He pressed his lips against the curve of her shoulder. “So did I.”
“I want to come with you again, Adam . . . I want to come together with you inside me the next time.”
He lifted his head and pressed his forehead to hers. “There is nothing in this world I’d love more, but I can’t do that, Aimee. Marc had the problem. Not you. You’re perfect. More than any man could want or hope for.”
She felt a lump knot in her throat. His words slipped inside her heart. No man ever spoke to her the way he did. She doubted any other man would be as convincing to her.
“Let’s go to your rooms,” he said, a slight smile tilting his mouth. A simple sentence, but a handful of words that held the promise of decadent pleasures. Her stomach fluttered. “We cannot go to mine. It’s a tad in disarray,” he gently teased her.
His innocent comment stabbed into her conscience.
She was deceiving him, voiced so many lies—when he in turn had done nothing but conduct himself with sincerity and honesty.
But how could she tell him the truth?
What could she say? What words could she offer that wouldn’t diminish what they’d had? Soil the memory. He hadn’t spoken of a future beyond their palace stay. She wanted him at the very least to walk away with a fond memory of their affair.
She’d cherish it always.
Someone knocked at the door, startling Aimee. She jumped back out of his arms. Adam frowned.
Her hands flew to the front of her gown, quickly closing the fastenings with panicked haste.
“Who is it?” Adam called out, clearly irked by the interruption.
“Nattes?” Aimee recognized Robert’s voice, her fingers working diligently on her gown. “I need the drawings.” He tried to open the door, without success. “Why is the door locked?”
“Not now, Robert. Later.”
“Merde, Nattes, open the door. The King wishes to proceed with the meeting. He is free now and has summoned us to his private apartments.”
Adam swore under his breath. “All right. Just a moment.” Turning to her, he cupped her cheek just as she finished with her bodice. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
She hid her disappointment behind her smile. “I understand. You must take your magnificent drawings to the King.” She smoothed a hand over her hair then her bodice. “How do I look?”
He smiled. “Beautiful. Beautifully ravished.”
She laughed. “So do you.” Her comment drew a chuckle from him.
He began buttoning his vest. She scooped up his justacorps and draped it over her arm, holding it for him as his long lean fingers finished with the long row of buttons.
“Here,” she said when he’d completed his task, running a quick hand down the knee-length coat to smooth out the wrinkles. Her fingers stroked over something hard and round that moved in the pocket. She froze.
The ring . . .
“Thank you.” He pulled the justacorps out of her grasp and put it on.
Aimee watched helplessly as he snatched the periwig off the table, placed it back on, and strode to the door. Unlocking it, he opened it a crack. “I’ll meet you there,” she heard Adam say.
Robert pushed his way in. “What the bloody hell are you doing—” His words died on his tongue the moment he saw her standing near the table.
A smile appeared on his face immediately. “Madame de Gremont.” He bowed.
“Please, Robert, Aimee will do just fine.” She glanced at Adam’s pocket and back at Robert who, still grinning, had a knowing look in his brown eyes.
“Of course, Aimee.”
Her mind was awhirl as she tried to think of a way to get the ring out of Adam’s pocket and deal with the delicate, rather compromising situation she found herself in. It was one thing to be seen walking about the palace gardens with the man among hundreds of courtiers, quite another to be caught alone in a locked room with him.
“I was showing Aimee the drawings for the machine,” Adam offered, a frown still on his face. The look in his dark eyes gave a clear warning to Robert to choose his words carefully.
“Ah, yes, of course. And what did you think of them, Aimee?” Robert asked, being his cordial best.
“They’re very impressive.”
“Yes. I quite agree. It’s been a pleasure assisting Adam on this project,” Robert said, then to Adam, “We should gather them up and go?”
At Adam’s nod, Robert collected the drawings.
Adam was about to leave. Think! This could end right now. End her lies to Adam. End Louise’s torment. Every day that passed without the ring only raised Louise’s anxieties. The strain over locating the ring was beginning to take its toll on her cousin.
Holding the drawings in his hands, Robert bowed to her. “Good day, Aimee.”
“Good day.” She watched Robert stride to the door.
At the threshold he tossed out, “I’ll see you there, Nattes.” And exited.
Adam turned to her. “I’m going to be a while. I’ll see you tonight at the ball.”
She smiled and nodded. “Of course.” Do something! She rose up onto the balls of her feet and crushed her mouth to his in a kiss, and she slid her hands down his chest, moving over the brocade fabric of the justacorps, down past his waist, and lower still, fast approaching his lower pockets.
Adam caught her wrists at his hips and broke the kiss.
“Aimee, you keep that up, and I’m going to be hard,” he gently admonished with a smile and placed her arms down at her sides. “I’d rather not walk into a meeting with the King with a stiff cock. Now, behave . . . until tonight.” With a wink and a devilish grin on his handsome face, he turned on a heel and walked out the door.
Her heart plummeted. She was so close! She could have spared Louise another tortured night.
“Adam, wait!” He arrested his steps. She ran up to him.
His brow furrowed. “What is it, chère?”
Looking up at his beloved face, she wrestled with what to do. Perhaps she should tell him the truth. Perhaps it wouldn’t raise his ire, after all. He was an even-tempered, reasonable man. Perhaps he’d understand about her duplicity and simply hand over the ring. And all this would be over. Dare she risk it? God knew she wanted it to be over. So badly. The ring was right there in his pocket.
“I wanted to tell you . . .” She swallowed and grappled with her words. “Well, you see . . . I . . . rather you . . .” Just say it!
“Aimee, the King awaits. What is it you’re trying to say?”
“I’m trying to tell you that—”
“Nattes!” A male voice grabbed her attention. Her blood chilled when she saw Renault walking down the corridor toward them. Stopping beside them, the vermin met her gaze.
“Madame de Gremont,” he offered stiffly.
Unlike Robert, she didn’t give him permission to address her informally. Nor would she, ever. Aimee offered no more than a nod.
“Nattes,” Renault said. “Where are you off to?”
“I’ve a meeting with the King in his chambers.”
“Ah, so do I. He wants a brief word with me. I’ll walk with you,” Renault said with a smile and a pat on Adam’s shoulder.
“Very well. Give me a moment, Sard,” Adam said.
“Of course.” Renault’s smile faded considerably in his eyes, if not his mouth, when he turned to bid Aimee good day, then moved several feet up the hallway.
“What were you saying, Aimee?” Adam asked.
Aimee glanced over at Renault. He was leaning against the wall, the weight of his gaze squarely on her. He was too far to hear her conversation, but his presence unsettled her in the extreme.
She managed a smile. “I simply wanted to tell you how incredibly handsome you look in this justacorps.” Reaching up, she smoothed the costly fabric across his broad shoulders.
His brows rose. “That’s it? That is what you wanted to tell me?”
“Yes. Green is most becoming on you.” Green! Not blue or yellow. Green,
Louise! “You look exceptional in this justacorps. In fact, I believe it’s my favorite of all the ones I’ve seen.” She cringed at her prattle.
With a soft chuckle he shook his head. “You are delightfully different,” he said and turned to leave.
She caught his hand. “I’d love it if you’d wear this justacorps tonight at the King’s outdoor ball.”
Smiling, he squeezed her hand. “I’ll see.” His hand slipping from her grasp, he walked away and joined Renault.
Aimee watched the two of them walk up the hallway engaged in conversation, until they turned the corner and were finally out of sight.
She stepped back into the State Room, closed the door, and slumped back against it.
Her gaze fell on the table in the middle of the room. Where Adam had given her so much pleasure.
It sank her spirits lower. She couldn’t stand it any longer. She loathed the lies. He didn’t deserve the deceit. He deserved the truth. Some truth. Any truth. Her heart ached just thinking about it.
Next thing she knew, she was racing up the hall toward the King’s private apartments. Her heart thundered the entire way. Turning the final corner, she noted that a group of men were entering through a set of opened double doors. She spotted Adam at the back of the crowd.
“Adam!” She caught his arm the moment he was close enough to touch.
He turned around, clearly surprised by her presence. Her breathing was rapid and her heart raced, more from emotion than exertion.
“Aimee, are you all right?” His expression showed concern. “What’s the matter?”
She glanced past his shoulder and saw the last man enter the King’s rooms. They were alone. Fisting his justacorps, she rose up onto the balls of her feet and gave him a soft short kiss.
He looked baffled when she released his overcoat and dropped back down onto her heels.
“I just wanted to tell you . . . I love you.” There, she’d said it. “That’s the truth. I wanted you to know the truth.” If nothing else, she was at least being honest with him, whatever his reaction.
And at the moment, that reaction was utter astonishment. He couldn’t look more shocked. Uncomfortable with his silence, she began smoothing his justacorps where she’d grabbed and crinkled it. “You’d better go,” she said, wanting to kick herself for the ridiculous, ineloquent way she’d just informed him of her deep affections.
“Aimee . . .” His voice was soft, but she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye.
“Monsieur de Nattes,” a tall, thin, older gentleman called to him from the doorway. “His Majesty is waiting.”
“I’ll speak to you later,” she added with a shaky smile, turned, and walked away.
Behind her she heard the doors close. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she saw she was very much alone in the corridor.
He’d gone inside.
Excellent, Aimee. You handled that quite well. Before you had him wondering if you were mad. Now you’ve removed all doubt, and you’ve made yourself look like an unsophisticated ingénue. You certainly have a way with men.
She shook her head, her heart heavy. What a fiasco. She wanted to scream in frustration over the entire debacle. This would be so much easier if she hadn’t fallen hopelessly in love with the man. And yet, despite it all, she wasn’t sorry she’d told him how she felt. She only wished he’d responded in kind.
Between the lies and the love she had for Adam, this scheme was tearing her apart. The fabrications and falsehoods had to cease. This mad charade had to end. It was only getting more complicated and more convoluted by the day. One way or another, she was going to have the ring. Tonight.
She only wished she knew how.
Or what Adam was going to do next.
8
“Are you certain you wish to wear this one, my lord?” Laurent asked, holding up the green justacorps Adam had been wearing during the day.
Adam smiled. “Yes. That one.” He knew Laurent thought it odd that he wasn’t going to change into a new justacorps, as was his habit, but the golden-eyed woman of his dreams had requested to see him in it. And he was more than happy to please her.
In fact, he intended to please her the rest of their lives.
After her endearing declaration in the corridor, one that completely knocked the air from his lungs, taking him by surprise, he decided he, too, had a declaration to make.
What better place than under a starry sky with the King’s finest musicians playing?
Smiling to himself, Adam slipped his arms into the sleeves. He’d chosen a different vest and black breeches to complete his attire.
“What do you think, Laurent?”
The older gentleman smiled and responded in his usual manner. “I think the lady will be most impressed, my lord.”
“Ah, but this lady is very special, Laurent. She may very well become the Marquise de Nattes.”
His servant’s smile broadened. “She’s a most fortunate woman if she does, my lord.”
Adam looked at his reflection in the mirror and adjusted his sleeves. “I think I’m the lucky one.”
Everything was going incredibly well. The King was most enthusiastic about Adam’s machine and had given his approval to move forward on the project.
And Aimee . . . luscious, sweet Aimee was in love with him.
This night was going to be a night neither of them was ever going to forget.
“Have a good evening, my lord.”
Adam couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. “Oh, I plan to.” He turned on his heel to leave. His justacorps swung out and hit the table he passed with a clunk.
He stopped and glanced down, unsure what made the odd noise. Something small was bulging from his pocket.
Slipping a hand inside, his fingers touched upon a round, hard object. He pulled it out. A ring. One of the King’s rings. Immediately, he checked his hand and found his ring securely on his finger.
This wasn’t his.
Adam moved closer to the silver candelabra on the table and looked inside the ring for the inscription he knew each possessed.
R.S. were the letters inscribed. R.S.? One by one, he flitted in his mind through the men whom he knew had been given the prestigious royal ring.
Laurent’s closing of the armoire’s doors distracted his thoughts, yanking his gaze to his servant. Laurent had moved to the second armoire and was closing its doors as well. Suddenly, the image of Aimee standing in Laurent’s place flashed in his head. Her hand moving over the justacorps . . . During the day. In the middle of the night. Aimee with his justacorps spread out over the bed.
Her hands moving oddly down his body—to his pockets.
Merde. She’s been searching for this ring the whole time. R.S. Who was R . . . Jésus-Christ, he swore under his breath. Renault de Sard. Why was she seeking Sard’s ring? Fool. Her cousin was the reason. Sard’s former mistress. Sard had told him he’d ended the longtime affair while at the palace. That the woman was unbearable. Unruly. Ungovernable. And retaliatory.
He’d confided that he’d warned Louise she’d better not try anything. Had the woman taken his ring? There was no doubt in Adam’s mind that Aimee was searching for it.
It became clear to Adam that she’d approached him for no other reason than to find the ring. Somehow she knew it was in one of his justacorps.
How it got into his pocket didn’t matter. What mattered was that not once had he truly questioned her strange behavior; instead, he’d walked about in a haze of lust and love, ignoring logic. Reason. Behavior that defied explanation should have spiked his suspicions.
He curled the ring into his fist. He had one goal.
Finding Aimee de Miran.
In the palace’s outdoor ballroom grove, the menuet filled the night.
The King’s musicians were situated above the cascading water-falls, their music carrying well beyond the oval ballroom and into the surrounding woods.
A number of giant torchères illuminated the magnif
icent amphitheatre.
Colorful gowns and justacorps twirled past as the dancers moved in time to the music.
Sitting on one of the grass-covered steps with the other spectators, Aimee looked about. She couldn’t seem to locate Louise or Adam.
Both should have been here by now. Her nerves jangled. She’d spoken to Louise. She’d told her that she was going to tell Adam everything.
Then she’d spent the next hour calming Louise down. In no way did her cousin agree with her plan initially. It took some coaxing and convincing before she ceded.
Louise was supposed to be here well before Adam. Well before now. They were going to try to explain the matter together.
A tap on the shoulder made Aimee jump and twist around. Staring back at her was Laurent.
“Madame, Monsieur le Marquis wishes to speak with you in his personal apartments.”
Adam? In his chambers? “Is everything all right?”
“Please follow me, madame.” The servant turned and walked away. Aimee followed, unable to shake the anxiety tightening her entrails. Dread mounted by the moment during the long walk across the gardens and to the outbuildings his master’s rooms were located in.
By the time they reached Adam’s door, her insides were in a frenzy.
Laurent opened the door to the antechamber and she walked in. She found Adam seated at the ebony table in the room. No justacorps or vest on, he simply wore a white linen shirt and black breeches. He slumped slightly in his chair, one arm resting casually on the table, his expression difficult to decipher.
“Have a seat, Aimee,” he said as Laurent quietly left, closing the door behind him.
Not his usual greeting. None of the warmth in his eyes or tone was there. She didn’t know what to make of his mood.
Aimee sat down opposite him at the table.
He stretched out his long legs. “I’ve a question for you, chère. Actually, I have several. But we’ll start with this one.” He lifted his palm that was down on the table, to reveal the ring beneath it.
Aimee’s heart sank, as she knew exactly whose ring that was.
Adam picked up the ring off the table and spun it. Silently, she watched the thing whirling on the wooden surface.
The Princess in His Bed Page 9