Anne rose. “Madame, go home, and find yourself someone worthy of your love. Do not despair over the loss of a man who causes you such distress. Consider yourself fortunate to be rid of him.” It was the attitude she should have taken long ago with Roland. She’d been a colossal fool to allow Roland to make her miserable long after his departure. It was clear to her now that by clinging to her heartbreak, she’d actually held on to Roland, making him a part of her life when he didn’t deserve to be.
Madame de Boutette stood up, looking aghast. “But—But what about my story? Monsieur Leduc?”
“Monsieur Leduc is quite fatigued.” Anne ushered the woman to the main door of her apartments, knowing Vincent would show her out of the Comtesse’s home.
“He is?”
“He’s long overdue for a respite.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and I can’t say when or if he’ll be ready to write again.” At least not stories for embittered hearts. She wouldn’t do it. She’d talk to her sisters and the Comtesse. Leduc was going to be much more selective. If Leduc’s stories were to continue, they’d have to be fewer and only in instances where a woman found herself in truly dire circumstances—like poor Eléonore, Duchesse de Falloux, who was still unjustly confined to a convent.
The moment Madame de Boutette left, Anne moved toward her desk. She wanted to seek out Nicolas, perhaps spend the day with him, but couldn’t. Leduc’s book was due at the printer’s soon and she needed to finish Eléonore’s story.
Sitting down at her desk, Anne pulled out the draft of her work in progress and dipped her quill in the inkwell. When the Comtesse returned, Anne intended to talk to her about her grandson, and then tell Nicolas everything about Leduc.
She wanted no secrets between them.
She felt a smile tug at her lips. Nicolas would likely praise her for her stories as he had her poetry. He’d be completely understanding and utterly supportive of her efforts.
*****
Nicolas was smiling as his eyes tracked Anne in the crowded Salon. Another of his grandmother’s Saturday Salons was under way. This one was just as crowded as the last.
He knew he should be mingling with his grandmother’s friends. He was, after all, supposed to be interested in learning about the Comtesse and getting to know the people in her life. But he had no desire to make polite conversation. He was content to simply watch Anne as she moved from guest to guest, charming them all.
As with last week, Nicolas noted how the men looked at her. Their interest keen. Many made no attempt to hide their desire. But as they watched her, gaped at her, her attention, when she was not engaged in conversation, was directed at him.
Repeatedly, she’d turn, seek him out in the crowd, and smile when she met his gaze.
It sent a jolt of joy to his heart each time.
“Nicolas.” He heard Thomas’s voice.
Nicolas pulled his attention from Anne and found his friend standing beside him. “Where have you been?” he asked. Thomas had been missing all day. He’d learned from Vincent that he’d left the hôtel.
“I need to speak to you. Privately,” Thomas said.
Nicolas didn’t like the look on Thomas’s face.
He led Thomas out of the Grand Salon, across the vestibule, and into the servants’ stairwell. It was dark and quiet once he’d closed the door.
“What is it?” Nicolas hated the uneasy feeling building inside him.
Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. “I couldn’t take it anymore, Nicolas. All this deceit with Camille is getting to me. I left to clear my head. Before I knew it, I found myself at the Arsenal. Tiersonnier was there. He demanded to know about the mission.”
Nicolas tensed. “What did you tell him?”
“That you had things well in hand, but … that didn’t satisfy him. He pressed for more information. He wants this matter done.”
“Go on,” Nicolas prompted, seeing there was more that Thomas wasn’t saying.
Thomas looked away. That wasn’t a good sign. Nicolas’s stomach tightened.
“He demanded details,” Thomas said, not meeting his gaze.
“And?”
“And I told him …where you were. Who—Who we suspected was Leduc.”
Nicolas grabbed his lapels and shoved him against the wall. “You did what?”
Thomas’s eyes widened. “We have sworn an oath. Did you want me to lie to the commander of the Guard?”
Yes! Nicolas took a long deep breath and let it out slowly. By force of will, he uncurled his hands and released his friend. “No.”
“You’ve had the key for days, Nicolas. Have you searched Anne’s desk yet?”
“I have not had the key for days,” he responded sharply. “I told you the other day that she noticed the key was missing. I had to toss it onto the floor in the library, so she’d think she lost it there. The library was the last place she’d seen it.”
“That was two days ago. The key is back in her locket. You’re fucking her, for God’s sake.”
“And your point is?”
“Surely during the time you’ve spent in her rooms, you’ve had an opportunity or two to take the key and have a glance at the desk?”
Nicolas’s eyes narrowed. “I have not had the opportunity.” Liar. He was avoiding the desk. Avoiding the search.
“This mission cannot continue indefinitely.”
“I will get to the desk, when I can. Until then—”
“You have one more day,” Thomas blurted out.
“What do you mean, one more day?”
“Tiersonnier said if you don’t make your arrest by then, he’ll send Musketeers here to search for the evidence and to bring in Leduc.”
The look of horror must have been on his face. Thomas’s gaze shot down to his feet. “I’m sorry.” His voice was a whisper. Or maybe it simply sounded faint with the blood roaring in Nicolas’s ears.
Thomas reached into his justacorps and pulled out a gold key. “I managed to get this from Camille.” He handed the key to Nicolas. “Anne, Camille, and Henriette are busy with the guests. I’ll make sure no one goes upstairs. This is an ideal time to search Anne’s rooms and desk.”
Nicolas’s heart plummeted. He knew Thomas was right.
He couldn’t avoid the task any longer.
He had to learn once and for all what was in Anne’s desk.
*****
Nicolas leaned against the doorway in Anne’s antechamber looking at the desk he had to search.
Anne’s rooms were quiet and still. The air, without her there, was thick and hard to breathe. This was the last thing he wanted to do, his every instinct screaming, “Don’t look!”
Nicolas glanced back at the bed in the bedchamber. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t simply having sex with a woman. There was emotion involved. He was making love. And he’d found the intimate encounters and the time he spent with her far more pleasurable and gratifying than he could have ever imagined.
He didn’t want what he had with Anne to be over. But he knew, as he stood holding the key in his fist, that their time together was running out.
There wasn’t a thing he could do about it.
It sickened him to know that soon her warm looks, her soft words, her kisses, would vanish. In their place, he’d have her disdain. It didn’t matter who Leduc was. No matter whom he arrested, she’d feel betrayed. Deceived. Despise him for his numerous lies.
Thomas was right. Nicolas hadn’t been doing his duty. He’d procrastinated simply to delay the inevitable.
He’d done the unimaginable; he’d allowed feelings to be fostered for a beautiful red-haired poetess who was like no woman he’d ever known.
And a suspect.
He was under the King’s command. If he didn’t do this, it would be done just the same.
Pushing himself toward the desk, Nicolas approached it with dread. Slowly, he sat down, took a deep breath before he inserted the key, and unlocked the first drawer.
> Jésus-Christ, the best he could hope for in this dismal situation was that the author wasn’t Anne.
Sliding open the drawer, he then pulled out the contents: a small stack of parchments. Upon close scrutiny, he realized they were poems. New poetry. Despite the trepidation he felt, a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. She’d been so joyful about her new poems. He’d been moved and honored that she’d wanted to show them to him.
She had a gift for writing poetry, and they were as lovely as she was.
He checked the next drawer, and the next, growing ever more hopeful with each one that yielded no evidence of Leduc.
Turning the key in the final lock of the final drawer, Nicolas opened it and found parchments and a ledger. He pulled them out. The words “Eléonore, Duchesse de Falloux” were across the top of the first parchment.
He scrutinized the writings on the loose parchments, and then the contents of the ledger, his heart sinking lower and lower. Each page that condemned her consumed him with grief and tore him apart.
He closed the ledger.
Closed the drawer.
Closed his eyes, and hung his head.
*****
Anne grinned the moment she spotted Nicolas in her rooms. “There you are!”
Seated near the hearth in her antechamber staring at the fire, he looked up at her and smiled. But his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
His light gray eyes were rueful.
Her grin had completely dissolved by the time she reached him. “Nicolas, is everything all right?”
He pulled her onto his lap and drew her close, his sad smile still on his lips. “It is tonight.” Lightly, he ran his knuckles along her cheek.
She wasn’t sure what he meant. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. “Something is bothering you and has been for some time. Tell me what it is. Perhaps I can help.”
He shook his head. “In the morning …We’ll talk in the morning. This night belongs to us. I want nothing to interfere with it. Or spoil it.”
What could spoil it? she wanted to ask, but he threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her forward. Their mouths met and her thoughts scattered. An intoxicating rush of arousal and emotion flooded her body. Her nerve endings sparked to life. Parting her lips for him, she welcomed his tongue into her mouth, stroking it, caressing it, loving his taste, his scent, the sounds of his escalating breaths. She loved his every heated reaction to her.
She loved him.
“Tonight you are all mine,” he murmured and kissed her harder, with enough intensity to make her head spin.
Vaguely, she felt him lift her in his arms. He deposited her onto the bed with infinite care, then straightened. His hands moved to the fastenings on his breeches. Sitting up, she watched him undress, transfixed. Expectant.
Nicolas yanked off his shirt. His sculpted chest, his strong body were mesmerizing to behold, and protruding from his open breeches was his sizable sex, the sight of which made her both hungry and weak.
As soon as he was naked, she rose to her knees, her heart giving a small flutter of joy. He knelt on the bed in front of her, cradled her face between his palms, and gave her a long languid kiss. It was only when he pulled away that she realized he’d released her cheeks and had opened her bodice. Anne quickly helped as he pulled and tugged, tossing off article after article until she, too, was naked.
He moved his gaze over her, slowly, in a way he never had before. He took his time to take her in, as if he was trying to commit her to memory.
“How will I ever stop wanting you?” he whispered, seemingly more to himself than to her.
“You don’t have to stop.” She smiled. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”
“Ah, Anne, I’d love that.” He caressed the outside curve of her breast, then cupping her, grazed his thumb over her hardened nipple. She jolted at the lush sensation. “I’d love this to go on forever.” His thumb continued its delicious torment. Her sex moistened and contracted.
“I have no objections to something more indefinite.”
“I pray you’ll always feel that way.” He threaded the fingers of his free hand in her hair. “I never expected to find a woman like you here.”
He lowered her onto her back and covered her with his hard body, the delectable press of his muscled form sending hot tingles through her.
Resting on his elbows, he said in all earnest, “This passion, desire, the … emotions between us … are all real. I don’t want you ever to doubt that, no matter what happens. I want you to remember how good it is between us. Promise me you’ll always remember how you feel right now. How incredible it feels when we’re together.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Promise me, Anne.”
“Nicolas, what are you trying to say?” She couldn’t quell the unease that was beginning to permeate her.
“I want you to promise you’ll remember this night—all the nights we’ve shared—and how perfect they were. Promise me.”
She stared up into his beseeching eyes, unsure of what to make of him tonight.
He dipped his head and kissed the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Promise, Anne.” Lightly, he bit her earlobe, his knees spreading her thighs wide apart. She shivered.
“I promise. I won’t forget.”
“Not ever.” He stroked his thick solid shaft along her folds, her body bathing him with her juices.
“Never.”
“I need to have you.” He dipped his head lower still and gave her shoulder a tiny bite. She moaned and surged against him, the sensation of his cock gliding over her sensitive nub and needy flesh sending frissons of pleasure streaking straight into her core.
“I need you right now,” he said.
He’d planted the head of his shaft firmly against her opening and pushed inside. Thank God, he didn’t make her wait. Her body opened and gave way to his possession. The steady pressure as he slowly filled her was glorious.
With a flex of his hips, he butted hard against her womb. She gasped. He had her deliciously pinned to the bed. Her sex squeezed around him.
“Jésus-Christ, you feel so good,” he groaned, giving her slow solid thrusts, increasing her fever. “So warm … silky … tight. Dieu, so tight. Let me feel it, Anne. Let me feel those delicious little clenches around my cock. Bear down on me, chère.”
She tightened and released her inner muscles, reveling in the way he growled and groaned, lost to his desire for her, his cock driving into her faster and faster.
He swore. “I’m having you again”—he thrust—“and again. All night.”
“Yes …” she panted out.
She loved him with her body, her hands, her mouth, kissing, tasting, lost to the friction, the frenzy of their lovemaking. She relished the feelings he’d awakened in her, feelings that swirled around her heart. She relished him, without words, just actions, caressing him, milking him. Knowing she was barreling toward a powerful release.
He captured her nipple between his finger and thumb and lightly pulled then pinched. A shock of pleasure shot through her. She came with a scream, uncontrollable shudders rolling though her body.
He roared her name, his thrusts unrelenting. Just as the spasms inside her faded, he jerked his length out and crushed her to him. Grinding his cock between their bodies, he let out a primitive growl, hot semen pouring onto her stomach as a tremor and then another jolted him. She held him tightly until at last he relaxed, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Caressing his back, she felt sated and languorous, basking in a wonderful sense of peace in the quiet afterglow.
He lifted his head. His tender smile moved her to one as well.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked.
“I think I have some idea.”
He chuckled. She loved the sound of his soft laugh.
Nicolas snagged his discarded shirt, rolled onto his back, and wiping them both clean, tossed it to the floor.
Lying on his back, he rolled her on top of
him, her breasts pressing on his chest. He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You are extraordinary. More than any man could ever be fortunate enough to have and hold,” was the last thing he said before he kissed her.
Anne lost track of time, unsure how long they lay naked, simply kissing, each one stirring her heart and reawakening her desire.
I love you … The words were on the tip of her tongue. Words she never thought she’d utter to any man ever again.
Tomorrow. She’d tell him tomorrow. He wanted to talk. And she decided she, too, had something to say.
Chapter Ten
Nicolas woke up in an empty bed. A sharp stab of disappointment cut into his heart. He wanted to wake up with Anne by his side. He wanted to squeeze out a final few tender moments before everything imploded on him. But Anne was probably with her sisters, writing.
Writing under the name “Gilbert Leduc.”
Closing his eyes, he felt grief-stricken and cold. But not cold enough to numb or in any way lessen the suffocating misery inside him.
There was no getting out of what he had to do today.
What could he say to her? How on earth was he going to do this? He had no idea what the King would do with Anne once he brought her in.
A week ago, being in the King’s private Guard was everything to him. He never thought there would ever come a day when he hated being a Musketeer. But he hated it now. He loathed it. With all of his being and every piece of his breaking heart.
Nicolas forced himself out of bed. His thoughts awhirl and his agony steadily rising, he went through the motions of washing and dressing. By the time he’d left Anne’s rooms and reached the bottom of the grand stairwell, the pain inside him was excruciating. He’d rather face his own arrest than arrest her.
If only it were an option.
Looking for Thomas—praying he’d say something to Nicolas that would make this easier—he crossed the vestibule and froze when he heard Anne’s voice.
“I don’t believe it!” he heard her say. She was in the library.
A woman responded, “I’m afraid it’s true.” Her voice was unfamiliar.
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