by Lynda Hurst
“Why, mon petit chou, you have the option of staying in Mont-Tremblant, married to me,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, yet he hoped it was an option she would seriously consider. However, he could not help his ire rising at her tone any more than he could help his attraction to her. This attraction to her, a bonafide noble lady in both station and character, had him wanting to treat her better than he did his ladyloves of the past, but his temper gained on him at her insulting tone.
He continued with a slight sneer, “I can’t fathom why you are so eager to be rid of me. Is there a lover waiting in the wings once we dispense with the betrothal? Is he someone you had left behind in Donnesbury?” It irked him that the possibility of Mary loving someone else was one he hadn’t considered. He reminded himself that Mary’s affairs of the heart were none of his concern before he knew about the betrothal, but that didn’t mean he liked the idea that he was passed over by some nameless man.
Haughtily, she replied, “That is none of your business and is entirely irrelevant since we agreed to this unusual arrangement.”
At first, raging jealousy almost overtook him at her blasé answer, but he had to give her a modicum of credit for her evasive answer. So, Valerian simply countered, “Like you said, if I am to be yours for the time being, then I should think our arrangement works both ways. You are mine, and I also will not allow another man to come between us until the day we dissolve the betrothal.”
Raising a brow in incredulity, Mary huffed, “You do realize that what you are saying smacks of possessiveness?”
“Of course, ma chere, since I have never been able to share what’s mine,” he said triumphantly, having stunned the poor girl into silence. Mary had never before felt so delicate a creature as when he declared her as his. But she wasn’t his, not really, but no man had ever had the kind of effect on her that Valerian did.
When she remained mute, he quickly changed the subject back to the one he originally intended to discuss with her. “Our betrothal aside, I sought you out to talk about our upcoming travel plans. When we land in Calais, we will have to prolong our journey’s length by staying a few days in Paris. I have a house there as well as business to attend to there, and I thought you could benefit by seeking out the local apothecary for your personal stores.”
Surprised at his thoughtfulness, she set aside their earlier bickering and accepted his proverbial olive branch. Mary looked up into his face and seeing it without guile, she said, “Thank you. With an extended trip, I believe I can procure the necessary items we will need. While we are in Paris, I would like to view a few shops if time allows.”
Valerian was surprised to see one activity he attributed to all females was one that Mary actively sought to do in Paris. “Shopping? By all means, I encourage the activity to keep you busy while I am otherwise occupied. I believe I can spare one man to escort you about the city.”
“Not the shopping you so obviously are thinking of. I would like to view any other apothecaries or chemist shops. Preferably ones that are reputable and successful that would be suitable for my own future plans.”
“Oh? What plans would those be?” he asked, curious what she had spinning inside that intelligent mind of hers.
“Well, once we break off our only link to each other, I have plans to establish myself as a healer. I would like to sell some of my own concoctions as preventatives and remedies to the public. You forget I am also wealthy and have the financial means to ease into such an endeavor.” But he didn’t like that she thought that they would part ways once she was done with her meeting with Bastien and Ana. Her plans had no place for the future he himself hoped for the both of them.
But he also had to admire that she chose not to rely on anyone for aid in her future endeavors. Matter of factly, he said, “I’ll admit the money will make things easier, but I am not sure how you will establish your business if you are only one among many in a large city such as Paris. Besides, you can also choose to set up your shop in Mont-Tremblant.”
Mysteriously, she said, “I have thought through everything many times before, and my original plans for my future involved eventually making my way to Paris once the mourning period for my father ended. Only your arrival had accelerated my plans to travel outside of England to pursue my own way in the world.”
“But you’re English, and an aristocrat at that!” Not to mention that he would have her bound to him as his wife!
Dismissively, she waved off his statement and replied, “Never you mind what I am. From what I heard about France these days, it is quite common for women to work outside the home.”
He argued, “Yes, but those are the lower classes who must earn enough to feed their families. Most of them are laundresses, seamstresses, and the like. What you propose to do is almost encroaching on a profession mostly dominated by men.”
Fired up once more, she said hotly, “And what does my being female have anything to do with the pursuit of my plans? I am of the mind that if a need is there, then it is my duty to see that need fulfilled. And as a naysayer, you are only making me more determined to see my plans through!”
“All right! I see you are passionate about this plan of yours, and you are welcome to do what is necessary. But only after our agreement ends,” he said placatingly. What she didn’t know was that he hoped to eventually convince her that a marriage between them wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
Seeing Mary so enthusiastic with fire in her eyes, Valerian had never beheld such passion for anything outside of intimate bedroom moments. He yearned to feel such heady passion, preferably with Mary, and his gaze narrowed its focus on her face, but more specifically, her lips. Pulled magnetically closer to her, sans his powers of free will, he lessened the distance between their bodies until their faces were only inches apart.
Mary, at the same time both alarmed and captivated by his nearness, whispered, “Stop. Any closer and you risk your freedom.”
His head filled with her and her scent, he whispered back, “I don’t think I can stop. Maybe one kiss from you is worth the risk. You do something to me, Mary, and all I can think about is sampling one little taste of you. Just one to satisfy me.”
Expecting her lips to be taken in a kiss, Mary was instead surprised to have his lips just hovering above hers. His breath gently warmed her face while she could feel herself flame from the inside out at his close proximity. At the thought of him tasting her, she was sorely tempted to sample for herself what a kiss from this man would do to her, but he advanced no further. She knew he was a rakehell who seemed to have no aspirations for reformation, so why wasn’t he stealing a kiss?
Leaning slightly towards him to bridge the gap between their lips, Valerian whispered, “Will you let me kiss you? I won’t unless you say yes.”
Surprised to find herself suddenly wanting his kiss more than anything, she breathed out, “Yes.”
As soon as she uttered her consent, Valerian pressed his lips against hers in one fell swoop, gathering her to him in a tight embrace. Mary was overcome with the sensations he conducted out of that one kiss. Heat kindled between them as his kiss continuously produced wave upon wave of delicious tingles that coursed through her. No man had ever produced such feelings in her through a single kiss; not even Raleigh, at the height of her infatuation with him. Kissing with an expert merely showed her that none of her experience beforehand was done right; this man knew how to kiss if her scrambled wits were anything to go by.
Valerian abruptly broke away from the kiss, and through heaving breaths, he said, “My God! Underneath that ‘innocent miss’ exterior of yours, you have a wealth of passion simmering underneath! How am I to stay away from you now that I have had that first taste?”
Mary almost stumbled as she stepped back, scrambling away from the lure of his embrace to regain her wits about her once more. Mortified at losing her head in a heated moment, Mary blushed and mumbled, “About this sealing your fate as my husband? Let us forget I said that, and we can continue ou
r journey with some measure of peace.”
“Forget this ever happened? Not likely!” Valerian exploded. “Maybe Coulton was right in calling you a witch. You must have spelled me somehow.”
Driven to anger at the accusation, she slapped his right cheek and cried, “I did no such thing! Even if I had such powers, I would not waste it on the likes of you! We agreed to break our association, did we not?”
Rubbing at his smarting cheek, his eyes blazed in anger at the rough treatment. “Violence, Mary? Then be warned that I will retaliate in a fashion that will displease you but will please me mightily.”
“You dare not raise a hand at me! You would beat a woman for your pleasure?” she asked in disgust.
Rolling his eyes, he said, “No, I am not in the habit of beating women and nor will I start, as tempted as I am to turn you on my knee and spank you for that one slap. I would much rather treat you to another kiss as retaliation for any sort of violence you inflict on me.”
Outraged that he would continue to seduce her with kisses, she pointed out, “But did you not say that you are a man of your word? You cannot deny you said that.”
“I did say that, but I had not counted on you and the effect you would have on me,” he countered. Valerian didn’t feel it was necessary to admit to her that he lost control and that he was overpowered by his indulgent nature to have one small taste of her. Neither did he want to disclose that, as forbidden as she was, her allure simply called out to him and that he was helpless to resist. With his manly pride, he felt that either confession would make him less of a man in not just her eyes but also his own.
In an effort to restore the peace, Mary conceded, “Let us just say we both lost our heads for a moment, and that it won’t happen again.”
Scowling, Valerian said, “That is a promise I am not willing to make.”
“Whyever not?” she said, mouth open in shock at his bald confession.
“Because I find that I look forward to the next kiss, and the next, and so on until I get my fill of you.” At the last word, he stalked away, leaving Mary dumbfounded at his audacity.
10
En Route to Paris, France
Traveling to Paris by coach, Valerian sat contemplatively as he also covertly watched Mary as she napped. With their arrival in Calais and the Dauphin still flying its colors in the harbor, a messenger sent by Bastien had sought him out in the crowd. Apparently, the young man had been keeping watch at the docks, waiting for sight of him in the last two days past. Direct messages from the king warranted their usual spoken code for fear of interception of such messages, and the young man had passed the code test with flying colors. After the safety precautions were seen to, the young man had then gravely told him, “His Majesty’s message is of utmost importance and requires your quick reply which I will personally deliver posthaste.”
Accepting the note still sealed with Bastien’s seal, Valerian scanned it quickly:
Dear Cousin,
I hope this message finds you well and in good health, but I’m afraid for your continued good health, you must stay in Paris for the time being.
It now appears that I have a tenuous hold on the rights to my position, as it has been discovered that the Ark is missing. As you well know, this puts our family at great risk, and I require your help while I have you in Paris.
I need you to speak to our French ambassador, Sir Dante St. Germain, and through him gather our family’s staunchest supporters. I also need you to flush out our thief, whom a reliable, inside source has heard rumors that he has fled to Paris. I know this is a lot to ask, but your current position has given us an advantage over our enemies who would see us overthrown. Even now, insurgent actions are taking place regularly, and it is enough to keep the royal guard busy.
Until I hear that you’ve accomplished one or both missions, I will look forward to your reply.
Yours,
B
Valerian had looked up from the letter to the sight of the young messenger waiting expectantly for his return reply to their king. Somberly, Valerian had told him, “Tell my cousin that he can be confident that I will do my best. I will write as soon as I have something worthy of note to report.”
The young man had nodded and quickly turned to melt back into the milling crowd. Valerian had the sight of his retreating back in one moment, and then he was gone in the next. All messengers that he and Bastien employed for secrecy were well-paid ex-pickpockets, chosen for their skill to blend in a crowd, unseen. It was for times such as Bastien had described in his letter that such tactics were useful.
Thinking back to Bastien’s biggest worry, the missing Ark, Valerian had no idea where to even begin looking. Bastien’s message hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with such information, but it was enough to know that its disappearance could potentially sever Bastien’s claim to the Mont-Tremblant throne. Once an ancient relic given as a gift by the first Earl of Revelstoke to Jullien Montchagny on his coronation day, it had since been safeguarded by those of Montchagny’s line until now. It had always been locked in a special vault beneath the king’s chambers, but with it pronounced missing, Valerian’s first guess was that this must be the work of a Laurent.
Over the years, Laurents have tried fruitlessly to overthrow Bastien, and only a Laurent who knew the layout of the palace would know exactly where the Ark was safely kept. If a Laurent were to lay claim to the throne with the Ark under the possession, the Mont-Tremblant senate would argue that the Law of the Ark would then place that same Laurent as the rightful ruler of Mont-Tremblant.
It boggled Valerian’s mind how such a thing could have even happened, but he was aware of how wily Laurents were since the days of their dictator of an ancestor. If a Laurent was determined and smart enough to try usurping the current king, it was as good as a sure thing that they would follow through with whatever scheme they have hatched up. The only difference between their schemes of old and this current caper was that their past attempts had all been failures, and this most recent one seemed to be their most successful one to date. And that was worrying indeed.
And being similar in looks to his royal cousin, Valerian knew it was vital to keep a low profile in Paris. It wouldn’t do for the King of Mont-Tremblant to be anywhere but his kingdom during such an uncertain time. He couldn’t chance having someone recognize him as either himself or mistake him for his cousin, and thereby causing a political uproar that could hurt Bastien’s chances at keeping his throne.
Feeling rather put out that he had to steer clear of his usual residence while in Paris, he knew he had to think of not just his safety but Mary’s as well. This new turn of events had him anxious for his newly hatched plan to make Mary his wife happen sooner than later. While embroiled in a time of political upheaval, producing an heir who would carry on his name and legacy was his priority now just as much as it was his duty.
However, it only enhanced his pleasure that a specimen such as Mary was his to cherish, to have, and to hold. And it was a union blessed by both of their fathers before either of them had any inkling that the other existed. She had no idea of her own passion just simmering below her very proper surface, and he eagerly anticipated her discovery of her own depths while she had him by her side. She was fire and ice rolled into one complicated and intelligent woman, and he only wanted to know more of her.
Paris would give him the chance to get to know her better, and he was almost grateful for his cousin’s edict to stay there indefinitely for that one reason alone. His duty to his king aside, Valerian promised himself that he would take advantage of every opportunity that came his way to persuade Mary that they were well suited for each other.
The very subject of his thoughts stirred, and he watched, fascinated, as her lashes fluttered to wakefulness. Her lids still heavy with sleep were only open at half-mast, and damned if he didn’t think she looked sensual and enticing. Her sleepy gaze settled on him after a quick glance out the carriage window, and she asked groggily, “Where are we
?”
“We are almost within Paris’ city limits. We can both freshen up once we are settled at our hotel, and we can have a proper dinner together afterward.”
Looking adorably baffled, Mary stated, “But I thought we would be staying at your Paris residence. Is that still not the case?”
Sighing heavily, Valerian admitted, “There’s been a change of plans, and it heavily involves the state of my cousin’s kingdom.” He explained in some detail what Bastien’s note revealed to him, and Mary waited until he was done before she could interject with questions of her own. Sharing such news with her required no hesitation, especially since there was no question to Mary sharing his life with him in Mont-Tremblant.
Once he was done relating all that he knew, he was baffled by the direction Mary’s following questions had taken the conversation. “Are you telling me that this Ark of yours is English in origin? And that it was a gift from the first Earl of Revelstoke?” Mary asked, sounding more and more bewildered.
