Marie-Claire de Bergeron was a child! He wracked his brain, attempting to recall her age, but she was certainly no more than twelve or thirteen. He’d never given the king’s young daughters a second thought, as over the years they seemed more occupied with the affairs of dolls and roller skates than with affairs of state. On the odd social occasion that he’d come in contact with the king’s children, he’d been preoccupied. Concerned with the well-being of his date du jour, or the hour’s political topic.
Languidly, she swam toward the beach where he stood and finding purchase on a submerged rock with her toes, allowed her shoulders to protrude from the water.
His eyes dipped to the cleavage she cradled in her arms. Seems he’d lost track of her birthdays. Suddenly guilty at the lascivious direction his thoughts had taken, he took a giant step back.
“Does your father know you are here?”
“Papa is too busy to keep track of me.”
“Every father wants to know that his children are safe. Especially after dark.”
“I am no longer a child,” she argued hotly. “As of yesterday, I am sixteen years old. A royal debutante, of an age to begin dating.”
Sebastian snorted, even as a keen disappointment settled in his gut. Sixteen? She was a child. “You are a royal pain, of an age to be spanked and I’m tempted to be the one to do it. Get out of the water now.”
“Make me.”
Sebastian arched a brow. “You are a brat.”
“And you are a killjoy.”
She aroused myriad emotions within him, and his jaw flexed as he pondered his next move. It was rare that anyone, let alone a teenaged girl, challenged his authority. And strangely, it exhilarated him.
For the longest moment, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were those of the rushing waterfall and the soulful cadence of the cricket’s song. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. The sun disappeared altogether, leaving the storm clouds on the horizon, silver-plated. The steady plipplop of raindrops turned into an all-out shower, but still neither of them moved. Nor spoke.
At least, not with words.
Even so, they knew that what was passing between them was life-changing, for them both. He waged a battle in his mind, but was far too ethical to take advantage of her foolishness.
You’re too young.
But I won’t always be.
I’ll wait.
Do.
With a nod, Sebastian turned and easily mounted his horse and set off through the trees.
“Get dressed,” he ordered over his shoulder. “I’ll wait for you at the edge of the woods and escort you safely home.”
This time, she did not argue.
Chapter Two
She’d turned twenty-one just yesterday. This Sebastian knew, as he’d etched the date on his brain five long years ago. And now, as the beautiful Marie-Claire de Bergeron descended the stair alone, all eyes in the steadily growing crowd turned to greet this vision with approval and, he noted with a swift glance about, some lechery.
A fierce wave of protectiveness washed over him and he excused himself from a conversation he was having with Lise’s new husband, Wilhelm Rodin, and moved to stand at the bottom of the stairs.
As it had so often in the past, his gaze drew hers and they were locked in a world of their own making. Only now, they both knew she was a full-fledged adult, legal in every way and responsible for her own decisions in this life.
Seeming to sense the moment was perfect, the royal orchestra struck up a rousing waltz and Sebastian held his hand out to Marie-Claire.
“Dance?”
“Oui.”
Bashfully, she extended her hand and he suppressed the grin he felt surging up from his belly. She was such a conundrum. One minute, she was wildly cheering him to victory on the golf course and the next, a blushing innocent, struggling to exude sophistication. Though soft and small, her hand was strong, and she clung to him as he led her through the throng to the dance floor.
When they arrived, a number of couples were already sweeping about the gleaming marble. King Philippe danced with his wife, Queen Celeste; Philippe’s mother, the Dowager Queen Simone danced with the prime minister, Rene Davoine; and a number of court consorts, celebrities and political acquaintances from different countries also whirled across the Russian imported flooring.
Sebastian drew Marie-Claire’s lithe body against his own and it was like a homecoming. He breathed in the scent of her perfumed hair and rested his hand at the small dip in her lower back. Holding her this way was far more exhilarating than any dream he’d ever had. As he’d known they would, they fitted as if they were born to be together.
Shyly, she glanced up at him, and it was the first time ever he’d seen her at such close range. Her skin was the flawless stuff of youth, peachy smooth and the color of cream with a hint of cinnamon. Tonight, her sun-streaked hair was upswept, revealing the graceful length of her neck, and her almond-shaped eyes reflected the emerald sheen of the satin confection she wore. Shadowed by the ghost of a smile, her lips were slightly parted and Sebastian longed to press his mouth to them, to see if their kiss would be as explosive as he’d imagined over the years.
However, this was not the time or place for such a first. He wanted it to be perfect. And he wanted them to be alone. For now, he would settle for the joy of simply holding her in his arms. That, and the knowledge that he was the luckiest man in the room.
“Your twenty-first birthday was yesterday, no?”
Marie-Claire’s gaze shot to his. “How did you know?”
“Math.”
“Math?” Her smile was quizzical.
“On this day, five years ago, you had been sixteen for a whole day.”
A charming flush crawled up her slender neck and settled in her cheeks. “You remember that day?”
“Vaguely.” Someday, when they’d been long married, he’d confess how the memory had plagued him, ruining subsequent relationships and making sport of his sleep. “Happy Birthday.”
“Thank you.”
“What did you do to celebrate this time?”
“For one thing, I stayed out of the pond.”
“Too bad.”
Again, the endearing blush. “Papa took me to Paris for the day. I went shopping for this gown.”
“Excellent choice.”
“You think so?”
“Mmm. I think you are easily the most beautiful cheerleader in the room.”
