“That’s simply the means to an end. Once they’re married, you’ll stay away from him, or I will destroy you, that old harlot you live with, and any future you hope to have for that spawn of yours.”
“Madame de Roch, I am truly sorry for your broken heart, but I did not take anyone away from you. I didn’t know Aubert was married to you. He lied to me, and to yo—”
“Silence!” Pierrette looked her in the eyes. Isabelle saw nothing but cold anger in their depths. Tightly between clenched teeth, she said, “He loved me—until you came into his life and poisoned his mind and heart.”
Isabelle wanted to shout, He wasn’t capable of love. He was a faithless, conniving, volatile man who doesn’t deserve the emotions you carry for him. But didn’t dare. Roch’s acting skills were superior to the most seasoned stage performer. He’d convinced Pierrette that his benevolence was authentic. Lord knows he’d convinced her of the same thing for a while too—when, in truth, it was but a ruse to control the women in his life. To bend their wills to his. Pierrette’s willful blindness of her husband’s true nature was unyielding.
Seemingly incurable.
And part of her pitied Pierrette for clinging to such a hollow, inauthentic man.
“The Marquis de Fontenay is in good standing with the King,” Pierrette said. “He is a fine choice for Adeline. Do as you’re told and see to it quickly. Don’t disappoint me or make me wait long. And don’t think to breathe a word of this to anyone—unless you want matters to worsen for you and all those around you. Do consider that the old harlot’s children, whom she worked so hard to arrange respectable marriages for, will be dragged down in her undoing. And her grandchildren are so close to being of marriageable age. You wouldn’t want to level all these people’s lives, now would you?”
Her skin prickled with fury at herself for being in this vulnerable position when she’d done all she could to avoid this very thing, and at Pierrette for her callousness toward others.
“And if I were to do everything you ask, how will I know you’ll not ruin these innocent people’s lives afterward?”
“You don’t.” Again that empty smile cracked across her lips. “You’ll just have to trust me. Now, we both know you have plans to meet the marquis. It’s best you don’t keep him waiting. I’ll be watching you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Luc heard the moment his majordomo opened the front door to his hôtel, followed by the sound of a voice he recognized immediately. He was on his feet, striding to the double doors of his study in an instant.
Dieu. She was here. At last… He’d been waiting two long excruciating hours.
He’d been waiting for this moment forever.
His heart hammered. Every fiber in his entire being roared for her.
Reaching the double doors, he snatched one open, his gaze falling across the vast vestibule onto his dark-haired siren. His one and only Juliette. She was with two larger men he assumed were the servants she’d mentioned. She must have heard the door open as she turned from his majordomo to Luc. Immediately, she approached, leaving the servants behind, the sound of her footsteps echoing lightly.
He stood riveted by the vision she made.
And the luscious little bounce of those sweet breasts with each quickened step she took.
When she reached the halfway point, he noted there was something in her eyes. Something different. Before he could decipher what, she bolted toward him. His back slammed against the door he didn’t even remember closing. He grunted. It took a moment before he realized her soft mouth was against his.
Dieu. She was kissing him. Urgent presses of her mouth, again and again. Her hands fisting his doublet tightly.
Lust burned through his veins as a particular emotion flooded his chest, fiercer than ever before.
Leveling all the norms of his life.
He wanted, for the first time ever, this feeling that welled inside him.
This was so unexpected. He’d never felt such pure joy. He reveled in it, and in every hungry little slash of her mouth against his.
There was a slight awkwardness mixed in with her zeal, and for the briefest moment, the thought that perhaps this too was something that might be new to her flitted through his mind.
Yet another thing he couldn’t dwell on.
Not when these perfect lips were finally his. Not when one of his fantasies—kissing this woman—had come true. He loved this incredible, uniquely Juliette kiss. He didn’t know what to make of it. But it felt akin to a…gift.
And God help him… He didn’t want it to end.
He cupped her cheeks and murmured against her lips, “Slow down. Savor it…” Then took command of the kiss, slowing down her frenzy to relish her mouth. Her inebriating taste. He’d imagined what she’d taste like a thousand times.
And she tasted far better than in his wildest fantasy.
He didn’t know if they still had an audience of servants. Didn’t care a whit if they did.
Slipping an arm around her waist, he hauled her to him tightly, crushing her against his stiff prick, then drove his hand into her silky hair, fisting a handful of her dark locks. Angling her head just the way he wanted. She parted her lips on a breath. He slid his tongue inside her mouth, plying hers with long languid strokes, his own urgency rushing through his blood. She’d seeped into his system long ago. She was like thunder in his veins. The air in his lungs.
There wasn’t a single part of him that wasn’t starved for her. That hadn’t missed her. The very last thing he wanted to do was pull his mouth away from hers—now that her lips were finally his. But there was so much more awaiting them.
And if he didn’t stop, he was going to take her right here in the vestibule just to take the edge off their desire. Witnesses be damned.
Reluctantly, he pulled away and gazed down at her. She was up on the balls of her feet. Her eyes were closed. Her sweet mouth was seeking his. She looked so damned adorable. Beyond tempting. And he almost gave in to the allure of those lips again. Instead, he leaned into her and said in her ear, “Follow me.”
Taking her hand, he stalked across the vestibule, up the stairs with her in tow, shouting over his shoulder at his majordomo to give her men food, drink, and chairs in the upstairs hallway. And without slowing his stride, he made his way to his private apartments. He didn’t stop until he’d thrown open the doors, slammed them shut, crossed his antechamber, and entered his blue-and-gold bedchamber. Closing the door behind him, he then turned his attention to the beautiful woman who now stood in the middle of the room.
He couldn’t help but smile. Her eyes were darkened with desire, her breaths rapid and raw. She stood still, waiting for his next move.
Trusting you in a way she’s never trusted you before.
And yet again, that filled him with a level of happiness he didn’t know he could feel. Hell, he didn’t know he was capable of feeling half of what she made him feel.
This woman had changed him. That thought should have been alarming. Should make him walk—no, run—away. But instead, he didn’t want distance. He wanted more. Of her. With her.
And it had never meant more to him to share in the experience of carnal bondage with a woman as it did with this one.
He pulled off his doublet and threw it carelessly to the floor.
She made his blood course white-hot in a way no other ever had. And he damn well needed that mouth again. The afternoon’s sunrays streamed through the windows. He was going to have her naked and bound, every sweet inch of her form illuminated for his viewing pleasure. He was so damned anxious for it, he wanted to tear the clothes right off their bodies.
Isabelle’s journal entry about falling from the tree suddenly whispered through his thoughts.
I cut my side and above my right knee…
Perhaps it was absurd, as Marc suggested, but he was going to check for any such scars.
Luc opened his vest with a rapid deftness. He loved it that he had her undivided attention. Her ha
nds were at her sides, clutching handfuls of her skirts as she watched him disrobe, engrossed in his every motion. The moment he saw the tip of her pink tongue lick her lips, a dollop of pre-come wept from his cock.
His vest joined the doublet on the floor.
He walked over to her, his approach seemingly breaking the spell. She pulled her gaze from him to her bodice and reached for it, but he clasped her wrist and returned her hand to her side.
“You don’t need to do a thing…except relax and enjoy,” he told her, plucking loose the ribbon at the décolletage of her gown between the swells of her breasts, purposely brushing his knuckles against her skin as he untied it. He felt her small shiver of excitement. It reverberated through him and down the length of his leaden cock.
“Now then, shall we begin?” He watched for any signs of fear or, worse, panic and saw none.
She nodded, her cheeks pink.
God, how it drove him wild to see a woman’s skin flush with desire.
“That’s excellent.” He worked diligently at the fastenings on her bodice as he spoke. “You are going to follow my instructions. With no hesitation. No inhibition. Just total submission. You are free to ask me to stop at any time you feel you need to. That is how we play our little game. Understood?” He chose the word “game” because it was lighter. Innocuous. Rather than to dwell at the moment on how ingrained in his sexuality this was. It wasn’t just something he enjoyed in bed.
It was a part of him, part of who he was.
She grabbed him by the shirt and shot up onto the balls of her feet, bringing her lush mouth barely an inch from his. “You talk too much.”
He lifted his brows. Not exactly the docile response he typically got from a woman submitting to being bound and fucked.
His lips twitched as he fought to maintain a straight face. “I believe you’ve missed the submission aspect of this.”
She brushed her mouth against his. The light sensation shimmered over the nerve endings in his lips. He felt it ripple down his spine.
“Hmmm? No. I am in compliance with the rules of our game. You said I could stop you at any time… Kiss me. Hard. With your all. Make it go away.”
He frowned. “Make what go away?”
“The world. You’re the only one who knows how.”
Dieu… The things she said…
He slipped an arm around her. “I take all requests under consideration. And I like that one.” He yanked her to him and claimed her mouth, driving his tongue past her parted lips. He held nothing back, kissing her hungry and hard. Sucking her tongue into his mouth. Delighting in her sensuous little mews. His hands worked away at her clothing. Her hands tugged at his shirttails. He didn’t stop her, despite his earlier words, as they tossed each discarded article onto the floor, breaking contact with her mouth only when necessary.
The faster they dispatched their clothing, the bloody better.
By the time he had her down to her chemise, he wore just his breeches and boots.
He felt the fastenings on his breeches finally give, her hand slip inside and grip his engorged prick, giving it an exquisite stroke from head to base.
His greedy cock jerked in approval in her hand.
His willful beauty.
Luc broke the kiss, pulling her hand away. “I didn’t give you leave to touch me. Nor did I give you leave to undress me. You’ll only do as I ask. No more. No less. No improvisations.”
She tilted her head and studied him for a moment, soft pants slipping past her lips. “And if I should happen to improvise again, what then?”
He reached under her chemise and undid her caleçons. The drawers fell to her feet. He dipped his head and said in her ear, “There will be consequences.” He cupped her sex and massaged her, enjoying her soft moan. Her curls were already delectably damp with her juices. “You’ll have to wait to come. I’ll make you work harder for it.”
He pulled away and looked into her eyes. He wanted to howl with joy. There was still no fear. Just raw passion and keen interest.
He held out a hand to assist. “Get on the bed. On your knees. Face me.” His voice was rough with desire. The length of his cock now lightly pulsing in the aftermath of her caress.
Without hesitation, she took his hand and climbed onto his bed and complied with his instructions. Glancing down on the mattress, she noticed for the first time the long scarves on the edge of the bed. He waited for her reaction. She returned his gaze. Still only fire and need in those dark eyes. Once again, she licked her lips. Once again, a hot pulse lanced through his groin.
Grasping the hem of her knee-length chemise, he pulled it off her body and grabbed a scarf. “Give me your hands, Juliette.”
Seeing her extend them was a heady rush. He couldn’t believe this was finally happening. He bound her wrists together with practiced skill. “I’m going to bind your legs apart as well. Do you have any objections?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said, ever so softly. It made him wonder what thoughts were going through that bright mind of hers.
When he was done binding her wrists, he took a step back to devour the sight before him. Naked, except for her stockings reaching above her knees, held in place by red ribbon, and the yellow scarf binding her wrists, she made his mouth water. She’d lowered her arms and clasped her bound hands together. He couldn’t see her sides. And her pebbled pink nipples were straining toward him. Begging to be sucked. Driving him to distraction. He touched the scarf around her wrists. “Is it too tight?”
She shook her head again. She’d become very quiet. Too quiet for his liking.
He slipped his fingers under her chin, tilting it up, and gave her another languid kiss. She responded immediately in kind, parting her lips for him. Inviting him into her mouth. An invitation no man could refuse. He stroked her tongue and the soft recesses of her mouth with his tongue before breaking the kiss.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I am when you touch me.”
He smiled. “So am I.” More than he could explain or understand. “There’s one more thing I want you to permit me to do.”
She crinkled her brow. “Oh?”
He picked up a shorter scarf of red and green from the bed. “I’m going to blindfold you.”
For the first time since she’d arrived, uncertainty crossed her features.
“Your men are in the hallway outside my apartments if you need them—though you won’t. And I will stop and remove the scarves anytime you choose. Even if it damn well kills me. By covering your eyes, your other senses heighten…”
He cupped her breast, dipped his head, and gave the sensitive tip a soft suck, followed by a little bite. Holding her nipple captive between his teeth for a moment. Making her jerk and whimper, her body instantly arching to him. Wanting more. He released the sweet tip and raised his head. “Pleasure is the goal in our game. It adds to the pleasure. What say you, Juliette? Will you let me blindfold you?”
She glanced past him to the door of his bedchamber, then returned those big fathomless eyes back to him. This time, she gave him a shaky nod. But a nod nonetheless.
Jésus-Christ. His hammering heart practically burst with joy.
Placing the scarf over her eyes, he secured it behind her head. “Raise your arms for me, Juliette, high above your head. Don’t lower your arms until I tell you to.”
Slowly, her arms rose above her, her nipples lifting higher. Her breathing escalating. Slipping his hand behind her head, he angled it, giving her a deep kiss. Possessing her mouth. Sucking her tongue. Worshiping those lips he’d been denied for so long. Dieu, how was he ever going to get enough of her mouth?
Or her?
And what in the world did a man do with these foreign feelings she inspired?
Reaching up, he grabbed hold of the binding on her wrists, to keep her arms from tiring. And keep them in place. Then he lowered his mouth and lightly bit her other nipple. A soft cry erupted from her lips at the spike of sensation. She arche
d hard toward him. He immediately began suckling her, quieting her down to pants and small mewls. And delicious little squirms she couldn’t contain.
He could see her right side now, scanning every inch.
Not a single scar…
Just beautiful satiny skin.
And though the likelihood was small that Juliette and Isabelle were the same woman, he couldn’t help but feel a flutter of disappointment. He turned to her other breast and caught sight of something small on her left side. Just above her hip.
He looked closer. A thin white line ran down her side, about the length of his small finger. His pulse began to throb in his throat. He stroked his fingers over it. It was slightly raised.
And definitely a scar.
The line from Isabelle’s journal ran through his mind again.
I cut my side and above my right knee…
The journal entry had never indicated that the cut was on the right side. Merde. It was something he’d just assumed. He lowered her arms, grabbed the end of the red ribbon around her right stocking, and yanked it loose.
The stocking slipped down, puddling around her knee on the bed. Her knees were pressed into the mattress, and he had to shove both the stocking and counterpane down to expose as much of her knee as he could.
And there it was. Another thin white scar he’d never noticed before. About the same size as the other scar.
Stunned, he took a step back. His mind spinning. Jésus-Christ…
Isabelle!
He scrubbed his hands over his face. Reeling.
Incredulous.
For Juliette to have a scar on her side, that was possibly in keeping with Isabelle’s journal, might have raised some suspicions. But to have a scar on her right knee, as well—the exact part of her body mentioned in the journal entry—made it undeniable.
This is Isabelle Laurent. Dear Lord, he’d found her.
She was alive. In front of him, all along. And it explained the similarities he’d noted about the two women. The way he’d been drawn to Juliette from the start.
Three Reckless Wishes (Fiery Tales Book 10) Page 21
