The Marquis's New Clothes (Fiery Tales Book 7) Page 2

  From the moment he’d met her, during her betrothal to Marc, he’d been fiercely attracted to her. He’d spent a ridiculous amount of time famished for this woman.

  Merde. He could make no sense of this incessant, unbreakable pull to her. His desire for her plagued him. Haunted him. The longer it went on, the more it tormented him.

  The stronger it got.

  So she was beautiful, elegant, graceful, and intelligent. There were others who shared those qualities. So Marc had boasted that his wife was passionate and sensual and highly receptive to his husbandly rights—a woman who saw her marriage bed as enjoyable rather than as a duty.

  So what?

  There were other women who enjoyed sex. He’d fucked scores of them.

  Nothing he did got golden-eyed Aimee de Miran out of his head. Out of his system. Not time. Or women. He was tired of wanting her—and worse, comparing other women to her. It drove him to distraction.

  Jésus-Christ. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d bedded a woman when Aimee hadn’t intruded into his mind, where he didn’t fantasize it was her he was buried inside.

  For the last six years, Adam had kept his distance from Marc’s beautiful wife for two reasons. First and foremost, Aimee was in love with her husband, and he never poached where real feelings were involved. Second, Marc was a friend—one who was completely undeserving of his wife’s affections. Marc knew full well he’d stirred her heart. He’d laughed about it and found it “adorable,” and without discretion of any kind, bedded every woman who crossed his path.

  “What about the blue, my lord?”

  Adam scrutinized the blue-gray justacorps held out before him.

  It was of the finest cloth, yet not boastful. And a fine cut, too. “Perfect.”

  “I think the lady will be most impressed, my lord.” Laurent smiled as he handed him the matching vest—Laurent’s usual statement whenever he sensed Adam had a new conquest in mind.

  Adam slipped on his vest. “Do you now, Laurent.”

  “I think you overestimate your charm.” Adam could hear the humor in Robert’s tone.

  He glanced at Robert. “I think you should leave the lady to me and concern yourself with the King, and whether or not he’ll approve of our drawings and ideas.” Adam slipped on the justacorps with Laurent’s assistance.

  A member of the Royal Academy of Sciences, Adam was recognized for his engineering expertise. Over the years, he’d worked on a number of projects for the Crown—particularly, the fortification of strongholds in case of attack. Now with the country at peace, at least for the time being, Louis had turned his attention to his prized palace.

  Versailles.

  Unhappy with the water pressure of his fountains, His Majesty had asked Adam to offer a solution to rectify the deficiency the original engineers had produced.

  Robert stood and walked over to him, grinning. “It’s far more fun watching Adam de Vey fail for the first time with a woman.” He placed his hand on Adam’s shoulder. “In all seriousness, the lady doesn’t much care for either of us. Marc broke her heart. She sees us as being no different than her late husband.”

  That much he knew.

  But Adam wasn’t looking for her love. Or to replace Marc in her heart, if he was still there. He was looking for a few hours of shared carnal pleasure. He simply wanted to, no—had to—put an end to this inexplicable mental and physical torment. And there was only one way to kill the longing—and that was to have Aimee every which way he could to sate his lust for her.

  Success hinged on his ability to stay focused. Patient. Unfortunately, just as Robert stated, she disliked him.

  “I’ll succeed,” Adam said.

  Robert lifted a dark brow. “You’re that confident?”

  “I am.”

  A slight smile lifted the corner of Robert’s mouth. “Oh, I can’t wait to see this. I predict she’ll run the other way each time you draw near.”

  A realistic prediction.

  For his sanity’s sake, he had to succeed. He couldn’t fail. He would best her in this cat and mouse game they were about to play. Beautiful, passionate Aimee hadn’t had a lover since Marc’s death. He’d left his wife at their country château while he’d carried on with his favorite mistress in the city, and hadn’t been anywhere near her for months prior to his fatal duel. In short, she hadn’t been touched in a very long time.

  And she was ripe for the taking.

  Adam was going to use her passionate nature to his advantage.

  Chapter Two

  “Is that the blue justacorps he wore when you dropped the ring?” Aimee asked her cousin, her eyes fixed on Adam’s tall sculpted form.

  In the gardens of Versailles, scores of courtiers stood about, lords and ladies murmuring among themselves. The violinists that followed King Louis XIV around the gardens all day stood still, but continued to play, their music sweetening the warm summer air. The King had motioned everyone back, His Majesty wanting only Adam de Vey and Robert de Senville near. The three men stood at the Dragon Fountain in deep discussion, His Majesty listening intently to Adam’s comments.

  Unable to stop herself, she took in his strong, muscled body, his handsome profile. Few men were as tall as the King. Yet Adam stood well above His Majesty. As the King demanded of all men at court, Adam wore his periwig. Though away from court, the periwig was nowhere to be found. And she knew that underneath it, he had hair as dark as a raven’s wig that matched his dark velvety eyes. Gorgeous, fathomless eyes that lured a woman in.

  Despite the man’s lascivious character, he was beautiful beyond belief.

  Highly attractive men with disarming charm were the very bane of a woman’s existence. A wicked promise always shone in their eyes. It drew women, despite their better judgment. Aimee understood the allure well. She’d been one of those women. She’d allowed herself to be drawn in by Marc in the same helpless, pathetic way. She should have limited her husband to her body. Yet she’d foolishly relinquished her heart as well.

  Louise had her head tilted to one side studying Adam when Aimee finally dragged her gaze away from him.

  “Well?” Aimee prompted.

  “I’m not sure …” her cousin said. “It could be.”

  “Louise, that answer is no help at all.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s difficult to remember!” Louise looked about. “Do you see Renault? Is he here? Is he with his mistress?”

  “Stop looking for him,” Aimee cautioned and added sotto voce, “Until we locate the ring, you’re to keep your distance.” Hopefully, Renault would keep his. For his years of loyal service, the man thankfully had two rings from the King. According to Louise, his finger was always adorned with one. Aimee was fairly confident he hadn’t noticed his other was missing—yet.

  Just then, the King began to walk, a signal for others to follow. He moved away from Adam, Robert, and the fountain, out toward the east side of the vast gardens.

  Adam, who had been speaking to Robert, looked past his shoulder, his gaze meeting hers. A slight smile raised the corner of his sensuous mouth and he gave her a nod.

  “Oh, my … Adam is looking this way.” Louise pointed out the obvious.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Well, what should we do?”

  Aimee returned his smile and nod. She thought something akin to surprise flashed in his eyes but it was so quick, she couldn’t be certain. “If I’m going to do this, I might as well start now.”

  Feed into his conceit— that every woman is interested in him. Be bold. And if luck was on her side, locate the ring in the pocket of the very justacorps he was wearing. Out of mourning, she’d make him believe she was a lonely widow, looking for a lover. The fact that she really was a lonely widow who could truly use a lover should only make her performance easier. No?

  As the crowd thinned down to a few stragglers, Aimee marched straight up to her late husband’s notoriously rakish friends, Louise quickly on her heels.

  Stopping before them
, Aimee heard Robert saying, “She’s not going to come over—” He choked back his words when he noticed her.

  “Good day, Madame de Gremont.” Robert quickly stepped forward with an instant smile and, taking her hand, pressed a kiss to her knuckle.

  “Good day.” Aimee returned Robert’s greeting and his smile. Then turned to Adam as Robert moved to greet Louise.

  Adam stepped into Robert’s spot and took her hand. “Good day, Aimee.” His familiarity momentarily unbalanced her. He’d never addressed her so informally. The way he’d said her name—so low and sensuously—caused a flutter in her belly. A ludicrous reaction that took her by surprise. A reaction that dismayed her. One she wasn’t going to repeat.

  Adam didn’t kiss her hand immediately, as Robert had. Instead, he held her gaze, a half smile still gracing his lips. With the lightest stroke on the back of her hand, his thumb whispered across her skin. Tiny tingles sped up her arm and rippled to the tips of her breasts. Arresting her breath. Then he bent, his eyes still locked to hers, and pressed his warm mouth to her hand, causing her heart to quicken. And her thoughts to momentarily scatter. His lips lingered for a moment longer than was necessary before he stepped back and released her hand.

  She blinked, stunned. He’d never, ever, greeted her like this before. Realizing her mouth had fallen agape, she clamped it shut. Good God. There’s no doubt about it; he is trying to seduce you. And heaven help her, he was far too good at the game of seduction. He was pure sexual temptation. Even better at unraveling a woman than Marc had been. A mere touch had had the most unsettling effect. Worse, the look in his eyes told her he knew exactly what he’d done to her insides.

  Aimee managed to force out a greeting, mentally cringing over how awkward she sounded.

  Thankfully, Adam ignored the clumsiness of her response and moved to greet Louise. His greeting of her cousin was completely proper and entirely different from the one he’d just offered her.

  Chastising herself for her physical responses to him, Aimee took a deep breath and returned her smile to her face. She had a job to do. And the sooner this was over, the better.

  Focus …

  “It is good to see you, gentlemen,” she said, her voice thankfully belying her disquiet. “I wondered if you would be so kind as to be our escorts through the gardens?” She looked pointedly at Adam. “My cousin and I would be most appreciative.” The crowd of courtiers was well ahead now.

  His smile grew. “It would be my pleasure.” He offered his arm.

  He had an incredible smile. Quite perfect, actually.

  Taking Adam’s arm, she walked along, trying not to notice the muscle and sinew under her hand that was entirely too easy to detect, even through his clothing. Or how his strong hard body moved with such riveting masculine grace.

  Her traitorous body began to warm.

  With her cousin and Robert walking behind, Aimee tried to think of something to say. A topic of conversation, any distraction at all that would take her mind off the mounting heat rushing through her system.

  “You look lovely, Aimee. Blue is most becoming on you,” he said, his dark gaze dropping ever so briefly to her décolletage. Her nipples hardened.

  Oh God. Much to her mortification, Aimee felt a blush coming on. She hadn’t blushed in years.

  You haven’t had a man in years either. Compose yourself!

  “Thank you. It’s my favorite color,” she lied. “I love to wear it. I love to see others wear it, too. Any shade, really. It draws my eyes to them immediately.” Excellent recovery. Since he was trying to bed her, he’d definitely wear what pleased her.

  And nothing would please her more than to locate the ring quickly.

  “Really. I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “I must admit, it was a pleasant surprise to see you approach,” he continued. “I didn’t think you cared much for me or Robert.”

  Perhaps she’d been too bold in approaching him. Perhaps she should have waited for him to approach her. The last thing she wanted was to raise his suspicions—that she was up to something.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Gravel crunched under her feet as they moved along the path. “I didn’t realize I gave you that impression. It was not my intention, Monsieur de—”

  “Adam,” he interjected. “Simply Adam. No need for titles, Aimee. We’ve known each other a long time.”

  Mostly from afar—and by reputation. She’d heard more than one woman atwitter about gorgeous Adam de Vey and his carnal talents. Her husband’s friends didn’t visit the château. She only saw them when she was in the city, and since Marc’s death, she’d tried to avoid them whenever possible.

  “All right. Adam it is, then.” She smiled, though her heart thudded in her chest. “You certainly had the attention of the King just now.” That’s right. Make idle conversation and come up with a way to check those pockets.

  “Yes. His Majesty has summoned me for a meeting. He’s displeased,” he said, still smiling.

  Her brows furrowed. “With you?”

  “With his fountains. He wants me to fix them.”

  She glanced back at the Dragon Fountain that was now silent and no longer spraying water as it had moments ago. “You know how?”

  “To fix them? Yes. It’s going to be costly and require work, but it can be done.”

  She was intrigued. She thought he—like Marc—didn’t know how to do anything other than indulge in vice.

  “What’s wrong with the fountains?” she asked, genuinely curious.

  He lifted a brow. “You really wish to know?”

  “Yes,” she responded without hesitation.

  This was novel for Adam. It was the first time she was actually talking to him, touching him. And for very first time in his life, he was going to discuss science with a stiff prick. In fact, she had him stiff as stone from the moment he caught her looking at him. There was no doubt about it; she’d reacted to his touch and the kiss on her hand.

  And that delectable thought tightened his sac and raced his heart.

  He didn’t know why, but her interest in the fountains pleased him immensely. Most women wouldn’t have cared to ask more questions, the subject too dull for their taste. He was as delighted about her curiosity as he was by her bold approach and request for an escort. Especially since he’d been sure he was going to have to corner her for any sort of conversation.

  Celebrating in the turn of events, he silenced any questions he had regarding her uncharacteristic behavior.

  “There are a number of fountains throughout the gardens,” he explained. “There isn’t enough water pressure to have them spout water at the same time and with the majestic height the King desires, so the fountains are turned on and off one at a time as the King approaches and leaves during his strolls around the gardens. But he wants them working all at the same time, in the same way.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed until now … How will you fix them?”

  “Since the water is presently being rerouted from the Seine—”

  “All the way from Paris?” she injected, her eyes widened.

  “Yes, all the way from Paris. The distance is significant, and the elevation of the land where the palace is located is high, both factors contributing to the problem. We are going to use a special machine, a pump, to draw the water.”

  “Will that work, your ‘pump’ machine?”

  “It should. Robert and I have made a number of calculations. I’ve done up detailed drawings. We’ll be showing them to the King later. I think he’ll be pleased.”

  “And how is it you know so much about such things?”

  Still she hadn’t lost interest or become bored. Those beautiful golden-colored eyes were fixed on him the entire time, giving him her rapt attention.

  He stopped walking and turned to face her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Yet another first. When all he’d ever done was fantasize about bedding her, he never would have guessed he’d derive such pleasure from a simple conversation
with her.

  Robert and Louise d’Arcy walked on past, involved in their own conversation.

  “Science is a passion of mine,” he said, without boasting about his reputation in the area or his achievements that had earned him the esteem of the King.

  Mirth entered her eyes. She lifted her chin a notch. “Really? I thought women were a passion of yours.”

  One particular woman had become an obsession of his, truth be told.

  Adam slipped his hand under her chin and brought it up a notch more, their lips so very close together. She drew in a sharp breath, surprised by his unexpected action. “You hardly know me, Aimee … so I will tell you, I am a man of many passions.”

  He saw something flash in her eyes before her gaze briefly dropped to his mouth. An excellent sign. His fever for her spiked. Her breathing had increased. Her skin was flushed. Drawing from his experience with women, he knew he was right about his golden-eyed beauty. A sexual encounter with Aimee would be nothing short of raw and intense. She was hungry. Naturally passionate. She wants a lover. It wouldn’t take much to coax her into sex.

  As he stared down at her upturned face, her perfect lush mouth, he wondered what she would do if he kissed her here and now. His instincts told him she’d succumb to it, to him, in a sweet surrender, unable to stop herself. The notion was delicious. As delicious as she was going to be in bed. His cock didn’t just ache for her. Every fiber of his being ached for this one woman. Still holding her chin, Adam brushed his thumb across her soft bottom lip with a gentle caress.

  She jumped back a foot, startling him. “It’s cold!” she blurted out and took another step back. She was rubbing her arms vigorously. “Don’t you feel it? It’s become quite chilly all of a sudden.”

  “Chilly?” Adam glanced up at the late afternoon sun. Did she jest? It was a warm summer’s day.

  “Yes …” She was still rubbing her arms, though her cheeks were pink, indicating inner heat rather than a chilled form. “I could really use your justacorps. Would you mind?”

  “No, of course not.” Adam removed his overcoat, walked up to her, and placed it on her shoulders.