Dear God. She couldn’t control that either. Tiny contractions were rippling through her core, around his ramming cock. The physical reactions he could elicit from her body astounded her. Physical reactions she’d no idea how to curb or quell. Her release was imminent. She could feel it coming on. Fast. Sensed it was going to be shattering, and that immediately frightened her. He frightened her. His power over her was so intense. So strong. She was terrified to be that vulnerable to him. She’d struggled against men who wielded power over her all entire life.
Wavering on the edge of orgasm, Gabrielle fought it back.
Afraid to let go.
He had her mouth, possessing it with his tongue, his taste intoxicating. His thrusts, sublime. “Let go, Silvie,” he murmured. “Don’t fight it, chère. Give yourself over to the pleasure.” But still she fought back her orgasm, violently shaking with effort, her body rioting for release. Trying to outlast him.
“Why don’t we give that pretty clit of yours some attention?” she heard him say.
Oh, no . . . Before she could react, he’d pulled his hand from the wall, slipped it between their bodies, and without missing a stroke, he captured the bud between his fingers and pinched it—applying the most perfect pressure.
Her senses exploded with blinding ecstasy. She surged up hard against him, screaming into his mouth. He didn’t relent, not with the force of his thrusts or his hold on her pulsating clit, ramming her through the untamable spasms contracting her slick walls. Her body was awash with waves of stunning sensations. Then she felt it—the ripples of another hot wave of rapture. Right on the heels of the first. This time she didn’t fight it. This time she let it crash over her, abandoning herself to it, her body shuddering from the force.
Gabrielle willingly let herself drown in the soul-satisfying pleasure flooding through her system. Vaguely, she was aware of his hand slipping out from between their bodies, his fingers gripping her hips and his body stiffening. He reared just then, jerking his cock out and crushed her to him.
Burying his face in her hair, he roared out his pleasure against the curve of her neck, his strong body racked with its own release as his warm semen shot onto her thigh and hip.
She tightened her arms around him, and held him, their labored breaths the only sound in the room.
Dear God, she felt euphoric. She couldn’t believe it. She actually felt . . . happy. It was the first time in a long time.
Mathias’s muscles were heavy as lead. His legs weak. He couldn’t recall the last time he came that hard. But the wonderful languidness he felt quickly dissipated as questions began to crowd his mind and clear the sexual fog.
Questions he was going to bloody well have answers to.
He forced himself to pull away from her warm soft form and break from her embrace. And his body instantly balked over the loss.
The moment their gazes locked, his heart squeezed tightly. Her cheeks pink, her hair mussed, she looked adorable, sweet, and so damned beautiful—very much like the innocent she was. For the first time since he’d met her, her eyes were truly unguarded. Open and honest.
They told him she was a little shaken, a little wary, out of sorts, and unsure what he was about to do, how he was about to react, now that he knew she’d been a virgin. Dieu. Quelling the raw emotions swirling through him, Mathias scooped up the first article of clothing he touched from the pile on the floor, and grabbed the base of his prick, noticing the telltale signs of her lost innocence in the red streaks on it. She looked away, her eyes downcast, her blush deepening the coloring on her cheeks.
He wiped himself clean, then quickly wiped off her soft thigh and silky hip. Crumpling the caleçons in his hand, he tossed them away and slipped his hand under her chin, capturing her undivided attention.
“We’re going to talk.”
He saw disappointment flash in her dark eyes. Jésus-Christ. Did she think he was simply going to let this go? He’d just taken her virginity. He’d thought she was sexually experienced. She was supposed to be Gaillard’s mistress.
He never would have said the things he’d said to her, done the things he’d done, had he known she’d been a virgin.
He felt his ire mounting just thinking about the entire mess, a million questions spinning in his head. The more he learned about this woman, the less he knew.
“Would it be all right if I used the salle de bain to . . . wash up a little first?” Her voice was soft. Gone was that hard edge she usually had. And the wall that was always up—the one she hid behind—was conspicuously missing.
Merde. You just took her innocence. At least let her refresh herself before you make demands of her. Curbing his anger, his frustration, his impatience, he helped her down off the side table.
“Of course,” he said.
She thanked him. Sliding out from between him and the table, she bent and picked up her chemise. He watched her raise her arms and slip it on, admiring her lush curves, her pretty breasts—not too big or small—and then there were those gorgeous legs. God, how he loved women’s legs, and hers went on forever. He could still feel their silky strength wrapped around his hips.
As she left the room, he was sure of one thing. She was never Gaillard’s mistress. The man would have bedded her before setting her up in his townhouse, providing her with a full staff.
Mathias braced his hands on the edge of the side table and blew out a breath. Damn it. What was going on here?
You didn’t want things to get more involved. Well, things just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
A virgin.
He took a virgin.
Of all the different kinds of women he’d bedded, this was a bloody first.
He shoved himself away from the table and began to pace. He was livid with himself. He’d noticed signs of her inexperience. In her kiss, in the way she touched him. In the look on her face when he’d played with her clit. As if it were novel. A decadent new discovery. The wonder and delight in her eyes alone were telling.
And he’d ignored every sign. Purposely closing a blind eye just so that he could sink his cock in her.
From the beginning she hadn’t wanted to tell him a thing about herself. She hadn’t wanted to confide in him a single truth.
And it bothered him more than he could ever say.
He’d just had sex with a woman he didn’t know a thing about, and it was torturing him. He was no stranger to anonymous sexual encounters. He’d no idea why he should give her secrecy a second thought. She didn’t seem bothered that he’d just claimed her virginity. Why should he be?
Lord knows he had enough to deal with.
Navers and his mission for the Lieutenant General of Police were where his focus should be. Not on this one woman who was at every turn up to no good.
Mathias stopped pacing, raked a hand through his hair, and let out a sharp breath. He walked over to the wash basin in the room, poured water into the bowl, and sluiced it onto his face. He washed, wishing that he could purge her from his thoughts by simply washing her wonderful scent from his skin.
He couldn’t let this rest. He simply had to know who she was. What she was all about. And he was finding out as soon as his little secretive seductress reentered the room.
Chapter Six
The moment she reentered the room, her dark eyes swept the bedchamber, surprise flashing in their depths when she spotted him lying casually on his side, naked in her bed.
Propped up on his elbow, Mathias patted the spot beside him. “Come here,” he beckoned.
He saw her take a deep breath and let it out slowly before she complied and slipped in bed beside him.
Rolling onto her side, she mimicked his pose, and Mathias could tell that while she’d been in the other room, she’d managed to erect her usual wall.
The barrier was firmly in place between them, solid and true.
And he was going to knock the fucking thing down.
“Take off your chemise,” he said. An easier barrier to remove betwee
n them.
That took her off balance. By her expression, it was obvious that wasn’t what she expected him to say. “Pardon?”
“You don’t need it.” His tone was gentle yet firm. As was his gaze.
She hesitated for a moment, then sat up, pulled the article off, and tossed it onto the floor. She returned to her pose on her side, looking a little more self-conscious than before.
Her bravado was a little askew. He hoped that would work in his favor.
“You owe me some honest answers, given what just occurred. Let’s begin with something simple. What’s your name?” he asked, trying to ignore her many female attributes, especially those pretty nipples, trying not to think about how good they’d tasted on his tongue.
“Silvie.”
“Your full name.”
“What difference does that make?”
He tilted her chin up a notch. “The difference is I just claimed your innocence. Now answer me.”
“And do you know the name of every woman you tumble?”
“No, but I think it’s a good idea I learn the identity of all those who pretend to be a nobleman’s mistress, but turn out to be a virgin.”
“I didn’t say I was Gaillard’s mistress. It’s something you assumed.”
“And you did nothing to acquit me of the notion. Now let’s start again. What is your name?” His voice was a bit louder, sharper. Merde. Why was this question so difficult?
“I’m not going to answer that,” she stated.
He clenched his jaw, holding back the expletives bellowing in his head. This woman was beyond maddening. “Why the hell not? Is it because you can’t or you won’t.”
“Both.”
“Who is Gaillard to you?”
She bit her lip, clearly considering whether or not to answer. Finally she said, “He’s a member of my family.”
Wonderful. The man’s family was huge. It was going to take considerable effort, not to mention time, to eliminate them one by one until he figured out the identity of this particular woman.
A weary sigh escaped her. “Mathias.” She placed a hand on his chest. His unruly cock immediately jerked in response. “If you are worried you are going to be dragged to the altar because of what happened tonight, rest easy. That isn’t going to happen. No one is going to force you to marry me. I am not seeking a husband . . . although . . .”
He removed her hand from his chest, her touch a serious distraction. “Although?” he prompted.
She lowered her eyes. “One is being selected for me by my father.”
He’d no idea why her words felt like a blow to the belly. He felt . . . winded. “Do you know who your husband will be?” Why in the world did he ask that? Why on earth would he care to know?
“No.”
Just talking about her getting married was tightening his vitals. He changed the subject. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you at home? Why are you playing Basset? Is this some sort of thrill or are you doing it because you have to?”
“Because I have to.”
“To cover a debt? You’re trying to win back money?”
“Yes.”
“Your debt?”
She shook her head. “No, someone else’s.”
“Merde. If your father is looking for a husband for you, there must be some sort of dowry. Your father has means.” Someone prominent if she was part of Gaillard’s family. Thus the need for her to hide her identity with a disguise. “Get him to pay the debt and stop going to Navers’s gaming den.”
“I can’t ask my father to help. He’d never do it. I’ve got to do this myself. On my own. And I can’t lose the diamonds either.” She suddenly looked tired. Lowering her head onto the pillow, she tucked her hands under her cheek. “Not a single diamond.”
He brushed an errant curl off her cheek. “Why?’
“Because I took them from him, and he doesn’t know.”
Jésus-Christ. “Who is it you’re helping?”
“Another family member.”
“Why not get Gaillard to help you?”
“Because he doesn’t know about it and he wouldn’t help if he did. No one in the family will help—not to clear a gambling debt. Just me. I had to trick Gaillard just to let me stay here.”
“Where does your father think you are?”
“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 pillow 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.
She gave you a gift she could only give one man. And she picked you. That notion wound around his heart.
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. 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 squeezed around his heart.
“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 detached as she wanted the world to believe. Clearly, she had tremendous compassion. She was going to great lengths to help someone in her family. Someone she loved a great deal. Whom others refused to aid. “I don’t believe you, Silvie. You make it sound as though you want very little in life.”
“What mor
e 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 could walk 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 calmly.
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!”
The Princess and the Diamonds Page 6
