by Jenni Wiltz
She clutched at him in fear, gray eyes wide. “Sébastien! What if they’re still out there?”
“Then they’ll get to you over my dead body.” He gave her a push to make sure she took cover before he left her. Then he crawled to the window, staying low in case the shooter wanted to try again.
At the window, he popped up from his crouch and looked outside. The gardens were peaceful and silent. He couldn’t see any indication of an intruder. He craned his neck to look at the flower bed just outside the window. Then he saw it—a man’s footprint in the moist soil.
He whipped the phone from his pocket and dialed the extension for his security team leader, Ed Novochek. “Ed, there’s a shooter on the grounds,” he said. “Lock this place down, now! No one goes in or out. There’s a footprint on the rose bed outside the library window.”
“Copy,” Novochek replied. “We’re on it.”
Sébastien hung up and crawled back to Ella. “No one’s getting in or out of this place. We’ll stay inside until my team finds the shooter.”
Her stormy eyes darkened perceptibly. “What if they don’t find him?”
“They will,” he said. “The code for lockdown turns on the electric fence. Whoever shot at you isn’t going anywhere, except to the police station or to the cemetery.”
Ella climbed into his arms and he pressed her to his chest tightly. “Sébastien, what did I do? Why do they want to kill me?”
The idea shook him and he wished he had an answer for her. What sort of person wanted an innocent woman dead? “I don’t know,” he answered, rocking her and pressing kisses to her hair. “But I won’t let it happen. You’re safe now.”
She twisted in his arms to look up at him. “How did you get here so fast?”
He brushed her cheek with his hand, feeling her soft warmth beneath his skin. “I was watching you.”
“Watching me? But why?”
“I couldn’t leave you in danger,” he said. “I thought I could, but I can’t.”
“Don’t let go,” she said, burrowing deeper into his arms. “Please don’t let go.”
Just like last night, he smoothed her hair and pressed her face against his chest. Anything to make her feel safe and secure. The knowledge that someone had attacked her twice on his property burned in his chest. A man’s house was his castle—but no one seemed safe in his. What did that say about him?
“I’m going to fix this,” he said. He made sure his voice conveyed all the determination seven generations of Cherbourg blood could muster.
Suddenly, he heard the quick footsteps of his security detail outside the room. He glanced up at them over Ella’s head, still pressed to his chest. “Find anything?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Novochek said. He held his pistol in his hand, out and at the ready. “But I’ve got guys posted all along the perimeter. He’s not going anywhere. I’d advise you to move upstairs, sir. It’ll be safer there. My men will lock down the ground floor.”
Sébastien nodded. He tucked Ella’s hair behind her hear and whispered to her. “See? We’ll be perfectly safe upstairs. Come on. Let these men do their jobs.”
He rose to his feet and reached down for her hands. She slipped them into his and he grasped them, pulling her to her feet in one swift motion. He snaked an arm around her waist, holding her close and keeping her steady. She seemed shell-shocked and he was afraid she might crumble the floor if he let her go.
He led her out of the library and toward the stairs. He made sure she gripped the railing with one hand while he supported her on her other side. She made her way up the stairs slowly but steadily, an unfathomable expression on her beautiful face.
At the head of the stairs, he tightened his grip on her. He wasn’t sure she would want to go with him, but he had no intention of leaving her alone in the house, not when a potential killer was on the loose.
Ella looked up at him questioningly, as he had known she would. Honorée’s room was in one direction and he pulled her gently in the other. “My room,” she said softly.
“No.” He couldn’t bring himself to say anything more. Maybe, he realized, he was afraid she would push him away.
Sébastien studied her face for a reaction. Her cheeks seemed to gain a little color once she understood what he meant. The dazed, faraway look in her eyes cleared, replaced by a hopeful sparkle. Suddenly, he felt her squeeze back where he held her hand.
All the frustrated passion he’d tamped down in the conservatory flared up into a raging bonfire. He led her down the hall, not bothering to hide the hunger in his eyes.
*
Ella let him lead her to his bedroom. She felt adrift, tumbled by a sea of emotions she could hardly identify, let alone understand. All she knew was that despite the attempt on her life, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in Sébastien’s arms. She wanted to lose herself in the scent of his skin, in the feel of his fingers on her arms, her legs, her neck, her breasts.
Now that she felt she understood him, she didn’t want to hold anything back from him—not about Joey, not about her father’s missing stones, not about anything. She clasped his hand tightly as he closed the bedroom door behind them.
The room itself was incredible, a sleek, modern masterpiece of design tucked into his family’s Georgian-style mansion. The loft-style room had high, open ceilings and an exposed brick side wall. A metal staircase led up to the open loft, where she could see a very large bed covered in what looked like mink. Beneath the loft, an open living space contained a wide architect’s desk in stainless steel, a wall-mounted flat-panel TV, a few beat-up leather club chairs and more bookcases.
Sébastien bent down and swept her up into his arms, carrying her effortlessly up the stairs. She could feel his hard body against her. Ella could hardly breathe when she thought about how it might feel to lie stretched out against him, their bare skin separated by nothing but air.
Sébastien brought her to the bed and laid her down gently on top of the comforter. Then he crawled up beside her and kissed her hungrily, his tongue seeking hers out, demanding she return his passion and his fervor.
Ella threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of her. She wanted his weight on top of her to hold her down—she thought she felt light enough to float away.
With one hand, he began to caress her gently over the fabric of her dress. First her arms, then her chest, then down to her waist and around the curve of her hip. He broke away from her and rocked back on his heels, bringing both hands to her legs. His fingers trailed from her hips to her shoes, gently unbuckling the sandals and tossing them away. Then, they made their way slowly up her foot to her ankle, kneading gently as they reached her calves and then her knees.
When he reached the hem of her dress, he pushed it up slowly and continued his progress. Ella gasped as his fingers stroked the soft, white flesh of her inner thigh. She felt goosebumps tingle up and down her spine as he gently rubbed sections of her flesh, accustoming her to the feel of his touch.
Her body craved more of him, wanted him to loose himself upon her. She moaned as the ache inside her intensified, throbbing beneath his fingers and in her very core.
When his fingers reached the junction of her thighs, he teased her through her lacy underwear. With the lightest of touches, he followed the curve of her, tracing it from her thighs up to the sensitive nub of flesh tucked at its origin.
Ella moaned out loud. She began to twist her body under his touch, trying to position herself where his fingertips would touch that nub and deliver even greater pleasure.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” he said. “Not yet.”
Ella felt as if she might scream with anticipation. He bent over her midsection and pushed aside the lacy panel covering her. Then he bent quickly to flick his tongue against her. She let loose an animal moan that she hardly recognized as coming from herself. But the feeling building inside her was so strong, stronger than anything she’d ever felt before. If she didn’t set it free, she felt as if it w
ould destroy her from the inside out.
He flicked his tongue against her two more times and then rose. Gently, he rolled the lacy panties off her and reached beneath her to unzip the dress. She arched against him to give him room to unfurl the zipper. She raised her arms and he lifted the dress off her easily, flinging it aside. Clothed now only in a matching lacy bra, she watched as he sat back and looked at her.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he gasped, eyes hazy with lust.
He reached out and touched the chain she always wore, the one that held her parents’ wedding rings. She hadn’t taken it off in years. It had never felt right before. But now, she knew she could go of the past, if only for the time they were together. She lifted it off her head and set it on the bedside table. She didn’t want anything to come between the feel of his skin on hers, not even her only piece of jewelry.
As soon as she’d taken it off, he bent down to her breasts, nuzzling them through her bra and flicking his tongue against the nipples. With one hand, he reached behind her to unfasten it and she shrugged out of it, anxious to lie naked beneath him.
“Your turn,” she said, sitting up and reaching up for his shirt. She unbuttoned it and shoved it down his shoulders. He wriggled out of it easily and she launched herself at his chest, kissing the smooth flesh and inhaling the warm, masculine scent.
Her fingers traced their way down his sculpted abs to his pants. She unbuttoned and unzipped, pushing them away. Finally, he knelt beside her, naked.
He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. She was relatively inexperienced with men, but she’d had a few affairs since college. Sébastien was like nothing she’d ever seen.
A thin covering of tawny hair glistened over his olive-toned skin. Thick bands of muscle covered his biceps and thighs, with a trim waist and narrow hips that could have belonged to a world-class athlete. When she saw that he was erect and straining for her, it made her tremble inside.
“Ella, I want you,” he said, pressing her back down into the covers. He kissed her neck and brought his tongue once more to her breasts. Without the lace of the bra between them, she felt every flick of his tongue, every gentle nip of his teeth. It brought the ache in her core to an almost unbearable fever pitch.
He slipped one hand down from her breasts to her soft triangle of hair. Exploring gently, he parted her and groaned when his finger slipped into her warm, wet flesh so easily. “You’re ready,” he said. Then he positioned himself on top and slowly slid his warm length into her, easing his way slowly but surely.
Ella thought his slowness would kill her. She arched her back and tried to bring her hips up to take all of him at once. He pressed her hips back down. “Slowly, little one,” he said. “You’ll enjoy it more.”
She groaned and relaxed her hips and legs, acquiescing to the painfully slow speed he’d set. But once he was all the way inside her, he stopped moving. He rested above her, sheathed in her flesh, and kissed her lips. She’d never felt anything like the tenderness his gesture communicated.
It made her want to cry, to know that it was possible to find someone who could remember there was a person behind the body, and a heart behind the person. At that moment, she sighed with pleasure, wrapped her legs around him, and gave herself up to the exhilaration that his body promised her.
C hapter Fourteen
When she woke up, one of Sébastien’s arms was flung across her chest and one of his legs lay on top of hers. She smiled slowly and stretched, feeling pleasantly sore somewhere deep behind her belly. They’d made love for hours, pausing between bouts to confess everything from childhood secrets to their most embarrassing moments.
At every turn, Sébastien had been warm and unguarded, a different man than the brusque CEO she’d met earlier. They both knew their problems weren’t going away simply because they’d spent hours beneath his comforter. But it had done something to heal her spirit, she just knew it.
Her stretching jostled his leg out of place and he mumbled, blinking and waking slowly. He was just as handsome waking up as he was…when he wasn’t sleeping. Ella’s heart turned over in her chest as she remembered their passion of the night before.
“Hello, sleepyhead,” she said, caressing his cheek. Then her stomach let loose an enormous growl and she blushed.
He smiled. “I take it you’re hungry,” he said.
“How could you tell?” she deadpanned.
“I’ll call Frau Müller and have her bring us something. What time is it?”
“I don’t know,” she said, pointing at the window. “But it’s dark outside.”
He reached for the slim silver phone lying on his nightstand table. He dialed a two-digit extension and cleared his throat. “Gertrude, hello. Any news from Novochek?”
Whatever Gertrude told him, it made frown lines appear on his forehead. Uh-oh, Ella thought. That can’t be good.
“Tell them to keep looking,” he said. “They must have missed something. And can you bring us up something to eat? Thank you, Gertrude.”
He replaced the phone and rolled back over. “Now,” he said. “Where were we?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Instantly, her body responded, sending a wave of heat straight through her.
It took every ounce of willpower she had to refuse. “Wait!” she said, playfully pushing him away. “I’m hungry! Plus, I think we’ve exceeded the legal limit for the amount of times we can do that in a twelve-hour period.”
“You might have a point,” Sébastien said, tucking a few unruly strands of hair behind her ear. “Although I don’t recall any complaints about the variety of—”
“No,” she said, kissing the tip of his nose. “No complaints.” She wanted to pretend nothing was happening outside, that he hadn’t mentioned his security team. But a cold feeling deep in her gut warned her to press on. “I hate to ask this,” she said, “but what did Gertrude say about the shooter?”
He sighed and rolled onto his back. “She said the security team hasn’t found any evidence of a break-in yet. They haven’t apprehended anyone, either.”
Despite the warmth of the covers, Ella shivered. “What does that mean for your exhibition, Sébastien? I’ll turn in the report like you asked me to, but is it safe to leave here before the shooter’s been found?”
“As safe as five armed men can make it.”
“But they haven’t found anything. The attacker is still out there.” A chilling thought occurred to her. “What if they want to wait us out?”
Lines creased his forehead as he frowned. “What do you mean?”
The frightening thoughts were coming one after another, with no respite. “What if this person waits for me to submit my report? Maybe they’ll sit back and watch while the jewels are transported to the museum. Maybe they’ll follow us there. What happens then?”
“Then they’re too late.”
“No, Sébastien, they’re not. Don’t you see? We’d be leading a killer into a museum full of people. Are you really prepared to do that?”
“I don’t know,” he said, dropping her gaze.
But the tone of his voice told her that he did.
Ella grasped the edge of the bedspread and held it up over her chest. She was beginning to feel like she made a terrible mistake. This Sébastien didn’t seem like the same man who’d made love to her last night. Or the one she’d thought she understood while looking at his books in the library. When she looked at the man beside her, it felt like she didn’t know him at all.
Despite the fact that her body was still humming for his touch and his kiss, she couldn’t ignore the fact that things had changed. There was a dangerous lunatic on the loose. She couldn’t ignore it. And he shouldn’t, either. Not for the first time, she wondered what the hell she’d gotten herself into.
“You want to keep going, don’t you?” she asked. “You’re going to lead someone who’s willing to kill straight to a crowded museum. Sébastien, there are probably going to be families and ch
ildren present.”
She could see the storm gather in his eyes. He was angry. And part of that anger was now directed at her. “What choice do I have?” he growled. “I can’t stay here, a prisoner in my own home!”
“You don’t have to call the exhibition off,” she said. “Just postpone it. Or call the police.”
He sighed and shook his head. “So we’re back to that. Ella, I thought you understood why I can’t do either of those things. You told me you understood.”
His piercing olive gaze struck her with the force of a hammer blow. Ella felt tears prick her eyes. “I do understand! But Sébastien, understanding doesn’t change what’s right or what’s wrong. How would you feel if someone at the museum died because we didn’t tell them what was going on?”
She reached out to touch his cheek, but he turned his head away. “Sébastien, please,” she said. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?” he snapped.
“Don’t shut me out. Not now. Not after what we’ve gone through.”
He bared his teeth, but he wasn’t smiling. He was like an animal, lashing out to protect himself at all costs. “I’m not shutting you out, Ella. You’re the one shutting me out, or had that slipped your mind?”
Her heart sank like a stone, thrown into a rushing river. “What do you mean?”
“I know you took this job just so you could get in my vault and see if I own any of the pieces stolen from your father.”
She gasped. No! she wanted to cry. But it would have been a lie. He was right. That had been her reason for taking the job. She never told him about it, not once in all the chances she’d had.
She became conscious of a raw, sick feeling in her stomach. After all those wonderful, sheltered hours in his arms, it was all slipping away from her. The worst part of it was that they were both right. He had every right to fight for his family’s honor, just as she did for hers.
“Sébastien, please, let me explain.”
His olive eyes glittered with emotion he was trying so hard to hold back. She could see it in the stiff line of his jaw and the set of his shoulders. “You lied to me, Ella. What is there to explain?”
