Awakened by a Kiss (9 page)

It was the tenderness.

Somehow she’d infused a certain softness into their carnal encounter.

Interwoven with the salaciousness, there was tenderness in her touch. In her kisses. She’d taken what was supposed to be an anonymous copulation and made it far more intimate. Strikingly different. And most disconcerting—simply by how deeply satisfying it all was.

Taking several steps back, she readjusted her chemise, then covered her breasts with her arms.

She could pull away from him, but she couldn’t backtrack now that he’d seen the freckles. “No more denials,” he repeated. “It’s time for explanations, Catherine. Why don’t you start by telling me how you gained admittance into the masquerade? The guest list was rather exclusive. Daniel de Gallay swore to me that he didn’t invite anyone fitting your description.”

She paused. “The invitation was delivered to our town house in error. It was meant for our neighbor, the Comte de Quantin.”

“You know Quantin? You lived on Place Royale in Paris?” It was relatively new, an elegant stretch of homes for the privileged.

“Yes. Once. The town house is long gone now.” There was sadness in her tone.

“Thanks to your late husband?”

She nodded. “He lost it in a game of
Basset
.”

“You used Quantin’s invitation, then.”

“No. I made an exact copy before I had one of the servants deliver it to the Comte.”

“Why the strong desire to attend?”

Tears shone in her eyes, but she didn’t shed them. “I was desperate. Why else would I go to the trouble of forging an invitation and sneaking out of my home?” She rubbed her arms, as though she were cold. “My family had made its fortune collecting taxes for the Crown. Father was determined to elevate our family into nobility through marriage. I was the sacrificial lamb. To that end, he chose the Comte de Villecourt as my husband.” A rueful smile formed on her lips. “I wish I could have mustered some affection for him. I wanted to like him. Perhaps it sounds hopelessly romantic, but I truly wanted to fall in love with him. I held out hope, until I met him.”

“What was he like?” he asked quietly.

She swallowed hard. Clearly, she was battling her emotions, trying to maintain her composure. He’d never known any female to hold back her tears. It was yet another reason why she stood out from the masses.

“He was . . . angry,” she said.

Adrien’s stomach tightened. “Did he ever . . . hurt you?”

“He never struck me, if that is what you mean. He tried to hurt me with words, but over time, I became numb to them. It was then he found different ways to torment me.”

“Why would he wish to?”

She clutched her bodice to her bosom. “Villecourt was very much against marrying me to begin with. A bourgeois was far beneath him—a fact he never let me forget. He hated it that he’d had to accept me as a wife simply to replenish his family’s coffers. We saw each other three times during our betrothal. He made no attempt to hide his disdain. He told me that if he had to suffer me as a wife, he’d make sure I was equally miserable. I begged Father to cancel the marriage contract. To reconsider and look for another. He refused. I knew I would live in sheer misery if I married Villecourt. It all felt so hopeless . . . and then the invitation arrived. I took it as a sign. A chance to escape my horrible fate.”

The pain in her golden eyes wrapped itself around Adrien’s heart even when he didn’t want it to. “So, you decided to attend the masquerade to—”

“Purposely render myself unmarriageable. I’m sorry, Adrien, for what I did to you. I’m sorry for whatever distress I caused you. If it’s any consolation, my plan failed horribly and caused me further suffering in the end. It didn’t break my betrothal, as I’d hoped. A larger dowry than originally promised mollified Villecourt’s debt-ridden family’s objections to my sullied state. As for Villecourt, it only fueled his resentment and made him more spiteful toward me.”

Adrien was amazed. He had considered this scenario a possibility, and dismissed it. A maidenhead was a commodity. Of great value to a woman’s future. Though there had been females who’d surrendered their innocence outside of marriage for a multitude of reasons, he’d never known a woman to go to such lengths to purposely discard it.

“Foolishly, I thought it was the perfect plan,” she continued. “No one knew of my presence at the masquerade, and with a mask, I maintained my anonymity.”

“Except I removed your mask in bed,” he reminded her.

“It didn’t matter. You didn’t know me. You never asked my name. And I purposely didn’t ask for yours, so that it couldn’t be coerced from me by my father later on. I didn’t want to involve you in my situation any more than I had to.”

Adrien arched a brow. “You didn’t know who I was? You didn’t know anything about me when you stole into my room?”

She gave a mirthless laugh. “Only that you were from Vienna.”

She shook her head. “It’s what my maid told me—obviously in error. A foreigner was the perfect choice. I wasn’t supposed to ever see you again. Clearly, with my many mistakes, it was a plan doomed to fail. My greatest error was in believing that in the end Father would open his eyes and ultimately choose his daughter’s happiness over his own wants.”

Her words stabbed into Adrien, her remarks resonating inside him.

A single tear slipped down her cheek. Impatiently, she swiped it away. “I was wrong about the depth of my father’s affection. I guess I’d hoped he actually cared.”

Adrien felt as though he’d stumbled upon a kindred spirit. And that was the last thing he thought he’d discover about her.

He turned away and raked a hand through his hair, tamping down the soft sentiment welling up inside him. “Why the aphrodisiac?” he asked, staring at the shadows and light on the wall above the torchère.

“How did you know it had been added to the wine?”

Adrien turned back around. “I found a powdery substance at the bottom of my goblet the next morning. Given the heated intensity of our lascivious exchange, it wasn’t difficult to guess what the powder was.” He crossed his arms. “You still haven’t answered my question: why the aphrodisiac?”

“I have no idea how to seduce a man. The aphrodisiac ensured success. I couldn’t very well approach you and say, ‘Excuse me, would you care to bed me?’ What if you had refused?”

Dieu
. Could she really have no idea how desirable she was? “Catherine, had you made that proposition to every man in that room, you’d have had unanimous acceptance of your offer. No man would have refused you.”

A pretty blush colored her cheeks, obviously unaccustomed to compliments about her appeal.

“Didn’t your husband ever tell you how beautiful you are?” From the sounds of it, Villecourt had been a colossal ass, but surely in the throes of passion he’d stated the obvious, no? The vision she made naked in Adrien’s bed still haunted him to this day.

“No. Never. He indicated . . . quite the opposite, in fact.” She lifted her chin a notch. “He had no desire for me, in or out of the boudoir.” Those statements were weighted with hurt and suffering and Adrien couldn’t help but admire her bravado. No doubt Villecourt had had a favorite mistress—thus the reason for his disinterest.

“You said he’d found different ways to torment you. Do those ways relate to the scandal you’ve mentioned?”

Reluctantly, she nodded.

“What did he do, Catherine?” He had no idea why the hell he was asking questions about her marriage. Why did any of it matter?

“He”—she clasped and unclasped her hands—“gleefully made us the talk of every salon in Paris. It was not easy to live in the city as he carried on with his . . . lovers. After the first few months of our marriage, he made no attempt to hide them at all.”

This was puzzling. “Who was he bedding? What made them so noteworthy?”

She let out a sharp, exasperated breath, her expression a mixture of agony and anger. “If you must know every sordid detail of my marriage, I shall tell you from beginning to end, although I don’t understand why Villecourt should interest you. My late husband only came to my bed twice and under duress because of pressure from his family to procure an heir. Each distasteful time he told me he found me repulsive. It wasn’t until I walked in on him having sex with one of the servants that I learned the true reason for his disgust. My husband didn’t desire me because I wasn’t . . .”

“What?”

“A . . . man.”

Now there was an answer Adrien hadn’t expected, though he should have. What other reason could there be for a man to find this ravishing woman undesirable?

She approached him. “You asked who he was bedding. He was bedding most of our male staff as well as men of higher rank. His favorite was the Baron de Nogaret. He became quite open about his sexual preferences and even tried to blame me for them. His involvement in a lovers’ triangle—Nogaret the object of interest for Villecourt and the Comte de Ragon—led to his demise. He died in a duel over his favorite male paramour.” She opened her arms. “There. Now you know the horrid truth. All of it. Because of him, I’ve endured pitying looks, mortifying whispers.” She held up a dainty finger an inch from the end of his nose. “I want you to know he didn’t break me. He tried. But I remained strong, despite his vicious tongue, the humiliating gossip, the financial ruin. I don’t want anyone’s pity—”

Adrien pressed his fingers to her lips, silencing her. He’d lost all desire to use her as a pawn. He didn’t have the stomach to put her through more scandal. He’d find another way, another opportunity to drive his point home to his sire. “I think you are strong and brave.” He removed his hand from her soft lips. Those were words he’d never uttered to a woman before.

“Oh.” Catherine’s eyes softened. “Thank you . . . I truly meant it when I said I was sorry. I regret the trickery. But not our night.” He didn’t know why but her statement pleased him immensely. “If I had it to do again, I would proposition you instead of . . . doing what I did to your wine. If you will permit me, I have a proposition to make to you now.”

“Oh?”

She bit her delectable bottom lip, something he was dying to do. “For your silence about the event that occurred five years ago, I will . . . I would be . . . your mistress for the next five days.”

His semihard cock turned stone stiff at the inflaming offer. “For five days?”

“Yes, that’s when Philbert will arrive.” She glanced down and noticed the blatant bulge of his erection. When she looked up, she was smiling, clearly feeling confident of his answer. “What say you?”

Adrien tilted his head to the side. “For my silence you’re willing to do this?”

“Yes. I am yours for five days.” She clasped her hands behind her back—a purposeful pose that caused her bodice to gape open, giving him a better view of her tempting tits.

“Interesting . . . a day for every year since the masquerade.” A day for every year he’d fantasized about her. Days and nights to indulge in each and every fantasy.

“Yes.” She was still smiling.

He stepped closer, their bodies all but touching, and slipped his fingers under her chin. “Your proposition is difficult to refuse.”

She maintained his regard, her golden eyes darkening with desire. “Is it now?”

He brushed his lips against her warm mouth. “Hmmm . . . it is.”

“And”—she swallowed—“what is your answer . . . ?”

He trailed his mouth along her jaw to her ear. “My answer is . . .” he murmured and nipped at her earlobe, making her gasp. “No.”

Catherine’s mouth fell agape. She clamped it shut the moment she realized Adrien was stalking toward the door.

“Wait!” she called out.

To her relief, he stopped abruptly and turned around.

Flustered and suddenly afraid, she marched up to him. “Why not?” She gestured toward the bulge in his breeches. “You are clearly interested.”

“I don’t want a woman who is intent on playing a martyr in bed. I told you, I have no intention of telling the King or anyone about what happened between us. I came here for answers. You supplied them. The matter is done. Laid to rest. So, if you want sex, Catherine, say so. If you’d like to indulge in carnal pleasures with me for the next few days, be honest about it. I’ll not entertain any more deceptions or denials from you. Speak to me of desire and I am interested. Speak to me of this ridiculous martyrdom, and I will direct my ‘interest’ elsewhere.”

“All right! Yes, I desire you,” she blurted out.

He crossed his arms. “Go on.”

He wasn’t going to make this easy, was he? “I have always desired you. From the moment I saw you across the Grand Salon at the masquerade that night, I . . . craved you. You stirred a hunger in me. I am famished for more. I’ve yearned for you countless nights. I want you to be my lover. I want to revel in all the carnal delights you can bestow. I want to know what I missed in my marriage bed and what I will miss in the next. Is that honest enough for you?”