The Princess and the Diamonds Page 8

  Merde. The last woman he should involve himself with was one with as many secrets as Silvie had.

  Gabrielle closed her eyes, relishing the simple pleasure of being in the circle of his strong arms. She felt safe and, God help her, protected. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. The temptation to reveal all to him was so great.

  She couldn’t.

  She was going to hold on to this last level of detachment. This final bit of distance. Why open herself up totally? She’d have to leave him soon and it would only hurt more if she did. It was clear the longer she spent with him, the more she fell under his spell. She’d already opened herself up to him in ways she’d never had with anyone else.

  There were a thousand reasons why she should end this now. Why she should send him home. And only one reason why he should remain.

  Contentment.

  Near him, she felt content. It was novel. It was wonderful. And oh so irresistible.

  Married or not, there were many more empty years ahead of her. Did she have the strength to deny herself more of this man?

  Lifting her head, she met his beautiful gray eyes, and then the words she’d been grappling with tumbled from her lips. “Will you stay?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Ten wins. Six loses.”

  Mathias couldn’t believe it. She had won another sept-et-le-va. How fortunate could one person be in a game that was mathematically stacked against the player, in favor of the banker?

  Her winnings tonight had more than covered the losses from the last game.

  Though he knew she was pleased, she did an excellent job schooling her features. Not acting exuberant in any way. No one who gambled at Basset celebrated each win.

  Not when luck was a fickle mistress. At times she loved you. More often, she left you.

  Especially in Basset.

  The more he played, the more he fucking hated this game. Far too many tragedies were occurring because of it. Not an hour ago, another prominent family had come to ruin. At the table next to him, the Baron de Tremblay had lost his entire fortune. Mathias’s entrails twisted in his gut watching the man leave Navers’s drawing room sobbing. And he wasn’t the only one affected. Silvie was just as grief-stricken for Tremblay. He’d seen it flash in her eyes before she masked the emotion.

  Tonight, Mathias wasn’t experiencing any of Silvie’s good fortune. He couldn’t concentrate. Not just because of Tremblay’s loss. It was Valette. The police sergeant’s eyes had been on him the entire night. Valette was at the next table over and he could actually feel the weasel’s stare.

  Casting a glance in Valette’s direction, he locked eyes with the man.

  Mathias looked back at his cards, fighting the urge to gnash his teeth.

  Something wasn’t right. Ever since yesterday when Valette had paid him another visit, he couldn’t shake his feeling of unease. Valette told him that Sard wanted more names.

  Twenty players were in attendance tonight—same as the last time. So far, he’d managed to decipher the identities of a total of seventeen of them.

  But there was something else going on. He had a gnawing feeling that something was going to happen. Something was being hatched by Sard and his sergeant that Mathias wasn’t privy to. In the pit of his belly, he feared there might be a raid on the Duc’s home.

  Every time the door opened, he lost his focus and tensed.

  Valette had said he wanted the names of all in attendance. He kept insisting that everyone had to be held accountable. That it was important that the arrests would be numerous.

  But there was one name he couldn’t give.

  Mathias pulled his gaze to Silvie. Even if he knew her name, he’d never tell Sard or Valette. Short of telling her about his mission, he’d done his damnedest over the last few days to convince her to stay away from Navers’s gaming table.

  To no avail.

  She’d donned her male attire and here she was, winning a small fortune, just as she’d predicted. Merde, her breasts were bound, her head covered with that ridiculous periwig, and her feminine form completely concealed, and he was hard just looking at her, knowing under all that was Silvie.

  His Silvie.

  He’d spent the last four glorious days with his beautiful Snow Princess sitting in the courtyard of her townhouse, under the sun’s warm rays, listening to her read him her favorite poems. He’d developed an appreciation for poetry he’d never had before. Poetry didn’t mix with his previous life of vice.

  And then there were the magnificent nights sharing carnal delights with her. He only pulled himself away from her a few hours a day to change his clothes and attend to matters at home.

  There was no finer bliss than time with this complex, fascinating woman. But their time was running out.

  There were only a few days more until the next Basset game at Navers’s home. Then she’d be gone. He tried his hardest to ignore the ache that thought left in his chest. It was even harder to push away gut-wrenching thoughts of her married to another man. And his claiming his conjugal rights.

  This wasn’t at all his normal reaction to the imminent end of an affair.

  Every day that brought him closer to the date of her departure increased his emotional turmoil. He was riddled with soft emotions for a woman who was still a mystery, his ceaseless desire to know everything about her adding to his inner torment. As was his mission—one he couldn’t tell her a damned thing about.

  And he hated, loathed all the secrets between them.

  “Queen wins. Seven loses.”

  His body went rigid. Merde. She’d just lost her wager. A tidy sum.

  Silvie rose, surprising him. “I’ve had enough,” she announced, and scooped up her winnings. Mathias couldn’t have been more relieved to see her go. The sooner she got out of here, the better. At least she’d heeded his advice about leaving the table once her luck had turned. She was still walking out with a sizable win.

  Navers rose. “Why leave so soon? Stay for another game.”

  Never one to be told what to do, his Snow Princess remarked, “I’ll see you at the next game.” Then she walked around the Duc and left the room.

  Mathias wanted nothing more than to leave with her, but Valette was watching and he decided he’d play another hour.

  *****

  Gabrielle tucked her pouch of diamonds and winnings back under her mattress.

  She wasn’t sleeping much at night. Mathias and his delicious kisses and decadent lovemaking were the new cause for her sleeplessness.

  But she didn’t mind. She gloried in it, grateful for knowing him, for having created memories to cherish.

  Removing her periwig, she let down her hair and sat on the edge of her bed in her men’s attire. The hour was late and she wasn’t going to bother changing.

  Mathias would be leaving the gaming den and arriving soon. Before he intoxicated her with his touch, she was going to have a talk with him.

  The devastating loss by one of the players tonight had shaken her. Just as it had the last time.

  Seeing the abject horror in Mathias’s eyes as the man left sobbing had astounded her.

  The reaction seemed out of place—too strong for a seasoned gambler like Mathias. He had to have seen losses of that magnitude before. More often than she had. Yet, he’d looked utterly stricken.

  Equally baffling was the way he kept looking around, as though he was expecting someone.

  Footsteps in the corridor yanked her from her thoughts. She rose in anticipation. Within moments Mathias walked into her bedchamber. He smiled when he saw her.

  A smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Congratulations on your win,” he said, taking off his justacorps and tossing it on a nearby chair. “You’re thrilled, no doubt.” He started on the buttons on his vest.

  Her insides danced as she watched him undress.

  “Yes. I am thrilled. Mathias, there is something I’d like to know.”

  He tossed off the vest and raked a
hand through his dark hair. “Do you have any brandy?” he asked, completely ignoring her statement.

  She frowned, but walked over to a wooden cabinet in her bedchamber and opened the doors. Her uncle had a crystal decanter filled with his favorite brandy and crystal glasses there.

  The moment Mathias saw the decanter, he marched over. “Allow me,” he said.

  She stepped away and watched him pour himself an ample amount and drain the crystal vessel just as quickly. To her astonishment, she saw the tremor in his hand as he lifted a fresh goblet to his lips.

  “Mathias.” She stepped forward, took the goblet from his grip, and set it back down in the cabinet. “What is amiss?”

  It was his turn to frown. “What are you talking about?” He walked away undoing his cravat.

  “You are in distress. It’s rather obvious. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” He tossed the cravat onto the chair and held out a hand. “Come here.” She knew that tone. It was carnal in nature. The moment she took his hand, he’d pull her close, kiss her, and scramble her senses.

  “No. We need to talk.”

  “Merde, Silvie. The last thing I feel like doing tonight is talking.”

  “Mathias, why won’t you answer me? Why won’t you tell me why you are so upset?”

  “Jésus-Christ!” The words exploded from his mouth, making her jump. “Woman, do you jest? You are actually making demands of me when you won’t answer the most basic question?” He was all but hollering at her.

  She’d never seen him like this and she refused to let this escalate into a heated argument by raising her tone in return. Not when he was so overwrought. “I am simply concerned about you,” she responded softly.

  It was clear her gentle voice had impact. He let out a sharp sigh and placed his hands on his hips. “Silvie, I don’t want to argue with you, chère. Dieu, I just plain want you. I just want to hold you and make love to you and forget about everything, including your imminent departure.”

  At the mention of her leaving, her heart constricted painfully. She walked up to him, laced her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his shoulder. His strong arms encircled her, holding her tightly. Tears stung her eyes and threatened to spill. She blinked them back and composed herself.

  The moment she met his gaze, he cupped her face and lowered his mouth onto hers. His kiss was soft and tender and made her ache. Heart and body.

  “I wish I didn’t have to go,” slipped past her lips when he broke the kiss.

  He rested his forehead against hers. “So do I.”

  Lovingly, she caressed his cheek. “Are you all right?”

  “Seeing someone lose everything bothers me,” he responded, surprising her.

  “It was evident on your face.”

  “I lost a close friend a few months ago. He took his life after losing all that he owned in a game of Basset.”

  She cupped his face and gave him a gentle kiss. “I’m so sorry, Mathias. Why do you still play if seeing losses upsets you so?”

  At that he pulled away from her. “I just do.” His tone was tight.

  “Is there something you’re not telling me about Navers’s gaming den? You were always looking at the door.”

  He cocked his head slightly. “Did you win enough to cover the debt?”

  Changing the subject wasn’t a good sign. “No. I had almost enough, but then I lost some.”

  “Does that mean you’ll be returning in a few days to play a final game?”

  “Yes.”

  “Silvie, why don’t you let me give you the rest?”

  Taking his hands, she pulled him toward the bed. Her mind and heart were in wild conflict and she was afraid to answer questions in such a vulnerable state. “I believe you said something about wanting me?” She stopped when the back of her legs bumped the bed. Releasing his hands, she began to open her breeches.

  He had the remainder of his clothing off by the time she had the breeches undone and stripped off. He removed her cravat, then her linen shirt, and finally the binding around her chest. Picking her up, he deposited her gently on the bed and stretched out on top of her.

  The hot press of his solid body against her set her blood on fire, made her sex slicken.

  He dipped his head and grazed his mouth along her neck, a slow fiery path that ignited her senses. “Who is this woman I kiss?” he whispered in her ear. “The one who gave her innocence to me.” He spread her legs with his knees and stroked his cock along her slick folds. A soft moan slipped past her lips. “She’s wet for me,” he groaned. “She gives herself to me . . . comes for me . . . She’s given me such pleasure and yet I may never know who she is . . .”

  “Please, Mathias. Don’t do this. Not now.” She was in extreme emotional tumult.

  “Tell me something about you.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “Tell me anything. Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else.”

  “I’ll miss you with all my heart.”

  *****

  “We’re going to talk,” Mathias said the moment he entered Renault de Sard’s study. The Lieutenant General of Police rose from his chair.

  “Have a seat.” He gestured to one of the two silk damask chairs in front of his desk.

  “No, I prefer to stand. I’ll get right to the point. I want to know when you intend to make arrests. I’ve given Valette a number of names.”

  Sard sighed and sat down. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss that with you, Montfort.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the King decides when the arrests will take place and that information remains between His Majesty and me.”

  “Look, tell the King you have names. You have details. Make your damn arrests and be done with it.”

  “If only it were that easy.”

  Mathias narrowed his eyes and planted his palms down on Sard’s desk. “What is going on here? What is it you’re planning?”

  “What I’m planning is to please the King. That is always my plan. He wants to see his ban enforced. Do what is required of you and give me the names of all the players at Navers’s gaming den.”

  “I’ve given you all the names I know. The players are masked. There isn’t a lot of talking. Those are all the names I can come up with. And since I’m no longer of any use to you or the King, I’m done.” Mathias pushed himself off the desk.

  The corner of Sard’s mouth lifted, stopping short of a smile. “You don’t get to decide when you’re done. His Majesty decides. He’s been made aware of your involvement. If this matter takes much longer, he will get impatient. His Majesty wants a large arrest.”

  “Are you planning on a raid on Navers’s gaming den?”

  “Again, that is none of your concern.”

  “Damn it! I’m involved here. It is my concern. I did not need to help. I agreed to assist. I have every right to know what the hell is going on.”

  “Who’s the young man?”

  Mathias rested his hands on his hips, lest he strangle Sard’s thin neck. “What young man?”

  “Valette tells me that a young man shows up every time. He sits at your table always and he gambles with diamonds.”

  Mathias’s stomach fisted. “Yes, I know who you mean. I don’t know him.”

  “Really? Valette said he saw you talking to the young man outside near the carriages. He felt you knew him. He said you touched him.”

  Every muscle in his body slowly tightened. Fuck. “What the hell are you suggesting, Sard?”

  The King’s Lieutenant General of Police rose. “Before I approached you, Montfort, I thoroughly investigated you. I felt from what I learned about you, you’d be the perfect man to aid His Majesty and me in this matter. I knew you’d be sympathetic, given the death of your friend. From all accounts, you’ve not exactly led the life of a saint. Vice was your choice of entertainment. Everything I learned about you suggests you have a penchant for beautiful women.”

  “So?” His heart was beating in slow hard thuds.
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  “So if you have secrets, they need to remain that way. I personally selected you and I’ll not be embarrassed before the King. Be discreet and I’ll not arrest you for your conduct.”

  “Arrest me for what conduct?”

  “Sodomy is a crime.”

  Mathias reached out across Sard’s desk, grabbed his vest, and yanked him forward, their noses all but butting. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, Sard.”

  He’d hardly led a monkish life, but he’d never had any sexual interest in men. As for the law, it was a joke. Everyone in the entire realm knew the King’s only brother, Philippe, Duc d’Orléans, preferred men in his bed. The younger the better. It was an open secret no one discussed.

  He released Sard. Unfazed, the Lieutenant General held his gaze. “If the young man means nothing to you, get me his name—and conduct yourself in a manner that would please the King. This meeting is over. You are dismissed.”

  Holding back the profanity burning up his throat, Mathias turned on his heel and stalked out.

  Moments later Valette was permitted back into Sard’s study.

  “Well?” Valette asked.

  Sard smoothed his vest and sat back down at his desk. “We’re going to go ahead with the raid at the next Basset game Navers hosts in his home.”

  Chapter Eight

  The afternoon sun was warm and pleasant in the courtyard of Gaillard’s townhouse. Seated in the shade of a walnut tree, Gabrielle had a book on her lap. She’d yet to read a single word. Her mind crowded with thoughts, it was difficult to focus on the sonnets.

  She was leaving tonight.

  Everything was packed. Right after the Basset game, she’d be on her way to her uncle’s château, where members of the King’s Guard would find her two days hence to escort her back to the palace.

  The last few nights with Mathias had been bittersweet.

  She didn’t want to leave him. But what choice did she have? She was the King’s daughter. A princess trapped in a gilded prison, she had to return to Versailles. Return to her role and accept the husband her father selected for her.

  Around Mathias she was a different person than she was at court. With him, it was easy to be light. To laugh. It was difficult to be distant with him when all she wanted was to draw near.