Marc seemed oblivious to just how far Luc had come. In the past, Luc wouldn’t have bothered to master the fury. It would have suffocated him until he’d intentionally provoked a duel or some sort of physical altercation with the man responsible for the unwanted touch.
“I’ve not exactly received a warm welcome,” Luc responded, returning his gaze to the dance floor, scanning for the beauty in blue now suddenly missing. She was a finer way to occupy his thoughts. The dance had ended, and a new one had begun. “In fact, I may develop a chill from the icy reception I received from some,” he added.
Marc chuckled. “Be patient, Luc. It will take some time.”
“I know.”
He spotted her just then. On the other side of the dance floor, a number of men surrounded her, engrossed in her every word. Clearly, they were as captivated as he was.
“Who is that woman over there?” he asked, jerking his chin in her direction. “The one with the dark hair, blue gown, and white plumes on her mask?”
Marc stepped up to the edge of the dance floor and scanned the crowd. “Ah, yes. I see her.” He paused for a moment, his lips pursed slightly as he studied the woman. Then his smile returned. Actually, it was a great big grin. “I believe that is none other than Juliette Carre.”
“The courtesan you spoke of?”
“The very one. And it seems she’s caught your eye—even when you claimed you wouldn’t be interested. I told you she would appeal to you.”
He couldn’t deny that. Thus far, she appealed to him very much.
“I’m going to talk to her.”
Marc chuckled. “You’ll have to first get through her crowd of admirers. Vannod is there, practically panting for her. Everyone knows he wants her.”
Vannod and the others didn’t concern him in the least. He was intent on learning everything there was to know about Juliette Carre. From her.
And why on earth she’d reacted to him so oddly.
*****
“Please excuse me, gentlemen.” Isabelle smiled. With a curtsy to the four men before her, she turned and made her way through the crowd. Her mind reeled over the man she’d spotted during the allemande.
It can’t be… Can it? It isn’t… Luc?
Nicole would know for certain who the man with the dark blond hair and the black-and-silver mask was. He was tall. Muscled. And he’d sent her insides into a frenzy with one look.
So similar to the physical reactions she’d had years ago when she’d first set eyes on the fairer Moutier brother.
It took several long agonizing minutes of being jostled about in the crush before Isabelle spotted her friend engaged in conversation with a tall silver-haired gentleman in a black mask.
“My apologies for the intrusion…” she said the moment she reached Nicole, hating to interrupt a conversation her friend was clearly enjoying, judging by her genuine laughter at the man’s whispered remarks. She had Nicole’s attention immediately. Isabelle kept her smile bright as a sad realization occurred to her: while Nicole’s smiles were almost always real, Isabelle’s were almost always not. But then again, she was Juliette. And Juliette was nothing more than an essential charade.
There wasn’t anything authentic about her.
Isabelle’s genuine smiles were only for Gabriel and Nicole and one rather overlarge dog named Montague.
“Might I have a brief moment of your time…in private?”
“Of course, darling,” Nicole said. There was a flash of concern in Nicole’s eyes before she schooled her features with practiced skill. Excusing herself from the company of the disappointed gentleman beside her, Nicole looped her arm with Isabelle’s, then together they made their way to a quieter corner in the room.
“What is the matter?” she asked sotto voce the moment they stopped.
“Do you see the tall gentleman across the room?” She described his clothing and mask with enough detail to aid Nicole in spotting him in the mass.
“Oh yes, I see him.”
“I believe that is Luc de Moutier,” she whispered in Nicole’s ear.
Could he have returned from the West Indies or wherever he’d been all this time?
Nicole shook her head. “Impossible, darling. He’s taller and his shoulders are far broader than the Luc de Moutier I remember. And his hair looks darker too.”
It was true. He did seem taller, his body more powerful. And the hair coloring wasn’t quite right from her vantage point. But no one had seen Luc de Moutier in years. Especially her. He might not be quite the same as the seventeen-year-old boy she’d last seen eleven years ago at the theater and had so adored.
Her insides were in chaos. Her emotions were awhirl.
What if it was him? Could he help reunite her with Sabine?
“Besides,” Nicole added, “if Luc de Moutier were ever to return to Paris, there would be quite a stir. That isn’t the sort of news one would miss. If he was at the masque tonight, I’d have learned of it.”
That was an inarguable fact.
Everyone confided in Nicole de Grammont. She’d be among the first to learn of his attendance at the masque. If the elusive Luc de Moutier were truly here, someone would have certainly recognized him standing in the crowd—regardless of the demi-mask. The gossipmongers in the room would have spread the news of his presence as fast as fire.
Instantly, she quashed the disappointment that threatened to crush her and placed thoughts of her sister back in that place in her heart in which she kept her sealed.
“He does keep looking at you,” Nicole said of the gentleman in question, giving him a friendly nod. “And he is quite handsome. It wouldn’t be too difficult for a woman to enjoy his attention—fully.”
She knew exactly what Nicole meant by fully—in every carnal way. Sex was merely an unavoidable part of the role Juliette played. Something she did because she had to. Yet, at the moment, as she took in the sculpted aristo, she didn’t feel the normal aversion to Nicole’s remark.
Nicole gave her a smile. “If you prefer this man to Vannod, make the duc wait. It won’t harm Vannod to learn more patience. It’ll spike his interest and determination further. Men always want what other men have.”
The gorgeous male across the salon captured Isabelle’s gaze once more. He stared back at her openly. Then a slow, wickedly sensuous smile formed on his lips. Her stomach fluttered, taking her by surprise—again. This was the first man, aside from Luc, who’d inspired any sort of real interest. Or physical reaction.
She was definitely drawn to him.
And for the first time since racing out of the burning servants’ quarters at Luc’s father’s château years ago with Gabriel in her arms—a mere infant at the time—followed by empty years in a sham of a marriage, she actually felt a flicker of desire low in her belly.
It was startling.
It felt good.
And it had everything to do with the attractive man across the room who’d reminded her of a time when life was so very different. When she was so very different.
When her future wasn’t so fractured.
Nicole was right. Vannod could wait. She enjoyed dancing. And she was intent on joining in the next dance—especially as she noted that her enigmatic lord had just stepped onto the dance floor. His focus on her and that sensuous smile hadn’t wavered for an instant. She glanced about, confirming his interest was truly directed at her.
And it was, unquestionably.
Her curiosity was piqued. Her heartbeat was quick with excitement she hadn’t felt for too many years to mention.
She was going to learn more about this tall, alluring aristo.
From him.
Chapter Three
Luc stepped in front of one of the male dancers, cutting into the man’s spot, ignoring the protest. Bowing to his female partner, Luc then took her hand and waited for the music to begin. He didn’t particularly care for dancing, but he was making an exception this night. Anything that would get him before the intriguing raven-haire
d female.
And her beautiful flushed form.
He’d seen her excuse herself from her admirers. He’d seen her speak to a woman he was all but certain was the well-known Nicole de Grammont. They were clearly talking about him—given the way they’d both continued to glance at him as they spoke. Dieu, he liked the way she looked at him. Very much. As though there was no one else in the room.
He couldn’t help but reciprocate the very same way.
This pull to her was beyond enticing. It beckoned him from across the grand salon.
Out of all the women here, she was the only one he wanted to learn more about. Her initial reaction to him had to have been in error. She must have mistaken him for someone else. If this was the courtesan Juliette Carre, then they didn’t know each other. He’d never met her before.
But he was hell-bent on changing that.
The longer they stared at each other, the more strongly he felt a delicious heat rushing through his veins. It had already grown to a level that was impossible to ignore.
Without exchanging a single word.
The attraction was raw. Instant. He couldn’t remove the smile from his face. As he watched her enter the dance floor and take her place in the menuet, giving her partner a curtsy—her attention deliciously drawn back to him again and again—his every rakish instinct told him that a carnal encounter between the two of them would be nothing short of intense. And it had nothing to do with the fact that she was a skilled courtesan.
And everything to do with the palpable allure between them.
The music began. His heart pounded to its own beat. He moved to the next female, anxiously waiting until the dance rotation brought him face-to-face with her. He was one dance partner away. Another few steps. Another turn to the left. Then one more to the right.
And finally, he clasped the hand of the one woman he wanted to dance with.
Surprisingly, her hand was cooler than he would have imagined, given her flushed skin. Was she…nervous? Before he could dwell on that, she smiled at him.
Jésus-Christ. It practically knocked him back.
Her smile was even lovelier up close. As for that little dimple near the corner of her mouth, it was just too damned adorable.
This woman had a smile that was utterly contagious. “I couldn’t help notice that you’ve been watching me, mademoiselle.”
“I could say the same of you, my lord.” He liked the sound of her voice. There was a delightful playfulness to her tone.
And she smelled so good. The light scent of jasmine seduced his senses. He was having a difficult time concentrating on the steps of the dance. “Have mercy on us mere mortals. You are so fine to behold, I couldn’t help myself.”
She laughed. “Mere mortals? Are you suggesting I am a goddess?”
They turned with the music, then clasped hands again. He purposely grazed his thumb down her palm, then wisped across her wrist, enjoying the small gasp she gave at the light sensation. His groin tightened. She was highly responsive to him.
How delectable was that?
“Yes, that is what I strongly suspect,” he said. “Though, I think further investigation is in order.” He was running out of time. He’d be on to the next partner in moments. And he wanted to be alone with her. So badly. “Meet me in the library at the end of the dance, beautiful Juliette. I promise, you will enjoy every moment.”
*****
Isabelle’s skin still tingled where he’d caressed her as she moved to her next partner in the menuet—an older, potbellied gentleman.
“I promise, you will enjoy every moment…”
Those seven little words from Lord Seductive’s lips had lanced straight into her core, making her sex clench. Her every nerve ending hummed with awareness.
Who in heaven’s name is he?
He’d managed to rattle her when she didn’t believe she could be rattled by any man anymore.
It was a challenge just to stay in step, her mind turning much faster than the turns in the dance. How in the world had a few charming words, a light caress, and a sexual proposition incited any responses from her body? Much less such potent ones? Regardless of who he reminded her of, he shouldn’t have had this kind of impact. Not with so little effort. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been propositioned before. Lord knows she’d been on the receiving end of a forward caress many a time. She’d heard every sultry word and flowery phrase a man would utter to a woman he was trying to bed. Yet no one had spiked her pulse or left her feeling heated from the inside out.
Except the man who wanted to meet her in the library.
She was even more drawn to him than before. And more curious about him than ever. As she turned in time with the music, she couldn’t help casting a glance in the direction of the enticing aristo.
Her stomach lurched. He was gone.
A slim man with an orange mask and a ridiculously long purple plume had taken his spot in the menuet.
She quickly scanned the other dancers one by one, in case she’d missed him somehow. She hadn’t. He was nowhere on the dance floor. Dear God, had he left for the library already? Was he there at this very moment waiting for her?
The mere thought made her insides flutter.
Again.
Something told her Lord Seductive wasn’t full of idle words. He could—and would—make good on his promise of pleasure. A thrill rippled up her spine. Whoever he was, her intense attraction to him was unbalancing. And gave her pause.
She had to preserve the façade of being seasoned and sophisticated about sex at all cost.
He couldn’t know that she found him in any way daunting.
Nicole had taught her to place her lovers in one of two groupings: those who paid for her favors. And those she favored whom she enjoyed for free. It made men work harder to earn the preferable grouping. And to remain there. Yet she hadn’t had enough lovers to forgo a fee.
She could simply return to Vannod. But if she didn’t meet the seductive lord in the library, she might never learn who he was. Not to mention the liaison could bolster her socially too. Liar. Those are not the only reasons you want to meet him, a voice inside her countered. For the first time in a very long time, she’d found a man who was desirable. Exciting. She hadn’t felt either for any male in too many years. He offered a rapture she’d never known. Nor had she realized just how starved her senses were—until he touched her.
He’d addressed her as Juliette. Clearly, he had taken the time to learn her name. As she moved from dance partner to dance partner, her desire to go to the library mounted.
So, he intimidates you. So what? That’s no reason to back away.
He was a challenge. She’d dealt with many challenges in her life. Besides, Juliette Carre was a courtesan. And courtesans had clandestine encounters with gentlemen. It was expected.
She could have at least one she was actually interested in.
As the final strains of music faded away, she made up her mind. She’d meet the handsome aristo in the library. She’d keep to her role—and perform it convincingly. As she had thus far.
Moreover, she’d learn just who was behind the mask.
*****
Luc arrested his steps in the library and softly cursed.
Dieu. He was pacing again.
He hadn’t been this restless since his time in prison, when he filled the long, empty hours with endless pacing and torturous thoughts of his possible execution.
Waiting for Juliette to arrive was almost as excruciating.
With a far more decadent outcome if the lady arrived.
Placing his hands on his hips, he blew out a sharp breath, exasperated with himself. His proposition to her had been ridiculously abrupt.
She may not come…
He hoped to God that wasn’t the case. That the simmering desire between them would be enough to draw her to the library. To him. Damn it, he was normally more adept at charming a woman he was attracted to.
And she has a crowd of men out
there wanting the very same thing you want from her. Perhaps propositioning her at this very moment—far better than the way you did.
A pang of jealousy slammed him in the gut, taking him by surprise. Where the hell did that come from? He wasn’t the possessive type.
Not ever.
Luc strode over to the window and braced his palms against its frame, staring absently out at the courtyard as rain began to streak down the pane of glass. This whole situation had him uncharacteristically unbalanced. The last thing he expected to happen tonight was to meet a woman for whom he was practically panting. And who so closely resembled the mental image he’d had of Isabelle Laurent.
For the longest time, he’d been convinced that if he could have had just one encounter with the real Isabelle, it would have been enough to snap the spell she’d cast on him. But that was impossible. No matter how much he wished it. He’d begun to despair that the ghost of Isabelle Laurent would forever torment him.
And now, incredibly, beautiful Juliette had come along.
Could being with her be just like being with Isabelle? He’d never pretended to be with one woman while bedding another. Nor had he ever paid for sex—not when it had always been offered for free. Yet, he’d be willing to pay this one gorgeous courtesan a king’s ransom if she could just give him back his mental peace.
Then he could purge Isabelle Laurent from his system. His thoughts. His dreams.
There was no question. He had to break this hold she had on him so he could move forward with his life without this maddening fascination he had for a deceased woman.
The sound of rustling skirts snagged his attention. He spun around. The sight of Juliette standing at the threshold of the library made his heart skip a beat. She had a slight smile on her delectable mouth. And those luscious breasts of hers were rising and falling more quickly than normal with each soft accelerated breath she took. A telltale sign of arousal. His cock thickened in an instant, his prick suddenly feeling as heavy as lead.
She is here.
And fuck…she wants you.
She looked so good standing in the doorway. Part of him wanted to stalk across the room and tear off her demi-mask just so he could take in the beauty of her entire face. But he was afraid to do anything that would alter this moment. It was all too perfect, from the desire crackling between them to the sheer perfection of the woman before him. How fucking fortunate was he? Of all the men vying for her, she’d selected him. And she was a courtesan. A woman whose very occupation it was to fulfill men’s fantasies. As he drank in the sight of her—every sweet inch of her edible little form—he knew she’d already done her job.
Three Reckless Wishes Page 3
