The Lovely Duckling (Fiery Tales Book 8)

by Lila DiPasqua

  “Hush, Marthe.” Her aunt patted Emilie’s arm. “Did your lover please you, chérie?”

  Emilie’s smile broadened. “He did. Immensely.” He did more than please her. Seeing herself through his eyes had bolstered the confidence she’d lost in herself. Had made her heart soar.

  Jubilation erupted out of Pauline with a joyful squeak. “Ah, this is wonderful!”

  “Wonderful? She gives herself to a nameless man, forfeiting her—”

  “Not another word,” Pauline cut off Marthe’s rant. Her aunt’s smile returned as she gazed at Emilie. “Look at her. She’s lovely—all aglow after a night of passion. She has needs and longings, just like any woman—except you, Marthe. It isn’t right or healthy for her to remain secluded. Or deprived of physical love. It’s the most wonderful thing in the world. And yet women are too often denied, trapped in unsatisfying marriages. While men have their mistresses, most of them openly without discretion, a woman must be discreet if she takes a lover or abstain all together. Society tries to discourage women from indulging our physical yearnings while men are encouraged to satisfy theirs. It is because of this terrible injustice I have these gatherings. Women know they can come here, regardless of their circumstance, and are safe to partake. Without judgment. And with complete anonymity.”

  “Yes, quite the charitable work you’re doing,” Marthe injected blandly.

  Pauline ignored her and continued, her smile still in place. “I am delighted you tasted passion with a skilled lover, chérie.”

  “Thank you, Aunt.” Emilie looked at Marthe. “He was not nameless, Marthe. I knew exactly who he was.”

  “Yes, we both do! I recognized him immediately, despite the mask. Some men are just so sinfully potent, they stand out of the crowd,” Pauline said. “Marthe, I’ll have you know that our darling Emilie was with none other than one of the Duc de Vernant’s very handsome sons.”

  At that, Marthe’s posture straightened, her eyes widening. “You were? A member of the house of Alumbert?”

  “Yes, it’s true.” Emilie confirmed. Her smile had yet to leave her face. She could hardly wait to see him again, her body famished for his touch. His mouth. His body inside hers.

  She didn’t know a man could give a woman so much joy and pleasure.

  “I must say, I was rather surprised who you selected, chérie, but”—Pauline shrugged—“if he pleased you, then I am pleased.”

  “Who was it?” Marthe asked. “Which one? Gilbert?”

  Emilie laughed. “No, not him. I was with—”

  “Joseph,” Pauline responded.

  “Vincent,” Emilie quickly corrected her aunt.

  Pauline frowned. “Vincent? Really? Are you certain?”

  “Of course I’m certain. Vincent and I have been corresponding for the last year. I know him quite well.”

  “She’d never be with Joseph d’Alumbert,” Marthe added. “Or any of his equally unappealing friends—who hang on his every word and follow him about as if he were the King himself. He may be the heir to a dukedom but he and his companions are a horrid lot.”

  Pauline still looked confused. “I was so certain that was Joseph …”

  “Well, it wasn’t, rest assured,” Emilie said. “I couldn’t agree with Marthe’s opinion more.”

  “Yes, why do you permit such men here?” Marthe asked. “Especially after the way they treated Emilie.”

  Pauline stiffened. “I may not like the man or his friends, but you know as well as I do that one does not forbid a member of the Duc de Vernant’s family from attending any gathering.”

  It was true. Doors were flung open for the Duc’s heir and those he favored. It felt wonderfully empowering to turn down one of Joseph’s friends last eve—his mask unable to conceal his boorish manners. He was easily recognized.

  Just one of the many who had behaved so heartlessly that night years ago.

  Imagine how delightful it would be to rebuff Joseph—just as she’d done to his friend?

  While she was here, she wouldn’t deny herself that experience either. It was time someone brought him down a notch. Or two. She wasn’t going to run or hide from Joseph or anyone. Anymore. Given the sheer abundance of decadent behavior and enthusiasm as people roamed about looking for their next carnal diversion, she was sure to run into Joseph.

  It was inevitable.

  She’d look him in the eye. And then give him the cut direct.

  *****

  “Wake up.” Gilbert gave Joseph a jarring shake.

  Joseph sat bolt up, startled out of a deep sleep. He’d been dreaming of a sweet seductress with flaxen hair, captivating moss green eyes, and the most divine lips—as enchanting as the princesses in the fables he’d been told as a child.

  Only this princess was in his bed. She belonged to him. Gave herself to him, wanted only him, engulfed him in the most sublime passion he’d ever tasted.

  But the fair princess had been torn from his sight only to be replaced by Gilbert’s face.

  Joseph frowned. “What the hell are you doing here?” He raked a hand through his hair.

  “Well, good day to you, too, dear brother. I see you’re in a good mood. You could show some gratitude, you know. I could have let you sleep and miss out on the afternoon and evening festivities. I’ve been at the Basset table all afternoon. Strip Basset.” Gilbert grinned. “I won. Joseph, you should have been there. A woman with the finest tits you’ve ever seen sat—”

  Joseph grabbed a fistful of Gilbert’s justacorps and yanked him closer. “What do you mean ‘miss out on the afternoon and evening festivities’? What time is it?”

  Releasing Gilbert, Joseph glanced past his brother at the tall windows. By the low summer sun, he realized the day was old.

  “It’s almost supper time, but if you hurry, you can squeeze in some amusements beforehand—”

  “Merde.” He’d been with Emilie until almost dawn. After their delicious night of ecstasy, of sexual excess, he’d slept so deeply, so soundly. And for so damned long. None of this would have happened if she’d let him stay. He was certain that with her by his side, he would have awakened once she stirred.

  After sex, he normally left, and yet last eve he had no desire to leave her side. A first. She’d turned him away—albeit ever so sweetly. Another first. He usually departed the boudoir with the woman begging him to remain. But he knew why she’d refused.

  It was too uncomfortable to sleep in her gown and she wasn’t ready to remove it for him. He’d decided not to press her. He’d coax the gown and the rest of her clothing off her soon enough. Tremendous strides had already been made in the few short hours they’d been together. He’d seen her blossom sexually before his eyes, her inhibitions lower.

  Adorable yet mouthwateringly sensuous Emilie de Sarron had been his perfect sexual match throughout the night—inciting the sweetest heat no man could resist.

  He was hard at the thought of being back in her silky sex, all warm and wet and fisted so tightly around him.

  “Since you’re up, I’ll return to the amusements below. Why leave Vincent to have all the fun.”

  Joseph’s heart lurched. “Vincent?” His brother’s name tumbled from his lips on a breath.

  Gilbert smoothed his justacorps. “Yes. Vincent. Your twin. Remember him? I haven’t seen him in hours. No doubt he’s found the lady with the cloak he’s been looking for and is enjoying some rapturous delights as we speak.” Gilbert smiled.

  Joseph tore out of bed.

  *****

  Emilie moved through the grand vestibule slowly, squeezing her way through the crush of people. Searching for Vincent.

  It seemed as though there were even more guests in attendance this night than the night before. She held on to the train of her gown, lest someone stomp on it.

  She’d bathed and primped that afternoon, anxiously preparing to see Vincent again. And after much consideration, she’d finally selected her masquerade attire for this eve from the various costumes she’d br
ought. A cream-colored demi-mask garnished with small to medium light brown plumes ensured her anonymity and matched her gown.

  It, too, was cream-colored and had a light brown overskirt that was drawn back to encircle her hips, cascading into a long train behind her. The very end of her train was a soft red. And on her gown were large brown and cream bell-shaped sleeves. Very much like the wings of a bird.

  Her attire representative of just that very thing—a bird.

  One of her favorites.

  A little bird that was rather plain. Upon first glance, it wouldn’t likely garner a second. But what made this creature special came from within. And she liked that. As much as she liked the sound of the bird’s nocturnal crescendos.

  This eve, Emilie was a nightingale.

  She finally made it into the long corridor that led to the dining hall. That was when she spotted him. Vincent. Or perhaps it was Joseph.

  He was just ahead, moving with the crowd. Wearing a brown justacorps and black breeches, his tall chiseled form, his strong shoulders were eye-catching; his masculine beauty made him stand out at any gathering.

  Her pulse quickened. She quickened her pace.

  Clutching her train tightly in her hand, she negotiated around the people who walked between her and the ever-nearing d’Alumbert ahead. Anticipation building with each rapid step that brought her closer to him.

  Which one was he?

  Her instincts told her—Vincent.

  But it didn’t matter, really. She had good reason to stop either.

  The moment he got within arm’s length, she reached out and caught his hand, arresting his steps.

  He turned to face her. She noted the surprise that momentarily flashed in his eyes, despite his brown-and-black-checkered mask.

  “Vincent?” she blurted out softly as people pressed past.

  His sinfully tempting mouth lifted in a slow seductive smile. “Yes?”

  Emilie felt a surge of joy. She clasped both his hands and backed up, pulling him with her away from the center of the hallway where they were being bumped by the boisterous lot streaming past. She stopped short when her back met the wall.

  She couldn’t contain her grin. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  Releasing her hands, he pressed his palms against the wall on either side of her head. “Have you, now. Well, then … I’m glad you found me, chérie.”

  There was something about the way he spoke, or perhaps it was in the way he looked at her … Something was not quite right.

  Emilie dismissed it as absurd.

  He was likely putting on a bit of a performance, given the very public place they stood in and all the ears that moved past. She knew he’d do whatever it took to protect her anonymity. She trusted him explicitly.

  “I’m absolutely famished,” she told him.

  “Famished?” It wasn’t what he was expecting her to say.

  “Yes, for Vincent d’Alumbert’s delectable kisses.” Smiling, she tilted her chin up a notch, bringing her lips closer to his irresistible mouth. “Kiss me.”

  Chapter Six

  “With pleasure …” Vincent murmured just before his lips met Emilie’s eager mouth.

  Grasping her chin, he held her face captive, angled, as he slanted his mouth over hers. Impatient for more, she parted her lips for him.

  He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue inside.

  Something was … different. His kiss felt different. The way he kissed her … heated, yes, but with a certain detachment and distance she hadn’t felt from him the night before.

  And where was “it”? The bolt of hot excitement that rocked her every time he touched her, kissed her. Or even neared.

  This was the man she’d surrendered her innocence to and had spent a night and morning of rapture in his arms. She’d shared intimacies with him—on many levels.

  Yet, this kiss didn’t feel at all intimate.

  Suddenly his mouth and the press of his hard body were gone and a growled oath shot out of him.

  She snapped her eyes open and gasped.

  Vincent’s twin brother, Joseph, stood beside them. The firm grip on Vincent’s arm and the angry frown on Vincent’s mouth told her instantly that Joseph had yanked him away.

  “I need to speak to you,” Joseph said to his twin, his jaw tight. Though half his face was covered by his dark blue mask, she could tell he was fuming.

  “I’m busy at the moment, in case it isn’t obvious.” Vincent kept his tone light but his voice was strained, clearly struggling with his ire.

  “Now,” Joseph said, the word sharply dealt.

  For a moment the two large men stared at each other in muted fury. But then, Vincent took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Very well. This had better be urgent.”

  Before Vincent could offer her a single word, Joseph pointed a finger at Emilie. “You, stay here. Don’t move from this spot. Vincent will return shortly.” It was an order. Rather an odd one coming from Joseph. She couldn’t imagine why he’d care if a woman waited for Vincent or not.

  Dumbstruck, she watched the brothers disappear into the crowd.

  *****

  On opening the fourth door in the long hallway, Joseph finally found a room that wasn’t occupied by couples fucking.

  Stepping inside the library, he was livid. Seething. His very entrails twisting in his gut over an emotion he’d never felt in his life. One he didn’t even believe he was capable of feeling—until Emilie came along. The ridiculous, possessive emotion had torn through him the moment he saw Vincent in a heated exchange with her.

  Vincent stopped in the middle of the room, ripped off his mask, and turned to face Joseph. “What was so important you had to interrupt me just now?”

  Joseph was just closing the door when Gilbert pushed his way inside, a typical grin on his face. He grabbed a chair, sat down, and pulled off his mask. “I saw what just happened in the corridor. I don’t want to miss any of this,” he said cheerfully.

  Joseph held back the few choice words he had for his youngest brother, shut the door, and locked it. His focus at the moment was his twin.

  “So? Are you going to tell me what you want, Joseph?” Vincent asked.

  Joseph pulled off his mask. “Yes. I want your clothes. Take them off.”

  “My clothes?”

  “That’s correct. Remove them.”

  Vincent crossed his arms. “When did it happen?”

  “When did what happen?”

  “When did you take complete leave of your senses?”

  Gilbert laughed but instantly sobered when Joseph shot him a glare. Averting his gaze to the ceiling, Gilbert feigned sudden interest in its mural.

  “Vincent …” Joseph strove for calm, trying to mask the extent of his discomposure over the incident in the hallway around his brothers. The ridicule would be endless if they had any idea how it had affected him. As it was, he was stunned by how strongly he wanted to slam his fist into his brother’s belly for kissing Emilie. The image of Vincent’s mouth on hers was still boiling his blood. He shouldn’t be this riled. Not after all the women he and Vincent had shared. “Either you remove your attire or I will remove it for you.”

  Vincent raked a hand through his hair. “Clearly, by your request for my clothing, you want someone to believe you’re me. Fine. I don’t care. Let me finish with the woman in the hallway and then the clothing is all yours.”

  “No!” Joseph cringed at how strongly that came out. “You’re not having the woman in the hallway.” He’d managed to lower his voice and keep his tone quiet and even.

  “Dieu. Joseph, what has gotten into you? First you lay claim on the lady in the cloak and now this wo—” His twin stopped mid-word. Then a wolfish smile formed on his face. “The lady in the cloak is this woman. Isn’t she?”

  Merde.

  “Well, well …” Gilbert rose snickering, walked over to stand beside Vincent, and casually propped his elbow on Vincent’s shoulder. “Aside from the tantalizing tidbi
ts of his time spent with the fair lady, I think Joseph is keeping a great deal from his brothers, wouldn’t you agree, Vincent?”

  “I would indeed, Gilbert.”

  They were both smiling at him, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

  He didn’t want to punch Vincent anymore. He wanted to punch both his brothers.

  “So, Joseph, are you going to tell us who the lady is, once and for all?” Vincent prompted.

  “No.”

  “Very well. I have a lovely nightingale who is waiting for me. Warmed and wet.” Vincent took a step toward the door.

  Joseph stood in his path. “I’m not done with her yet. And she isn’t warm and wet for you. Her stirrings are for me.”

  Vincent patted Joseph on the shoulder. “I’m fine with that. By the way, she did say she was famished for Vincent d’Alumbert’s kisses. I’m happy to finish what you started.”

  Joseph pressed his hand firmly against Vincent’s chest to discourage any progress. “You’re not having her.”

  “Can I have her?” Gilbert asked.

  Joseph’s gaze jerked to his younger sibling. “Not another word from you.”

  Gilbert’s eyes widened, affecting an innocent look. “I was only trying to help—you know, break the impasse?” His lips twitched. He was fighting back a smile.

  Joseph turned to Vincent and caught him holding back his mirth as well. Merde. They were playing with him. Purposely trying to push him into showing his sorry state.

  Both his brothers burst out laughing. “I never thought the day would come when Joseph had a tendre for a lady,” Vincent said.

  “You’re mad.” Something deep inside Joseph balked at the protest.

  Chuckling, Gilbert said, “I’ve just got to know who she is now.”

  “Me, too. I’ve never seen you so possessive over any other female. We’re your brothers, Joseph. We’ve never kept any secrets from each other. Who is she? And why didn’t you use your own name instead of mine?”

  “I can’t use my name. Leave it at that.”

  “Not enough of an answer,” Vincent pressed. His brothers stared back, still sporting their foolish grins. Sensing his discomfort, they were reveling in it. Clearly, they weren’t going to relent until they got their answers.