The Princess in His Bed (31 page)

“You there!” he called out, arresting her steps.

She turned, her mask still on her face, yet he could tell she wasn’t pleased he’d stopped her.

Mathias walked up. It was the first time he noted just how tall she was. Normally he towered over women. She reached above his shoulder.
The perfect height for a kiss
. . . Having no idea where that errant thought came from, he shoved it aside.

“That was quite the game you played,” he said.

“Thank you. I wish I could say the same about you.” She turned and walked away, dismissing him completely.

Mathias choked on a mirthless laugh, stunned.
Dieu
. She’d just given him the cut. Not something he was used to receiving—especially from a woman. Then again, she wasn’t a typical female. He didn’t know any woman who would don a man’s attire.

Watching her walk away, he glanced down her body, noting her long luscious legs clearly visible in her male clothing. He loved shapely legs. She definitely had those.

Mathias arrested her steps with his next words. “I can’t imagine why you need to dress like a man to play.”

Gabrielle was fixed to the spot, her heart pounding so hard, she feared he could hear it.

The man standing behind her was the very reason she’d stopped playing. The weight of his regard had been on her the entire time she was at the Basset table. He had the most piercing light-colored eyes she’d ever seen. She felt as though his clever eyes could read every thought in her head. Know her every secret.

Unsettled, she walked away from a winning streak, fearing she’d lose her concentration, then her luck, the longer she sat across from him.

Undeniably, he was observant.

No one else at Navers’s Hôtel had noticed she was a woman.

Get away from this man. Fast
. He was trouble. There weren’t many people who could rattle her. He had.

She turned and faced him, forcing herself to look him in the eye. “Sir, I have some advice for you. If you wish to play better, you might consider avoiding intoxication. It muddles the mind. Clearly, drink has you thinking quite absurdly.” Thankfully her tone didn’t belie her inner distress.

Amusement flashed in his eyes and he shook his head. “
Dieu
, you are a spirited little piece, aren’t you?”

“What I am is bored of this conversation.” Did she sound convincing?

The meddling man didn’t seem as put off by her impertinence as she’d hoped. He approached. Still smiling, he pulled off his mask and ran his fingers through his hair.

Her agitated heart gave a lurch. Gracious God . . . Against her will, she took in his cheekbones, his masculine jaw, and his alluring mouth. Even with his mask on, she could tell, seated across from him at the Basset table, that he was attractive, but without it, he took her breath away. She could better see his eyes, and they were a stunning contrast with his shoulder-length dark hair. The night’s silver light was too dim to allow her to determine their true color, but those piercing eyes were mesmerizing. Disarming. Dangerous. Especially since nothing more than a simple gaze had warmed her blood and fluttered her insides.

His male beauty unbalanced her, and she couldn’t imagine why.

There were plenty of handsome men at His Majesty’s palace, but this man stood head and shoulders above them all—in more ways than one. He was deliciously tall. She’d always hated her height. It wasn’t an asset for any woman to be at eye level with a man. Or taller in some cases. But standing near this man, she actually felt small and feminine. A first.

Leave now
, her instincts screamed. “Good night, and good luck.” Her response was purposely curt and dismissive. She turned toward her carriage, but he caught her arm, both surprising her and halting her progress.

Her head snapped toward him. “Unhand me!” she demanded, unnerved by the thrill that shot up her arm from his touch.

“Are you always this rude?” he asked.

“Oddly, I had the same question for you,” she countered and yanked her arm free, as furious as she was frightened. “Is it your habit to follow strangers and make nonsensical accusations?”

The corner of his mouth lifted into what amounted to a smirk. Then he stunned her by stroking the back of his fingers along her jaw and down her cravat-covered throat.

She jumped back, his caress sending delicious tingles lancing into her womb.

“You are no man, or boy,” he said. “I know a woman when I see one, and when I feel one. This game you are playing isn’t without consequences. You’ve won yourself a sizable sum. Do not return here on Saturday. You don’t want to become mixed up with this.”

This man needed to be put in his place, so that he didn’t become a problem. Her situation was complicated enough.

She didn’t need more problems.

“I have the Duc’s personal invitation to attend. And I shall attend on Saturday,” she stated unequivocally. “You’re the one who should stay away, since I’m sure you don’t want to part with more of your
louis d’or
.”

She turned yet once again, intent on marching away, when she felt her mask and periwig yanked off her head.

She squeaked in surprise, looking just as astounded as he. Standing there, holding her mask in one hand and the periwig in the other, he had an expression of utter astonishment.

“
Jésus-Christ
. . . You’re beautiful,” she heard him whisper. “Who the bloody hell are you?” he asked forcefully.

Panic surged up inside her. Gabrielle bolted for her carriage, her knees wobbly. Her pulse racing. Not waiting for her footman, she yanked the door open herself and practically threw herself inside. “Go!” she shouted to her driver, slamming the door shut.

The carriage lurched forward, knocking her from the edge of her seat, where she’d just settled herself, onto the carriage floor, bashing her hands and knees against it with jarring force. Pain shot up her arms and thighs; she barely caught her cry.

Picking herself off the floor, Gabrielle settled back in her seat, her breaths sharp and shallow. An alarming thought ripped through her mind, and she grabbed her breast pockets. Relief flooded through her the moment she felt both pouches, the one with the diamonds and the other with her winnings.

Already she’d won back half her brother’s debt. Another night like tonight and she’d have all she needed. But now there was an obstacle in her path. A tall dark stranger. One who inspired dread and inexplicable and unwanted feminine reactions. She simply had to return on Saturday.

There was no doubt in her mind;
he’d
be there.

What was she going to do?

Still clutching the periwig and mask, Mathias craned his neck, watching the town houses thread by from inside his moving carriage. He’d raced to his driver, shouting out orders to follow the mysterious woman’s carriage at a discreet distance.

He wanted her to think she got away from him.

Merde
. A million questions were whirling in his head. He was no untried youth. He’d seen a pretty face before, but when the moon’s silver light illuminated hers, a bolt of lust rocked him so hard, it shifted the ground beneath his feet. She was ravishing. He’d never seen a lovelier face. He’d never seen her at all. Anywhere.

And he’d never had such a stunning physical reaction to any woman, especially one who hadn’t so much as touched him.

He was still hard. Mathias shifted in his seat, trying to alleviate his discomfort.

Though undoubtedly a full-grown woman, she was younger than he’d imagined by her comportment.

The carriage slowed down, then stopped. He recognized this street. Exclusive stately town houses for the social elite. His footman opened the door to the carriage. Dropping the mysterious woman’s items he was still clutching in his hands onto the seat, Mathias stepped down.

If not for the full moon, he wouldn’t have been able to make out much.

“There, my lord, the fourth one in.” The footman pointed up the street. “That is the one the carriage turned into.”

Mathias silently studied the town house from a distance. It had a rosy-white façade, just like the others near it. By tomorrow he’d know who owned the fourth town house.

He wasn’t going to wait until Saturday to talk to her. She was determined to return to the Duc’s gaming den. He’d seen it in her eyes.

Mathias wanted to know why.

Face it, you want to know who the hell she is
.
You want to know everything about her
—including
just how good she’d taste
. She’d left him utterly seduced, with a pulsing prick, and the powerful urge to melt that icy façade. There was fire behind those big beautiful dark eyes. He’d seen an instant spark of desire in them when he’d caressed her. Though her tongue could be sharp, he knew down to his marrow that he could coax her to put it to better use.

There was no reason for her to become entangled in the mess that was about to occur with the Duc and those who frequented his private gaming den. He couldn’t speak of his mission, but he could make sure she was steered away. And if she was looking for nocturnal amusements, he’d be happy to provide a new form of entertainment—one of a carnal nature—for her.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this captivated by a woman. And just as astonishing, in the five months since Charles’s death, this was the first time he felt the gloom that had descended on him lift.

By tomorrow night he’d know the identity of the woman.

He’d know all the answers to his multitude of questions. Not only was he sure of it, he was looking forward to it.

The next time they’d meet, he wasn’t about to let her run away.

3

“I still cannot believe how much gold coin you won!” Bernadette exclaimed, closing her book and resting it on her lap.

It was the third time in the last hour she’d repeated the same thing. Bringing the total to twenty times today.

Forming a smile, Gabrielle closed her own volume, settled back in her chair, and relaxed her shoulders. She hadn’t realized she’d been sitting practically on the edge of her seat, her muscles tense.

She couldn’t relax. She couldn’t concentrate on the book of poetry. It wasn’t simply because of Bernadette’s or even Caroline’s constant interruptions and carryings on about her winnings last eve.

It was because of a confrontation with a man outside her carriage whose physical appeal was far too potent for her liking.

Last eve, she’d shoved the pouch of diamonds under her mattress and had tossed and turned all night, worried about just how much of a problem he was going to be, about what would happen to Daniel if she didn’t succeed in winning back the money he’d lost.

About losing the diamonds in the game if her luck turned on her.

Now, it was almost supper time, and she was exhausted.

Caroline closed her book as well. Setting it on her lap, she rested her hands on it. “Are you quite certain you still have all twenty diamonds?”

“Yes, I counted them before putting them in a safe place.” Gabrielle tried to sound reassuring despite the numerous doubts assailing her and undermining her confidence. But she kept her doubts to herself. Though Caroline and Bernadette were her closest companions, there was much she didn’t share with them. Truth be known, there wasn’t anyone she completely opened up with.

After she lost her mother and Daniel, her heart broke. Left at the palace with no one to protect her, no one to trust until Caroline and Bernadette came along, she learned to cope by holding her tongue, distancing herself from everything. Detaching from everyone at court.

The backstabbing and jostling between her half sisters, between the courtiers—all for the sake of gaining the King’s favor—no longer affected her. She’d taught herself not to react to it.