Charles could have done a million things differently, not the least of which was having the courage to deal with the aftermath of his financial losses.
Instead, he’d chosen to abandon his wife and child after he’d driven them into poverty.
Mathias was tired of torturing himself over his death. Tired of wondering if he could have done more. Seen more sooner. He’d spent months letting it eat at him. It was Charles who should be the one consoling his wife and child.
He should never have left his family to fend for themselves, destitute.
Mathias had stepped forward and purchased a town house in the city for Charles’s wife, Marie, and the child, so they’d have a home to live in. He even gave Marie a monthly allowance.
He was sick to death of the weight he felt in his chest over Charles’s untimely death.
The last thing he wanted to do was to enter another gaming den. Tomorrow he’d have another meeting with that weasel Valette, and would have to give up more names.
Which brought him to a different dilemma. Silvie. A willful woman who didn’t have enough good sense to walk away from a losing table.
He’d had to watch that fiasco, too. Her tension and horror mounted with each hand she lost. He didn’t want to sense it. Or notice it at all. Normally he didn’t notice a woman beyond her physical attributes, and yet he was attuned to Silvie. And the carnal heat between them.
She had him utterly enthralled at every level. He wanted her so badly, his sac ached.
This attraction to her was the last thing he needed.
Especially when he was an informant for the King’s Lieutenant General of Police on a mission to report the names of those who regularly frequented Navers’s gaming den. He wanted to do just that—and be done with the matter.
But this mysterious woman was convoluting matters considerably.
Silvie was playing games—beyond Basset. He didn’t know what to make of her secrets. He didn’t know how to snap the fascination. Or how to ignore the sexual pull between them.
He couldn’t tell her the details of his mission—especially to a woman he knew nothing about. And he certainly couldn’t seem to impress it on her to stay away from Navers’s Hôtel.
“Montfort!” A female voice grabbed his attention. He turned around and saw Silvie racing toward him. He knew it was only a matter of time before she came after him. He had her gems, after all. They were important to her. He’d seen the devastation in her eyes when she’d lost them.
She stopped before him, her breathing quick. “I need to speak to you,” she said.
“Yes, well, I need to shake you for your fool-headed play. What did you think you were doing in there? I thought you had some experience in the game. You don’t stay and continue to lose money when you’ve no luck on your side to speak of!”
She lowered her eyes. “Yes, you’re right, of course.” Her response was soft, her manner demure. And he was stunned. Since when did this woman become so docile?
“I really must speak to you,” she repeated and looked around. They were alone in the courtyard, save for the horses and the drivers. “But not here. Come to my town house. Tonight. I’ll meet you there.”
With that she stalked away briskly.
Mathias was drained and angry and, now thanks to her, his cock was hard—for a woman in men’s clothing. Excellent. Before Charles took his own life, Mathias had a normal existence. He attended the theater, was welcomed in all the best Salons in Paris, and actually had women who gave him their name as well as their bodies. And yet here he was, covertly working to topple a Duc and turn in his peers, all the while panting after another man’s mistress who was cloaked in secrecy. If he had any good sense at all, he’d get in his carriage and go home, but wild horses couldn’t keep him from Silvie’s town house or from hearing what she had to tell him.
He was going to demystify this mystifying beauty and get her out of his system.
This wasn’t going to get any more involved than it already was.
5
The moment Mathias arrived at Silvie’s town house, he was asked by the majordomo to follow him.
As the man led him across the grand vestibule, Mathias tried his level best to learn the name of the lady of the house from the servant. To learn how long she’d been living in the town house. Hell, to learn anything about her at all. Although no one else seemed to know anything about the Marquis de Gaillard’s new mistress, surely the majordomo did.
It proved to be a futile exercise. The somber servant was tight-lipped.
They began climbing the stairs. Mathias realized he wasn’t heading to a drawing room. He was being led to her private apartments.
His greedy cock thickened further and strained harder against the inside of his breeches. Easy now. He never knew what to expect with this woman. She wasn’t the most predictable of females. He wasn’t about to make any assumptions.
Reaching one of the doors in the corridor, the servant knocked and opened it upon hearing his mistress’s bidding.
Mathias stepped in. The servant closed the door behind him, leaving Mathias standing in an antechamber, with chairs of light blue damask. He looked around. The room was empty.
“In here, please,” he heard her say from the bedchamber.
His heart began to race. Merde. He was acting as if he was some nervous youth about to fuck his first woman.
Entering the bedchamber, he found her standing near the large four-poster bed. In a rich red and white gown, her hair in long dark curls cascading onto her creamy shoulders, she was breathtaking to behold.
Dressed in feminine attire that showed off her fine female attributes, she was utterly entrancing. What was conspicuously absent was her jewelry. She wore none.
She’d had on a few fine pieces the other day, so he knew she owned some. In no way was he going to presume it was omitted on purpose because she anticipated sex and didn’t want it getting in the way.
Mathias was going to let her take the initial lead, then take over, moving one slow seductive step at a time.
In her bedchamber, alone with her, mere feet from her bed, he’d do absolutely nothing that would jeopardize this moment.
She had her hands folded before her. He watched as she smoothed her skirts and refolded them. She’s nervous. All the more reason to take it slow.
“Thank you for coming,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” He offered nothing more, but simply waited for her next words. Her next move.
She smoothed her skirts again and paused, almost as though she was grappling with her next words. Finally she said, “I find myself in a bit of a situation.”
“Oh? And what situation is that?”
She bit her lush bottom lip and dropped her gaze to the floor briefly before she lifted her chin, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “I need my diamonds back.”
Mathias held his tongue. Any response and she likely wouldn’t elaborate. He wanted her as much as he wanted to know about her.
For the life of him, he couldn’t understand what all the secrecy was about.
Moreover, he doubted Gaillard cared a whit if his mistress played some Basset—illegal or not. So why the desire to disguise herself?
His silence worked. She continued. “The diamonds are . . . very important to me, you see. I cannot lose them. I am willing to compensate you for them.”
His groin tightened. Every fiber in his being anticipated exactly what compensation she was offering. Still he kept silent.
His gaze dropped to her hands. He noted she was clutching them tightly. Dieu, he knew the diamonds were important to her, but he hadn’t anticipated her being in such distress over them. It was palpable.
“If . . .” She stopped and started anew. “You give me back my diamonds, and I’ll . . . rather . . .”
Out with it, Gabrielle, she told herself and pushed the rest of the words off her tongue. “I’ll be . . . yours for the night.”
The flare of hot interest in his ey
es made her sex clench. All right. She’d admit it. She was hardly the sacrificial lamb here.
You know as well as I do any carnal encounter between us would be heated, intense, and delicious. His words had been haunting her for days and even more so at night.
The King would select her husband soon. She’d heard that copulation with a husband for the purposes of procreation was entirely different from sex with a lover. Before she was married to a man who would likely ship her off to some isolated château, she wanted to know what it would be like to couple with a man who heated her blood the way this man did.
The more she’d contemplated the proposition on the way home, the more it held appeal. She’d enjoy an amorous encounter, experience firsthand some of the physical pleasure she’d heard about, and gain back her diamonds.
The benefit to her was twofold.
Slowly, he approached, all that tall strong masculine beauty coming her way. Gripped by anticipation, her insides quivered.
Mathias stopped before her, forcing her to lift her chin in order to look him in the eye. Dear God, how she loved his height. No, more than just his height. There was so much about him that she found physically appealing. His gaze dipped briefly down to her décolletage, her nipples hardening at the mere glance.
Mathias slipped his warm fingers under her chin, leaned in, and slowly grazed his lips up the side of her neck. She closed her eyes, her breathing instantly quickening. The sensations felt so good, so decadent.
“You’re going to let me have you any way I want?” he murmured in her ear.
There were different ways? “Yes . . .”
“And you want two diamonds for your body . . . for one night?” His hot mouth retraced its tantalizing path, ever so lightly back down her neck to the curve of her shoulder.
“Hmm? Oh, yes . . . two . . .” She licked her lips. “Both diamonds.” This was so much better than anything anyone described.
Lifting his head, he hauled her up against him and claimed her mouth, his tongue slipping past her lips on her gasp. She fisted his justacorps and held on as his tongue swirled and stroked hers with mind-spinning intensity. He tasted so good. No, he tasted better than good. Better than anything she’d ever known. Hungry for more, she matched him stroke for stroke with the same famished zeal. She’d never been kissed before, never knew a man this exhilarating. She rubbed herself against the hard bulge pushing against her belly. His groan spiked her need and moistened her sex, the light pulsing between her legs growing stronger with each skillful sweep of his tongue. She’d no idea how this man had the ability to awaken her long-dormant body, to set every nerve ending quivering with excitement.
He broke the kiss sooner than she wanted. A protest escaped her throat. She snapped her eyes open, her breathing sharp and shallow, and there, in those sensual light-colored eyes, was the very same hot need scorching through her blood.
The sight weakened her knees.
“Wh-What say you, Mathias? Do we have a bargain?” She was dying to touch his skin. To explore every inch of his powerfully sculpted physique.
No, more than that. She was dying to know the feel of him inside her, their bodies joined in a lovers’ embrace, a connection she’d never craved before.
He cupped her breast and rubbed his thumb across her distended nipple through her clothing. His rhythmic strokes over the sensitized peak made her shiver, the sensations lancing into her core.
“Ah yes, the bargain . . .” The sweet torment on her nipple was driving her to distraction.
“Yes?” she prompted, desperate to get on with it. “What’s your answer? What do you say?”
“I say . . . I don’t pay for sex.” He dropped his hand away. “Ever.” With a turn of his heel, he started toward the door.
In her heated haze, it took a moment for his words to register in her mind. Her heart lurched. She raced up and jumped into his path, stopping his progress.
“Surely you jest! You’re not actually leaving?”
She sensed his anger and struggled with what to do. What words would convince him to stay? He couldn’t leave her like this. She wanted him so badly, it hurt.
“When a woman gives herself to me, it’s for one reason. Only one reason. Because she wants to.” He reached inside his dark gray justacorps, pulled out a small pouch, and tossed it onto the side table beside them. Next thing she knew, he was lifting her off the floor as if she weighed nothing at all and set her bottom down on the side table, too.
Gripping her knees through her gown, he spread them apart and stepped between them, his actions taking her by surprise. A thrill shot up her spine.
With her legs apart, she was all too aware of his proximity to her slick sex, aching to be filled.
“You want your diamonds, here are your diamonds.” He picked up the pouch beside her and shoved it into her hand. “Open it. They’re both in there.”
She loosened the ties to the dark blue velvet pouch and peered in. Just as he’d said; the King’s diamonds were indeed both there. She closed up the pouch and met his gaze, perplexed.
“You’re going to just give them back to me? Without any compensation of any kind?” Her body screamed, No! Take me!
“They are yours. No conditions attached.”
“But . . . But you could have used these as leverage, to force me to—”
“Give me sex as well as information about you? I’m quite aware of that. I won’t use coercion. What you give me is going to be of your own free will.”
She was astounded and moved beyond words. She didn’t know any man who wouldn’t have used the situation to his advantage. No man she knew would have returned the diamonds without making some sort of demand for some kind of gain. His gesture was generous and touching and for the first time she saw him in a totally different light.
It made her want him more.
He pulled the pouch from her hands and dropped it beside her on the wooden surface. His hips still between her legs, he gripped her bottom and pulled her tightly against him, her sex coming in contact with the bulge in his breeches. She gasped, their clothing muting none of the delicious sensation. He rolled his hips. She lost her breath and grabbed his sleeves, the bud between her legs now throbbing fiercely.
“You don’t have the diamonds to hide behind any longer,” he said, his mouth so temptingly close to her own. “So if you want me to take you, you’re going to have to be honest about it. You’re going to have to admit to it. Ask for it. What is it going to be, Silvie? Are you going to give yourself to me?”
Her sex answered with a warm gush. She wanted him to be the one to introduce her to carnal delights.
In her life she’d never wanted anything more.
Her hands flew to the front of her gown. Feeling his heated gaze on her all the while, she quickly opened the fastenings and slipped off her sleeves. She attacked the stays next, spreading and pulling, her breaths ragged, her fingers fumbling, eager to free herself from the confines of her clothing for him.
She wasn’t in the least bit embarrassed by having him see her in a state of undress. Not when she was burning for him, her clothes feeling hot and suffocating.
Not when she had to have him or die.
Seeing her struggling, he lent an expert hand here and there until finally he pulled off her gown and tossed it to the floor, then stepped back in between her opened thighs.
He slipped his hand under her knee-length chemise and grasped the ties of her drawers, purposely brushing the heel of his palm against her mound. She jerked at the decadent sensation.
His smile broadened as he loosened the ties to her caleçons and massaged her slick sex through the fabric. Gripping his shoulders tighter, she bit her lip, trying to keep down her whimpers and soft moans, without success, her mewls punctuating the silence in the room.
“Your drawers are wet,” he said, seemingly pleased by it.
It wasn’t something she could control. It was what he did to her.
He slid the drawers off her,
too, followed quickly by her garters, stockings, and shoes.
By the time she was down to just her chemise, her fever had reached an unbearable pitch. Always guarded and reserved, it felt wonderful to be this unbridled. Unrestrained. Her life a stifling existence, she’d found a new freedom—all due to a man who incited her senses like no other.
He pulled off the last article of clothing and let it drop to the floor. There was something wicked and thrilling about being naked before him while he was still fully dressed. She watched his gaze move over her form with male appreciation. It fluttered her stomach.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, caressing the back of his fingers between her breasts, down her quivering belly. Dipping his fingers into her sex, past her soaked curls, he captured her clitoris between his index and middle finger and gave it a light pinch. She practically shot up off the side table as a cry left her throat, the sensations sending her rushing headlong toward a precipice. She was about to hurl over it when he released his hold on the throbbing bud and removed his hand. By the smile on his face, she could tell he’d purposely stopped her from falling over the edge. She squeaked out in frustration.
“I knew you’d be as fiery in the boudoir as you are out of it. Beautiful Snow Princess, I like how you melt for me.” He rested his hands on the tops of her thighs, his thumbs so close to her needy sex. “Ask for it, Silvie. Let me hear the words from that pretty mouth. Ask for it and I’ll give you what you want.”
She was quaking both inside and out. “I want you to . . . Will you . . . Take me.” She couldn’t catch her breath.
Still with a devilish smile, he removed his justacorps, his vest, and opened up his breeches. “With pleasure.” His voice was low and sinfully sensual as he pulled out his shirttails and yanked the linen shirt off, too, sending it to the floor to join the rest of the clothing.
His solid chest was bare. She drank in its chiseled perfection, moving her gaze down over his muscled belly all the way to his sex boldly jutting out of his breeches. Once, not long ago, she’d had a glimpse of an erotic illustration, but had never seen the male anatomy up close.
The Princess in His Bed Page 24