“I’m very dizzy and my coordination is impaired but my mouth seems to be functioning rather well now.” He murmured before he blew against the tip causing it to pebble. Alastair drew it into his mouth and began to suckle. Giselle felt wet heat explode between her thighs and she whimpered as she felt his fingers part the folds of her womanhood. She panted as his finger entered her and began stroking in and out. His lips continued to tug at her nipple as his fingers pinched and rolled the other causing Giselle to moan and rock against the hand working between her thighs. Alastair released her nipple and looked up at her. “Raise yourself higher, I want to taste you.” His voice was gravelly and it caused her to shiver. For a moment, Giselle was so overcome with lust and shock, she had to reach for the headboard to steady herself.
“I’m not sure… I’ve seen it done but I don’t know if I can.” She whispered. Alastair chuckled as two fingers pressed deep within her and her head fell back.
“You were so brave before, you can’t be shy now, my love.” He teased. Giselle bit her lip and nodded as she slid her knees toward the pillows. “That’s it. Now, over my shoulders.” He commanded and she was sure her face was turning red. He sighed in delight as she settled over him and she felt his hands wrap around her bottom. She squealed as he pressed his face into her damp flesh and groaned rapturously.
“Alastair!” Giselle gasped as he began moving her against his mouth, rocking her hips as his tongue lapped at her. She hung on to the headboard and sobbed as his tongue flicked at the knot of flesh within her folds and two fingers probed within her. Alastair’s free hand pressed firmly against her bottom, guiding her to thrust against him. Giselle shook her head frantically. It was one thing to let him do that to her and another thing for her to do that to him but to be so demanding, to force her own pleasure upon him when he could barely move…
“Just let go.” He growled against her flesh. “I want you to ride my face and bathe me in your nectar, I want to drown in your release.” Alastair pulled her against him and he licked and sucked at her voraciously as his fingers worked in and out of her. Giselle couldn't stop her hips from bucking against him and he moaned in approval as his hand urged her to continue. He made his tongue firm and pressed it against the tender bud of flesh and she became mindless, grinding against it as he stroked within her liquid core. She felt her hand fist in his hair as she worked herself against his mouth, rubbing and pressing as she moaned incoherently.
Alastair’s fingers curled within her and pressed. Lightning ran through Giselle’s limbs and flashed behind her eyelids. Her muscles pulled tight then released and her nerves exploded. She gasped for breath as her head fell back and her throat strained as she held in the scream that tried to force it’s way out. Dizzy and weak, she pulled herself forward and leaned against the headboard. Alastair sighed contentedly as he gently licked at her and stroked her thigh. A smaller wave rippled through Giselle and she trembled and her legs began to shake.
“I have to get down.” She whispered as she lifted one leg and then the other and moved back down Alastair’s body. His head would lift and his lips would brush against her skin as she moved above him until they met her lips. He gathered her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly as she draped herself over him. Giselle could taste her essence all over his lips and tongue as well as the scotch. She sighed as she felt his hands caressing her back soothingly. Her bones felt as if they were melting and her eyelids started to feel heavy. She groaned as she lifted her head. “I should probably go. I don’t think you’ll be able to wake me up in time.” Giselle pressed her lips to his briefly and started to push away when his arms tightened around her. Alastair was frowning when she looked up at him.
“I don’t want you to go. You could stay if we were…” She didn't let him finish.
“Stop. You’re drunk, Alastair. I need to go, now.” Giselle pushed harder and his arms slipped from her. She snatched her gown from the floor and pulled it on quickly as she moved toward the door.
“Giselle!” He called to her but she shut the door before he could say anything else.
As soon as she was safely in her room, under the covers of her bed, Giselle did something she hadn’t allowed herself to do since she was a child. She cried. It started with a trickle, a few tears that slid from her eyes and spread upon the pillow before it gave way to little hiccups that became big gasps and gulps for breath. Before she knew it, she was curled on her side and screaming into her pillow. Giselle cried over the loss of her mother and the happy childhood that died with her. She cried over the fear of the life she fled when she escaped to France and the loss of her innocence. She cried over the loss her father and the pain that drove her after he was gone. Giselle cried over the pain and terror she felt when she was shot and the desperation that drove her to pull her body into the frigid tide. She cried over how empty she felt when she was certain she was dying as her consciousness faded. She cried over how alone and scared she’d been when she knew she couldn't go back to Gilles and she had to make her own way. Giselle cried over how dark and primitive she became as she hunted LeVan and how easy it was for her to tear him apart with her hands. In the end, she cried the hardest because she had been empty yet with a clear purpose when she rang the doorbell at Burton Place but from the moment she met Alastair, her purpose became blurred and she was being filled with things she couldn't use.
Finally, Giselle did what she always did. She pushed it all back down and forced herself to let it go. Alastair was drunk and had got carried away. She needed to be more careful with her feelings and not make the mistake of caring too deeply or letting herself believe that any sort of life with him was possible. If she couldn't do that, she needed to get out before it was too late. Don’t expect too much and don’t fall in love. She scolded.
Giselle took a deep breath and nodded resolutely. She cleared her mind and sleep claimed her quickly.
Chapter 33
Why must it be so bloody bright in the morning? Alastair lamented as he entered the dining room. By design, he was the first one down and dishes and plates were just being arranged by Hendrick and his tidy little army of servants. He took his usual seat and nodded in gratitude as a cup of tea was set before him.
While he would have liked nothing more than to remain in his bed all day, in the peace and dark, the need to see Giselle and to talk to her compelled his brain and limbs to function enough to dress and stumble downstairs. He had blundered, badly he suspected. So, Alastair forced himself to rise before anyone else so that he would be sure he didn't miss her. If he was lucky, she would be the next person down and he could talk to her before his sister joined them.
“Good morning!” Mirabelle chirped as she swept in. Oh, hell. Alastair clutched his head and groaned. “Indeed! I’m surprised you’re here. I don’t expect to see Lucien up and about for several hours.” She piled food on her plate and took her usual seat next to his. “Were you celebrating something or did you both just lose your minds?” Mirabelle asked as she scooped a forkful of eggs into her mouth. Alastair watched her chew as the smell of eggs and bacon assaulted him. His stomach lurched and his mouth became bitter. He swallowed painfully before he stood and moved two chairs down the table.
“I can’t speak for Lucien, but I was trying to erase the memory of the scene you forced upon me in your bedchamber yesterday.” He muttered as he reached for his tea. Mirabelle smiled mischievously.
“It did seem perfectly fitting that you should be the one to rescue him. You were the one to catch all the fish, after all.” She seemed pleased with herself as she slathered jam on her toast. She looked up and smiled as Giselle sailed into the room. Alastair forced his head to raise and for a moment felt relieved to see that she was smiling brightly. As soon as her eyes reached his, they dimmed and she halted. Giselle blinked rapidly before she continued to the sideboard. Mirabelle frowned as she looked at Alastair. Giselle filled her plate and then took the seat across from Mirabelle.
“Good morning.” Alastair
said softly. Giselle kept her eyes on her plate as she nodded weakly. Mirabelle’s eyes flicked between them before they settled on Giselle.
“Are you feeling well?” She asked cautiously. Giselle looked up and Alastair noticed that her eyes were red, the delicate skin at the edges looked raw and slightly swollen. Giselle shook her head and cleared her throat.
“I didn’t sleep well and I feel a bit ill.” She lied as she looked down and attacked her plate. Mirabelle cast him a scathing look and he frowned.
“Giselle, I was wondering if we might go for a walk after breakfast.” Alastair asked gently. She looked up at him and shook her head so faintly, he might have missed it if he hadn’t been watching her so closely.
“Actually, I was hoping Mirabelle would go through my gowns with me this morning. I’m afraid I won’t have enough for all of the events we’ll have to attend once we return to London. If I’m to have more made, I’ll need to order them soon.” She looked to Mirabelle who nodded uncomfortably.
“Certainly. As Lucien will be in bed most of the day, I have no other plans.”
The rest of the meal passed quickly. Giselle and Mirabelle seemed to be in unspoken competition to see who could eat the most, the quickest. Alastair kept his eyes on his tea and tried not to smell or hear. His head throbbed and stalled as he tried to weigh and analyze everything that had happened in his room the evening prior. Everything was blurry. He remembered the overwhelming pleasure and that for a brief moment, he had probably been the happiest he’d ever been. Then, he’d tried to coerce Giselle to stay and made a clumsy attempt at suggesting that they marry. Alastair groaned as he raised his teacup.
No wonder she’d fled. His drunken, lust driven, lazy almost proposal must have been disappointing. He was sure that she was beginning to soften toward marriage and would accept him if he could offer her something she could build a life around, if she believed he could make her happy. Instead, he’d treated it as a justification to behave scandalously, to stay in his bed.
Mirabelle and Giselle rose and Alastair looked up. He opened his mouth to say something but could find nothing. Giselle’s eyes wouldn’t meet his and Mirabelle was scowling at him. I deserve that, I suppose. He became dizzy and his vision blurred. He sighed as he focused on the tea in his hands. He’d have to wait until later to apologize. Hopefully, he’d find some way to repair the damage he’d done.
A plate of toast slid in front of him. Alastair looked up to see Giselle standing over him. He searched her eyes. They looked fragile and scared. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice.
“Giselle, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” She shook her head and shut her eyes.
“Please, don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.” She turned and Alastair was too slow as he stood and reached for her. She disappeared through the door, leaving him with his cold tea and toast. He fell into his seat and stared at the bread. Despite his stomach’s violent objections, He picked up a piece and bit into it and chewed it slowly as he tried to make his brain work.
Chapter 34
“What’s wrong, Giselle? And don’t give me this nonsense about feeling ill. You look as if you spent half of the night crying. You were perfectly fine when we went to bed last night and Alastair is acting like he killed your cat.” Mirabelle demanded as she opened the wardrobe. She gasped in delight as her eyes took in the brightly colored silks, velvets and satins. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at Giselle only to find her leaned against the bedpost, staring out the window. Mirabelle pursed her lips.
As far as she could tell, she had two tasks to accomplish. First, she needed to fix whatever mess Alastair had made. Second, she had to figure out how many of Giselle’s gowns were suitable for London. There was no doubt that the quality was exceptional and they were all exquisite but what was acceptable in France could easily be considered too fast in certain London ballrooms and salons. Especially the sort that Giselle and Alastair would be going about in. It was a shame really. Mirabelle pulled out an aqua silk gown and sighed. A woman could do a lot of damage in a gown like this. Mirabelle smiled as she turned.
“Will you try this on for me?” She asked and Giselle blinked as if she’d forgot that she wasn’t alone. She nodded as she reached for it. “It’s a shame I’m so much taller than you, I see quite a few gowns I’d love to borrow. Perhaps I’ll have Anna and Alice copy a few of them. Of course, they’ll have to be altered a bit to suit the current style in Town. Though I do like the French styles better.” Mirabelle mused as she crossed to help Giselle with her buttons. She couldn’t help but smile once she was down to her chemise.
It was easy to see why Alastair was smitten. With her petite, lush curves and exotic features, Giselle was sensuality incarnate. It didn’t hurt that she was cunning and mysterious as well. She was the perfect riddle for her brother.
“Did you and Alastair have a falling out?” Mirabelle asked softy as she helped Giselle step into the gown. Giselle sighed as she shook her head.
“I’m afraid it’s complicated.” She replied as she arranged the straps. “I’m not even certain what is happening anymore.” Giselle stared into the mirror but Mirabelle knew she wasn’t looking at her refection. Which was unfortunate. That dress! Giselle looked like a goddess, she reminded her of Venus rising from the sea. Layers of the sheerest silk in various shades of soft blue were layered and draped so cleverly that they looked more like waves of water splashing around her waist and shoulders that could recede at any moment and slide away, leaving her bare.
“You should wear this tonight.” Mirabelle kept her tone nonchalant despite her excitement. Alastair was going to die, just die when he saw Giselle in this dress! She couldn’t wait to see his reaction. “You’ll have to go without a chemise.”
“I think it’s a bit too much, don’t you?” Giselle asked as she turned and viewed the back. God, the thing practically draped down to her bottom.
“You might as well use it here, you won’t be able to wear it in London and it would be a crime not to wear it at least a few times.” Mirabelle stood back and examined Giselle from head to toe and smiled. She’d bet every hair on her head that Alastair proposed tonight. She just had to do her best to work on Giselle so he didn't fall on his face. “What did my brother do last night?” She asked softly as she started pulling the pins from Giselle’s hair. The tight chignon she currently had it in wasn’t going to work. Mirabelle could see that Giselle was about to deny that anything had happened. She cleared her throat and looked at her pointedly and Giselle bit her lip as her brows pulled together.
“He was about to suggest that we should marry.” She whispered as she opened her palm so that she could hold the pins. Mirabelle made sure she remained very calm. Jumping in the air and dancing a jig would not be helpful.
“And that would be a bad thing?” She kept her voice even and soft.
“It would be a terrible thing. He can’t marry me. I thought that he and I would be friends.” She looked down to hide the blush that started to stain her cheeks. “And possibly more.” Giselle whispered. “But I’m afraid we’re both getting carried away and I think one, or both of us is going to get hurt before this is over.” Mirabelle no longer felt so giddy. She had a feeling that Giselle was correct and the thought of Alastair being hurt made her pause.
“Why can’t he marry you?” Mirabelle asked cautiously as she continued to pull pins. Lord, this woman had a lot of hair.
“I’m not like the women he might have considered courting in the past, Mirabelle. He deserves someone good that won’t potentially ruin him.” Giselle smiled softly but it was weak and didn’t reach her eyes. Mirabelle frowned as she turned Giselle so she could see her in the mirror as she piled her hair on top of her head.
“You’re a good person, Giselle. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. I don’t understand why you think you’ll ruin Alastair.”
“Mirabelle, I’ve been a spy. It goes without saying that I’ve been in plenty of compromising situati
ons. It isn’t as if I’ve had a chaperone the last few years. Not that any of that matters when you consider that I’ve killed people. If any of that were to come out, the ton would be horrified and I would be an outcast.”
“I can’t impress upon you how little Alastair cares about society. Actually, he loathes it. He had no idea who you were or why you were going to create such an uproar.” Mirabelle smiled at the shock on Giselle’s face.
“Truly?” She gasped.
“Truly. He couldn’t give a damn about the ton or what it considers important. If it weren’t for this traitor, he would probably go the rest of his life without attending another ton event.” Mirabelle stood back and chewed her lip for a moment as she considered Giselle’s hair. It wasn’t quite right. She plucked out a few pins and let the whole mass fall. “I’ve never really asked my brothers and Lucien what they did during the war. I know they try very hard to live their lives as if they are ordinary men. Whether it’s because they want to forget or they don’t want us to feel differently about them, I have chosen not to pry. But I know there are things that Alastair has done that Giles and Lucien won’t even discuss and that there are things they don’t want to know about. Of the three of them, he is the… darkest. If that makes sense.” Mirabelle paused and looked at Giselle. She nodded, not just in a way that implied agreement but a deeper understanding.
“It’s in his eyes.” Giselle whispered.
“I don’t care what he’s done. It was all for England and for us. And I trust him. He will always be my Alastair. But my point is that if he’s done dark, unspeakable things, who is to say you could harm his reputation any more than his own past could?” Mirabelle waited as she watched Giselle consider her question.
“Men can kill for their country, they’re called soldiers. While it isn’t exactly acceptable to be a spy, for someone like your brothers and Lucien, it could be overlooked because they were serving the Crown. It’s a very different matter when it’s a woman, Mirabelle. I would be so tainted, so beyond redemption… My name, yours and your brothers’ wouldn't be able to save me. I doubt my cousins would even receive me. Louis certainly wouldn’t.” Giselle laughed softly as she shook her head. Mirabelle narrowed her eyes as she considered her statement.
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