The Princess in His Bed

by Lila DiPasqua

  Her agitated heart gave a lurch. Gracious God . . . Against her will, she took in his cheekbones, his masculine jaw, and his alluring mouth. Even with his mask on, she could tell, seated across from him at the Basset table, that he was attractive, but without it, he took her breath away. She could better see his eyes, and they were a stunning contrast with his shoulder-length dark hair. The night’s silver light was too dim to allow her to determine their true color, but those piercing eyes were mesmerizing. Disarming. Dangerous. Especially since nothing more than a simple gaze had warmed her blood and fluttered her insides.

  His male beauty unbalanced her, and she couldn’t imagine why.

  There were plenty of handsome men at His Majesty’s palace, but this man stood head and shoulders above them all—in more ways than one. He was deliciously tall. She’d always hated her height. It wasn’t an asset for any woman to be at eye level with a man. Or taller in some cases. But standing near this man, she actually felt small and feminine. A first.

  Leave now, her instincts screamed. “Good night, and good luck.” Her response was purposely curt and dismissive. She turned toward her carriage, but he caught her arm, both surprising her and halting her progress.

  Her head snapped toward him. “Unhand me!” she demanded, unnerved by the thrill that shot up her arm from his touch.

  “Are you always this rude?” he asked.

  “Oddly, I had the same question for you,” she countered and yanked her arm free, as furious as she was frightened. “Is it your habit to follow strangers and make nonsensical accusations?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted into what amounted to a smirk. Then he stunned her by stroking the back of his fingers along her jaw and down her cravat-covered throat.

  She jumped back, his caress sending delicious tingles lancing into her womb.

  “You are no man, or boy,” he said. “I know a woman when I see one, and when I feel one. This game you are playing isn’t without consequences. You’ve won yourself a sizable sum. Do not return here on Saturday. You don’t want to become mixed up with this.”

  This man needed to be put in his place, so that he didn’t become a problem. Her situation was complicated enough.

  She didn’t need more problems.

  “I have the Duc’s personal invitation to attend. And I shall attend on Saturday,” she stated unequivocally. “You’re the one who should stay away, since I’m sure you don’t want to part with more of your louis d’or.”

  She turned yet once again, intent on marching away, when she felt her mask and periwig yanked off her head.

  She squeaked in surprise, looking just as astounded as he. Standing there, holding her mask in one hand and the periwig in the other, he had an expression of utter astonishment.

  “Jésus-Christ . . . You’re beautiful,” she heard him whisper. “Who the bloody hell are you?” he asked forcefully.

  Panic surged up inside her. Gabrielle bolted for her carriage, her knees wobbly. Her pulse racing. Not waiting for her footman, she yanked the door open herself and practically threw herself inside. “Go!” she shouted to her driver, slamming the door shut.

  The carriage lurched forward, knocking her from the edge of her seat, where she’d just settled herself, onto the carriage floor, bashing her hands and knees against it with jarring force. Pain shot up her arms and thighs; she barely caught her cry.

  Picking herself off the floor, Gabrielle settled back in her seat, her breaths sharp and shallow. An alarming thought ripped through her mind, and she grabbed her breast pockets. Relief flooded through her the moment she felt both pouches, the one with the diamonds and the other with her winnings.

  Already she’d won back half her brother’s debt. Another night like tonight and she’d have all she needed. But now there was an obstacle in her path. A tall dark stranger. One who inspired dread and inexplicable and unwanted feminine reactions. She simply had to return on Saturday.

  There was no doubt in her mind; he’d be there.

  What was she going to do?

  There are only three days until Saturday. You’d better think of something, Gabrielle.

  Still clutching the periwig and mask, Mathias craned his neck, watching the town houses thread by from inside his moving carriage. He’d raced to his driver, shouting out orders to follow the mysterious woman’s carriage at a discreet distance.

  He wanted her to think she got away from him.

  Merde. A million questions were whirling in his head. He was no untried youth. He’d seen a pretty face before, but when the moon’s silver light illuminated hers, a bolt of lust rocked him so hard, it shifted the ground beneath his feet. She was ravishing. He’d never seen a lovelier face. He’d never seen her at all. Anywhere.

  And he’d never had such a stunning physical reaction to any woman, especially one who hadn’t so much as touched him.

  He was still hard. Mathias shifted in his seat, trying to alleviate his discomfort.

  Though undoubtedly a full-grown woman, she was younger than he’d imagined by her comportment.

  The carriage slowed down, then stopped. He recognized this street. Exclusive stately town houses for the social elite. His footman opened the door to the carriage. Dropping the mysterious woman’s items he was still clutching in his hands onto the seat, Mathias stepped down.

  If not for the full moon, he wouldn’t have been able to make out much.

  “There, my lord, the fourth one in.” The footman pointed up the street. “That is the one the carriage turned into.”

  Mathias silently studied the town house from a distance. It had a rosy-white façade, just like the others near it. By tomorrow he’d know who owned the fourth town house.

  He wasn’t going to wait until Saturday to talk to her. She was determined to return to the Duc’s gaming den. He’d seen it in her eyes.

  Mathias wanted to know why.

  Face it, you want to know who the hell she is. You want to know everything about her—including just how good she’d taste. She’d left him utterly seduced, with a pulsing prick, and the powerful urge to melt that icy façade. There was fire behind those big beautiful dark eyes. He’d seen an instant spark of desire in them when he’d caressed her. Though her tongue could be sharp, he knew down to his marrow that he could coax her to put it to better use.

  There was no reason for her to become entangled in the mess that was about to occur with the Duc and those who frequented his private gaming den. He couldn’t speak of his mission, but he could make sure she was steered away. And if she was looking for nocturnal amusements, he’d be happy to provide a new form of entertainment—one of a carnal nature—for her.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this captivated by a woman. And just as astonishing, in the five months since Charles’s death, this was the first time he felt the gloom that had descended on him lift.

  By tomorrow night he’d know the identity of the woman.

  He’d know all the answers to his multitude of questions. Not only was he sure of it, he was looking forward to it.

  The next time they’d meet, he wasn’t about to let her run away.

  3

  “I still cannot believe how much gold coin you won!” Bernadette exclaimed, closing her book and resting it on her lap.

  It was the third time in the last hour she’d repeated the same thing. Bringing the total to twenty times today.

  Forming a smile, Gabrielle closed her own volume, settled back in her chair, and relaxed her shoulders. She hadn’t realized she’d been sitting practically on the edge of her seat, her muscles tense.

  She couldn’t relax. She couldn’t concentrate on the book of poetry. It wasn’t simply because of Bernadette’s or even Caroline’s constant interruptions and carryings on about her winnings last eve.

  It was because of a confrontation with a man outside her carriage whose physical appeal was far too potent for her liking.

  Last eve, she’d shoved the pouch of diamonds under her mattress and ha
d tossed and turned all night, worried about just how much of a problem he was going to be, about what would happen to Daniel if she didn’t succeed in winning back the money he’d lost.

  About losing the diamonds in the game if her luck turned on her.

  Now, it was almost supper time, and she was exhausted.

  Caroline closed her book as well. Setting it on her lap, she rested her hands on it. “Are you quite certain you still have all twenty diamonds?”

  “Yes, I counted them before putting them in a safe place.” Gabrielle tried to sound reassuring despite the numerous doubts assailing her and undermining her confidence. But she kept her doubts to herself. Though Caroline and Bernadette were her closest companions, there was much she didn’t share with them. Truth be known, there wasn’t anyone she completely opened up with.

  After she lost her mother and Daniel, her heart broke. Left at the palace with no one to protect her, no one to trust until Caroline and Bernadette came along, she learned to cope by holding her tongue, distancing herself from everything. Detaching from everyone at court.

  The backstabbing and jostling between her half sisters, between the courtiers—all for the sake of gaining the King’s favor—no longer affected her. She’d taught herself not to react to it.

  In a world where she had little control over her destiny, she could at the very least control how things impacted her.

  No one at court could hurt her—because she simply didn’t care. And there had been many who had tried to hurt her in the eyes of the King.

  She, unlike her half sisters, didn’t vie for her father’s attention. She didn’t waste a moment’s thought about whom the King would select as her husband.

  He wouldn’t matter to her either.

  Only Daniel and her two closest friends mattered, and even they were kept at an arm’s length.

  “You know, at first I was quite agitated over your plan,” Bernadette said. “But now, I must say, I do believe you are going to succeed.” She smiled.

  Gabrielle maintained hers, hoping it looked genuine. “Thank you, Bernadette.”

  “And you didn’t encounter any real problems?” Caroline asked.

  How she wished Caroline would leave the matter alone. The questions about last night added to her fatigue. “I’ve already mentioned, Caroline, that I encountered a small problem. But it was nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  “Yes, but you won’t say how small or what the problem was,” Caroline pressed.

  “It was small. Nothing for you to worry about. Now then, let’s return to our reading, shall we?” As she opened the volume to where she’d left off, hoping to lose herself in its prose, she stared blankly at the page, her anxieties about the Basset game on Saturday welling up inside her again.

  She simply had to attend. There was no choice in the matter.

  An argument drifted up the hallway and into the study, snatching Gabrielle from her thoughts. Glancing up from her book, she noted the dismayed expressions on her companions’ faces as the voice of the majordomo eclipsed another male voice. Gabrielle rose and dropped her book on her chair, intent on investigating the disturbance, when the meddling man from last night strode bold as could be into the room.

  Her stomach dropped.

  She couldn’t believe he was here. She couldn’t believe how good he looked. She didn’t think it was possible, but he looked even better than he did last eve. In the bright light of her uncle’s study, with its many wall sconces and candelabras aglow, his striking male features were illuminated. And devastating.

  His magnificent height, his broad shoulders, his . . . Oh God . . . gray eyes, no, they were more than gray. They were a stunning light silver that set her insides aquiver.

  He stopped dead in his tracks the moment he made eye contact with her.

  “Monsieur!” The majordomo came running into the room. “My orders are that no guests are permitted—”

  Gabrielle cleared her throat, uncertain she could speak without her voice quavering while the darkly handsome stranger moved his gaze over her, his tactile perusal irking her as much as it was inflaming her. And that irked her further still.

  “It’s all right, Aubert,” she said to the servant. With a nod, the majordomo bowed and left the study.

  He found you! She cursed her luck. The entire ride home, she’d checked repeatedly to see if they were being followed.

  There had been no sign of him.

  He was far cleverer than she’d given him credit for. Damn him and his physical allure.

  “You look better in this attire than the one you had on last night,” he said with a hint of a smile on his lips.

  Caroline and Bernadette moved close to her.

  Placing a hand on her arm, Caroline asked sotto voce, “Is this the ‘small problem’ you mentioned earlier?”

  “Good Lord, there’s nothing small about the man,” Bernadette whispered, eyeing him.

  Gabrielle took a deep breath and let it out slowly, striving for a level of composure she didn’t feel inside. “Enough. Not another word from either of you.” Her voice was soft but firm. She didn’t want them giving this man any information about her or them. “Ladies, please excuse us. I have a word or two to say to our visitor ,” she remarked louder, holding his gaze firmly.

  “Alone? In private?” Caroline asked, her unease tingeing her tone.

  “Yes. Please leave now.” Out of the corner of her eye, Gabrielle saw her two friends exchange concerned looks, but without further ado, they dropped their gazes as they passed the man standing in the room, and exited the study, closing the door quietly behind them.

  “How did you find me?” She didn’t waste a moment’s time getting to the point.

  He cocked his head, a lock of dark hair falling across his brow, looking ever so appealing. “I followed you.”

  “Why? What on earth are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come for a visit.”

  Her brows shot up. “A visit? Are you entirely well in the mind? What about our encounter would have made you think I would want a visit from you?”

  The smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth looked more like a smirk. He approached, stopping before her. Towering over her. Yet she refused to step back, or do anything to indicate in any way she was unsettled by him.

  “You asked what I was doing here and I responded. You never asked if I thought you’d like a visit from me.”

  Her ire mounted by the moment—thanks to his unmitigated gall, the smug look in those light-colored eyes.

  And his wonderful scent.

  Though she couldn’t quite describe it, it was tantalizing in the extreme. She actually had the urge to lean in and inhale deeply.

  “The point to you being here is?” she pressed. Dear God, how she wanted him to leave. She didn’t know what to make of his unprecedented effect on her. Or how to control it.

  He was making her feel dread, and heaven help her . . . desire.

  She wasn’t at all like some of her half sisters. She wasn’t the type of woman who became giddy over a handsome face.

  “I want to know why you were there last night,” he said.

  She simply glared back at him.

  He lifted a brow. “Not going to answer?”

  “No. What I do and why I do it is none of your concern.”

  “Fine. Then I shall tell you what I know.” He folded his hands behind his back and slowly strolled around her. “I know who owns this town house, the Marquis de Gaillard. I know he’s got quite a reputation when it comes to keeping mistresses. He maintains a number of them at any given time. His favorite is with him at his château as we speak.” He stopped behind her. His body was so close to hers. A luscious heat emanated from him and inspired a quickening in her belly. He leaned in, his mouth all but touching her ear. “This very town house is one he offered to a former mistress, one whom he’s since tired of,” he said softly, his warm breath caressing her skin, sending tiny tingles down her spine. “You have a wealthy bene
factor. You don’t need the coin. Why don’t you tell me why you were there last night—dressed as a man?”

  Gabrielle didn’t respond. She was working too hard at keeping her breathing even. The information about her philandering uncle wasn’t new. Her reactions to this man were. Her nipples were hard. Her senses were awakened and highly attuned to him. Reacting to any and every small thing he did.

  “What is your name?” This time his lips brushed her ear. She jumped and spun around. His slight touch sent a bolt of startling sensations right down to her feminine core.

  “You need to leave. Now,” she ordered.

  “You need to answer my questions.”

  “I owe you no explanations or answers,” she tried saying with finality, but wasn’t sure she’d succeeded; the light throbbing between her legs was a horrible distraction.

  Her treacherous body was behaving in the unruliest way.

  “Are you going to be there on Saturday?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s the wrong answer. Stay home.”

  “No.” She uttered the word firmly. Could he tell the frenzy he’d incited inside her?

  “I could tell the Duc about you, you know. That you are a woman.”

  The last thing she needed was to pique anyone else’s interest, but she didn’t cave in to threats. Others had tried to coerce her at court.

  With no success.

  Gabrielle collected herself and schooled her features. Affecting her usual blasé tone, she said, “Do you think he’d care? I don’t. I got the distinct impression his only concern was recouping his losses and perhaps winning some coin from me.”

  She’d done it. She’d successfully countered his threat and taken the life out of it. It was visible on his face.

  He sighed and rested his hands on his hips. “Look, believe it or not, I am trying to help you.”

  That inspired a laugh. “Help me? I won a considerable sum last night, while you lost half your winnings. What help do I need from you?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “You and I both know why you’re here. Clearly you’ve nothing better to do with your time than to poke your nose where it doesn’t belong. And when you learned who owned this home, you of course thought, ‘poor lonely mistress, so neglected by her lover.’ Naturally she would eagerly allow you a tumble. Isn’t that so?”