“Those of my choosing, yes.” She shifted, feeling more and more disquieted.
“I’ve heard the aristos talk about you. About Juliette Carre. You are highly desired.”
“Yes, that is rather a must in being a courtesan.”
Delphine let out a shriek—making Isabelle jump—then laughed and clapped her hands. “Why, that’s wonderful!”
“Wonderful?” Not exactly the word she would have used.
“Yes! You have all these powerful aristos fawning all over you. Do you know they argue with each other over who is most deserving of you?”
At least she was performing this courtesan role correctly.
Delphine didn’t grant her time to reply. “Do they adorn you with expensive gifts and funds?”
She shifted at the mention of payment for her services. “I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t providing funds for Gabriel and me. I intend to make certain that his future is secure. He will want for nothing. And he will not be vulnerable to poverty and know the horror of it. Nor be at the whims of wealthy men. That is why I need you to keep my secret. Isabelle Laurent is dead. Do I have your word?”
“Of course!” Delphine was back on her feet and pulled Isabelle to hers. She moved behind her and started undoing her gown. “You needn’t worry about my saying a thing. I’m so glad you’re alive and well, Madame Carre. And I’m glad you are able to take some of these aristos’ wealth for yourself. You deserve it. And so does your son. Now, let’s get you out of this wet gown before you catch your death.”
Isabelle’s pulse began to relax, as did her stomach, as she realized just how much it had meant to her to have her friend’s acceptance of her new persona. She was glad she’d found Delphine again. Another ally. Someone she could trust in a world full of disloyalty and malicious schemes. She heard loud sniffling behind her. Turning her head, she saw that Delphine was weeping again.
“Delphine, what is the matter?”
“You…you were with Luc de Moutier. How incredible is that? You made your dream come true.”
No, I haven’t, she wanted to say, ignoring the twinge in her heart. Not in the way she used to dream about them together—where she had his love and his body.
But she had gotten one thing right in her old romantic fantasies. Being with Luc was incredible—her beautiful aristo outcast.
Once again, he’d taken her with her arms above her head, not allowing her to touch him.
And she was determined to learn why. She wanted—no, needed—to know each and every one of his hidden secrets before she could ever entrust her and her son’s safety in his hands. Before she could ever reveal her own secrets. She couldn’t allow herself to be fooled again.
Bad enough she’d made three reckless wishes once.
She wouldn’t allow herself to make another major mistake after placing her trust in Vittry and Roch. Both still gave her nightmares.
Her wet gown flopped to the floor. She stepped out of it, standing in her wet undergarments. Delphine picked up her gown.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Isabelle grabbed hold of the skirts.
Delphine gently swatted her hands away. “Nonsense. I want to. And it would look rather odd having you do it.” She smiled and walked away and draped it over one of the chairs. “I’ll attend to it, and it will be as good as new.”
“Thank you… Delphine, I have some questions I must ask you, if you don’t mind.”
Her friend approached. “Of course. What would you like to ask?”
“Why do you suppose Luc didn’t recognize you just now? You’d been employed at his father’s château long before I arrived.”
Delphine shrugged. “I only saw him there once. Briefly. He’s forgotten, I suppose.”
“Just once in all those years? He never returned home during my employment there, but I thought perhaps prior—”
“Everyone knows he and his father didn’t much care for each other.”
“Yes, I’d heard that many times. But why? What happened between them?”
Delphine looked uneasy, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t know if any of it is true…”
Isabelle’s stomach began to tighten again. Her friend’s sudden unease was palpable.
“What is it, Delphine? Tell me.”
“I heard, mind you, people can often exaggerate—especially since the late marquis was so despised by his staff…”
“Out with it, please.” The suspense was becoming excruciating.
“I heard that the late marquis would drag his son into his cabinet and…well…”
“Well, what?”
“There was much screaming. Not the angry sort. The sort associated with pain being inflicted. Some say they’d hear heavy lashings—always for minor infractions. Always just to his youngest son. That is, until the boy stopped screaming even when the lashing sounds could be heard. I was told he learned not to cry out anymore. Also, he’d often take beatings to spare his mother.”
A wave of revulsion oozed into her stomach. Dear God… She didn’t want to believe any of this had actually happened to Luc. That this was nothing more than venomous talk among servants, most of whom had despised Charles de Moutier. But she’d seen firsthand how heartless he was with his staff.
And, yet…his own son? Could he truly have misused him so barbarously? She couldn’t imagine inflicting any abuse on Gabriel. Ever.
She was sickened, furious, heartbroken for Luc, and incredulous all at once. Yet, of all the talk among the staff about the late marquis, if all this happened—repeatedly—why had no one ever mentioned or hinted at the abuse?
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I didn’t know. I’d only learned about it from the cook one night when he was into his cups. I heard the same thing from another member of the staff several months later. This happened after you left.”
“How…How long did they say this went on?”
“Until his mother, the marquise, fell ill and died and he was big enough to fight back. He began engaging in fisticuffs in taverns. And in duels. I’d heard that one day, he came to physical blows with his father. Pummeled him well, then left to join the King’s navy.”
Was this the reason for the sadness she’d seen in his eyes years ago? Could this be connected to the falling out Luc had had with his brother?
Though she’d learned that Luc certainly wasn’t the only man who indulged in erotic bondage, she couldn’t deny it had overwhelming appeal to her now. Especially after tonight. She was sorely tempted to surrender to the restraints he wanted to use on her.
But was his attraction to it only about enhancing sexual play?
Or had his body been so mistreated that he didn’t want it touched?
She had to know, from his lips.
*****
“Luc!” Hearing his name called out behind him stopped Luc in his tracks. He sighed and placed his hands on his hips. It was late afternoon. Eléonore’s salon was beginning, and he was anxious to see Juliette.
He knew he’d find her there.
Given her love of literature, she was sure to join in on an intellectual gathering where people came together to discuss and debate philosophy, religion, politics, books, and grammar. Where she was regularly invited, not for her vocation but for her extensive knowledge and wit.
Salons had never been of interest to him in the past. Mostly because he didn’t like those in attendance at the more prestigious ones where the aristocracy were in greater number than the literati. But last night, he’d thoroughly enjoyed debating with her about books.
Hell, he’d enjoyed every moment in her company.
His bright and beautiful faux courtesan.
A woman hiding behind a façade named Juliette Carre who didn’t even realize just how intensely sensual she really was. How sensuous she was during sex. He loved expanding her sexual horizon, more than he could ever admit. She was pure delight at every turn.
And a mystery he couldn’t
wait to unravel.
Marc caught up to him. He clamped a hand onto Luc’s shoulder good-naturedly with a smile. Once again, Luc had to tamp down the wave of revulsion that roiled through him, every fiber of his being screaming for him to knock the hand away.
“Where are you off to, my friend?” Marc asked.
Dropping his hands from his hips, Luc jerked his chin in the direction of the double white doors at the end of the long window-lined corridor and stepped back casually, breaking Marc’s touch. “To Eléonore’s salon.”
“I’ll walk with you. I have something to tell you. You are going to thank me.” He seemed pleased with himself.
“Oh?” Luc slowed down his brisk pace so he wouldn’t have to listen to Marc’s ribbing about the reason for his rush. He’d run right into Marc last night on his way back to his rooms—soaking wet, sporting what must have been a big, foolish grin on his face—fresh from his encounter with Juliette.
It took Marc half a moment to decipher what he’d been up to. And with whom.
“What am I going to thank you about?”
“Well, since the only people you seem to be charming here are Juliette Carre and your female dinner partners, I thought to help you out by having a lengthy talk with the Marquis de Nort about you.”
“Why would that make me thank you?” Damn it. It was going to take forever to get to the salon at the leisurely pace Marc walked.
“Because the man has no fewer than four daughters. Two of marriageable age.”
“So?”
His brows shot up. “I thought you were looking for a bride. He’s interested in speaking to you. If you don’t challenge him to a duel or offend him—and you happen to find one of his attractive daughters to your liking, who, by the way, don’t talk about their footwear—you could possibly begin contract negotiations to wed one of them.”
This subject didn’t hold the same appeal it once had.
“I appreciate your efforts, Marc. Truly, I do. Perhaps another time.”
Marc stopped dead in his tracks. “You jest.”
Luc kept walking. “No, I don’t.”
His friend raced up to him. “You’re going to snub the man?”
“No. I’ll speak to him. Just not about marrying one of his attractive daughters who don’t talk about footwear.”
Marc laughed and shook his head. “All right. I understand what’s happening here. And I can’t blame you for your lack of interest in Nort’s daughters. Not when you have Juliette Carre. Bloody hell, there isn’t a man present who doesn’t envy you at the moment for your success with her.”
“Success? She’s not a contest. She’s a woman.” An extraordinary one, full of delightful surprises, with whom he was having spine-melting sex.
“One you’re too silent about. Come now, Luc. Provide details. Something. Anything. Have some mercy. I doubt she’ll ever favor me as she favors you. Allow me to live the experience through you. How good is the sex?”
“How good is the sex with Eléonore?”
“Stop trying to change the subject. Or I may decide I don’t like you anymore.” Marc’s smile nullified the threat and made Luc laugh.
“The crowd of people who don’t like me is rather large. You’ll only melt into a sea of faces.” They stopped before the doors at the end of the hallway with Marc chuckling.
“My friend, you can’t afford to lose me. I might be the only man in the entire realm who still tolerates you.”
Luc smiled. “I think you’re correct on that score.” Though, now that he was back among his peers, that notion didn’t at all bother him.
Just as he was about to put his hand on the door latch, Marc said, “At least tell me… How does she like your particular sexual propensity?”
He knew he was asking about sexual bondage. Images of last night, Juliette’s trembling body glistening with raindrops, her arms above her head tangled in her gown as he fingered her to the edge of release, flitted through his mind. His cock stiffened in an instant. Mentally, he cursed. Walking into the salon with a stiff prick was the last thing he wanted to do.
He turned to Marc, his friend’s expression etched with anticipation of his next utterance. “I haven’t really taken her that way.”
Marc blinked. Surprise, then shock crossed his features.
Luc sighed. He needed a moment to cool his blood so he could walk into the room and not look like a rutting roué, but the subject of taking Juliette bound wasn’t likely to help in that regard.
He should have simply kept his bloody mouth shut.
“What on earth does that mean? Not really taken her that way?”
“It means exactly what I said. I haven’t had her bound. She said no.”
Marc’s mouth fell slightly agape, and his eyes were so wide, it was almost comical. “And…And you didn’t…walk away?”
“No.”
Marc’s mouth opened wider. Then he threw back his head with a loud guffaw. “Oh, this is too incredible…” More laughter. It took him long, annoying moments before he sobered up, adding, “This is unbelievable. You? You didn’t…” That prattle was followed by some snickering.
Well, he’d needed a cooling effect, and Marc had provided just enough irritation to take the edge off.
“What are you carrying on about?”
“You never take a woman who’s not willing to be bound when fucked.”
“Clearly, that’s not true. There’s Juliette.” If truth be told, no one was more surprised than he at the fact that he’d had her twice—two utterly delicious carnal encounters—with the full knowledge that she wasn’t truly restrained during any of it.
He couldn’t tell Marc that that wasn’t even the most unimaginable part; she’d touched his back, and he hadn’t even noticed.
Marc shook his head, still snickering. “For you to forgo a sexual practice you enjoy immensely, an integral part of how you fuck, she must be incredible.”
“She most definitely is.”
“It must be her vast carnal experience.”
“She most definitely isn’t.”
Marc frowned, confused. “She isn’t what?”
“Vastly experienced in sex.”
“What are you talking about? She’s a courtesan.”
“She may be a courtesan. She may be highly sought out. But she’s not as experienced as is being suggested about her.”
“But…you said she was incredible during sex.”
“She is beyond incredible during sex. The best I’ve ever had, in fact. But she also has only a basic experience in the carnal arts—a fact you’ll not tell anyone,” Luc warned.
“Of course not. I’d never betray your confidence, but…” Marc rubbed the back of his neck. “Dieu, Luc, I can’t believe this is true. How can she be practically a sexual novice? All the talk about her… And her family… She comes from a long line of Venetian courtesans. Not to mention she’s a friend of Nicole de Grammont.”
“Madame de Grammont has many friends. That means nothing. I’m certain not every woman she socializes with has an advanced knowledge of sex. You’ve mentioned Juliette hasn’t been in Paris long, but from what I’ve gathered, the Marquis de Cambry is the only other man here who’s had her. As to her background, I don’t know a thing about her family or where she comes from, but I will. There’s nothing I’m looking forward to more than to learn every detail about her.” Except, perhaps, getting her alone in a bedchamber, near some silk or satin ties.
And permission to kiss her mouth to hot oblivion and back.
He couldn’t take the smile off his face. The mere thought of her did that to him. She made him feel joyful while setting his body on fire at the same time. And he loved that combination—more than he could ever admit. His every nerve ending was already humming in anticipation of seeing her. He wasn’t going to barrage her with the questions he had about her. He knew she wouldn’t be receptive to that. He’d take it slowly, relishing the notion of getting to know more about her a little at a time. It w
as like savoring the unwrapping of an unexpected present, anxious about what surprise awaited him.
Luc opened the door and walked in. Eléonore was the first woman he spotted among the various groups clustered about the room, and he forced his legs in her direction first, rather than look for Juliette, wanting to bid his hostess a good day and afford her every regard she was due. Her invitation to her weeklong gathering, regardless of any amorous arrangements she and Marc might have made, was sincerely appreciated.
Eléonore smiled at his and Marc’s approach. Luc made light chatter with her and the group of mostly ladies surrounding her, making certain not to get too involved in their debate of the Spanish classics. Not when he’d rather be in the far corner of the room where he’d located Juliette, dressed in a mouthwatering, gold-colored gown. As usual, Vannod was there. And she had him and other men and women in her group captivated by whatever commentary she was making.
So much for hoping his unruly cock would behave. Not even seeing the way Vannod leaned into her from time to time could redirect his heated thoughts. Marc dove into a discussion of one of the sonnets by the late Spaniard Miguel de Cervantes and moved to stand next to Eléonore, immediately enthralling her and the group. Allowing Luc a gracious exit.
And he couldn’t be more grateful to Marc, knowing he’d done so purposely to help him.
Luc approached Juliette’s group, intending to keep the promise he’d made to her the other day not to cause her trouble by purposely rattling or verbally sparring with Vannod—or the idiot brothers Auguste and Frédéric he just noticed were also in her company.
“Marquis de Fontenay, how good to see you.” Juliette smiled. It made his heart race. “Please join us, won’t you?” Luc relaxed his shoulders, not realizing he’d tensed as he approached.
He had an easy rapport with women. A casual approach to any affair. And it wasn’t as though lust was foreign to him. Hell, he loved the feeling of desire coursing through his blood when a woman he wanted was near. But this woman and his attraction to her was on another, entirely new level of intensity altogether. What this woman could do to him with a glance, a smile, a word was fiercely unraveling. Worse, he was beginning to have those odd tender feelings Isabelle alone had inspired with her journals.
Three Reckless Wishes (Fiery Tales Book 10) Page 14
