Awakened by a Kiss (5 page)

Odette rose. “It’s what I heard,” she defended, then stopped and thought for a moment. “Or was it Venice? No. No. No. It
was
Vienna. I’m certain.” She scratched her head. “Well, someone at that masquerade was from Vienna.”

Catherine placed her hands on her maid’s shoulders. “Odette, please focus. The man we tricked that night was the Marquis de Beaulain. He’s the King’s son. And he’s demanding answers. For tainting his burgundy, he could have me arrested. In light of the recent poisonings at court, I could be tossed in prison . . . You remember what they did to Madame de Brinvilliers and the others . . .” As Catherine spoke, Odette was staring at her neck in the most peculiar way, her brows knitted together. Catherine continued because most of what Odette did was peculiar. Over the years, she’d learned to ignore most things. “I’ve told him that he’s mistaken, but he doesn’t believe—” Catherine stopped when Odette began tilting her head to one side, then her body at the waist, her gaze still fixed on the side of Catherine’s neck.

“Odette, what are you staring at?” Catherine released her maid’s shoulders.

Odette righted herself and peered closely, then pulled back, a slow, steady grin spreading across her mouth. “It would seem that Monsieur le Marquis was not altogether cross with you.” She walked over to the table and picked up a hand mirror. “Your Marquis has been perhaps whispering sweet words in your ear—among other things?” She handed the mirror to Catherine.

Catherine brought it up to her neck and saw the glaring, undeniable marking of a love bite just under her ear. It was her turn to sink into a chair, which she did with a groan.

Her forehead fell into her palm. “Can this day get any worse?” she bemoaned.

The heavens responded with a thunderclap, followed by a sudden heavy rain, torrents striking the windowpane.

Her head snapped up. “Oh, no . . .” She rose and moved to the window. Sheets of rain were pouring from the sky.

“It doesn’t look as though we can leave,” Odette said behind her. “The roads will soon be useless.”

Was this penance for her misdeeds? For conspiring to drug an innocent man and relinquishing her virtue? She thought she’d already paid for her sins during the course of her marriage.

“By the love mark on your neck, madame, I don’t think you have anything to fear from him. Clearly, his interest in you hasn’t anything to do with having you arrested.”

Catherine closed her eyes briefly. A fresh rush of warmth flooded her already heated body.

Oh, to feel his mouth on her again had been sublime.

It left her starved senses famished for more.

The bulge in his breeches practically undid her. His magnificent erection was impossible to ignore. She’d aroused him. No aphrodisiac needed. It was a dizzying notion.

The man was not only impressively endowed—she recalled every glorious inch—but
le Beau
knew how to use that part of his male anatomy with mastery.

She couldn’t believe he’d remembered so much about her. At first she thought he was lying. That it was impossible for a man as beautiful as he, with as many females as he’d bedded, to have such a clear memory of her.

But he had.

He’d even remembered her freckles.

It was amazing. Inflaming. It made her ache. The bud between her legs throbbed for his attention. She hadn’t felt desire in so very long. Not since one incredible night in the arms of a beautiful stranger after a masquerade ball. She didn’t regret their night of rapture. She’d no idea sexual pleasure could be so keen.

“Madame, if I may suggest, why not simply enjoy him—until your betrothed arrives at the end of the week?”

She turned to face Odette. “Have you not heard what I’ve said? What could happen to me should he decide to have orders drawn up against me?”

The older woman shrugged. “From what I see, the Marquis de Beaulain would likely keep his mouth shut about the tainting of his wine if he had some other way to occupy it.” She smiled.

Catherine frowned. “And what about Philbert?”

“What about him? It isn’t a first marriage for either of you. And he already has an heir. Neither of you is in love. Most husbands expect discretion, not loyalty.”

Catherine walked over to the hearth and stared at the flickering flames. Her life had finally fallen into place. She’d help raise Philbert’s children and perhaps even have a child of her very own. She’d given up on romantic notions of love a long time ago. Security and a peaceful existence were all she hoped for. Was she going to lose everything because of something she’d done five years ago? Because of a chance meeting with the man who had the ability to collapse the foundations of her world.

What if she went to
le Beau
? What if she explained why she’d done what she’d done? Would he understand?

Catherine tamped down the fluttering that erupted in her stomach. Too risky. She’d already attempted something daring five years ago and look how disastrously that had turned out. This was a matter of life and death. Hers. She had no reason to trust
le Beau
and confide in him.

She’d have to maintain her innocence against his claim, put on a believable performance that would convince him he was wrong about her, and then leave Suzanne’s château as quickly as she could. Staying in her rooms the entire time and feigning an illness was out of the question. He’d know she was hiding from him. It would only confirm in his mind that he was right about her.
God only knows what he’d do then
.

No, she had to carry on until her betrothed arrived at the end of the week. She’d show
le Beau
that he didn’t rattle her in any way.

Easier said than done, Catherine
.
Look at your shocking behavior in the hallway
.

Another thunderclap resonated in the angry skies.

Arresting his steps in the corridor, Adrien crossed his arms with a sigh the moment he heard Charlotte call out his name behind him.

He was in a hurry. There was an auburn-haired beauty he had every intention of intercepting before she made it to supper. He’d barely had time to bathe and change his clothing after his uncles had left his rooms.

Charlotte stopped before him. “You’ve had a good look at Catherine. Can I count on your help, Adrien? She’s reasonably attractive, although I am prettier.” Though her last remark was a statement, it was said with self-doubt.

How he wished Charlotte wasn’t so much like their mother.

“
Ma chérie
, forget Philbert de Baillet. If you have to work this hard to hold on to him, then he isn’t worthy of you. You are very pretty. You can easily have someone else.” He wasn’t about to tell Charlotte of his plans for Catherine and have her enthusiastic over a lost cause. Catherine had little to do with Baillet’s indifference. Baillet had lost interest in Charlotte. Plain and simple. There was nothing she could do to recapture it. It was best Charlotte ended the affair before he did. She’d save face. Her pride. Moreover, her heart. His godfathers were in agreement with Adrien.

Baillet would only bring Charlotte heartbreak.

Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip began to tremble. “
Pleeeease
, Adrien.” Tears slipped down her face. “You’ll do it, won’t you?”

How he hated it when she cried. He despised it as much as he’d despised his mother’s tears. He shouldn’t be softened by them. But instead of being firm, “I’ll see” tumbled from his mouth.

Her face lit up. “You’ll do it!” She threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek.

He frowned, pulling her arms from around his neck. “That’s not what I said.”

She still beamed. “You love me, Adrien, though I know it’s difficult for you to say. I know you’ll do this for me.” She squealed in jubilation and clapped her small hands. “No woman can resist
le Beau
. You must hurry. Supper will begin soon. Catherine de Villecourt will be there.” With that, she rushed away.

“Charlotte, wait.” But she didn’t stop or turn around. “I’m not promising anything.” She’d disappeared around the corner before he’d finished his sentence.

Adrien gnashed his teeth and walked away, clearing his mind of everything, except the captivating Catherine. Ironic that she’d be his pawn when he’d once been hers. But first, she was going to admit to her misdeeds.

The next left turn in the corridor brought him to the door he sought.

Catherine’s door.

He stopped across from it and waited. Anticipation mounted by the moment. Adrien took a deep breath and let it out. He actually felt . . . nervous. He’d never been nervous around women. He hadn’t even been nervous with his first woman. The reactions she elicited from him were astonishing.

The door opened. Catherine stepped out.
A vision in a royal blue gown
. His heart lost a beat.

Adrien stood transfixed, his cock thickening. Her breasts, exquisitely defined, were an inciting sight to behold. His eyes feasted on the creamy skin above her décolletage, her delicate bare shoulders and her elegant neck adorned by several strands of pearls. A slight purplish mark just under her ear grabbed his attention. A love bite.

His mark on her.

The sight inflamed him further.

The moment she saw him, her body went rigid. The servant with her gasped.

Catherine dragged her gaze from him, turned and walked down the hall, regal as a queen, dismissing him as if he were a common hand. As vexing as she was, he had to admit she was refreshingly different from any female he’d ever known. Hers was not the sort of greeting he was accustomed to receiving from women. The fact that she was going to be a challenge spiked his interest tenfold.

“Catherine . . .” He raced to her side, falling in step with her quickened pace. “I’d like a word with you.”

“I have nothing to say to you except, go away.” She kept her gaze straight ahead. “And stop addressing me in such a familiar manner,” she added curtly. The older woman with her scurried along beside her, casting him the occasional timid look, seemingly distressed if the way she chewed her bottom lip were any indication.

“I thought since we were well acquainted, you wouldn’t mind,” he said.

“We are not well acquainted. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you—I’ve never met you before. We haven’t even been introduced.”

“Ah, well, I agree with your last statement. If it’s an introduction you require, allow me to introduce myself—”

“Please don’t bother.”

“I’m Adrien d’Aspe, bastard son of Louis XIV, and yes, most of the rumors you’ve heard about me are true. But, of course, you know a good deal about me. You’ve made inquiries.”

She shot him a sharp look without breaking her stride. “I most assuredly have
not
made inquiries. You have the women here atwitter. They openly speak of you. I don’t care who you are . . . or, in fact, to know anything about you.”

“Come now, Catherine, don’t be difficult. Dismiss your servant. Allow me a private moment. I promise you’ll not be late for supper.”

She surprised him when she stopped abruptly. “Sir, you are deranged. I have no interest in anything you have to say. If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll be forced to tell our hostess about your deplorable comportment.” She turned and stalked away.

Despite himself, he felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. When she was all afire like that, her eyes took on the most seductive glow.

He caught up to her and her servant again and stepped in front of Catherine so quickly that she walked into him and would have fallen back had he not caught her arms.

A mixture of frustration and outrage erupted from her throat. She opened her mouth, likely to toss out a few hot words at him, but he placed his finger over her lips, silencing her.

“Whatever your relationship to Suzanne may be, I can assure you she’ll not ask me to leave. She’s been begging me to fuck her for months.”

Her eyes widened, obviously caught off guard by his blunt answer. He removed his finger from her mouth. How many times had he thought about those ruby lips? Fantasized about them? Of sliding his cock between them into the wet warmth of her mouth. In five years, he hadn’t been able to forget those lips or the delicious kiss that awoke him that night.

Taking advantage of her unbalanced state, he clasped her hand in his and stalked toward her rooms with her in tow.

“Madame! Madame . . . wh-what should I do?” the servant called out.

“If you don’t let go of me, I’ll scream,” Catherine threatened.

“Go ahead.” He reached her door, wrenched it open, and pulled her inside.

“It’s all right, Odette. I’ll take care of this,” she said, just before he shut the door. He’d called her on her bluff. She wasn’t about to scream. Or make a scene. If she wasn’t scheming, she was lying to him.