Page 34 of A Royally Fake French Menage
“No,” Barclay said firmly. “Let me offer you this gift, my love.” he locked eyes with beau over my head, snatching me tight to his chest.
I was halfway through an objection to why that was a terrible idea when Barclay kissed me. And I realized that of all the timesI’d been kissed in my life, that I’d never actually been kissed before at all.
Because Barclay Augustus Chesterfield couldkiss.
Of the life changing variety.
Soft but firm lips moved over mine, warm and sweet as he encouraged me to open my mouth. I flicked my tongue against his bottom lip, expecting him to dive in, but instead he offered me open mouthed kisses that left me weak kneed and aching as I clung to his ruined shirt, locked safely behind the hard embrace of his arms.
Thiswas the man who demanded his lover take his desire the night before. The same man who I fell for, all twisted and torture, but at the same time fair and kind and so damn cute.
Barclay was all those things wrapped up in a bow tie, a blood stained shirt and perfectly pressed slacks.
When he pulled away, the room stood empty except for us. My mother, Beau Bennett and the bodies were gone, the only evidence of their passing a few blood splotches on the floor and my nails.
Jacques stood in the doorway. His angular, handsome face remained half obscured by shadow as he watched Barclay claim me in a room full of death and lies.
And he never said a word, just watched, his gun at his side, not until we were ready to leave. Then he followed us, shadowing every step. I knew we would be safe until we reached home beneath his gaze.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JACQUES
She hated that Barclay offered to pay her debt.
She hated that he didn’t come to the gala and chose a quiet night in the castle by himself.
And she hated that I took her out instead.
But I was beyond proud of Barclay—and her—at both of them for how they stood up under the pressure of tonight's bullshit. Neither of them should have been present. I knew neither of them should have gone, but I also couldn’t let them stay in the house where they would have been equally as exposed.
I couldn’t split myself into two pieces, no matter how much I wanted to, and I didn't trust the newcomer. With good reason, as Barclay’s face told me his position on the man. That was enough for me.
And so we went together.
A good thing as it allowed me to see just how deeply in love Barclay was with Genie…and that he deserved a night off. The threat we discovered was neutralized and it had never been aimed at him, after all. The shadow who had a go at him, it turned out, was a last ditch effort to gain Genie’s attention.
Beau Bennett extracted that information from the mother and texted me the information before we made it back to Bracksley Castle. And so I felt comfortable leaving Barclay alone, albeit with an almost full contingent of staff to wait upon him for half an evening without myself or genie in attendance.
The girl draped over my arm caused all the mischief of the night, and now we were going to tidy up a few loose ends before we went home to my lord and his new and thriving household. I’d been pleased to prove myself to him with the small task earlier, show him my worth, that I could provide for both of them in times of need.
And I was comfortable with how I’d left him, with fires running in almost every room, and hot water in his bathtub. I didn’t care if I had to bankrupt every hardware store and purchase every axe in the country and hack away at Barclay’s overgrown garden or smoke out the castle with green wood. I swore the castle would remain warm.
“How long do we have to stay?” Genie toyed with my cufflinks borrowed from Barclay’s traveling collection. The suit had arrived an hour before we departed, tailored to my measurements.
Apparently I wasn’t the only one with an eye for sizing up a man’s worth.
“Don’t you want to find out what tonight was about with your mother?” My own curiosity was piqued. Mostly I needed to ascertain there was no further threat to the girl who had stolen my heart, or at least enough of it to share with Barclay.
The whole situation still sat strangely with me, but he didn’t object and so I let their happiness take mine along for the ride, however long it lasted.
She shrugged. Her go to, oh so Americanism when she didn't want to answer me, or so I’d discovered. Genie’s personal style was both cute and annoying and evasive all at once.
“I really don't much care," she murmured, staring straight ahead at the red carpet rolled out before us that neither of us had stepped foot onto yet. Her gaze skittered across the plethora of media chattered off to one side with no regard for the hour, and the crowd still yelling at and photographing late arrivals like us who stepped daintily from their limos.
I’d parked the classic silver Aston Martin that Barclay had leant out of the night along the block. We walked in. An unusual entrance, perhaps, but it gave us both a chance to understand the lay of the land. And while Genie's arrival might cause the store amongst the paparazzi prepared to devour their next victim, I was an unknown. I wasn't sure if that would help or hinder her.
As delectable as she appeared in a black sequined dress shot through with silver leaves that reached her knees and sat across the tops of her breasts like a chiffon silk sheath, I wasn’t ready to take that chance. She hadn’t fallen apart on me yet. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to, and I wanted to be there when she did, not shove her in front of the red carpet ravens and watch the drama unfold for Barclay to read about in tomorrow’s rags.
