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 Montfort. 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 glum. “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—for which she was deeply grateful. 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.” At least not more than she already was. 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. Her future, though glum and beyond her control, led away from him. She could never permit herself to forget that. Or to leave her heart exposed for him to enter it.
Once she returned home next week, she wanted no ties with him. 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 hips, Mathias stood—in all his muscled glory.
“Oh my . . .” Bernadette breathed. Then whispered, “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 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.
“He’s far more than merely beautiful to behold and carnally gifted, and you well know it . . .” a voice whispered deep inside. She muted it immediately.
“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 politely.
Both women bade him good day and 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 townhouse, 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 a stern look, one that silently reprimanded 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 Bernadette as she pretended to limp.
“Do you need assistance?” Mathias asked.
“No. Please don’t worry.” Gabrielle answered for her with a smile, once again touched by his kindness. “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’d once again slipped into a trancelike state and were still staring at the spot where Mathias had been standing. Gabrielle’s smile grew, her insides danced wildly. She couldn’t wait to join him.
“I’ve decided to keep him for a few days. Please 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 y
ears, 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 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.” 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. 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.” He never meant anything more sincerely.
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. Last night had been a start. A very good start. She’d entrusted him with some details about herself, and he knew that wasn’t easy for her.
More than anything, he wanted her to learn to open up to him. In and out of bed.
And when it came to 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 begin working on that.
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-bending.
“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 body, chère. I think equal adoration should be given to your backside, especially . . .” He ran a light hand over her luscious 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 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. 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. Already her breaths were becoming choppy and quick. Closely watching her reactions, he kept the pressure of his strokes consistent, gliding his slick fingers 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.
“Yes . . .” She panted and pushed up against his hand, trying to rub her engorged little bud against his evasive fingers. “I want . . . oh! . . . I . . . want . . .”
He loved how she was becoming less coherent, more feverish. His strong, spirited Silvie was unraveling, and watching it happen before his eyes hardened his cock to painful proportions.
“What do you want?” He was stroking the slit of her sex, milking more heated responses. He liked the sound of her moans, her occasional little wiggle and lifting of her bottom.
“I . . . I want . . . you . . . inside me.”
“As you wish.” He thrust two fingers into her tight warm core.
She let out a mixture of a cry and a sob, her hips jerking hard. Holding her firmly, he immediately went to work on that sweet hot spot inside her feminine walls, giving it short quick strokes that made her buck, her legs shake. She whimpered and tried to squirm away. Knowing the sensations over that ultrasensitive gland were deliciously intense, Mathias tightened his hold, keeping her in place, letting her get used to the erotic sensation, without playing with her clit, all the while plying her with steady strokes.
His name rushed past her lips on a pant. She was wiggling harder, unable to hold still. He soothed her with words, coaxed her along, encouraging her to give herself over to the pleasure, telling her how good she felt around his fingers, how hard a release he was going to give her.
Within moments, she was widening her legs, giving him easier access, and rocking her hips with mouthwatering allure. She’d dropped her chin, her hair hiding her face, her trembling now stronger than before. Her sex soaked his busy fingers with more juices.
Jésus-Christ. She was on the edge. And so was he. “You’re going to come for me, without holding back in any way.” It wasn’t a question.
“Y-Yes!” She confirmed what he could feel around his fingers. If he wasn’t so hard, his cock so unbearably full, he might have smiled. No hesitation there. Just sweet surrender.
Her orgasm hit her hard, wrenching a scream from her. She stiffened.
With lightning movements, Mathias pulled his hand out of her contracting sheath, yanked off the sheet around his waist, and stuffed a pillow under her hips to keep her bottom angled.
He filled her quivering core with one fluid stroke, pushing his whole length into her, knowing she liked it deep. She mewed a welcome, followed by a shiver of delight, accepting his possession, taking his deep long thrusts, her slick walls decadently pulsing around him.
He basked in those wild uncontrollable clenches, holding back his climax, shaking with the effort. Her body sucking him in with each glorious spasm, she was hot and soft and exquisitely snug; she had the most incredible cunt he’d ever known.
Just as her contractions began to ebb, his control snapped. Ecstasy slammed into him. He pulled out, his semen purging from his prick with stunning force, pouring himself onto her sweet bottom, until he was completely drained dry.
Collapsing onto his back beside her, he was as boneless as she. It took him several moments before he could calm his breathing and move
his muscles. Grabbing her chemise, he cleaned them both, tossed the thing to the floor, and gently eased the pillow from under her hips.
Her breathing almost normal, she rolled onto her side facing him, her hands tucked under her cheek. Propped up on his elbow, he gazed into her eyes, noting the soft look—the very same softness he’d seen in her eyes last eve. They lay there in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. In fact, there was a deep serenity to it, the likes of which he’d never experienced before.
He caressed her cheek, allowing himself to enjoy the features of her lovely face. She had no exotic coloring, but she was a classic beauty. And Dieu, he loved her height. She fit perfectly with his body, as though she were made just for him.
In the quiet of the moment, he didn’t sense a wall between them, that barrier she kept between her and the rest of the world. The look in her eyes was far from detached and he fully expected her to erect a barrier posthaste.
Taking advantage of her amenable state, he said, “You can trust me with your secrets, just as you’ve trusted me with your body. I won’t hurt you, Silvie. I won’t betray your confidence or turn your secrets against you.” He cradled her cheek in his palm. She lowered her gaze. Mathias placed a soft kiss on her lips, wishing he knew her thoughts. Wishing he knew how to silence this incessant desire to know more about her. “Tell me something, anything about yourself. Something I don’t already know.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “I’ve never met anyone like you,” she responded with as much sincerity in her eyes as in her tone.
He was taken aback by the endearing comment.
Tenderly, he stroked his thumb across her cheek. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else.”
She put her arms around him, snuggled up against him. “I’m glad I met you,” she whispered in his ear. “That’s something I’ve never told anyone else.”
Her words took him by surprise and melted his heart.
He pulled her tightly against him, his arms acting on their own volition, returning her embrace, unable to dispel the notion that this was so right. Unable to mute the tender emotions welling inside him. Emotions he had no desire to halt from happening.
The Princess and the Diamonds Page 7
