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  The firelight from the gardens outside streamed in through the windows, reflecting in the mirrors and casting a radiant glow throughout the room. An empty throne stood at the south end of the long hall, tucked into a closed archway, stationed high on a podium overlooking the gallery. The room buzzed with excitement as the courtiers anxiously awaited the presentation of the king. My own pulse beat rapidly in anticipation, caught up in this extraordinary exhibition of wealth and power. The orchestra abruptly stopped and a hush fell over the crowd.

  The king’s guards entered in a single file, assuming their places around the throne. With a grand flourish, the symphony sprang to life. King Louis appeared through the doorway and made his way up to the throne. His outfit was similar to Aiden’s, but with a fiery red coat and a brilliant blue sash across his chest. A curly brown wig reached to the middle of his back. He commanded the room with ease and I held my breath, entranced by the spectacle of the king’s power.

  A murmur rippled through the crowd, and I turned to look down the opposite end of the hall. The orchestra fell silent again as a small group of men in deeply colored turbans and flowing garments appeared. I remembered Uncle Alex’s comment to the guard about the Persian ambassador to the Shah. The leader of the group had olive skin and a closely cropped beard. No hair peeked out from under his red turban. He wore a floor-length orange cloak with a fur collar. He had a majestic presence of his own, wordlessly commanding the small group of men behind him. They carried ornate shields and sabers on outstretched hands.

  The crowd parted like the Red Sea, drawing to either side of the hall. A long, empty pathway stretched between the ambassador and the waiting king at the other end. All eyes followed the six Persians as they slowly made their way down the spacious room to kneel before the king. I couldn’t hear their exchange but the Persian presented several gifts, one of them a hand-woven sash. King Louis nodded grandly in acceptance and the room seemed to collectively let out its breath, relieved by the successful presentation.

  The orchestra took its cue and broke into a processional march. Courtiers and noblemen in the crowd lined up behind the ambassador’s group to present themselves before the king. Uncle Alex and young Aiden took their places in the procession and we waited our turn to be seen by the king. I entertained myself by admiring the room and the period dress of the courtiers in line with us, but the progress was painstakingly slow. Both versions of Aiden looked equally bored with the queue. My ears perked up as I heard the name Marie Hélène de Saint-Simon being presented to the king several rows in front of us. Craning my neck, I tried to get a glimpse of her. Aiden glanced at me and rolled his eyes.

  As she and the Duke made their way out of the hall, I caught a wave of shiny black curls sweeping out the door. I sighed, frustrated that I hadn’t been able to see her face. Aiden chuckled and shook his head.

  “Don’t fret, you’ll get to see her soon enough, though she’s not that much to see, mind ye.”

  I’ll be the judge of that.

  I cocked one eyebrow at him as I sent the message in my mind. He laughed heartily and squeezed my hand. I knew it was just a memory but I still found it strange that no one turned to look at us when he laughed out loud.

  Finally, it was our turn to meet the king face-to-face. My pulse raced with giddy excitement. Alex bowed deeply, then presented young Aiden who quickly followed suit. The king nodded slightly from his throne, looking bored. Though I knew no one could see me, I found myself curtseying to the king and smiled as I saw Aiden bow as well, out of the corner of my eye.

  The moment was over far too soon and I felt Aiden’s hand on my arm, pulling me toward the door. Reluctantly, I turned my attention away from the king and we moved into the adjoining salon where long buffet tables were piled with mountains of food. The scent of roasted meat greeted me and my stomach growled in response. I reached out to steal a piece of cheese and my hand passed right through it. I grunted in frustration.

  “We’ve gone from heaven to hell, where I can see and smell the food, but not touch it!” I complained.

  Just then I caught sight of those shiny black curls again and lost all interest in the buffet. Marie Hélène was watching young Aiden with interest as he arranged bites of food onto a silver plate. She had beady eyes and a beak-like nose with thin, pale lips. Her gown was richly detailed and undoubtedly expensive, but she was very skinny and had no breasts to speak of. Relief washed over me.

  She stopped next to Aiden at the buffet table. “The King is wonderful, isn’t he?” she asked in flowing French, giving him a toothy smile. Surprised, he looked up and agreed in his easy, charming manner. “Je suis Marie Hélène de Saint-Simon,” she introduced herself with a slight curtsy and held out her gloved hand to him expectantly.

  His face fell and he froze for second in recognition of the name but then quickly regained his composure. “Enchanté, mademoiselle.” He bowed slightly and introduced himself, then placed a light kiss on her outstretched hand. While his head was down, her eyes lustily perused his frame and I felt a pang of jealousy.

  She lowered her eyes quickly and batted her lashes at him. He took a deep breath and inquired in perfect French if she would be so kind as to dance with him at the king’s ball, since he did not have a partner. Her face lit up with excitement and she nodded enthusiastically.

  As if on cue, the orchestra changed from the processional march to a lively ballroom dance tune and young Aiden offered Marie Hélène his arm in invitation. She readily accepted and they moved through the crowd back toward the Hall of Mirrors. Aiden held out his arm next to me with a smile.

  “Shall we dance, ma chérie?”

  “Bien sûr. Allons y!” I agreed and placed my hand on top of his arm.

  The Hall of Mirrors was now full of activity as couples twirled on the patterned hardwood floor, their arms locked in stiff circles, ladies’ skirts swishing with the movement. Music from the flutes and violins rose and fell in waves, mimicking the graceful dance of the courtiers and mistresses in front of the mirrors. Aiden and Marie Hélène made an odd-looking couple since she was almost as tall as he was. She flirted outrageously with him, laughing too much and sending him sly looks. I had to bite back a groan. He held his back erect and looked quite regal while keeping as much distance between them as his arms would allow.

  I struck a similar pose with Aiden myself and lost myself in the dance as he masterfully led me around the room. The reflections of the other dancers in the mirrors swirled around us. I wished I could catch a glimpse of us, but it wasn’t possible. Instead, I looked up at Aiden and saw my reflection in his eyes.

  “You are the most beautiful woman in this room tonight and your eyes dance like the twinkling stars on the loch at night.”

  My heart was in my throat as he gazed down at me and I couldn’t speak. It was true; I had never felt so beautiful in my life, and being here with him, twirling gracefully to the rise and fall of the music was like a fairytale dream come true. We danced late into the night and I was drunk with the sound of the classical music that filled my head and swam through my veins. I wanted nothing more than to stay in this hall of candlelight and mirrors, dancing with Aiden in my arms.

  I almost didn’t notice it—I was so captivated by the joy of the dance—but Marie Hélène leaned forward and whispered something to young Aiden. His eyebrows rose up sharply in surprise. With a mischievous smile, she glanced around the room to ensure no one would notice and forcefully pulled him by the hand out of the hall. We followed, my curiosity piqued, as she led him through the masses of guests.

  She paused, bidding a good evening to a passing nobleman and pretended like she was just taking a short break from the dance. Aiden followed suit, looking increasingly uncomfortable. When no one was looking, she grabbed Aiden’s hand and stole through a narrow door at the back of the room.

  The hidden room was actually quite large and looked to be a resting chamber of some sort. The décor was light blue and gold, with a grand chaise against one
wall. Once inside, Marie Hélène flung her arms around young Aiden and pressed her lips to his with wild abandon. He instantly stiffened at her embrace, apparently trying to decide what to do, but she would not be deterred. She spoke rapidly and huskily to him in French and I caught his frown of indecision. He looked right through me as I stood watching with a mixture of horror and excitement. I realized he was checking the door to make sure they would not be overseen. Satisfied, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and kissed her back. She made a haughty, guttural noise in her throat and proceeded to undo the buttons on his jacket. She slipped her hands inside to stroke his chest. Careful not to mess her hair or dress, he ran his hands over her shoulders to her waist as he kissed her.

  I was transfixed by the spectacle, emotions warring inside me. Part of me was completely affronted by seeing another girl kissing Aiden and another part of me was completely turned on. Heat sprang to my cheeks and I didn’t dare look up at Aiden next to me. I startled guiltily when his hand caressed my neck and his fingers wound in my hair at the base of my skull. I peered up at him sheepishly and his eyes danced with amusement.

  Really? You like that?

  His teasing tone was clear even in my mind’s ear and I turned away in embarrassment. I let out a small squeak as he forcefully swept me up in his strong arms and pressed his lips to mine. My breasts bobbed in the front of my gown like balls of soft dough as his kisses ran over my neck and chest. I closed my eyes in bliss, entranced by the sounds of passion echoing in the room.

  A loud noise made the four of us jump and all eyes turned to the door in fear of discovery. Aiden set me down and I giggled, feeling completely naughty and loving it.

  Young Aiden and Marie Hélène quickly composed themselves, straightening their clothing while still breathing hard. No one came in but the scare had taken its toll and the moment had passed. Young Aiden held out his arm to Marie Hélène and asked in fluent French, “Shall we go see the fireworks? I believe they will be starting soon.” She nodded and they quickly snuck out through the door.

  The sound of fireworks streamed in from the gardens and we hurried outdoors to watch the show. The Duke of Saint-Simon stood talking with a small group and Marie Hélène bid Aiden adieu with a flirty smile, leaving to join her father. Aiden’s eyes scanned the grounds in search of his uncle and he shook his head, muttering to himself.

  “Well, Uncle Alex said to entertain her. Aye, I can at least say I’ve done what he asked.”

  The parade of horse-drawn carriages returned just as dawn broke over the palace grounds. Like magic, Uncle Alex appeared from behind one of them and called to him in French. Once we climbed in, the carriage lurched forward and set off toward the château. I leaned against Aiden with a sigh.

  “We don’t have to ride all the way back,” he said. “Nothing interesting happens. You look as if you’re ready to drop.”

  “Thank you,” I said, enraptured. “For the gown, for the ball, meeting the king, the hidden room—for everything. It was incredible.” I never wanted the evening to end and my chest ached with longing as our eyes locked.

  “I love you,” I whispered, my heart breaking into pieces. I knew it sounded crazy because I'd just met him, but in my heart, it didn't matter. The angel had said when he met the one, he'd know. And now I knew it, too.

  “Oh, lass,” he breathed in response, his face pinched with pain.

  I closed my eyes and the familiar wave of his cast swept through me. He held me in his strong arms and I buried my face in his chest, feeling only his thin linen shirt, the heavy jacket gone.

  “I love you too, my dove. I don’t know how much time we have but it doesn’t matter, in truth. My heart is yours just the same.”

  He kissed me lightly on the mouth and I melted into him, exhausted. He scooped me into his arms and carried me to the soft bed in our room at the château. I sank into the feather mattress.

  I was wearing the thin white nightgown he’d called a shift and my hair flowed loose over the pillow. He reached down and smoothed a stray curl away from my face. He pulled the covers up over my shoulders and tucked me in with a kiss on my forehead.

  “Sweet dreams, mo chridhe. I’ll be here when you wake. I promise you that much.” He walked over to the pallet on the floor where he’d slept before and took off his sporran and dirk. He set them on the floor within arm’s reach and pulled the linen shirt over his head in one fluid motion, left wearing only his kilt. I peered over the top of my pillow at his naked chest and bare stomach, drinking in the beauty of his skin and the strength of his muscles just beneath the surface.

  Lord, what are you doing to me? I can’t ever let him go.

  My silent prayer was filled with agony. He lay down on the blanket and I ran my eyes over his body until I couldn't keep them open any longer, then let sleep overtake me.

  Chapter 8

  Awakened by the sun streaming in through the windows, I blinked sleepily and rubbed my eyes. The delicious, homey smell of breakfast called to me. I rolled over in the bed and smiled at Aiden across the room, who was already dressed in his kilt and linen shirt, tending the fire.

  You are too good to me.

  I reached out to him lazily with my thoughts. He didn’t turn around, but I heard the smile in his response nonetheless.

  Not possible, my love.

  I grinned and swung my legs off the edge of the bed. My legs and feet were bare under my shift and I wiggled my toes out in front of me, frowning at their unpolished state. Closing my eyes, I imagined them a soft rose-petal pink and felt the shimmering sensation pass through me. When I peered down at my newly painted toes, I giggled with girlish glee. Aiden turned to me with a raised eyebrow, obviously wondering what I was up to, having felt the wave of change himself. I tucked my feet up under my shift and batted my eyes at him innocently. He just shook his head and laughed.

  “Bon matin, ma chérie. Would you like some breakfast?” he asked, bringing over a tray of oatmeal, honey and fruit. The feather bed sank with his weight when he sat down next to me. I drizzled some honey over my oatmeal and scooped up a big spoonful. It was thick and tasted like it had been sitting in the pot too long.

  “What is that?” I made a face, wrinkling my nose with distaste.

  “Have you never had parritch before? I ate it nearly every day as a lad. It’s good for you.”

  “Well of course it is. Anything that tastes like that has to be good for you!” I gave him a gentle shove with my shoulder and he harrumphed. I popped a piece of fruit in my mouth and he changed the subject.

  “Have you any idea where you’d like to go today? We could go to the Highland Games and dance to the bagpipes. There’s a weapons competition as well that’s great fun to watch. That’s where Uncle William first taught me to fight with a sword.” His words were filled with pride, but my last experience with his uncle in the castle before Aiden’s bloody death was still too fresh, and I wasn't eager to go back. I tried to think of an alternative so as not to hurt his feelings. An idea came to me and I brightened, excited at the thought.

  “You mentioned that your Uncle Alex had an office in Paris for his shipping business. Could we go there?” I asked hopefully. He scratched his head, considering.

  “Paris, eh? Well, I guess we could go there, though I’m not exactly sure why you’d want to. It wasn't a very nice place, that.”

  “Why I’d want to? Because Paris is the romance capital of the world! Nôtre Dame, La Musée du Louvre, L’Arc de Triomphe, Les Champs-Élysées, the Eiffel Tower. I mean, what’s not to love?”

  He furrowed his brow in confusion. “I’m aware of Nôtre Dame and Le Grand Louvre, but I am unfamiliar with the others.”

  I realized some of the Parisian sites I’d read about might not have been around back in the early 1700s. “Oh. Well, they must have been built later.” I waved a hand in dismissal. “Can we go, please?” I implored, giving him my most pathetic puppy dog eyes.

  “All right, but only because I know you cannot get hu
rt in my memory,” he said in a warning tone. I hugged him and planted a kiss on his lips. “You’re a foolish wee lass, but God help me, I can’t deny you anything when you look at me like that.”

  I gave him a flirty smile and jumped off the bed. “What should I wear? Another dress, I suppose. Women didn’t get to wear pants then, did they?” I wrinkled my nose in irritation. Aiden shrugged in mock disinterest, though I could see the playfulness in his eyes.

  “Aye, that’s true. Women in Paris during my day didn’t wear breeks. You’re free to wear whatever you like though, if you’d prefer to wear the trousers. I don’t think I’d look quite so lovely as you in my gown, though.”

  I shrieked in outrage and threw myself onto the bed, flinging the pillow at his head. He rolled backward, laughing, and easily dodged the blow, then gathered me into his arms.

  “You brat!” I glared at him and he raised his eyebrows innocently as if to say “Who, me? What did I do?” I struggled to get free of his grasp and his arms tightened around me like a vise, his fingers tickling my ribs. I jerked and squealed in protest, giggling and kicking, while he laughed at my vain attempts to free myself.

  In one fluid motion, he flipped me onto my back and laid on top of me, his body pressing mine deep into the feather mattress. My giggles abruptly stopped and I grabbed him by the hair, pulling his mouth to mine. He responded with a sigh of satisfaction and ran one hand over my shoulder, down my side.

  A fire ignited within me and my body twitched with pleasure at his touch. He pressed his hips against me and I arched my back as his kisses moved down my neck, suckling my jaw and earlobe. My nightgown fell away as I raised my leg against his body and he caressed my naked thigh.

  “Oh, God in heaven, have mercy,” he breathed in my ear, his voice trembling. Then he made a painful groan and stopped moving entirely. My hopes sank as he lay there holding me, breathing hard, his head on my shoulder.