Chapter Eight

“You know if you continue to cast glares at the men around her, you’re going to cause Vannod to piss himself.”

Luc ignored the comment Marc murmured in his ear. And his snicker. He was too busy trying not to gawk at Juliette across the room. It took all his concentration and willpower.

He’d been seated at the opposite end of the grand dining room during supper, forced to make idle conversation with the ladies to his left and right—Marie, Comtesse d’Oise, and Anne, Duchesse de Clermont. Their flirtatious commentary and the unnecessary press of their breasts against his arms as the young women leaned into him to speak told him in no uncertain terms he had an open invitation to their boudoirs. Both were eager to be taken. Suggesting he have them at the same time wouldn’t have been met with any objections from either woman. They obviously cared little that their ancient husbands were close by. Not that either the duc or the comte noticed what their wives were doing.

Their focus was on the other women in the room—the duc in particular lavishing his attention on Nicole de Grammont.

Inarguably, both ladies were lovely. While his former self would likely have indulged in what one or both were offering, he’d politely excused himself. His interest was in Juliette. Dieu, this unbreakable pull he had to her had him following her around the countryside.

In a deep green gown with a tantalizing scoop to her décolletage accenting her gorgeous breasts in the most mouthwatering way, she had every man surrounding her riveted, as always, hanging on her every word. Bedazzled by her every smile.

He wasn’t touching her. Wasn’t physically near her. Yet his body was on fire for her. His cock stiff as steel. The pressure in his prick was so great, it was driving him to distraction. He wanted to march across the great salon, through the crowd, past the dancers dancing the menuet, and fist her beautiful hair adorned with small green bows, tilt back her head. And claim her mouth.

Spectators be damned.

Instead, he stood near the wall, affixing his shoulder to it, battling to control his gaze, fearing if he didn’t, he’d start panting for her like a dog. What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t make any sense of his reactions lately. He wasn’t acting normally toward women at all.

First, he was obsessed with Isabelle.

Now Juliette.

And Jésus-Christ, he liked this woman. A little more than he should. A little more than he was comfortable with. He liked the easy rapport between them. Liked how she could easily make him smile. And that he could draw smiles from her as well. Loved the intensity of the carnal fire they ignited in each other.

If he’d been uncomfortable about how strongly Isabelle had been affecting him, he’d managed to meet a woman who’d completely eclipsed her—in his thoughts. In his desire. Merde, she’d banished Isabelle to the far fringes of his mind.

She was just as witty. Just as beguiling. A living, breathing siren he couldn’t resist.

And Juliette seemed to have the very same uncanny knack Isabelle had. She was just as attuned to him as Isabelle had been. He hadn’t intended to talk about his final conversation with Jules. It unnerved him that anyone could decipher him with such ease.

Who the hell was this woman?

“Tell me everything you know about her?” Luc caught himself looking at Juliette again before dragging his gaze back to Marc.

“You mean Juliette?” Marc’s lips twitched as he made a poor attempt to feign ignorance.

Luc pushed himself off the wall. “Yes, you know that’s who I mean.” Unsettled by Juliette’s astute perceptions, he wasn’t in the mood for Marc’s ribbing tonight. “What do you know of her background?”

Marc chuckled. “I see we’re going to set the matter of looking for a bride aside for now. Just as well. You have managed to antagonize a number of the men here. You do know that the men make the decision to grant you permission to marry the bride of your choosing, no?”

“Back to Juliette.”

“Ah, yes, all right, Juliette Carre… Well, she arrived several months ago. A friend of Nicole de Grammont. Through Nicole’s introductions, she’s become a darling of all the major salons of Paris. She’s well-read. Well educated in various languages. Came from Venice, I believe.”

“Venice?”

“Yes, Venice,” came a distinctly female voice from his left. He shot his gaze in that direction.

Juliette was standing there. Smiling.

Dieu. She’d caught him discussing her.

“I’m flattered by the interest, my lord.” As she still graced him with that smile that had captivated him from the start, he was moved to one as well. He was going to say something about unwanted formality, when she turned to Marc, who quickly took her hand with a bow of his head and a kiss.

“Madame Carre… Allow me to introduce myself, as my friend here has such terrible manners.”

“She already knows that, Marc,” Luc said, making light of himself. He was rewarded with a delightful laugh from his dark-haired beauty. Lord, he loved the sound of it. Almost as much as the sound she made when she came. “Juliette, this is Marc d’Emery, Marquis de Vigneau.”

“It is a pleasure,” Marc said, fawning over her hand again as he bowed, then kissed it a second time.

And oddly, that irked him.

“I do believe the guests here ought to be rather grateful for your attendance, my lord,” Juliette commented to Marc.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Grateful for my attendance, madame?”

“Yes.” She leaned into Marc and, sotto voce, said, “Are you not the reason our hostess is sporting such a radiant flush to her cheeks?”

That made Marc grin like a fool. “I am not one to brag, madame… Yes. Yes, I am.”

Juliette laughed softly again.

And that irked Luc too. Enough, he mentally chastised. He wasn’t the possessive type. And he didn’t want to be.

Juliette’s beautiful, big dark eyes swept to him. “It’s rather hot in here. I would so enjoy some fresh evening air. Would you be so kind as to escort me for a stroll outdoors?”

A bolt of lust licked up his spine. Oh hell, yes.

Just when he thought he’d have to approach her to coax some time alone with her, she came to him. He was the most fortunate man in the room—not something he could often say in his life. Together, under the night sky with this sensuous, highly responsive woman. The mere thought made his heart hammer.

He offered his arm. “There’s nothing I’d rather do.” Well, there was one thing. And it involved having her naked, bound, with a sheen of sweat covering her lovely body, after he’d rocked her sweet form with several strong orgasms.

She took his arm and murmured parting pleasantries to Marc. Luc escorted her through the grand salon. Just about every pair of male eyes was on them.

Fully aware she’d chosen him over them and their company.

And as Luc walked toward the doors that led to the gardens, a sense of bliss seeped deep into his very marrow, the likes of which he’d never known.

And everything at the moment felt so very right with the world.

*****

You can do this. You can keep him and your desire for this man at bay…

Isabelle had repeated those two sentences at least twenty times since stepping into the darkened gardens with Luc. Her pulse raced. Her nerve endings hummed with awareness. The casual conversation they made as they walked through the gardens was a sharp contrast to the havoc Lord Seductive wreaked inside her.

This isn’t the greatest obstacle that’s ever been placed in your path. But that thought immediately rang hollow. Luc de Moutier was the only man who’d ever stolen her breath away. His effect on her had always been more potent than all other men combined.

The moon slipped in and out from behind the clouds, casting its silver light again and again. God, he looked so good. Smelled so delicious. The scent of his soap drifted to her on the warm wind, tantalizing her heightened senses. She cursed her luck at being placed so far from him in the dining room. She could have attempted to draw more information from him safely seated in a room full of people. Instead, she’d have to do so alone with Luc de Moutier.

In the moonlight.

Her body had already begun to rail against her plan to abstain from him. She wanted to throw her arms around him, bury her face in his neck. And inhale his scent deeply.

You want more than that. You plainly want him—buried deep inside you. Just as before.

He stopped, and she realized that they were a good distance from the château now. In fact, the river that dissected the vicomtesse’s lands flowed directly before them.

Moonbeams sparkled on its surface.

He removed his doublet and placed it on the grass, then sat down beside it and held out his hand. “Come sit with me.” His voice was soft and low and so wickedly appealing. A feral need unfurled in her belly.

Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it, a voice chanted in her head.

She smiled, intent on steering Lord Seductive in a different direction from the carnal one he was silently suggesting. “Let’s continue our walk. Wasn’t the pheasant delicious?” She turned and began walking along the river. “I read a book about a pheasant once. It was rather comical. Do you enjoy reading, Luc?” She stopped and realized that he wasn’t by her side, as would have been the case with any other man if she’d declared a desire to continue to stroll.

She turned around and was astonished that he still sat in the very same spot. Smiling. Looking suspiciously amused. Though it was dark, she was certain she saw his lips twitch.

He patted the spot beside him on his doublet.

That was an unmistakable invitation to sit.

Clearly, he wasn’t moving. He thinks you’re making him “work for it,” as he’d put it. This was a fine time to learn he wasn’t the kind of man she could lead around by the nose as she did with all the others. Every man at the vicomtesse’s château who was trying to bed her would eagerly do whatever she asked.

Except Lord Seductive.

Briefly, she cast a glance at the château in the distance. Nicole was back there. As was Serge, the large servant who normally accompanied them when they traveled. She could run back there now. But she wouldn’t. She’d mute her base needs and focus on the task at hand—getting information from Luc and ultimately reuniting with her sister—if miracles still happened.

She took in a fortifying breath and let it out slowly.

Miss Moth, may I introduce you to Mr. Flame…

She began the walk back to Luc, feeling she was losing ground with every step. Let’s face it. You’re a courtesan who isn’t very wanton. Except when it comes to this man. That unruly wanton he inspired inside her was presently battling against her restraint with a battering ram.

Fighting to be freed.

When she reached him, he offered his hand again. She took it and sat beside him on his doublet. Tiny tingles raced up her arm. Touching him was a luxury all its own.

“You didn’t bring me out here to discus candied fruits and how delicious the champagne and pheasant were. Now that you’ve got me here alone, what are we going to do?” She didn’t miss the suggestion in his tone.

“Talk,” she said, keeping her tone light. Thankful more than ever for the acting skills she learned long ago.

He cocked a brow. “Really? About what?”

“About you. I enjoyed our conversation today and—”

“No.”

“Pardon?”

“No,” he repeated. “I don’t want to talk about me.”

Just keep him talking… You can steer the conversation back to him. “Then what would you like to talk about?”

A slow smile formed on his handsome face. He rose onto his knees, and before she realized what he was about, he undid his cravat and pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, tossing them onto the grass.

Isabelle blinked. Words evaporated from her mind. Dear God… Every muscle and sinew on his strong shoulders, arms, and chest were bathed in silver light. She allowed her eyes to devour every delectable exposed inch of his form. Her sex clenched hungrily.

He curled his fingers under her chin and tilted her head back. His warm mouth grazed up the side of her neck to her ear. And gave her earlobe a sensual bite.

She lost her breath.

“Juliette,” he murmured. “In case it isn’t abundantly obvious, I’ve been walking around hard for you since the masque. I’m open to a conversation of a more carnal nature—like how many times shall we make you come for me?”

Say something. Quickly.

“Luc, why don’t we get to know each other a little better—”

He brushed his lips back down her neck. Then, finding a sensitive spot he seemed to instinctively know existed, he drew on her neck with a soft sublime suck. She closed her eyes briefly and swallowed down her mew of pleasure.

“Venice!” she said a little too loudly. “Let’s talk about Venice. Earlier, you were asking your friend about my time there. Why don’t you let me tell you about it? Ask me anything. What do you wish to know?” She knew plenty about Venice thanks to members from her father’s acting troupe she was raised around. She could speak about it convincingly.

And she needed something—anything—to distract her from the temptation of Luc de Moutier.

“What I wish to know is whether or not you want me to suck those pretty nipples pressing against your gown.” His mouth moved to her throat. She fisted the grass on either side of her, her breathing becoming rapid and raw.

Her breasts were achy. Her entire body rioted for him. The feel of his mouth against her skin was nothing short of inebriating.

She suddenly found herself on her back staring up at him, realizing she’d done so of her own volition. “Damn that wanton,” she whispered.

He pressed his palms down on the grass near her shoulders.

Not touching her.

Not straddling her.

Simply sporting that smoldering smile that was so Luc. And so dangerous to her resolve.

“What did you say?” he asked. Slowly, his tactile gaze moved down her body and back up, and she felt his regard right through her clothing, like a hot caress over her skin. She couldn’t hold back a squirm.

“I…umm…rather…” Moisture pooled between her legs. She squeezed her knees together. The pulsing of her clit was a horrible distraction. You should stop this. Don’t do it. Dear God, she wanted him so badly… Her last amorous encounter with him was more heaven than she ever thought she’d experience.

“What say you, beautiful Juliette? Are you going to surrender yourself to me?”

Say no! But she couldn’t drag the word up her throat. She looked away, trying to muster the willpower she needed. Her clothes felt too confining. Too hot. She wanted to tear them off. She wanted his cool skin against her feverish body more than she wanted to breathe.

“Let me show you the heights we can reach together. Let me bind your wrists…” he said softly.

That was a sobering sentence.

“No!” shot sharply from her lips.

*****

Luc saw some of the sexual abandon dissipate from her eyes, and he cursed his blunder. He was too eager. Too damned desperate for her. He was far better at moderating himself during sex—except when he was with this woman.

She’d grasped his wrists as if to keep him from reaching for his cravat.

“Easy. It’s all right, chère. This is about losing ourselves in some sexual oblivion. I won’t do anything unless you give me leave to do so. I won’t force anything on you.” He pulled a hand off the grass. She squeezed his wrist in protest. “It’s all right…” he repeated, and caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, her quick breaths warming his hand. “I’m sorry some piece of merde hurt you. Destroyed your trust. But I’m not like him. I’m not like any man you’ve ever met.” That bit of raw truth slipped out unintentionally.

There were certain events in one’s life that seeped into the deepest crevices of your soul. And altered who you were. Forever.

He took her hand and brought it to his prick straining inside his breeches. “This is what you do to me. I want to fuck you. Make you come hard.” He stared down at her lovely face, needing her more than he’d ever needed or wanted anything else. “No binding this time, you have my word.” Yes, he said, “this time.” Because he sensed that sooner or later, her desire and curiosity would get the better of her.

He waited, doing nothing more than mentally willing her to trust him and acquiesce.

Her lips were parted. Her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breaths. An eternity seemed to pass. Then her fingers wrapped around his hard shaft. And she squeezed. His eyes practically rolled back in his head. He immediately swelled in her hand to painful proportions.

Oh, that was definitely a yes.

“You’re all mine…” he growled. Reaching under her gown, he yanked her caleçons off, tearing the drawers slightly with his urgency.

He had her legs spread in an instant. Kneeling between them, he cupped her sex under her skirts and began massaging her mound, coating his fingers with her juices. He watched her reactions. Lips parted. Eyes closed. Her breaths choppy.

Then he drove two fingers into her slick core.

She arched off the ground with a cry—the sultry sound making him seep some spunk. She was so wet, so soft. Exquisitely tight. Her snug clasp around his fingers was driving him out of his mind.

In the distance, he heard thunder rumble in the sky. He shoved thoughts of possible rain from his mind. He wasn’t stopping now. He’d waited forever to have her again. Nothing was going to ruin this.

But Juliette had noticed the sound too. Her delicate brow furrowed as she looked up at the sky. Locating that sweet spot inside her vaginal wall, he curled his buried fingers and pressed, making her cry out for him again. She squirmed. Clearly, no one had ever showed her how to enjoy the intensity of it. The surprised, hungry daze in her eyes was as adorable as it was inflaming.

Both this time and the last.

Luc silenced the niggling questions that flitted through his mind about this woman and how extensive her sexual experience ought to be. He had her undivided attention now. And he couldn’t wait to bring her into new, uncharted sexual territory.

“Focus, right here, chère…”

She writhed against the sensation, her breaths shallow and short, no longer caring about the sky or the second thunderclap overhead.

He eased the pressure and began lightly thumbing her engorged little clit, adding more familiar sensations so she wouldn’t squirm away from the slow circular strokes he was plying to that sensitized spot inside her sheath.

Her squirming lessened instantly.

She began to moan, each delicious sound reverberating through him down to his aching sac. “Press against my hand. Don’t try to pull away from it.” But her eyes were shut, and she responded with more wiggling. More little moans.

“I…I can’t… I’m going… I can’t…” Each incoherent phrase was uttered on a pant.

He smiled, despite the state he was in. “The sensations are intense, aren’t they?” He pressed a little harder on the textured spot inside her core, strengthening his strokes.
She squeezed her eyes shut with a whimper and nodded.

“Good. You’ll get used to it. This is the level of intensity you can expect with me.”

With his hand under her skirts, he couldn’t see a damned thing. And while he had a break in the clouds overhead, he wanted to see her sex. He wanted to see her entire alluring form that right now was on fire for him. Grabbing the hem with his other hand, he impatiently tossed it back without missing a stroke inside her cunt and to her clit.

His hand glistened with her juices, and her hips still wiggled erratically. His mouth watered. “Juliette…fuck my hand. You can do it. Thrust into it.”

But his beauty wasn’t listening, too engulfed in the keen sensations inside her tight, sweet sex.

Keeping his strokes steady, he lowered his mouth onto her swollen clit and sucked.

Her hips shot straight up, a sharp mewl escaping her throat, the action allowing him to push his fingers against the overwrought spot harder, sending a sharp spike of sensation through her cunt. Just as he wanted.

Her gorgeous derrière fell back down onto the ground. Her legs were shaking. Her fingers were digging into the grass. And she was back to writhing. “Luc…please…”

“Oh, I’m going to please you. I’m not even close to being finished with you,” he growled. Her taste in his mouth drove him wild. She tasted so good. The most delicious aphrodisiac.

Fuck. He had to have more.

“Do it again,” he demanded. “Fuck my hand.” This time, he dipped his head, hovering his mouth over her clit. Close enough for her to feel his breath. Without touching her. “Thrust your hips up. Put your pretty clit in my mouth. You know you want to.”

She didn’t hesitate, despite knowing the spike of sensation she’d get from his buried, busy fingers, and arched hard toward him. He rewarded her with a deep suck and another intensified stroke inside her sex before her hips fell back down. Hungrily, she began thrusting her hips at him again and again. He suckled and lapped at her clit each time she met his mouth.

He had her craving each new heightened shot of pleasure inside her sheath now, greedily thrusting for more. And he reveled in it, inebriated by her taste and the erotic sight of her undulating hips. Dieu, this was heaven and hell. His need was unbearable. He was so damned hard, he felt light-headed.

Another thunderclap resounded overhead. The clouds temporarily blotted out the moonlight casting them in darkness. He cursed. Rain was coming. Soon.

And he had to have her.

He gave her one last suck, then removed his buried fingers and all the sensations he’d been plying her with.

“No!” Her protest came instantly.

“We’re not done,” he assured. “Take these clothes off. I’m seeing all of you this time.” With practiced haste, he began stripping away her clothing. She sat up to help, her urgency causing her fingers to fumble. He brushed them aside. “Let me.” He pulled her gown up over her head and pressed her onto her back. But he stopped short of freeing her arms from the gown. Before she could react or even notice, he tossed off the remainder of her undergarments, then slowly slid her final article of clothing, her chemise, up her soft form to tangle with the gown around her arms.

The clouds above moved, casting moonbeams onto her beautiful body, naked except for her stockings and slippers, aglow in silver light. Her arms caught up in the voluminous material were over her head, making her breasts more pronounced. Her nipples were taut little berries, needing to be sucked.

Just then, she tried to pull her arms loose from her clothing. He stopped her. “Don’t. Just stay like that.”

He saw her objection cross her features, and before it came out of her mouth, he gently pressed her arms back onto the grass and, bending over her, kissed the sensitive spot under her ear. “You can easily pull your arms loose if you really wish to. There is no need for alarm. I didn’t hurt you the last time when you allowed me to pin your wrists. I won’t hurt you this time either.” He cupped her breast and gave her nipple a sensuous tug. She gasped. “Trust me, Juliette…just as you did before.” He gave her tender teat a pinch. This time, she arched as she sucked in a sharp breath. “Your gorgeous cunt needs my cock.”

“Your cock needs me too,” she shot back, delightfully saucy despite her pants.

He smiled. “Damn right it does. Let’s end this sweet torment for both of us. Tell me you’ll keep your arms just as they are the entire time.” He dipped his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Merde. He was going to start begging if she didn’t agree soon. And he’d never begged. Not once in his life. Not even when he was a boy did he beg for his father to stop.

Her moans were burning through his blood. He turned to her other nipple but stopped just before drawing it into his mouth. “I’m going to need an answer. I’m going to need to hear you say yes.” He gave her nipple a luscious suck.

“Yes!” She arched off the grass. “I’ll do it… I want you now!”

She was so frantic and frenzied. He was undone.

Opening his breeches, he lowered himself on top of her. He wedged the crown of his cock at her entrance. “I’m not going to be gentle,” were the only words he could force out. His shaft never felt as heavy or as hard as it did when he was with this woman.

Her eyes were closed and her face turned. Her response was a soft whimper and a nod. He hooked her leg over his arm, angling her hips to his liking for the deepest possession, and drove into her. Feeding her his full length.

His groan eclipsed her cry. Pleasure slammed his senses. She was clenched around him so tightly, he could feel his prick pulse. And he had no idea if the throbbing was coming from her or him. He buried his face in her neck and fisted the grass near her head with his free hand, the pleasure so keen, he could barely contain the urge to let go—when self-control had never been a struggle during sex before.

Vaguely, he heard another distant clap of thunder. A bead of sweat rolled down his back just as the first drops of rain hit his skin—the cool droplets that only added to the dazzling sensations swamping his body. He withdrew slightly, then tunneled back in. Testing his restraint.

She squirmed under him and thrust her hips, trying to grind against him.

A delectable little plea for more.

He withdrew with a slow, muscle-melting drag, then thrust back in. Then again, and again, increasing his speed and intensity with each downstroke. “This is what you want, isn’t it? My cock inside you.” His voice was so rough, it didn’t even sound like his own. She moaned her approval. Pressing his palms on the ground near her hip and head, he lifted his chest to watch the siren of his fantasies. To let the cool raindrops hit her skin. With her arms above her head, her breasts were lifted so gorgeously.

Rain began to fall on her face, on those lips he was so starved for, on her beautiful tits. Water drops rolling across her skin, dripping from her nipples. She looked so damned good. She felt so incredible. And she didn’t object to the rainfall. She closed her eyes and surged up to meet his every fierce plunge. Matching his hunger with her own.

He fucked her for all he was worth, relentless rapid thrusts stroking her sex, his angle making contact with her clit each time. The moment he felt the fluttering inside her sheath, he knew she was about to come and braced himself for her release, pinning down her gown that was twisted around her arms.

She bucked beneath him and screamed his name, her snug sheath tightening around his shaft as waves of stunning little spasms coursed along his thrusting cock. He gritted his teeth, fighting to hold back his orgasm until the final contraction clenched his length.

Semen barreled down his cock. He jerked himself out, crushed her to him, groaning long and hard against her neck. Each spurt of come shot from his prick in a powerful rush. Ecstasy swirled up his spine, flooding his system. He held her tightly, still coming in mind-numbing jolts, until the final draining drop.

His heart pounded. His breathing labored. And his muscles had melted to nothing. Jésus-Christ, he’d had good sex before. His carnal encounters were always intense.

But sex with this woman took it to an entirely different level.

Euphoria hummed in his blood.

The rain had diminished to a fine mist, lightly teeming down on them. He lifted his head and looked down at her. Even in the faint light, he could see she was just as overcome by their encounter as he was.

He forced his lax muscles to move, shifting his body partially off her. He brushed away a strand of her dark hair from her face, then snagged the first article of clothing he could find, her caleçons, and wiped his semen off her belly and thigh before cleaning himself. Tossing it to the side, he pulled her arms free from the gown and chemise and gently massaged them.

“Are your arms sore?” he asked.

*****

Isabelle shook her head. Her breathing slow to return to normal, she struggled to find her voice. Her sex was still lightly pulsing after the deluge of erotic pleasures he’d flooded her with. Without a doubt, this man was dangerously gifted in the art of pleasure.

She was deeply sated, soaked from the rain. Utterly wrung out.

She wanted to curl into him and drift to sleep, regardless of the weather.

He nuzzled her neck. “I’ve ruined more of your clothing. I’m going to owe you an entire wardrobe soon.” His breath was warm against her rain-soaked skin.

She didn’t care about her clothing. And she couldn’t seem to muster any remorse over the encounter she’d just had with Luc. It was incredible. Beyond exhilarating. Once again, she felt such deep bliss. Such deep peace.

And so vulnerable to him that slowly, steadily, panic was beginning, shredding away the rare sense of contentment.

He caressed her breast. She flinched, her nerve endings feeling raw and overwrought.

“Too sensitive still.” He smiled. “You look so beautiful. Have you any idea how breathtaking you are?” The soft way he said that made her heart flutter. And for tender emotions to surface. Familiar emotions she’d once harbored for him.

And that frightened her more.

Desire and soft sentiments clouded one’s judgment. She couldn’t seem to rein in her hunger for this man. But any romantic feelings were out of the question.

Especially since she didn’t know if she could trust him with the truth.

She’d seen what aristos were capable of, their unconscionable acts during the Fronde, the civil uprising that had devastated everyone outside the upper class and cost her family their theater. Their world. Then there were the aristos who’d been part of her life, like Leon de Vittry, a longtime friend, practically from childhood, who’d managed to conceal the twisted evil he harbored inside—for years.

And Roch, whose initial benevolence had been so convincing, she’d placed not only herself but, more importantly, her son in harm’s way.

Dipping his head, he pressed his warm lips against her throat and lightly drew her cool, wet skin into his hot mouth with a soft suck she felt all the way down to her toes.

Leave! screamed the voice of reason. Her treasonous body was already beginning to rebel against her. Again.

“I would love to stay here and have you again and again. Dieu, I’ve never found the rain more appealing than when you are in it.”

Isabelle pushed firmly against his chest. “I have to go.” She managed a smile. She needed to leave. To shore up her defenses that were far too easily decimated by this aristo.

His brows rose in surprise, but he sat up, allowing her to do the same. Disappointment was easily readable in his eyes.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said as she stood and began donning her drenched clothing.

“I do, I’m afraid. It’s raining.” She seemed to always be leaving him in this sodden state.

His smile returned. He looked up at her, still seated on the grass, his wet sculpted chest bare. His breeches open. And with the rain beginning to diminish, the clouds departing, the light of the moon illuminated that impressive part of his male anatomy he used with such masterful skill. She had to force her eyes to remain on the task at hand—dressing herself.

“A beautiful woman once told me the rain is good for you.”

“Everything in moderation.” Her wet fingers fumbled with her ties. Damn it.

He leaned back on one elbow, the moon casting shadows on the dips on his abdomen.

His smile grew to a grin. “I prefer excesses in certain things in life. Like sex. You. Sex with you.”

He drew a smile from her, despite the urgency she felt to flee. She had the distinct impression he wasn’t trying to be engaging—as most men did. This was simply his natural charm and seductiveness.

“I thank you, but we are soaking wet, and I’m in desperate need of a warm bath.”

He opened his mouth.

“Alone,” she quickly added, reading his next tempting offer.

With a soft laugh, he rose to his full height and sauntered over to her. His breeches were still open, the wet fabric molded against his thighs and narrow hips.

A devastating image to behold.

She quickly shot her gaze to the river, far less inciting to her senses. “Would you kindly assist me with this gown?”

“It would be my pleasure.” He moved behind her. His fingers brushed against her back as he helped with her clothing. A tiny thrill flickered inside her.

His fingers brushed her skin again and again as he completed the task at hand. Forcing her to fight off salacious thoughts she needed to quell. And if his tantalizing touch wasn’t enough, she couldn’t get the image of his open breeches out of her mind. He was close enough that she could reach behind her and wrap her fingers around that glorious shaft of his. The urge was beyond fierce.

“There. All finished,” he murmured in her ear.

She swallowed hard and brightened her face with a smile before turning to him. It took every bit of self-discipline not to ogle his body. Or his sex, now protruding from his breeches.

Proof that his desire had spiked, like hers, at their proximity.

She stepped back and grabbed his shirt off the ground. “You should dress.” Firmly, she pressed it against him. The sooner he dressed, the sooner she might regain her faculties.

He cocked a brow, and his lips twitched in amusement. “Are you sure, Juliette?”

No. “Yes.”

He waited what was probably a moment but felt more like an eternity, then pulled his shirt over his head and down his torso. The wet fabric immediately molded to his chest like a second skin. He tucked in the shirttails, and they stuck against his newly stiffened cock. Every inch of his erection was there for her viewing pleasure. A sudden bolt of raw desire shot through her blood.

He might as well have kept his shirt off for all that it concealed.

“All right, then! Let’s be on our way, shall we?” she said, spinning away, then quickly marched toward the Vicomtesse d’Appel’s château, her slippers making odd sucking sounds as they stuck to patches of mud along the way. She couldn’t get away quickly enough. That shrewish wanton within her was now shrilling in protest against her departure. “We can enter the château through the kitchen and make our way to our respective rooms from the servants’ stairs.” It took exactly two more heartbeats to realize he wasn’t by her side.

She turned around, one of her long curls smacking against her face and sticking to her cheek. Peeling it away, she saw, to her utter frustration, Luc was still in the same spot, his hands resting on his hips. And he didn’t look as though he was going to move anytime soon.