Invitation to Ruin (5 page)

“Then keep the mask on, as will I, should
some unannounced guest intrude on our…conversation.”

For an instant, I was glad of the half-mask
for it kept him from seeing what disappointment might show in the
faint light. He must not think me petulant, or domineering, or
anything less than perfect. And so I nodded my agreement although I
ached to see his fine features.

“And will we talk like children in a game of
hide and seek the whole time?” I asked, keeping my words as sweet
as I could despite my mounting impatience.

He moved closer and, even in the faint
moonlight, I could see the trace of a smile along his lips, or so I
believed.

“It is best, don’t you think, for what we
have to discuss?”

Apprehension gripped me—I feared I would make
a fool of myself with assumptions. Would we discuss it so soon—were
we even thinking of the same thing?

I took on an evasive air. “And what,” I
asked, “will we be discussing?”

Sebastian moved closer still. I could smell
his perfume and deeper, more masculine scents. Had I been so close
before? Of course not. Always had we been separated—he at one end
of a far table, me at the other. Occasionally we might find
ourselves close enough to exchange a few pleasantries. To think the
same passions were building in his breast as stormed inside me.

There, so near at last, I closed my eyes and
breathed deeply. It was not as I expected, his scent. Strong and
earthy, it made me hungry—for what I still couldn’t guess.
Certainly I did not intend so early to take things so very far?

Feeling his hand on my bare shoulder, I
opened my eyes.

“About our eventual marriage,” he
answered.

A second time that night I thought I would
die on the spot! I couldn’t respond, only tremble beneath his
touch. Such heights in a few short weeks, it seemed impossible.

“Is that not what you are here to discuss,
Gabrielle?” he asked and withdrew his hand.

“It is, Sebastian,” I assured him and reached
out to touch his sleeve. “I just dared not hope to hear those words
from your lips tonight.”

Grabbing both of my shoulders, he pulled me
closer, my breasts a mere inch from the frills of his coat. I
longed to push forward, to press against his chest, but fear that
he would find me brazen stopped me.

“What is it?” I asked, the words sounding
with a quiver as I fought to contain the heat building in me.

“I would kiss you, Gabrielle, if that is not
too bold of me?”

I relaxed beneath his touch and closed my
eyes, ready for his kiss. What did I expect? Not those light pecks
that clumsy admirers sometimes sought to bestow upon me. But
neither did I expect a deep probing of my mouth that would leave me
damp and on fire (in so many places)!

He started slow, his lips whispering across
mine, leaving me sighing. Then his tongue flicked at the corner of
my mouth and, like a child drawn to a nipple, I followed the
motion, opening my mouth to his. His tongue penetrated me, sliding
over and against mine, swiping at my palate with sensuous thrusts
that had me cresting against his broad chest.

He cupped my breast as he kissed me, the
looser fitting gown he had equipped me with for the night allowing
him to manipulate my flesh with his strong hands. I leaned into
him, returning the thrust of his tongue, and his other hand
traveled down to my calf. He rubbed at my leg through the fabric,
effortlessly coaxing me into a reclining position.

Sebastian uncurled his body along mine and I
felt the just of his hips and hard press of his manhood through the
cloth of my gown. I sighed, arching my back, wanting nothing more
than to have him take me but not knowing how to, or whether I
should, ask for such a thing.

“My love.” His voice was filled with the same
warm spice that scented his body and I moaned against his shoulder
as his hand traveled the curve of my hip. “I would worship your
body if you would but consent, Gabrielle?”

Dark, husky, the request sent thrills racing
over my skin followed by a warm blanket of heat. Nevertheless, I
tightened with dread.

“You would think me wanton,” I protested at
the same time my tone pleaded for him to convince me otherwise.

“I would think you my mate, love, bound to me
forever,” he answered. He lifted the skirt of my gown and
undergarments, the leather of his glove smooth against my thigh. He
gripped my hip, his thumb caressing the skin of my lower
stomach.

How could I deny such a touch! I arched and
moaned, my legs spreading even though I did not order them to do
so. He stroked the small button between the folds of my womanhood,
the touch of the leather on the sensitive skin maddening.

“Sebastian…I have never…” I stopped, the
confession almost embarrassing. I knew how far other young women in
my position had ventured. Veronique had teased me with
half-confessions of her more sensual escapades. Would Sebastian
expect me to be a virgin or find me a silly unschooled child?

“No?” he asked, his voice seeming to
disbelieve his good fortune. “All the more precious, love, this
gift you offer.”

I almost began sobbing against his chest at
that point. The silken caresses, his calling me “love.” It was all
too much…all that I had ever hoped for and I still could not
believe it true. “You will not think me wanton?” I persisted.

He pulled back and, thinking I had lost him,
my heart broke. How great my joy to see that he was only removing
his signet ring and one glove.

“We will be married before a month passes,”
he promised. “I will go to your father this week and arrange it.”
Tossing the glove on the floor, he offered the ring to me. “Take
this ring and know that I tell you the truth, that I tell you what
is in my heart, dear Gabrielle.”

I fastened the ring to a long chain I wore
hidden beneath my gown. Stretching my arms out, I unconditionally
offered my body to him. “Come to me, my love.”

He moved cautiously, his obvious concern for
my pleasure making me burn hotter with each caress. His ungloved
hand parted my lower lips, the pad of his fingertips exploring the
entrance to my very center. I had imagined his hands to be very
smooth, more so than the glove, but they were rough. The surprise
left me panting as he pulled and teased the small button and thick
lips before sticking a finger full inside me.

I could feel him testing my virtue and he
groaned as his finger brushed against the covering of my
virginity.

“Sweet, sweet, Gabrielle.” His breathing was
harsh as his lust obscured his voice. He stroked the inside of my
center with his fingers as he leaned back and watched passion whip
through my body. “To think that this should be mine. Only
mine.”

“Only yours,” I assured him. Begging him to
enter me, I extended my arms. “But take it now, my love. Take it as
my pledge of love for you, as you have given me your ring as
pledge.”

He stood for a moment, removing the other
glove and tossing it next to its mate on the floor. He lowered his
pants until I could see the full thrust of his manhood silhouetted
in the moonlight. Something half gasp, half groan escaped me at the
sight of it. Like a true wanton, I reached out, sighing when my
fingers could not close around the shaft.

“Will it hurt?” I asked, some part of me
hoping that it would. I wanted to walk around in the morning sore
from Sebastian’s love of me.

He did not answer me immediately, choosing
instead to kneel in front of my wide-spread legs. My lower lips
were covered with a rich moisture that had built while he kissed
and touched me. He ran the tips of his fingers through it before
inserting them once again inside of my center. As his fingers moved
within me, his thumb ran over that distended bump of flesh that so
thrilled at his ministrations. So pleasured was I by his attentions
I had to bring my forearm across my face and bite at the soft flesh
lest I cry out and reveal our lovemaking.

As he brought my desire to a high pitch that
had me thrashing on the couch, I felt the tear of my maidenly
shield and then the full thrust of his fingers inside me while my
body broke against a wave of ecstasy. When the waves subsided, he
withdrew halfway, his fingers wedging open the swollen gate of my
sex as he positioned his manhood at the threshold.

I could feel myself expanding as he pushed
in. So greedy my body for his rod, the muscles snapped shut around
him and he moaned my name. His hands found my thighs and he began
pumping inside of me. Already, my body was quivering against his
and I heatedly demanded more, more of his thick shaft, more of the
sensuous flesh he offered up to appease my hunger. Fragile in our
lust, we trembled against one another as he pumped my body.

I marveled at his strength, at the virility
of his thrusts, more enthralled with him than I had ever been.
Having loved him at such a distance, I had never noticed these
unexpected charms. Where I had imagined him slighter to the touch,
he was solid and thick. Where I had imagined every inch of his skin
to be petal soft, he was rough in all the right places.

“Gabrielle, I die happy now,” he softly cried
out, his voice breaking as he spoke my name.

I clutched him to me as I, too, rushed to
meet my death. Oh, happy death that spread through my limbs with a
molten silence, melting each muscle so that it first quivered and
then quieted with fatigue.

Both our bodies exhausted, he pressed gently
against me, his arms propped such that he did not ask me to bear
his weight, though I gladly would have if only to keep his shaft,
still throbbing in its pleasure, inside me.

“Gabrielle?” The question was breathless and
low, as all our talk had been this evening.

“Yes, my love?”

“You must not inquire with your father as to
whether I have asked after you,” he said.

I did not understand his order, however
gently delivered, and I told him as much.

“Do not doubt that I will seek his consent to
our union,” he explained. “I just would not have your inquiries
cause some suspicion on our…” He paused, searching the darkened
room for some word that would pass among the decent folk still
enjoying the masquerade. “Our current acquaintance,” he finished.
“Do you not think, my love, that this is the wiser course?”

If I did not doubt his love, it was, indeed,
the wiser course. And how could I doubt it, offered so sincerely
and with his attention to my pleasure. “I will do as you ask in all
things, dearest,” I answered.

I felt him swell against me in satisfaction
and had to keep from wrapping my legs around him and begging him to
ask me to do all sorts of wicked things!

“And will you meet with me again?” he
asked.

Such nervousness, such fear trembled through
his voice at the thought I would refuse. Joy leaked from my
eyes.

“Tell me but when and how,” I answered,
wrapping my arms around him.

Gently, he unwound himself from my embrace.
“Follow Veronique’s instructions,” he answered, the smile evident
in his voice. “She can be trusted in this matter, although she can
only guess the nature of our…words…with one another.”

With tender devotion, he pulled the skirt of
my gown back down and rearranged its folds before restoring his own
clothing. Offering me his hand, he helped me up from the couch and
walked me to the door. “We will not see each other until I send for
you, and perhaps, even then, only once before I claim you
publicly.”

He kissed me then, with the same heated
intensity as the night’s first kiss, and released me into the hall.
Veronique met me halfway back to the masquerade and ushered me into
another room to make sure my appearance was fully aright. I
protested, of course, that nothing should have caused it to go
amiss, but she did not believe me, even if she would not confess
openly to thinking me a liar. What did it matter? A month from now
and I will be the wife of Sebastian L’Aigle.

April 17, 1787

So hard it has been to do as Sebastian
ordered and not inquire with Papa as to Sebastian asking for my
hand in marriage. But he did not say that I could make no inquiries
as to potential suitors!

And Sebastian must have visited with Papa,
who is acting so strange at the hints I drop. At tea today, even
though it has been only three days since the masquerade, I aired a
concern that I would never find a suitable marriage. Papa dropped
his biscuit into his tea! And when I mentioned a most unsuitable
young man as Papa was reaching for the sugar, he knocked the bowl
over! Papa is not so clumsy in a single year, let alone one
afternoon at tea.

But that is not all that I base my hope on.
Sebastian has called for me—in the form of an invitation from
Veronique to spend the weekend at her parent’s estate. The
invitation did not arrive alone, the courier having a second
envelope for Papa.

April 19, 1787

It is true, it cannot be otherwise. Papa
announced at breakfast this morning that my return to the Sacred
Heart will be postponed. He claims that Mama is saddened by my
absence and would not lose me so soon. I am almost convinced, as I
found her crying in her room this morning, saying how much she
would miss me. But I can only hope that he is keeping me here so
that Sebastian may propose!

April 21, 1787

How the days dragged after I received
Veronique’s invitation, even though my heart was in a constant
state of flutter. I am exhausted and happy that Veronique is
playing the indifferent hostess, leaving me to rest in my room.

There was a gift on my bed when I arrived. A
small white box with a heavy gold chain inside to bear the weight
of the ring, so his note said, until I bear it on my finger as his
wife. The note also promised that he would be with me tonight,
although his arrival and departure will be secret.