The Princess in His Bed (4 page)

“All right. Adam it is, then.” She smiled, though her heart thudded in her chest. “You certainly had the attention of the King just now.” That’s right. Make idle conversation and come up with a way to check those pockets.

“Yes. His Majesty has summoned me for a meeting. He’s displeased,” he said, still smiling.

Her brows furrowed. “With you?”

“With his fountains. He wants me to fix them.”

She glanced back at the fountain that was now silent and no longer spraying water. “You know how?”

“To fix them? Yes. It’s going to be costly and require work, but it can be done.”

She was intrigued. She thought he—like Marc—didn’t know how to do anything other than indulge in vice.

“What’s wrong with the fountains?” she asked, genuinely curious.

He lifted a brow. “You really wish to know?”

“Yes,” she responded without hesitation.

This was novel for Adam. It was the first time she was actually talking to him, touching him. And for the first time in his life, he was going to discuss science with a stiff prick. In fact, she had him stiff as stone from the moment he caught her looking at him. There was no doubt about it; she’d reacted to his touch and the kiss on her hand.

And that delectable thought tightened his sac.

He didn’t know why, but her interest in the fountains pleased him immensely. Most women wouldn’t have cared to ask more questions, the subject too dull for their taste. He was as delighted about her curiosity as he was by her bold approach and request for an escort. Especially since he’d been sure he was going to have to corner her for any sort of conversation.

Celebrating in the turn of events, he silenced any questions he had regarding her uncharacteristic behavior.

“There are a number of fountains throughout the gardens,” he explained. “There isn’t enough water pressure to have them spout water at the same time and with the majestic height the King desires, so the fountains are turned on and off one at a time as the King approaches and leaves during his strolls around the gardens. But he wants them working all at the same time, in the same way.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed until now . . . How will you fix them?”

“Since the water is presently being rerouted from the Seine—”

“All the way from Paris?” she injected, her eyes widened.

“Yes, all the way from Paris. The distance is significant, and the elevation of the land where the palace is located is high, both factors contributing to the problem. We are going to use a special machine, a pump to draw the water.”

“Will that work, your ‘pump’ machine?”

“It should. Robert and I have made a number of calculations. I’ve done up detailed drawings. We’ll be showing them to the King later. I think he’ll be pleased.”

“And how is it you know so much about such things?”

Still she hadn’t lost interest or become bored. Those beautiful golden-colored eyes were fixed on him the entire time, giving him her rapt attention.

He stopped walking and turned to face her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Yet another first. When all he’d ever done was fantasize about bedding her, he never would have guessed he’d derive such pleasure from a simple conversation with her.

Robert and Louise d’Arcy walked on past, involved in their own conversation.

“Science is a passion of mine,” he said, without boasting about his reputation in the area or his achievements that had earned him the esteem of the King.

Mirth entered her eyes. She lifted her chin a notch. “Really? I thought women were a passion of yours.”

One particular woman had become an obsession of his, truth be told.

Adam slipped his hand under her chin and brought it up a notch more, their lips so very close together. She drew in a sharp breath, surprised by his unexpected action. “You hardly know me, Aimee . . . so I will tell you, I am a man of many passions.”

He saw something flash in her eyes before her gaze briefly dropped to his mouth. An excellent sign. Her breathing had increased. Her skin was flushed. Drawing from his experience with women, he knew he was right about Aimee. She
was
hungry.
She wants a lover
. It wouldn’t take much to coax her into sex.

As he stared down at her upturned face, her perfect lush mouth, he wondered what she would do if he kissed her here and now. His every instinct told him she’d succumb to it, to him, in a sweet surrender, unable to stop herself. The notion was delicious. As delicious as she was going to be in bed. Still holding her chin, Adam brushed his thumb across her soft cheek with a light caress.

She jumped back, startling him. “It’s cold!” she blurted out. Now a few feet away, she was rubbing her arms vigorously. “Don’t you feel it? It’s become quite chilly all of a sudden.”

“Chilly?” Adam glanced up at the late afternoon sun. Did she jest? It was a warm summer’s day.

“Yes . . .” She was still rubbing her arms, though her cheeks were pink, indicating inner heat rather than a chilled form. “I could really use your justacorps. Would you mind?”

“No, of course not.” Adam removed his overcoat, walked up to her, and placed it on her shoulders.

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 she is 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 her beautiful body 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 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 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’m 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’s 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.

She was going to give this another try.

3

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 hall.

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 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.