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

  “I’ll do no such thing. Anything concerning my cousin, concerns me,” Aimee countered. “If you don’t cease your harassment, I’ll be forced to bring the matter to the attention of the King. He has a rather soft spot for the finer sex. He’ll not take kindly to your deplorable comportment toward my cousin.”

  At that Renault laughed. “Madame, do you really think His Majesty would take the side of my former paramour over me, one of the most trusted men in his realm?”

  Aimee narrowed her eyes and held his gaze firmly, praying he couldn’t hear her heart slamming against her ribs. She hated it that he was right. Men in His Majesty’s inner circle—men like Adam and Renault—had the confidence of the King. Anyone given the prestigious royal ring had the King’s regard—whether they deserved it or not. Renault did not.

  “Now then.” Renault grasped Louise’s lowered chin and jerked it up, making her gasp and Aimee stiffen. “We both know that you didn’t simply accept our parting as well as you pretend. That isn’t like you, Louise. You are up to something, aren’t you? Why don’t you tell me what it is and I may be lenient on you.”

  “I’ve nothing to say to you, Renault. Leave me alone.” Louise yanked her chin from her former lover’s grasp.

  “Ah, now there is that temper of yours.” His smile was mirthless. “The one that gets you into trouble. Again and again.”

  “You brought me here so I wouldn’t carry on. I haven’t,” Louise bit back.

  “No, you haven’t carried on. Your behavior has been exemplary. A little too exemplary—for you. Which is why I’m suspicious. I expected at the very least badgering and begging.”

  It was Aimee’s turn to speak up. “Clearly your conceit has made you blind to the fact that Louise has simply tired of you. My cousin does not badger or beg any man.”

  Renault didn’t so much as glance Aimee’s way. His glare remained fixed on Louise the entire time, the weight of his regard intent on intimidating her.

  To Aimee’s dismay, Louise lowered her gaze.

  “I’m watching you, Louise,” Renault said. “Whatever scheme you are hatching or already embroiled in, I can assure you that once I find out—and find out I will—I’ll use the full authority of my post to see you punished for your unruly behavior. I put up with far more than I should have from you, for far too long. A Lettre de Cachet I think would definitely be in order. For you and”—he glanced at Aimee—“anyone aiding you.”

  A cold shiver raced down Aimee’s spine. She felt Louise flinch. A Lettre de Cachet was an order signed by the King, authorizing the arrest and confinement of an individual or individuals, without trial. For an indefinite period of time. A person could be held in a prison or confined to a convent, among other places. As an abuse of their power, some men of wealth had obtained the order against ungovernable wives. Certainly if there was anyone who could obtain a Lettre de Cachet from His Majesty with little trouble, it was his Lieutenant General of Police.

  The very man whose responsibility it was to enforce them.

  “Marvelous.” Aimee forced herself to smile in the vermin’s face. “Should she hatch up a ‘scheme’ or become embroiled in one, I’m certain she’ll keep that in mind. Do find someone else to annoy, Renault.” She maneuvered Louise to her side and, keeping her arm around her cousin, escorted her away. Aimee kept to a leisurely pace, despite the suffocating urge to run.

  “Thank you, Aimee,” Louise said sotto voce. She was about to cast a worried glance at Renault when Aimee squeezed her shoulders, halting her.

  “Don’t you dare turn around. Keep walking. Smile. That’s right. Just like that, as though you haven’t a care in the world.” Aimee did the same, nodding greetings and exchanging brief pleasantries with other courtiers as they made their way across the Petit Parc of the gardens of Versailles.

  With her smile fixed to her face, Louise asked, “Where on earth have you been?”

  “Not now. We’ll act as though we are enjoying a walk. Once we reach the far end of the gardens, we’ll use the avenue along the side of the palace to make our way to my apartments. We’ll talk there.”

  *****

  “I’ve been worried sick!” Louise exclaimed in Aimee’s antechambers and began to pace, wringing her hands. “I was beside myself, Aimee! I imagined all sorts of terrible things. I thought perhaps Renault had somehow caught you in Adam’s rooms. That you were under arrest.”

  “Well, he didn’t. And I’m not.”

  “Yes, and I’m enormously relieved. What happened? All night I waited here for you. Did you make it into Adam’s private apartments?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you find the ring?”

  “Yes. I believe I did.”

  Louise let out an exuberant squeal and clapped her hands. “That’s marvelous! Oh, thank heavens! Our worries are over. May I see it?”

  “No. I don’t have it. It’s still in one of the pockets of Adam’s justacorps. And before you ask, no, I don’t know which one. I found it and lost it just as quickly.” Aimee sighed and shook her head. “Louise, I went into Adam’s rooms for your ring … and I came out with a lover instead.”

  Slowly, Louise’s eyes widened and her mouth fell agape. She clamped it shut. It fell agape yet again. “A-A lover?”

  “Yes. A lover. You asked me where I was all night. I was with the Marquis de Nattes. He caught me in his rooms and …”

  “And?” Louise pressed.

  Aimee walked over to the window and rested her forehead against the glass, blindly staring down at the gardens. “I gave myself to Adam de Vey … Repeatedly, actually.”

  “Re-Repeatedly?”

  “Yes. Repeatedly … as in over and over again throughout afternoon and night.” The heated image of Adam, resting on his elbows, gazing down at her, his handsome face etched with passion as he slid inside her flashed in her mind. Aimee’s body warmed.

  Louise burst into a fit of giggles, her joviality yanking Aimee out of her thoughts.

  “What, pray tell, is amusing you?”

  Louise approached, smiling, and looped arms with Aimee. “If you gave yourself ‘repeatedly,’ then I’d say the Marquis de Nattes’s skills in the boudoir were quite good indeed.”

  Aimee glanced back at the gardens. “That’s the crux. He wasn’t good at all.”

  Louise’s smile dissolved into a frown and she placed her hand on Aimee’s shoulder. “Was it … terrible?”

  “No.” Aimee tuned around, pressed her back to the window, and leaned her head back against the glass. “It was the most incredible experience I’ve ever had. There is a good reason women are drawn to the Marquis de Nattes, Louise. He is far, far better than good.”

  “He’s that good?”

  “He is beyond compare.”

  True to his word, he made her come so many times, she lost count, taking her in various positions, most of which she’d never tried. All of which brought her to new heights of pleasure as the clever man found different hot spots on her body that drove up her fever. So unlike Marc, who had left soon after sex, Adam had had no interest in parting company. They’d spent hours together and he never tired of her.

  Even now, away from him and his touch, his kiss, she craved him and the voluptuous sensation of his generous sex filling her so completely.

  And if that weren’t amazing enough, between decadent delights, he pulled her near, and lying naked with him, skin against skin, they talked. Teased. Even laughed.

  Of course, she knew that being with a husband and being with a lover were different. But she also saw the glaring differences in how she responded to Adam. And how he made her feel in the aftermath.

  Marc had always left her feeling sad. Inadequate.

  With Adam, she simply felt wonderful.

  She was still reeling from her experience with him.

  “The man is altogether too perfect,” Aimee said.

  A squeak of joy erupted from her cousin. “I’m so delighted. You deserved to enjoy a man—especially after Marc,�
�� Louise said with a slight sneer. “You’ve got to tell me more.” She grabbed Aimee’s hands and pulled her down onto a nearby settee. Aimee winced when her private area came in quick contact with the upholstered furniture. Sexual excess wasn’t something she was used to, but she didn’t mind the twinge of tenderness. It was a reminder of her experience with Adam.

  “Details!” Louise demanded. “What sorts of things did he do that made him ‘beyond compare’?”

  “Louise, we’ve got to talk about the ring.”

  “Yes, yes. But first answer the question. Better yet, do you think Robert is likely to be ‘beyond compare,’ too?”

  “Louise,” Aimee said firmly. “The ring. Please focus.”

  Louise let out a sharp breath. “I hate talking about the ring. Talking about the ring unsettles me. Especially with Renault behaving the way he is, but on the bright side, Adam de Vey is your lover. A lover who is ‘beyond compare’. A definite benefit. You can access his rooms and search with ease now. Another benefit.”

  “It will not be with ease at all. The man is an extremely light sleeper. I tried to leave the bed, but he stirred, and well …”

  Her cousin gave her a knowing smile. “He distracted you.”

  Aimee felt a blush coming on. It was embarrassing, really, for she wasn’t the blushing type. Ever since she’d crossed paths with Adam at the palace, she wasn’t behaving like herself at all.

  “Yes, he distracted me.” She admitted. “For about another hour.”

  And she’d loved every minute of it.

  She didn’t get an opportunity to search first thing in the morning either. He’d awakened her from her slumber with stirring kisses, brought her to ecstasy and back, then carried her to his salle de bain, where he had a warm bath prepared for both of them. Never had she shared a bath with a man.

  Never had she enjoyed a bath more.

  “This is all so excellent. Really,” Louise stated with a grin.

  “How is this excellent? We still don’t have the ring and …” She paused.

  “And?” Louise prompted yet again.

  Aimee let out a sharp sigh. “And … it appears I am hopelessly drawn to charming roués. Like Marc. Like Adam. Men who are sure to break a woman’s heart each and every time.” Adam was the last sort of man she should find appealing. And yet, she found herself enormously attracted to him. If she were wise, if the ring didn’t need to be found, she’d flee from the Marquis de Nattes.

  But she wasn’t wise. She was too captivated by Adam.

  And she’d no choice but to draw near. She was going to locate that ring. In no way would she allow Louise to be at Renault’s mercy.

  Last night, she’d considered telling Adam about the ring, but immediately silenced the urge. He wouldn’t be pleased to learn she’d lied to him, that she hadn’t come to his rooms to be with him at all. It was sure to put him in a less than generous mood. And given his relationship with the King and his friendship with Renault, it was too great a risk to take.

  “You don’t know Adam will break your heart,” Louise said.

  “He will if I give it to him. And that is something I will not do.”

  This was merely a physical allure. Nothing more.

  Chapter Seven

  This was more than just a physical allure. No doubt about it.

  Adam shook his head as he made his way toward his private apartments.

  Merde. He couldn’t believe it happened to him. He’d tried to prevent it. Stop it. Damn it, even deny it. Now there was nothing more to do but acknowledge, and accept it.

  He was in love with his golden-eyed beauty.

  He’d been in love with her for years.

  Priding himself on his acumen, on his analytical skills, he’d completely miscalculated, downright erred in his assumption that more of Aimee would diminish his feelings and kill his craving for her.

  The very opposite occurred. The more he tasted, the more he hungered. The better he knew her, the more his heart engaged.

  This was foreign ground for him.

  What the bloody hell was he to do now? The attraction between them was intense. That was indisputable. Mutually acknowledged.

  He knew what to do there.

  Courtiers were expected to be in attendance each morning as the King strolled about in the gardens, until he retired to his private apartments for his midday meal. Adam had spent day after day walking through the palace’s avenues and groves with Aimee on his arm, immersed in their own conversation, as though they were completely alone, despite the hundreds of people around them.

  The inability to steal kisses had steadily driven up the undercurrent of sexual heat between them. By the time they made it to his rooms, they had at each other before the meal awaiting them. Nothing gave Adam more joy than broadening her sexual repertoire. He was amazed at just how limited her sexual experience was. Marc had been a thousand times a fool for picking his paramours over his highly responsive, stunningly sensual wife.

  Adam couldn’t keep his hands off Aimee. He couldn’t stay away from her.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about her. And for the first time ever, he was having a difficult time reading a woman. Her behavior and actions ranged from downright bizarre to touchingly tender.

  She was constantly surprising him.

  Since arriving at the palace, there had been a series of unexpected events where Aimee was concerned.

  Starting on the very first day when she’d approached him in the gardens, to the following day when he’d found her in his chambers, wanting to be taken. Having her that day had been unbalancing on several scores, not the least of which had occurred as he was driving her into a third orgasm. Shyly she’d tried to urge him to come inside her. It was a stunning request, one no woman had ever made to him before.

  The thought of spending himself inside Aimee held immense appeal.

  So much so, that the temptation grew stronger each time his release rushed down his cock. But he’d steadfastly refused.

  He wouldn’t put her at risk.

  He couldn’t miss the sadness in her beautiful eyes when she’d told him there would be no risk involved. That she couldn’t conceive. That after three years of marriage, it was clear the problem was with her because Marc had told her about the two bastards he’d sired in his youth, prior to marrying Aimee.

  There had been times Adam was angry with Marc over his cavalier treatment of his wife.

  Yet at that moment, he’d never hated Marc more.

  There had been no bastards.

  He and Marc had been friends since childhood. Marc never withheld a single detail of his sexual exploits. He loved to brag about whom he fucked. And how.

  He’d lied to his wife. Because he didn’t want to admit the truth.

  After bedding more women than he could count, pouring his prick into every one of them without a single offspring resulting from the unions, it was Marc who’d had the problem.

  Not Aimee.

  And though Adam had objected to her statement, she didn’t believe him. He was left holding his tongue, unsure whether revealing the extent of her husband’s infidelity would sway her or simply hurt her.

  The door to his private apartments was in sight and Adam felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

  His meeting with the King had been preempted. A more pressing matter required His Majesty’s attention.

  Adam intended to change his attire.

  Then look for Aimee.

  With his thoughts on an afternoon of decadent diversions, and a smile on his face he couldn’t vanquish if he wanted to, Adam turned the door handle and stepped into his antechamber, closing the door behind him. The sound of rapid footsteps across the carpeted floor in his bedchamber greeted him. It wasn’t loud, but in the dead quiet of his chambers, it grabbed his attention.

  Laurent? The older man never moved that quickly.

  Adam crossed the room and stopped dead in his tracks at the threshold of his bedchamber. Stunned by the sigh
t that greeted him.

  Aimee smiled and instantly set the justacorps she had in her hands down on his bed.

  The doors to one of his armoires were opened wide. A pile of clothing had been removed and was presently covering the entire surface of his bed.

  “Good afternoon, Adam.” Her tone was cheery.

  Frowning, he took in the room, so unaccustomed to seeing his personal space in disarray. “What are you doing?” he asked, baffled.

  She approached, her smile still on her face. “Oh that?” She gestured behind her. “I was waiting for your return and … well, I was admiring your justacorps. You know how much I adore your clothing.”

  He adored women, each one unique, but this compulsion she had with his justacorps was … odd.

  Aimee’s heart pounded wildly, yet she managed to maintain her smile, belying the extent of her distress.

  Oh, God. She’d been caught checking his clothing.

  Again.

  It was bad enough having him wake up last eve in the middle of the night to find her ramming her hand into the piles, trying to repeat her actions of the day that she had successfully located the ring.

  Now this.

  His brow was still furrowed as he glanced at the justacorps strewn on the bed and then at her. Nervous, her smile slipped slightly. Then dissolved. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’ll refold them and put them back for you.” Aimee turned toward the bed, eager to appease him, cursing her bad luck.

  “No. I don’t think so.” He walked up to her and caught her hand. “Come with me,” he said and strode out of his apartments with her in tow.

  Anxiety tightened her stomach. She couldn’t decipher from his tone or his words if he was angry. Or worse, suspected what she was up to. No. Impossible. How could he know?

  Because you’ve made so many ridiculous mistakes and have been caught too many times.

  Adam led her out of the outbuildings and across the cobblestone courtyard straight into the palace, his grip on her hand firm. Distressing.

  “Where are we going?” She tried keeping her tone light, genial, her pulse beating double time.