by BETH KERY
“I believe that Helen Noble’s health has taken a downturn. Ian seems worried lately, and I’ve overheard a few conversations. If his mother is so fragile, he won’t want me there asking her questions about her past.”
Elise frowned. “That’s understandable, but surely it wouldn’t be too taxing on Helen to have you ask her a few questions about a woman she knew thirty-odd years ago.”
“No,” Lucien said with finality.
“But finding your mother means so much to you,” she said in a pressured fashion. “You’ve altered your entire life in order to find her. You can’t give up now.”
A shadow of frustration crossed his features. “I’m not giving up. Far from it. But other people’s lives are complicated and difficult, too. I can’t force or trick Ian into acting in compliance with my wishes. I don’t want to. He’s a friend. He has his own concerns. He has a family that he worries about as well.”
“If he is a friend, he’d at least want you to tell him the truth.”
“He’s likely to think my purpose is completely mercenary and selfish.” He exhaled and rubbed his eyes. “And in fact, it was in the beginning. I specifically asked a common acquaintance to introduce Ian and me in Paris because I hoped to find out more about both Ian and his mother. I’ve come to care about him since then, but if Ian knows the truth, he’ll likely discount all that. He’ll just think I’ve used him.”
She studied his face soberly, sensing the weight of his burden. She could tell by the well-practiced way he said the words that the logic had been replayed in his mind again and again. How hard it must be for him, to feel so close to the source of his mother’s identity and yet have it remain just out of reach.
“God, Lucien. I had no idea finding your birth mother was so important to you.” Realization struck her and her facial muscles convulsed with emotion. Of course true family was important to him. He’d always insinuated he felt like an outcast in his adopted family. He’d even commented on that similarity between Elise and him.
“I should have known,” she said shakily.
He opened his hand along her jaw, cradling it. He was so large in comparison to her. She always felt so encompassed when he touched her . . . so cherished.
“Why should you have known? I wasn’t comfortable speaking my wish aloud. I told no one, save Herr Schroeder, and only then in a business sense.”
“You . . . you’ve never told anyone else about your search for your mother?”
He shook his head, his silvery-gray eyes steady on her. She experienced a sense of humbleness that he’d opened up to her.
“I’ll help you find her, Lucien. I’ll do whatever I can. I know how important family is to you,” she whispered through a swollen throat.
“You have no idea how important,” he said, his gaze running over her face. “But I want you to promise me you won’t do or say anything in regard to this business. I have it all under control. Trust me.”
“I do, but—”
“Come here,” he interrupted gently. His tone was in stark contrast to his embrace. He crushed her to him, his arms surrounding her, holding her tight against his body, almost as if he wanted to absorb her. She clamped her eyes shut as a rush of emotion went through her. What was that powerful feeling that kept rising in her, stealing her words and her wits? She’d felt the seed of it toward Lucien, even as a girl. It’d sprouted since they’d come together again, mounting and growing and flowering. Tonight, it’d seemed to swell and bloom at his honesty, at his willingness to trust her with his vulnerability. Whatever this feeling was, it felt as if it’d suffocate her if she didn’t release it.
Love. It’s love.
She clenched her eyelids together tighter, as if she could vanquish that knowing voice. It frightened her, to think of it being true. She would be so weak, so helpless if she admitted to that need. But she couldn’t keep it locked inside her much longer. . . .
Lucien’s warm lips moved against her hairline and nuzzled her ear, the sharp shivers of excitement shooting through her making her forget her anguish . . . making her forget her unanswered questions.
“Let’s forget about Helen Noble for now. I have a surprise for you,” he said, his low voice in her ear making her shudder with pleasure. She shifted her hips ever so slightly, feeling his cock swell beneath her bottom and thigh. It seemed like ages since she last felt his embrace.
“What is it?” she whispered, tilting her chin and finding his jaw. She rained tiny kisses over his whiskers, thrilling to the abrading sensation against her sensitive lips.
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I just told you, would it?”
She pressed her mouth against his moving lips, fitting their contours together delicately. He growled softly at her teasing and seized her mouth in a voracious kiss.
She gave herself to that kiss wholesale, sensing how much he wanted to forget his anxieties and unanswered questions. His heat melted away her doubts as well, her insecurities about losing control . . . about falling in love.
“I’d like to go and shower after the trip,” he muttered next to her lips a moment later. “I’ll clean up in the spare bedroom bath so you can bathe if you like. I’ll come and find you in a few minutes.”
“Will I get my surprise then?”
“You’ll get it then all right,” he replied in a hard, dry tone that made her eyebrows go up. “You’ll get your surprise and something extra for eavesdropping again,” he said, the grin pulling at his lips intoxicating her.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping . . . I mean . . . not necessarily. Just because I was passing in the hallway and overheard you doesn’t necessarily equate to eavesdropping.”
He shook his head. “When are you going to learn I read your lies like a neon sign, ma fifille?” He cut off her protest with his mouth and tongue. She whimpered into his mouth and clutched his shoulders when he gathered her to him and stood, bringing her along with him. His kiss was so hot, so all-consuming, she thought he’d throw his plans to the wind and get into the shower with her. Instead, he set her down on the master suite bathroom floor and pressed his lips to her nose.
“Hurry up,” he said succinctly when he backed away.
Even though she was disappointed when he walked out of the bathroom, leaving her alone, she liked his rough insistence for haste. She liked it a lot.
While she showered, she thought about the other things she’d overheard Herr Schroeder and Lucien discuss. Who was this man who had died in prison and toward whom Lucien expressed such bitterness? Herr Schroeder likely had worked on several different cases for him over the years. Still . . . surely a business concern wouldn’t have made Lucien sound so disdainful.
She would ask Lucien about it, but not tonight. Tonight was special between them. She’d sensed it ever since he’d opened up his office door earlier, said her name and pinned her with his stare. He’d come back early from Paris. He’d been honest with her about his search for his mother.
That meant more to Elise than she could put into words.
Ten minutes later, her curiosity and desire overcame her. Instead of waiting in bed, she walked out of the master suite in search of him, clean and fragrant from her shower. All the fatigue she’d experienced earlier that day was a mere memory. He came out of the extra bedroom almost at the same moment she left the master suite. They turned toward each other, half of the length of the hallway still between them. Her gaze lowered over the length of him covetously. He wore only a pair of black lounge pants, the drawstring tied several inches below his belly button, leaving his taut, ridged abdomen exposed. His smooth skin still looked moist from his shower. His muscles gleamed in the soft lighting from the hallway sconces.
She saw his gaze dip over her, and again that strange feeling overcame her . . . that shyness she’d never known until Lucien.
“You look beautiful,”
he said, walking toward her. She couldn’t quite interpret his small, enigmatic smile. “Did Maria pick out that gown for you?” he asked, nodding at the short sapphire-blue nightgown she wore.
“Maria?” Elise asked, surprised. She laughed. “Of course not. Why would she?”
He shrugged, still looking amused. For the first time, she noticed he wore something she’d never seen before. A platinum chain looped around his neck. Attached to it was a small key.
“What’s that?” she asked curiously, eyeing the key resting in the valley of bulging pectoral muscles.
“You’ll see,” he murmured.
“Is that my surprise?” she asked mischievously, eyeing the black velvet pouch he carried in one hand. He stepped nearer to her, so that the tips of her breasts were mere inches from his ribs.
“Part of it,” he said, reaching up to tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear. Pleasure rippled through her at the caress of his fingertips.
“Where is the rest?” she prodded, laughter in her eyes and a small smile pulling at her lips as she looked up at him.
“Greedy little thing,” he chastised at the same moment he bent and swept her into his arms. She was still laughing in pleasant surprise when he opened the door that led to the stairs.
“We’re going up to the terrace?” she asked breathlessly as he strode up the steps rapidly on long legs. “But I thought . . . the bedroom,” she said, unable to keep the disappointment from her tone. He carried her onto the massive deck that encompassed almost the entire rooftop. It was a warm June night. The sultry, pleasant lake breeze tickled her cheek. Lucien turned. She gasped at what she saw.
“Oh . . . oh, it’s . . . how did you do that?”
She stared at Lucien wide-eyed and then back at the lushly romantic scene before her. “I bought the essentials and helped out, but mostly we have Maria to thank for the niceties,” he replied as he carried her toward the east parapet that overlooked the expanse of Lake Michigan. He set her down at the foot of a bed.
And what a bed.
Elise twisted around, taking in her surroundings with amazed delight. She felt like she sat in the midst of a sensual, glowing lantern. She perched on a four-poster canopy bed, the tall posts made of a light bamboo composite that looked relatively easy to maneuver and manipulate for a temporary bed. But there was nothing makeshift about this decadent creation. White, opaque silk panes hung from the cross posts, shifting delicately in the gentle lake wind, the fabric blocking the view of the city behind them. The top of the bed was open to the night sky, and the east-facing portion was left exposed to the lake. Crisp white sheets covered the mattress and were folded down over a midnight-blue satin duvet. White rose petals had been sprinkled on the cover, as if to mimic the starlit night sky above them. One perfect white rose had been laid against the cushions at the head of the bed, the color of it a contrast to the dark blue of the pillowcases. Dozens of candles flickered and glowed in small glass holders that had been set along the four-foot-high brick parapet and all around the perimeter of the bed. A bucket stand had been set up next to the bed and filled with ice and a bottle of champagne.
A small smile shaped Lucien’s mouth when she looked at him. She shook her head in disbelief.
“You’re a romantic, Lucien Sauvage.”
“Would you like some champagne?” he asked as he sat down next to her.
She shook her head, unable to pull her gaze off him. “Maybe later,” she whispered. Something caught her eye. “My pearls,” she exclaimed in surprise, seeing the long rope coiled on the far side of the bed.
“I had Maria bring them up. I hope you don’t mind,” he said huskily. Elise swallowed, guessing he probably planned to use them again to restrain her.
“It’s a good thing you pay Maria so well,” she mumbled, blushing. “I can just imagine the stories she could tell about you, given some of the things she sees around here.”
“There’s nothing scandalous about pearls.”
“I’m willing to bet there is with what you plan to do with them.”
He chuckled and prodded her with a hand on her upper arm. She scooted over the mattress with him. The delicate scent of rose petals filtered into her nose by the time they leaned back together on the pillows. The building where they perched was the tallest in the near vicinity. With the silk drapes blocking the city, they were in their own private little cocoon, even with the bed being open to the sky and lake. Lucien reached behind her and set the rose in her lap.
“Is all of this to make up for the fact that you kept me in the dark for so long about your mother and Ian?”
“All of this is because I missed you,” he said, his nostrils flaring slightly as his gaze ran over her face. “And because I’ve wanted you for a long, long time and circumstances have prevented it.”
“Circumstances? Such as my lack of discipline?”
“Such as my inability to maintain my own discipline when you refused to attempt to control yours,” he said with a pointed glance. His head lowered. Her breath caught when he brushed his lips across hers and she inhaled his clean, spicy scent. “And because until the night I had to leave for Paris, you refused to tell me what it was you wanted. What you needed.”
She placed one opened hand against a smooth pectoral muscle, wondering at the solidness of him, the strength. “To submit to you?” she asked shakily.
He nodded, his gaze unwavering.
“In bed. To submit to you in bed,” she clarified breathlessly. “Because I don’t know that I can submit to anyone—even you—elsewhere.”
“You will,” he said softly, the hint of a smile on his mouth when he felt her backbone stiffen. “Whenever I want you, you will submit. It will often not be anywhere near a bed.”
She swallowed thickly and nodded. “You know what I meant. Sexually.”
“I know what you meant,” he said, his voice a velvet caress against her skin. He toyed with the strap of her gown, watching himself, his actions and stare highly distracting to her. “And yes, submission sexually is what I meant. What I expect.”
“All right,” she whispered, her pulse beginning to throb at her throat. What was he going to do with her, now that she’d agreed to submit and they were face-to-face? Liquid arousal surged between her thighs. She pressed them together to staunch the sudden ache. The rose fell away, unheeded.
His gaze shifted to meet her stare, but he kept playing with the strap of her gown, his fingertips flickering against her shoulder making it difficult for her to concentrate.
“Would you like your gift now?”
“What?” Elise asked, his hot eyes making her forget the velvet pouch he’d carried. She recalled sluggishly when he placed the pouch in her lap. She stared down at it dazedly.
“I had them made specifically for you.”
“You did?” she asked with restrained excitement. His long fingers moved in her lap, flipping back the flap of the pouch and sending prickles of pleasure through her. He tilted the pouch and two exquisite bracelets fell onto the silk of her gown.
“Oh, Lucien,” she whispered. The bracelets were a pair, although not identical. Candlelight made the sapphires flicker as though they contained trapped fires. The gems were interspersed with tiny, perfectly detailed platinum charms. Her eyes wide, she studied and took delight in each one in turn: a spoon in commemoration of her love of cooking; a horse in midstride that very much resembled Kesara; a tiny lock; a miniature flag with the English Union Jack on one side and the French tricolor on the other (the only painted charm), a homage to her heritage; and . . .
“Oh,” she exclaimed, grinning happily when she recognized a platinum fishing rod—a memento of that golden summer spent with Lucien so long ago. “Thank you,” she said fervently, beaming at him. She’d received some of the most expensive gifts in the world before, but never anything so intimate. So
personal. “I love them. They’re so beautiful. So unique.”
“Like the wearer,” he said. She flushed with pleasure. He lifted his arm. She watched in amazement as he drew the chain and key off his neck. “Other charms may be added. You can wear them on one wrist when you go out in public. But when we’re together like this, I’d prefer you wore one on each wrist. I will use them to cuff you.”
“What?” she asked breathlessly, thinking she’d misunderstood him. Her eyes widened when he matter-of-factly lowered the straps of her gown down over her arms, causing the fabric to slide down her chest and drape at the tips of her breasts. “But . . . the bracelets are so delicate.”
“Do you value them?”
“So much,” she assured.
“Then as you learned with the pearls, you will take care not to pull at your restraints. Don’t worry,” he said, picking up one of the bracelets and releasing the clasp. He slipped it around her right wrist. “If I ever feel you are losing control, I will restrain you with something more durable. But it will please me to see you bound by restraints that pay tribute to your beauty.” He met her stare as he fastened the second bracelet around her other wrist. “It will please me to see you exhibit a little control, even in the midst of letting go.”
Elise swallowed thickly, both intimidated and aroused by his words. She would take care of the bracelets. They were an exquisite gift from Lucien. He would also drive her to mindless ecstasy. She knew he would. She watched as he used the key to unfasten the tiny platinum lock. He replaced the chain back around his neck, then bent his head to insert the lock through a metal loop on the opposite bracelet. The lock clicked shut. Her wrists were bound together now. Could she keep the priceless cuffs intact? she wondered anxiously. A pressure grew in her as Lucien regarded her, and she knew this delicious friction is what he’d intended all along by his gift of precious restraints.
“Put your arms above your head and lean back against the pillows,” he instructed gruffly, his hand warm on her upper arm. She raised her bound wrists over her head. He pressed closer to her, his crotch brushing her hip. At the same moment that she slid against the slick surface of the bedding, reclining on the pillows, his hand glided downward, tugging her nightgown down over the peaks of her breasts, then down over her belly and hips and off her feet. She was naked, completely exposed to the night sky and the candlelight. Her nipples stiffened, not from the cool lake breeze but from Lucien’s hot stare. He groaned softly as he looked down at her.