Invitation to Ruin by Ann Vremont Read Free Book Online

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