the crowd before him. The gardens stretched out as far as the eye could see. There were at least a hundred guests present.

  But only one mattered to him at the moment. His eyes hunted for her.

  “No, no, no, Marc… I’m not interested in a courtesan.” Marc mimicked Luc’s voice. “I plan on finding a bride. Being celibate as a monk. I have reformed my libertine ways…”

  Luc cast him a sidelong glance. “Are you through?”

  “Probably not.” Marc was grinning, clearly enjoying himself. He clamped a hand down on Luc’s shoulder. Luc flinched ever so slightly, hoping Marc hadn’t noticed. He knew it was merely a friendly gesture, but Jésus-Christ, the urge to knock his hand off his shoulder and end the touch surged inside him. “In all seriousness, Luc, I am delighted you’re focused on a woman who isn’t dead.” Marc released his grip on Luc’s shoulder.

  The tension instantly uncoiled through his body. A sweet relief.

  “So am I,” he said. Thank God, Isabelle had begun to fade, and he was damned grateful to Juliette for it. She was a far better mental distraction. Because of her, he hadn’t picked up Isabelle’s journals in days. “And I haven’t given up on marriage. Nor have I mentioned a thing about celibacy.”

  “Good. Because celibacy is damned unnatural.” Marc shuddered, overly theatrically, drawing another laugh from Luc. “Look at them,” Marc said with a jerk of his chin toward the gardens. “You have their undivided attention, my friend. You’ve set their tongues wagging. They’re all talking about the long-lost ghost of Luc de Moutier that has suddenly materialized before them. It’s a good thing that you’ve caught Juliette Carre’s interest. That alone will open doors for you.”

  “No, I’m not here because I’m looking to use her to ‘open doors’ for me.”

  Marc looked at him, incredulous. “You jest, no?”

  “No.”

  “Luc, you have had the most sought-after woman in the country—the details of which you still haven’t shared with me—and you aren’t going to use it to your advantage? It instantly elevates you in the opinions of those fools out there who are eager to reject you. Especially the men, who we both know…umm…”

  “Despise me.” He finished the sentence for him. “With the King’s pardon, I have my family’s reputation restored. And I have my former wealth once more. They’ll accept me as husband material when the time comes to offer marriage and negotiate a contract. For now, I’m simply interested in the company of one woman here.”

  “So are many others in attendance.”

  It was Luc’s turn to clamp a friendly hand on Marc’s shoulder. “Since when have you known me to shy away from a challenge?”

  “Never. Bloody hell, you managed to walk into your first masque since your return and tantalize Juliette Carre right out from under the noses of the men panting in heat around her. I can’t blame you for going to all this trouble for her. She’s beautiful, and the sex must have been incredible.”

  Luc’s gut tightened. For some reason, he disliked Marc talking about Juliette the same way he’d spoken about his other paramours in the past. “There’s more to this woman than physical appeal.” There was something about her that made him want to learn everything about her.

  One whole week under the same roof as Juliette Carre, to delight in her endearing quirks and antics. A week to entice that edible little form and show her the decadent delights in mixing sex and bondage.

  Dieu, what could be finer than that?

  And if by the end of the week Isabelle Laurent had been eradicated for good from his thoughts and dreams—all the better. Spotting his hostess near the bottom of the stone steps, he said, “Come, let’s greet the comely Eléonore. And you can begin to thank her.” Giving Marc a wink, Luc descended the steps, a smile on his face.

  He couldn’t wait to see what more he’d discover from his beautiful Juliette Carre.

  *****

  “He’s a scoundrel of the highest order, I say. They should have stretched his bloody neck on the gibbet like his father,” Vannod spouted as he cast an angry glance at Luc. A short distance away, the object of Vannod’s disdain chatted with Eléonore d’Appel near her fountain of Venus. Isabelle had never seen Vannod, normally a placid man, this provoked.

 
; But really, she wasn’t all that surprised. All men of power eventually exposed their more hateful side. It was only a matter of time. And to what degree.

  “I understand the King has acquitted him of any wrongdoing,” Nicole said.

  “Hmmph. That particular Moutier is guilty of plenty of wrongdoing. My cousin has a sizeable scar on his leg thanks to him.” Vannod jerked his chin in Luc’s direction. “The wound almost killed him. Despite dueling being illegal, everyone knows that Moutier has incited plenty of them nonetheless. I had no objection to seeing his older brother Jules regain the King’s favor. He’s an honorable man. I never believed the accusations that Jules de Moutier had betrayed his country or king. But his younger brother… That’s a different matter altogether. He’s capable of any lowly act.”

  An objection to Vannod’s remarks about Luc surged up Isabelle’s throat. She swallowed it down. She hadn’t seen Luc in a long time and had even heard about his dueling from the gossipmongers in the garden and at her father’s theater. Though the disparaging remarks Vannod made about Luc’s character didn’t ring true to her from her observations of him years ago, she had to quash the urge to defend him regardless. It could give the impression that she’d known him far longer than Juliette ever could have. How well did she know Luc anyway?

  “Good day, Madame de Grammont.” Luc’s voice behind her made her jump. Mentally, she chastised herself. Will you calm down. She couldn’t keep starting each time someone approached. She needed to treat him no differently from other men in her life. But Luc had never made that easy to accomplish.

  Luc took Nicole’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you, madame. It’s been a long time,” he said with a bow and a kiss in that beguiling, polished manner of his. Isabelle was pleased by his discreetness, acting as though the encounter at the masque had never occurred.

  Nicole’s smile was gracious as always, giving nothing away. “Yes, it has been a long time. Though it seems like only yesterday. This is Madame Carre.” She continued Luc’s ruse.

  His light green eyes captured her gaze. A smile graced his lips as he bent at the waist and pressed a kiss to her knuckle. It was an entirely appropriate greeting, and yet, unlike Vannod’s kiss on her hand, Luc’s awakened every nerve ending in her body. Making them quiver with life. “Madame Carre. A pleasure,” he said.