The Marquis's New Clothes (Fiery Tales Book 7) Page 3

  She shot her arms into the sleeves. On him the coat was knee-length. On her it was much lower. She wrapped her arms around herself, the sleeves too long for her. He could barely see her fingertips.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. Her behavior was bizarre.

  “Yes … No. No, actually, I’m not feeling quite myself. I’m going to lie down until supper. If you’ll excuse me …” She gave a quick curtsy. “Good-bye,” she said as she turned on a heel and stalked away, calling out to her cousin.

  Louise d’Arcy abruptly ended her conversation with Robert and raced to Aimee’s side, casting a nervous glance Adam’s way.

  Aimee turned around quickly and tossed out, “I’ll return your justacorps later … and thank you,” then picked up her pace, both women rushing away.

  Adam placed his hands on his hips as he watched the hasty retreat.

  Robert sauntered over to him, frowning. “What on earth just happened?” he asked.

  “I’ve no idea.”

  Robert rubbed the back of his neck. “Any reason why is she wearing your justacorps, Adam?”

  “She’s cold.”

  Robert lifted a brow. “Cold?”

  “That is what I said. Cold.”

  “Dieu, it’s about as hot as Hades out here.”

  Adam watched as the two women entered the palace through one of the garden doors. “Yes. I’m quite aware of that.”

  Robert shook his head. “It’s baffling … First there was interest—which is rather astonishing in itself—and then a fast strange exit. What do you suppose is going on?”

  “Don’t know.” It could be that he simply overwhelmed her and she lost her courage. After all, she hadn’t been with any other man besides Marc. Or there could be more to this than he knew. “But I do intend to find out.” Now that he saw just how responsive she was to him, he was going to continue his pursuit. Adam had a slow seduction in mind for Aimee de Miran.

  He wouldn’t let her run off the next time. Not until he had her willing and wet and had rocked that edible little body of hers with a powerful release.

  *****

  “Nothing!” Aimee tossed the blue justacorps onto her bed. “There is absolutely nothing in the pockets.” She was so frustrated she wanted to scream. Her body was burning from the inside out, thanks to Adam de Vey—the last man on earth who should stir her. Her husband’s friend. A womanizer who had used the very same tactics on countless women.

  Those tactics weren’t supposed to affect her. But they did. Dear God, had she learned nothing from her experience with Marc? Instead of being the one doing the playing, Aimee was the one being played—by Adam. It unnerved her that he’d incited her senses.

  And that he knew it.

  “Are you certain?” Louise picked up the coat and ran her hands through the pockets. A sound of exasperation erupted from her as her cousin tossed the justacorps back onto the bed. “We’re going to have to search again.”

  “Oh, no. I’ll not go through that again, Louise. We’ve got to think of something else. Perhaps we can have a jeweler make an identical ring … or …”

  “But that will take too long!” Louise’s eyes filled with tears. “Time is of the essence. Renault could realize his ring is missing at any moment.”

  She knew Louise was right. She was grasping for ideas.

  Louise flopped backwards onto the bed. “I’m going to prison.” She slapped her palms over her face and wept.

  Aimee sighed. Clearly, she was no coquette. Or seductress. She wasn’t good at playing the siren. Or the games men like Marc and Adam played. And after her irrational behavior in the gardens, it was almost certain Adam thought she was a lunatic.

  But for Louise’s sake, she’d have to do better. She knew her cousin would move mountains for her if Aimee were in need. In fact, Louise had been the only one who had been there for her during all the pain Marc had caused her.

  “Louise.” She walked over to the bed. “You are not going to prison. I’ll search his justacorps this evening, providing he wears a blue one, and if that proves fruitless, I’ll figure out a way to sneak into his rooms and check all his blue justacorps.”

  Louise’s hands dropped from her face. She sat up immediately. “You will?”

  “I will.”

  She squealed with happiness and leapt off the mattress to give Aimee a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  Despite herself, Aimee smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  Louise pulled away and wiped her tears from her cheeks. “You might want to check his justacorps tonight if he’s wearing yellow.”

  Aimee’s smile died. “Yellow?”

  Louise forced a smile, and taking a step back smoothed her skirts. A bad sign. “Yes, you see … I was thinking about when I dropped the ring … The Hall of Mirrors was so very crowded. I was bumped … and well … he might have been wearing a yellow justacorps.”

  Aimee simply blinked. Astounded. “How, by all that is holy, can you confuse blue with yellow?”

  “Well … It all happened so fast and with the crush of people … the truth be told”—she smoothed her skirts again—“I don’t recall exactly what color he wore.”

  Aimee strived for patience. For the first time in her life she wanted to throttle her cousin. “Are you even certain that it was Adam de Vey’s pocket you dropped the ring in?”

  “Oh, yes! Of that I am certain! The man does stand out in a crowd—with his good looks and tall form, although I did find Robert de Senville quite appealing. He is very handsome, and he isn’t married. Did you know that?”

  “Louise! Focus!”

  “Oh, yes, of course. It was definitely Adam de Vey. I’m positive. In one of the pockets in one of his justacorps sits Renault’s ring. We just have to find out which.”

  It was like looking for a needle in a haystack given the man’s penchant for clothing.

  Aimee’s every instinct warned her to stay away from the Marquis de Nattes. But she was about to approach … and get very close to him, indeed.

  A rake who sets your body on fire with the slightest effort … Good Lord.

  She was going to give this another try.

  Chapter Three

  Music from violins and harpsichords filled the Hall of Mirrors.

  By the time Adam arrived, His Majesty’s fete was well under way. Seated on his silver throne at the opposite end of the majestic hall, several carpeted steps high, the King observed those who danced the allemande before him in perfect unison. Onlookers not part of the dancing lined the great mirrored gallery.

  Adam spotted Aimee immediately. In a royal blue gown, with a radiant smile on her sweet lips, she danced with grace. He’d looked to the dance floor first, knowing if she were anywhere in the room, he’d likely find her there. Riveted, he watched with pleasure each elegant turn and movement she made. She’d attended many balls with Marc where Adam had caught himself watching her dance. She danced so well, always with that captivating smile that bedazzled him every time.

  There was no doubt in his mind—Aimee de Miran was the most beautiful woman in the realm.

  Clearly enjoying herself, she made him smile.

  He liked seeing her face aglow. Flushed with pleasure. Mental images of her naked in his bed, her soft skin just as pink, just as warm, as he rode her to ecstasy and back, burned through his mind.

  His groin tightened.

  In all the years he’d known her, he’d never dared to dance with her. He’d never dared touch her while she’d been married to Marc—except to offer her the proper greeting one gave a lady and the wife of a friend. Touching her would only add to his torment, and heighten his desire for a woman who wasn’t his to touch.

  Without realizing it, Marc had tortured Adam for years with countless details of his wife’s beautiful body. He hated it that Marc had discussed his wife with the same level of disregard he had for his paramours.

  More than he could ever express.

  Though Adam couldn’t remember any
of the particulars of his friend’s many mistresses, he recalled every single detail Marc had mentioned about Aimee’s lovely body—when he hadn’t wanted to. When he’d wanted nothing more than to forget them. Forget her. Adam knew Aimee had a beauty mark on her inner right thigh and another on her left hip. And he didn’t need Marc to tell him just how gorgeous her tits were. He could see that for himself. The top curves of her breasts were presently visible above her décolletage.

  And tantalizing in the extreme.

  Aimee pressed her palm to her partner’s raised hand, and turned in a circle in time with the music and dancers around her. Her dark curls were swept up and adorned with tiny blue ribbons; the few cascading down flounced about—so damned adorably—as she moved. He drank in the sight of her. She was breathtaking to behold.

  The only woman he knew who could render him awestruck again and again.

  As the last notes were played, she made a final turn and a deep curtsy to her partner, the Baron de Ranvier. Ranvier immediately offered his arm and escorted her off the dance floor.

  Intent on intercepting Aimee before she disappeared into the crowd, Adam began to make his way through the throng, just as the King rose, descended the steps, and exited the Hall of Mirrors to enter his gardens.

  The crush immediately followed him out, the mass moving across Adam’s path making it impossible to do anything but move with the flow.

  He lost sight of Aimee.

  Moments later, he found himself outside in the gardens. A hush fell over the crowd surrounding him. Anticipation infused the silence as the mass gazed up at the night sky, everyone aware of what was about to happen. Suddenly, the heavens filled with explosions of lights and sounds, spectacular fireworks dazzling and delighting His Majesty’s court. Louis did everything on a grand scale to demonstrate to all that he was King of the most powerful realm in all of Christendom. Adam scanned the crowds but couldn’t find his golden-eyed beauty.

  A hand touched his sleeve and grabbed his attention. To his astonishment, Aimee was standing beside him smiling. His heart quickened, sending blood rushing to his already stiff prick. In an instant, his cock felt as heavy as lead. Dieu, this woman had him unbalanced. Each time he thought he’d have to do the chasing, she appeared before him.

  Because of the crush around them, she stood so close to him, her soft breasts lightly pressing against his arm, wreaking havoc on his senses.

  “Good evening, Adam.” Her voice was elevated due to the noise of the fireworks. “Are you enjoying the fireworks?” she asked. He barely noticed them with her so near.

  “Yes. Are you?”

  Her beautiful golden eyes swept heavenward. “Yes. They’re lovely.” She returned her gaze to him.

  Adam leaned in, using the loudness of the exploding fireworks as his excuse to move closer to her. “I trust you’re feeling better?”

  “Much better, thank you. How goes the work on the fountains and your machine?”

  He smiled, once again pleased by her interest. “It goes well. I’ll be giving the King a demonstration tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Tomorrow? With the keen interest he showed today, I would have thought he’d want to see your demonstration immediately.”

  “The King has other officials here to meet with. I understand that he was occupied the better part of the day with his Lieutenant General of Police.”

  Her smile faded slightly. “Oh … really? The Lieutenant General of Police …” She looked away, gazing up at the skies.

  All the telltale signs of her desire were there. Her heart raced; he could see the rapid pulse on her slender neck. And her breathing was a little faster than normal. Someone bumped her from behind, pushing her up against him harder.

  A bolt of lust rocked him.

  Merde. He had to fuck her. Soon. He couldn’t take much more.

  She placed a hand against his chest and gently pushed herself away as best she could. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t be. I’m not.”

  To his delight, she didn’t shy away. In fact, she hadn’t looked all that sorry she’d bumped into him. Her smile was unwavering, bordering on sultry, as she moved to stand in front of him, her skirts deliciously caressing his leg, the space between their bodies so provocatively minimal.

  “You’re wearing blue,” she said, looking pleased.

  His gaze drifted down over what he could see of her appealing form. “So are you. Quite magnificently, if the truth be told.” He liked the awareness between them.

  “I’d say just about any color suits you, Adam. You truly have the finest justacorps.”

  “Thank you.” He’d no idea why they were talking about his clothes except to guess that she was nervous. He could sense it. She wanted to touch him. That much was obvious. As obvious as the heat mounting between them the longer their bodies remained this close.

  He definitely approved of the direction this was going …

  Aimee had stirred his hunger. She could see it in his dark eyes. It was so raw and real, it made her head spin. Clearly, her skill at seduction was improving, for she was the one in command of the game at the moment. All she had to do was remain in control of her desire. And his. That’s how this game is played, no?

  The seducer had command over the seduced.

  If only her body wasn’t conspiring against her. Being this close to him made her sex slick. And ache. This wasn’t about satisfying her starved senses. Or physical longings. This was about helping her cousin and keeping her safe from Renault.

  Adam had used women for his own purposes. For his pleasure. She was going use him for hers.

  It would give her great pleasure to search his pockets, find the ring, and leave him burning.

  Fool. You’ll leave yourself burning, too.

  She ignored the errant thought. Knowing her own limitations, not wanting to push him or herself too far, lest she got ensnared in her own game, she decided this was a good time to change tactics, demeanor, and tone. Abruptly, she clamped her hands on his shoulders.

  “Yes, this is quite a lovely justacorps.” She stroked the fabric down his chest, stopping to tap over his breast pockets. No ring in there.

  “Wonderful fabric … Silk, is it? “ She moved her hands farther down the coat, using short strokes in much the same way one would pet a horse. His brow furrowed as he glanced down and watched the odd motions of her hands. What the bloody hell … ? clearly etched in his expression. She fought to keep a straight face. His expression was priceless. It was obvious he was expecting to be touched in a more amorous way. In perhaps more intimate places on his muscled body.

  Aimee refused to dwell on how deliciously solid his chiseled chest felt.

  “I just adore silk,” she said, then purposely steering well away from his sex, she shot her hands out toward his hips and the pockets there.

  He caught her wrists, her hands only inches away from her goal.

  “Chère, perhaps it’s been a long time since you touched a man. Why don’t we try something like this?” Before she could react, he pulled her hand inside his justacorps and pressed her palm to the bulge in his breeches. Her heart lurched. Ever so slowly, he stroked her hand down his length, and then back up to the crest of his cock.

  A fresh wave of arousal slammed her senses. She lost her breath. He was much thicker and bigger than Marc. And so delectably hard and hot. The most incredible heat emanated from his body through the fine fabric of his breeches.

  Her sex responded with a warm gush.

  With the crowd so gripped by the entertainment in the skies, she and Adam were cocooned in their small spot, their bodies too close together for anyone to see the wicked motions of their hands over his shaft. Her gaze was locked with his. She couldn’t break away, captivated by the passion in his eyes, his fever for her spiking her own.

  “That’s much better …” he murmured, yet somehow she still heard him over the noise.

  Her breathing was shallow and sharp. Her clit pulsed fiercely. Aimee curle
d her fingers tightly around his straining sex inside his tented breeches.

  He released her wrist. “Perfect …” he murmured, and she realized she was still stroking his glorious cock. As much as it shocked her, she didn’t want to let go. Adam slipped his hand behind her neck. He was going to kiss her.

  Don’t let him! She was teetering on the edge of a complete surrender. Right here. Right now. She’d never been so brazen.

  Adam de Vey had masterfully turned the tables on her.

  She had wits enough to know when to cede defeat and run. She yanked her hand away from his alluring shaft. “I am feeling a bit chilled.” Get the justacorps and go! Hurry!

  “Chilled?” Amusement flicked in his dark eyes. To her relief, he removed his hand from the nape of her neck. “We can’t have that. Allow me to be of assistance.” He caught her arm and pulled her to the right until his shoulder met the tall palace wall. Within the tightly packed throng, their new spot was no less dense with spectators of the King’s show of fireworks.

  He pulled off his light blue coat. “Turn around, Aimee,” he said, slipping the justacorps onto her shoulders the moment she complied.

  She slipped her arms into the sleeves and gave him a semblance of a smile over her shoulder as the explosions continued overhead.

  He slid his arm inside the justacorps and pulled her up against him. Aimee stiffened. His hard cock was pressed against her bottom. Surely, he wasn’t going to do anything more with this crowd around them? Her answer came when she felt her skirts being raised from behind. She sucked in a breath. He was using his hand closest to the wall, using their bodies to hide what he was doing from view. She reeled, stunned by his actions.

  “Adam …” His name rushed out of her lungs, but the rest of her words were choked off when she felt his hot hand graze over the front of her thigh and cup her sex through the cloth of her drawers. She jumped on contact.

  He tightened his arm around her. “Easy …” His mouth was against her ear. “Spread your legs for me, Aimee. Let me warm you.”

  Her heart was hammering. Warm her? If she got any hotter, she’d burst into flames. Aimee looked at those closest to them. Did no one notice his hand up her skirts? Heads tilted back and eyes skyward told her definitely “No.”