The Lovely Duckling (Fiery Tales Book 8) Read online

You fool, he’s simply being kind. Because that’s what Vincent is. Kind. And he is— gracious God—pure male perfection …

  Though she was trying, it was impossible to ignore his hard, chiseled body. His dark hair and knee-weakening blue eyes. Or the heat he inspired low in her belly. Vincent d’Alumbert was as disarming in person as he was in his letters.

  His appeal wasn’t tainted—like his brother Joseph’s—by poor character.

  And she was drawn to him. Intensely so.

  He’s waiting for a response, Emilie. Answer him … She cleared her throat and collected her wits. “I’m quite aware I’m not going into battle. I’m simply trying to assure you that I am fully knowledgeable about the subject of sex and seduction. Thanks to your answers as to what a man likes in bed, and my books, I am prepared to proceed.”

  He sighed. “Emilie—”

  She silenced him by pressing a finger against his sensuous mouth. So warm and firm. Emilie tamped down the regret that surged inside her heart, knowing full well she’d never experience a kiss from this man. No man would knowingly indulge in an amorous encounter with Charred and Scarred Emilie de Sarron. The only way for her to have some pleasure of her own was to be with a man who didn’t know her. Didn’t know she’d been marred in a fire. “I know what you’re going to say. One needs to experience sex to be truly knowledgeable.” Reluctantly, she removed her finger. She liked touching him. A little too much for her own good. “I agree wholeheartedly. That is why I’m going to have my first experience tonight.”

  He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Emilie, there is nothing wrong with anonymous sex. People do it all the time. But a man is going to want … ” Vincent faltered.

  “To have me naked,” she supplied.

  “Exactly. It’s part of the pleasure. Skin against skin. Sex involves the senses, touch, taste, smell, sight. A man is going to want to see—”

  “I’ll manage.” The words came out sharper than she’d intended. She didn’t want to be abrupt, but his comments were undermining her confidence. And being in the presence of this sinfully gorgeous Aristo—whose letters oozed charm and had made her laugh, who’d impressed her with his intellect and candidness, and who’d given her the most tantalizing insight into a man’s mind during sex—made it difficult to concentrate on her plan.

  The allure of Vincent d’Alumbert was even stronger in person than she’d imagined. And she had to resist it. It was bad enough her feelings for him ran deeper than she’d like. She wasn’t going to dwell on what she couldn’t have in her life—a man of her own.

  This delicious man.

  Why long for something that was impossible? Instead, she was going to focus on what she could have.

  And she could have some bliss in her life.

  Nothing was going to stop her.

  “You are a dear friend, Vincent,” she said. “You’ve done a great deal for me already and … I loathe to ask for a favor. Or rather two favors …”

  His eyes narrowed slightly. “What two favors?”

  “I know you want me to succeed. But if I’m to concentrate on finding the right man to give myself too, I need you to keep Joseph away.”

  He stiffened slightly. “And … ?”

  She smiled. “Oh, and I need you to help me choose a lover.”

  Chapter Three

  Merde! He must be mad, utterly insane, to have come here and made himself a party to this!

  Joseph stalked down the corridor on his way to the grand dining hall. The “favors” she’d requested had echoed in his head since he left her. Hours later, his ire was full blown. White-hot. Prickling his skin.

  … help me choose a lover. The hell he would! He didn’t care how troubled his conscience was. He would not do her bidding. He didn’t do anyone’s bidding.

  And he certainly did not find women their bed sport.

  Dieu! She’d actually asked for his help in finding someone to bed her.

  He could only imagine the amusement his brothers would derive from learning a woman had made that request of him.

  Chatter and laughter emanated from the dining hall, violin music drifting through the din. Joseph secured his demi-mask in place just before he reached the threshold.

  I need you to keep Joseph away …

  Oh, he was going to stay away, all right. No problem there.

  Once and for all he was going to stop voicing his concerns. In fact, he wasn’t going to be concerned. He wasn’t going to think about her attempts to be debauched tonight. Or worry about how disastrously it might turn out.

  For his involvement ten years ago, he owed her an apology—one he couldn’t even offer because she wanted nothing to do with Joseph—but that was all. He didn’t owe her a lover.

  He wasn’t getting involved with this plan of hers. No matter what.

  She was a grown woman. She’d made her decision.

  And he was making his: He’d decided Emilie de Sarron had occupied his thoughts long enough. She wasn’t going to be a mental distraction anymore. Or a physical one. While she gave herself to God knows who and attempted God knows which sex act she’d chosen from her book, Joseph was going to do what he should have been doing at the Comtesse’s masquerade from the start.

  Delving into some much needed sexual oblivion.

  Joseph entered the grand dining hall. The mirrors on the walls reflected the candlelight from the wall sconces and the four large silver candelabras on the long linen-covered dining table that ran down the center of the room. Guests were more boisterous than the usual noble gathering. No formalities or respectable social conduct on display here. Not when the purpose of the evening meal was to find a partner or partners for carnal entertainment afterward.

  Open fondling and flirting were everywhere.

  Joseph marched straight to his usual seat near the head of the table. His brothers and his friend, Georges, Marquis d’Attel, occupied the chairs near him.

  “There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up,” Vincent said with a smile. “We still don’t know where you disappeared to last night.”

  Into a brandy decanter. Fool that he was.

  Joseph snatched the crystal goblet off the table and held it up. A servant was quick to appear and fill the vessel with wine. He downed it, and held it up again for more, eager to take the edge off his vexation. The sooner his irritation subsided, the sooner he could begin to enjoy himself. It surprised even him just how furious he was. And he refused to dwell on or attempt to decipher why her requests had made him this incensed. “I’ve been occupied. And last night is none of your concern.”

  Georges laughed. “Now that’s evasive.”

  Seated on the other side of Vincent, Gilbert leaned toward Joseph, grinning from behind his gilded demi-mask. “An answer that begs the question: Just who were you ‘occupied’ with?” He elbowed Vincent. “Wouldn’t you say, Vincent?”

  Vincent was sporting the same foolish grin. “I would.”

  “In case it’s escaped your notice, we are at a masquerade,” Joseph stated sharply. “You’re not supposed to know whom you’re with.” For his mental peace, he wished he didn’t know Emilie was here. And he didn’t want to know whom she’d be with tonight.

  “Ah, my fine friends.” Henri de Villeneuve strolled up and placed a hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “Did any of you happen to notice our friend, Augustin de Coix?” Smiling, Henri gestured down the table with a motion of his chin. “He’s actually found a woman who can tolerate him. She looks new.”

  That grabbed Joseph’s attention. He shot his gaze down the table, spotting his friend Augustin, Comte de Coix, immediately. And the woman he was with. She was wearing a blue and gold demi-mask, dressed in a light blue cloak. His stomach plummeted.

  Emilie.

  His arm resting on the back of her chair, Augustin leaned into her, his mouth at her ear as he whispered to her, relaying an intimate message. Joseph’s body went rigid.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her before
,” Henri said. “Have you?”

  “Isn’t that the woman who arrived this afternoon?” Vincent asked.

  “No.” Joseph mentally winced. The denial shot out of his mouth a little too abruptly.

  Merde. Of all the men in the room, she’d picked Augustin? He was a self-proclaimed ass. He wouldn’t satisfy her. He’d no skill or finesse in bed. Nor did he care to. He’d take his pleasure, then take his leave.

  He was all wrong for her purposes. Damn it, he was wrong for her. Period.

  Emilie smoothed a hand down the front of her cloak, bringing attention to it. Dieu, she was the only one wearing one. Of all the different costumes worn by the women in the room, from moderate to outrageous, Emilie’s cloak stood out. It all but screamed, “Emilie de Sarron.” How much longer before his friends realized it was her?

  “Look at the way she’s dressed.” The comment came from Gilbert’s mouth, making Joseph want to throttle his youngest brother.

  “I like the way she’s dressed,” Georges said.

  “Hmmm, me, too,” Henri concurred.

  Joseph shot them a look, one that must have indicated just how stunned he was by their response.

  Henri’s brows shot up. “What? You don’t agree? Look at her, Joseph. She’s a comely little piece.” A slow smile spread across his mouth. “When the ladies present are wearing low-cut décolletages, our clever little seductress wears a cloak, just to make her stand out.”

  “Absolutely,” Vincent concurred. “She’s made it a game. Just think of the fun it will be to peel away those layers and sample the tasty fruit within.”

  “She is clever,” Georges said. “She’s donned the cloak just to tantalize our imagination. Every man who looks at her is forced to wonder at the delicious form she’s hidden under it.”

  Good Lord. Not at all the reaction he’d imagined.

  Just then Augustin reached and yanked open Emilie’s cloak. She started and, with a charming smile, gently closed the cloak again, rose, and left her seat. With nothing but elegance and grace.

  Laughter burst out of Joseph’s brothers and two friends.

  “It doesn’t look as though the lady is impressed with our Augustin,” Henri said, still chuckling.

  Joseph couldn’t shake the sense of relief he felt as he watched her walk away from Augustin. Nor could he help but marvel at the way she’d handled herself. Despite her lack of experience, she hadn’t let Augustin’s brutish advances rattle her.

  It occurred to him just then that her chances of succeeding with her plan were great. Aside from her intellect, she was even braver than he’d given her credit for.

  Emilie wasn’t going to be frightened away, like some faint-hearted ingénue.

  One man in this room was going to be the first to enjoy this most exceptional woman. A woman who happened to have the sweetest face, and the softest green eyes he’d ever seen.

  A foreign emotion hit him in the gut.

  Joseph battled it back.

  Just then he felt feminine fingers brush across his cheek. Looking up, he found an attractive dark-haired woman standing beside his chair, smiling down at him. Sporting a bright green demi-mask that matched the color of her gown, she wore a décolletage that was so very low, he wondered if she would spill out at any moment.

  “Good evening, my handsome lord,” she all but purred. “I fear I have a dilemma. I wondered if you might assist me?”

  “Oh? What is your dilemma?” he asked.

  Her smile turned saucy as she twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. “It seems that all the seats are taken. I haven’t anywhere to sit. I don’t suppose you’d allow me to use your lap?”

  He heard muted snickers from the fools he associated with.

  “I never turn away a lady in distress.” Taking her hand, Joseph pulled her down onto his lap. “Allow me to be of assistance.”

  “Why, thank you, kind sir.” She snuggled against his groin, her ample bosom looking even more plentiful from his new vantage point. Right under his face.

  She slipped an arm around his shoulders and brought them closer to him. “You may call me Julie.” A false name. Everyone used them. He loved the anonymity of it all.

  She brought her mouth near his ear. “I am in your debt. I am all yours, my lord …” And began nibbling down his neck. Light little bites.

  Now this was exactly what he should be focusing on. A sexual encounter with someone he didn’t know. Someone who would never cross his mind afterward.

  Joseph closed his eyes, eager to lose himself in the sensations, but the moment they were shut, words Emilie had written rushed into his mind.

  I want to know what it feels like to have a man inside me. To know the sensations of each plunge and drag as he takes me to the ultimate fulfillment. Oh, I long to know firsthand how glorious is it to be in a lover’s embrace, lost in passion, locked in the most intimate joining …

  Joseph’s eyes flew open. He cursed the mental diversion. Don’t think about her. Not now. Focus on the woman at hand. He wasn’t going to think about Emilie. Or if the man she chose would give her the pleasure she sought and deserved.

  Julie placed a hand on his chest, and slowly inched her way lower and lower.

  “A bet, gentlemen,” he heard Georges say. “A hundred louis d’or says I fuck the lovely lady with the cloak first.”

  “A hundred louis d’or says you fail and I succeed,” Henri challenged.

  Joseph arrested Julie’s hand and forgot all about the woman on his lap.

  Her head shot up. “My lord?”

  He ignored her, because the next thing he heard was Gilbert announce, “I’ll bet, too.” Gilbert drained his goblet, his smile returning the moment he set the vessel back down on the table. “You gentlemen don’t stand a chance when pitted against my charm.”

  Georges and Henri scoffed as they rose from their chairs.

  “I go first,” Georges said.

  Fuck. Despite the woman in his arms, Joseph was on his feet in an instant, and handed Julie off to Georges. Georges grunted when she landed in his arms.

  “There will be no bet!” Joseph decreed, accustomed to ruling his friends. “No one is having her.” Words shot out of his mouth, without censor.

  His friends and brothers exchanged curious glances. Joseph knew he sounded like a lunatic. Given the type of gathering they were at, he could hardly make such a statement. But he didn’t care. Emilie was sexually untried. His corrupt friends wouldn’t be gentle with her. Or take her with care, even if they knew it was her first time.

  And the mere thought of them recognizing her in the throes of passion and saying something cruel to her tore at his very vitals.

  He wasn’t going to let them hurt her again, like he’d let them hurt her ten years ago.

  “I’m having her,” he added for good measure. “Go find someone else to amuse you.”

  Georges put Julie down. “Ah, come now. You can’t claim exclusivity here. We can all share her.”

  Joseph narrowed his eyes. “I’ll claim whatever I want. Find. Someone. Else.” He looked pointedly at each man before him.

  That prompted Julie to turn on a heel, miffed, and stalk away.

  “Gentlemen, I’d like a private word with Joseph.” Vincent, who’d been silent until now, finally spoke up. The others walked away, grumbling.

  “Brother, you lead and they follow. And for the most part, I don’t mind going along, but”—he crossed his arms—“you don’t dictate whom I bed. Now then, care to tell me who this woman is?”

  “She’s wearing a mask. How the hell should I know who she is?” He hated lying to Vincent, but the truth was far more complicated than his deceit. And more difficult to explain. There were things about what was going on that he couldn’t explain to himself. And didn’t want to try.

  His twin sighed and shook his head. “Fine. Have it your way. You don’t know her. She’s got you intrigued, or some such nonsense. I’m still having her,” Vincent said with finality.


  Joseph’s gut tightened. “Not until I’m done with her,” was all he could respond. Pressing the matter any further would make him sound as though he’d gone completely mad. As it was, his behavior was absurd, bordering on irrational. He’d never cared who a woman was with before, during, or after he’d had her.

  Vincent silently contemplated his words. Joseph’s heart pounded away the seconds, wondering what he’d have to do to keep Vincent away if he didn’t agree.

  His brother’s genial smile returned. “Agreed. You have her first. She’s all yours tonight.” He patted him on the back. “I get her tomorrow.”

  *****

  Their bodies touched.

  He drew his arm around Emilie’s waist and pulled her up tightly against him. Then he pressed his lips to hers. It was actually happening. Her first real kiss. An amorous encounter of her very own. His tongue snaked into her mouth and was presently swirling about. It felt, well … odd. But then she’d no experience in this area, and her masked gentleman was seemingly enjoying himself if the zealous sounds he emitted were any indication.

  Emilie relaxed her shoulders and laced her arms around his neck, throwing herself eagerly into the kiss, anxiously waiting for the moment “it” would hit her. Passion. Hunger.

  That all-consuming desire.

  Just like the couple she saw in the corridor earlier. Just like the books she’d devoured again and again. Just like you felt near Vincent …

  She’d purposely led her masked lover to the gardens. The perfect setting. They were under an indigo sky with a large luminescent moon and a thousand twinkling stars. What could be more perfect? All she had to do was let her lover take the lead, ignore the grunts from the couple who were mostly naked, rutting in the distance. And of course, resist the urge to pretend the man kissing her was Vincent d’Alumbert.

  Just focus. Any moment now, she’d be swept up in “it.”

  Mimicking his tongue swirls, she angled her head farther to the right and hoped she was doing this correctly. He seemed to like it. He’d pulled her against him tighter, and groaned louder.

  Minutes later, he was squeezing her right breast through her cloak and “it” was still nowhere to be found.