“A sojourn . . . with Gaillard at his country estate. I have to return home next week. I have until then to win back the money to cover the debt.”
That left only two more nights of Basset before she’d have to leave. He admired her loyalty. Her strength. He didn’t know any woman who would have had the courage to do what she’d done.
And he knew, behind that hardened exterior, she was scared.
Mathias caressed her soft cheek with the back of his fingers. “Why don’t you let me give you the money and we can put an end to the Basset games.”
At that, she jerked her head up off the mattress and frowned. “No. I do things on my own. I won’t be beholden. Not to anyone. I can do this—by myself.”
He shook his head and muttered a curse. “Silvie, it’s a game of chance. There are no guarantees.”
“I can do this,” she repeated a little stronger. “And I will do it, by next week.” She rolled onto her other side, once again tucking her hands under her cheek, her delicate back now facing him.
“You know,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder, “you can lean on people for help when you need it. You can trust people.”
“No, you can’t. You can’t trust anyone.”
Mathias realized then the magnitude of her gift to him tonight. She’d never trusted anyone, yet she’d trusted him. She’d surrendered herself to him, and it hadn’t been easy for her. In the throes of passion, he’d noted how she’d struggled with it.
He reached out and tucked her up against his body, pleased she didn’t pull away. He was hard, but he wasn’t going to make any sexual advances. Taking a woman’s virginity on a side table was bad enough, but he’d done something he’d never done before during sex.
He’d lost control.
The way he’d ridden her had been too aggressive for an innocent. His conduct shocked him. For a man with his vast experience, his actions were always controlled and measured in any sexual encounter. The motions too well practiced for anyone, much less a sexual novice, to unravel him.
Mathias dipped his head, bringing his mouth near her ear. “You’re making it easy for me to learn who you are, Silvie. A few well-put questions to Gaillard and I will know your name.”
She shrugged with a gentle rise and fall of her shoulder. “I doubt he’ll be forthcoming, but if he is, it doesn’t matter. By the time you learn anything, I will be home and married off.”
Again that tightness gripped him, only this time it was all the way up to his chest.
“And what are you going to do about your lack of innocence?” he asked. “Your future husband will expect a virgin bride.”
“That’s what he’ll get. I have half sisters who have managed to fool their husbands on their wedding night into believing their maidenhead was still intact. I’ll do the same.”
His brows shot up. “You’re going to trick him?”
She turned and met his gaze over her shoulder. “What difference does it make if I’m not a virgin on the night of the wedding? All he’s after is an heir. As long I provide him with a legitimate heir, the rest isn’t any of his concern. And the child will be his. That much I’ll do. Then he’ll leave me alone, and I won’t matter beyond that—which suits me just fine.”
He couldn’t help but wonder what had hardened her so. She wasn’t as cold and calculating as she wanted the world to believe. Clearly, she had compassion. She was going to great lengths to help someone she loved. Whom others refused to aid. “I don’t believe you, Silvie. You make it sound as though you want very little in life.”
“What more is there for a woman to want? A marriage to a highborn noble. Children.” Her tone was flat, just as before. He got the distinct impression that at some point in her life, she’d stopped wishing for things altogether.
“And what matters to you?” he asked. “Surely, there’s got to be something you want.”
There was a lengthy silence, and for a moment, Mathias thought she wasn’t going to answer.
She rested her head back down onto the pillow and tucked her hands beneath her cheek once more. “I want to leave my father’s home. I don’t like it there,” she said at last.
His brow furrowed with concern. “Have they hurt you?”
She didn’t turn around, but this time there was no hesitation with her response. “Don’t be ridiculous. No one hurts me. I don’t let them.”
“Dear Lord, this only gets worse!” Bernadette fretted.
“Shhhh! Keep your voice down.” Gabrielle frowned and glanced at the closed double doors to her bedchamber. Mathias was asleep inside and voices easily carried through from the antechamber of her private apartments.
As ladies-in-waiting, it was her friends’ duty to help her dress each day. It was considered an honor to be that close to a member of the royal family, and thus, the positions were given only to women born into the nobility. Bernadette and Caroline had arrived mere moments before. Upon hearing their voices in her antechamber, Gabrielle awoke, threw on her chemise, and dashed out of her room before they walked in to find Mathias in her bed.
She’d been forced to tell them he was here.
They surmised the rest.
Caroline was pacing in front of the hearth, wringing her hands, wearing out a path in the wooden floor. “First you steal some royal gems, then you lie about your whereabouts. Now you’ve . . . you’ve . . .”
“Been bedded,” Gabrielle supplied.
Caroline stopped dead in her tracks. “Yes . . . bedded. You’re no longer a virgin, and you’re to be married.”
Bernadette slapped her palms against her cheeks and shook her head. “If the King finds out any of this,” she said in a loud whisper, “I don’t want to think about what he’ll do. To all of us!”
Gabrielle marched over to her friends and, grasping each by an arm, dragged them over to the farthest corner from her bedchamber door. “You’ll not mention the King again,” she said, sotto voce, then paused to cast a glance at her bedchamber door and listened, thankful of the silence. “You’ll call me Silvie. Nothing else. Mathias knows nothing about who I am, and I intend to keep it that way. You’ll do nothing—absolutely nothing—to give me away. Understood?”
They nodded.
“You said he is the Marquis de Tesson. He’s a man of means, no? Couldn’t he advance you some funds to cover your brother’s debt?” Caroline asked, hopeful. “He clearly likes you.”
“That’s an excellent idea!” Bernadette smiled. “Then we can return home with the diamonds and all will be well, as if we’d never left . . . except for the part about a missing maidenhead.”
Gabrielle let out an exasperated sigh. “It is not an excellent idea. It is a bad one.”
Caroline nodded glumly. “I suppose it would be rather inappropriate to ask the man bedding you for funds. It would be as though he’s paying for . . . well, you know.” She blushed.
Gabrielle released her hold on their arms. “I don’t have to ask him. He’s already offered to pay Daniel’s debt, and I turned him down.”
Bernadette’s mouth fell agape. She clamped it shut. “You told him about Daniel?”
“Never mind that!” Caroline waved her hand. “You turned him down?”
She had. And she’d been struggling with the soft sentiment his offer had inspired ever since. Again she found herself comparing Mathias to the men she knew. None of the men at court would have offered to help her unless there was political gain in it for them. Unless doing so would elevate them in the eyes of the King.
And since Gabrielle wasn’t one of His Majesty’s favorite daughters, men didn’t waste their time and effort on her. All forms of generosity and assistance were for those who had the King’s esteem.
She hadn’t expected Mathias to offer to help.
Not since her mother had anyone extended a hand to her for no other reason than to aid her. She’d stopped expecting people to help her a long time ago.
He’d unbalanced her in the worst way with his offer and his return of her diamonds
. And though it would be easier to believe the worst of him, her instincts told her he was sincere. That these weren’t merely ploys to gain her trust.
She believed him, despite her comments about not trusting anyone. It was an unprecedented first. Utterly uncharacteristic and astonishing, actually.
She wouldn’t accept his touching offer or divulge her identity, but she couldn’t deny how moved she was by him.
“I’ll not be beholden to him. Or anyone.” She had to force the words off her tongue.
Words that normally came second nature to her.
The urge to lean on him—when she’d always stood strongly on her own—was fierce.
And unsettling. She couldn’t allow Mathias to affect her any more than he already had.
Once she returned home next week, she wanted no ties with him, or to feel obligated in any way. No sense of gratitude. No attachment of any kind. She’d decided this morning she’d continue a physical involvement with him, but only until she returned to the palace.
That was as far as she was willing to go.
“I don’t need his money,” she continued. “I am going to win what I need. I have a good feeling my luck has changed.” Gabrielle glanced at Bernadette. “As for Daniel, Mathias doesn’t know the particulars. He’s simply aware I’m playing to win enough funds to cover a debt for a member of my family.”
Just then she heard stirrings from inside her bedchamber.
“You must go.” She pushed them toward the door, but they didn’t make it in time. Mathias opened the door to the bedchamber.
Her head snapped in his direction, her breath lodging in her throat at the sight that greeted her.
On the threshold of her antechamber, with nothing more than a sheet of fine bed linen around his waist, Mathias stood—in all his muscled glory.
“Oh my . . .” Bernadette breathed. “Will you look at those arms? Solid and hard like sculpted marble . . . and then there’s the rest of him . . . I completely understand why you are sans a maidenhead today.”
Caroline slapped Bernadette’s arm. “Bernadette!” she whispered sharply.
Gabrielle ignored their comments, too captivated by the inciting masculine beauty before her, her blood already heating for him without so much as a touch, her mind conjuring hot memories of those strong arms around her, that muscled body against her, and heaven help her, that delicious part of his male anatomy stroking inside her sheath.
“Good morning, ladies,” he said, his voice rich and inflaming, his light-colored eyes sweeping past Bernadette and Caroline before they locked on to her. A tiny shiver quivered through her.
Gabrielle cleared her throat as her friends returned his greeting. “Good morning, Mathias. My friends”—she gestured behind her—“were leaving. Weren’t you?” she said to the two women standing in a trance beside her, openly gawking at the man. Gabrielle elbowed Bernadette, simply because she was the closest.
Bernadette jumped. “Hmm? Oh, yes. We were just leaving. Come, Caroline.”
“Oh . . .Yes, of course.” Caroline smiled. It was actually more of a grin. One that made her look quite daft.
Both women bade him good day and had proceeded to the door when Bernadette abruptly stopped, turned, and out of habit, despite Gabrielle’s order not to curtsy to her during their stay at her uncle’s town house, she began to sink low. Gabrielle rushed forward, threw an arm around her shoulders.
“Oh, Bernadette, don’t tell me your knee is acting up again?” Gabrielle said, giving her friend a stern look, one that was a silent reprimand for her blunder.
It took a moment for understanding to appear in Bernadette’s eyes. “Ah yes, my knee . . .” She glanced at Mathias. “My knee acts up every so often, you see.” Bernadette bent forward and rubbed it through her gown.
A rather poor performance. The woman was definitely not meant for the stage.
Gabrielle noted Mathias’s frown but, to her relief, saw no sign of suspicion. “Caroline, why don’t you take Bernadette to her rooms.”
Caroline moved forward and supported her friend as Bernadette pretended to limp.
“Do you need assistance?” Mathias asked.
“No.” Gabrielle answered for her with a smile. “She’s fine. She has Caroline. Isn’t that so, Bernadette?”
“Yes, I’m quite capable of returning on my own . . . with Caroline’s help, that is,” Bernadette quickly added.
A slight smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “All right then.” He moved his gaze to Gabrielle. “I’ll wait for you inside,” he said, setting her pulse racing with heated excitement. With that, he reentered her bedchamber, closing the door behind him.
She turned to her friends, who were once again in a trancelike state, still staring at the spot where Mathias had been standing.
Smiling, Gabrielle couldn’t wait to join him.
“I’ve decided to keep him for a few days. Do be careful around him.” She couldn’t muster a stern tone, not when she felt so light.
Not when pure bliss was waiting for her on her bed.
Gabrielle walked out of the antechamber and into her bedchamber. Sure enough, lying across the width of her bed was solid male allure.
Perhaps it was because she’d finally had some sleep last night, the first time since she’d arrived in Paris. Or perhaps it was because of the Marquis on her bed who’d brought her more joy in one eve than she’d had in years, but she couldn’t remove the smile from her face.
She stopped at the end of her bed.
Propped up on his elbow, Mathias returned her smile.
Dieu, she had a beautiful smile. It lit up her face and caused the most adorable, tiniest dimples to form on either side of her luscious mouth. He held out a hand, pleased by how quickly she stepped forward and took it.
He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckle. “Take off your chemise, Silvie.” He felt a tremor of excitement quiver through her, and that pleased him further still. Beneath the bed linen wrapped around his waist, he was at a full cock stand. In fact, he was hard from the moment he laid eyes on her in the antechamber in that knee-length undergarment.
He watched as she slid the hem up her thighs, her belly, to finally sweep it up over her erect nipples and off, the linen garment falling to the floor.
Soft curves and satiny skin, she looked so good, she took his breath away. With her standing this close to him, he could detect the soft scent of her arousal, an aphrodisiac to his senses, his every muscle tightening with hunger.
“You are a vision, Silvie.”
It was easy to forget she’d been an innocent last eve—that is, until he noticed her averted gaze, and the pretty blush coloring her cheeks.
She wasn’t quite used to being naked before him. He didn’t want her being embarrassed or inhibited around him in any way. He wanted her unrestrained. Unabashed. Without hesitation of any kind.
And without the wall she erected between them.
Most of all, he wanted her to learn to open up to him. In and out of bed.
Starting in the boudoir, he was going to make certain she never held back from him again—the way she’d attempted to last eve in the throes of passion.
And there was no time like the present to start working on it.
Mathias sat up.
He took her hand and pulled, bending her forward for a kiss, his fingers threading in her hair as he savored her taste. She softly moaned against his mouth. Normally, he wouldn’t still be in a woman’s bed in the morning. He’d made it a habit to leave after sex.
Staying any longer, in his experience, gave the mistaken impression that the amorous encounter was something more than just recreational.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave her sleeping form last night.
He was so inexplicably drawn to this woman, it was mind-numbing.
“Come here,” he said giving her arm a sharp pull, purposely making her lose her balance. She fell across his lap with a surprised yelp, her hips resting
on his linen-covered thighs.
Rising up onto her elbows, she tossed him a questioning look over her shoulder. “Mathias, what are you doing?”
“It isn’t fair to pay tribute to just the front part of your delectable form, chère. I think equal adoration should be given to your backside, especially . . .” He ran a light hand over the gorgeous curve of her bottom, making her squirm. “When you have such a beautiful derrière.”
He caressed her bottom once more, luxuriating over its sweet curve and delighting in the feel of her skin. She gave him a little wiggle.
“Mathias . . .” There was a tinge of breathlessness to her tone. Planting her palms onto the mattress, she started to rise. Gently, he gently pressed her down onto the bed with a firm hand against her back. She was deliciously draped over his lap, inspiring a number of salacious ideas, and he wasn’t anywhere close to being done.
“Not yet, Silvie. Just relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She looked unsure, almost leery about what his intentions were while he had her across his lap, but she didn’t protest further and she didn’t try to rise.
That she was putting trust in him at the moment made him happier than he’d ever admit.
He slipped his hands between her thighs and spread her legs apart, feeling her stiffen, a mixture of innocent apprehension and arousal. The way her body was angled, her bottom tilting up, he had a perfect view of her glistening pink softness. Dieu, she had the prettiest sex he’d ever seen. Lovely nether lips. And the sweetest little clit. A man could spend hours with his head buried between these long silky thighs in oral worship.
At the first stroke of his fingers over her sleek folds, she lost her breath.
“You’re wet for me.” He smiled at her deepening blush, and tenderly massaged her soaked sex. She was resting on her forearms, her head turned and her dark eyes watching him. Her breaths were already becoming choppy and quick. Closely watching her reactions, he stroked her, keeping the pressure consistent, gliding his slick fingers up over her clit from time to time, purposely giving her little jolts of heightened sensation to build her hunger, keep her keen.
“You like this, Silvie?” He brushed her clit again, enjoying her soft cry.
The Princess in His Bed Page 26
