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“Isabel?” A soft voice interrupted my sobbing cries, and I gasped, surprised.

“Isabel, what’s wrong?” Suddenly, Vincent and Alexandre were kneeling beside me, taking my hands in their own. “Tell us what happened, please.”

With some effort, I stopped crying, scrubbing at my face with my sleeve. I knew I must look a wreck, with my red, tear-stained face and ruined makeup. I didn’t want them to see me like this, but they were each regarding me with such concern that I couldn’t send them away.

“It’s nothing,” I said, trying and failing to force a smile. Vincent gave me a disbelieving look.

“Nothing sent you running into the garden, crying as if your heart was breaking?” he asked. “That, I don’t quite believe.” Alexandre nodded in agreement.

“Tell us what happened. Perhaps we can help,” he said.

I took a deep, steadying breath and told them what happened, my voice breaking occasionally. They listened, their faces impassive, until I finished.

“I don’t know what happened,” I said. “I must have done something wrong. It seemed to be going well, but then he just—lost it.” My lower lip trembled, and I bit it hard to keep myself from crying again and further embarrassing myself.

Vincent laid a gentle hand over mine. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, and his soft voice had an instant calming effect on me. “Jacques has had a hard life, and it sometimes causes him to lash out. I am sorry that he scared you so badly, he shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s our fault,” Alexandre added as he positioned himself next to me and laid his arm across my shoulders. He pulled me closer to him, and I allowed myself to be pulled into his comforting embrace. “We shouldn’t have pushed him into this before he was ready. I’m sorry we put you in this position.” Vincent nodded.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted, a sob cracking my voice. “I came here to do a job, but so far I haven’t made any progress, and I’ve made so many mistakes.”

“Tell us,” Vincent said. “It can’t be so bad, and perhaps you’ll feel better if you get it off your chest.”

“I shouldn’t,” I said, but their words were so gentle, and their faces held such concern and understanding, that I poured it all out. “Bernard and Étienne … I slept with them. Together, I mean. I shouldn’t have. It was so unprofessional, I’m embarrassed to even admit it.”

Vincent and Alexandre nodded, their faces showing no hint of shock or disgust.

“Please don’t cry anymore,” Alexandre said, his fingers wiping away the last traces of tears from my face.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed,” Vincent said. “You’ve done nothing wrong, no one here will judge you for it.” I looked at him, surprised, and he brushed an errant curl from my forehead. “You’re so lovely,” he murmured. “Even streaked with tears, lying in the mud. How could either of them resist you?”

I smiled despite myself, then gasped as I felt Alexandre’s hand slip from my shoulder and slide lower, his fingers tracing down my side. Vincent’s eyes held mine, his fingers still in my hair. “Let us show you how lovely you are,” he said, and I nodded, swept up entirely in the moment.

Gently, Alexandre cupped my face and turned me to face him. He kissed my lips softly, parting them with his tongue. On my other side, Vincent kissed and nibbled at the base of my throat. When Alexandre broke away, Vincent took his place, claiming my mouth with a deep, sensuous kiss. Both of them caressed me with their hands, Alexandre’s rough with callouses, Vincent’s soft and nimble.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that, each of them kissing me in their turn, taking their time with me. “We should go inside,” Vincent said finally, and I nodded mutely and allowed them to help me to my feet.

16

Isabel

I was unsteady on my feet as we made our way to Vincent’s bedroom, my hands clasped in each of theirs. Briefly, I wondered how we would explain ourselves if we ran into anyone from the castle, but we met no one.

Once inside, we regarded each other, breathing heavily. To the surprise of even myself, I made the first move, taking a step toward Vincent and making short work of the buttons of his shirt. Alexandre, following my lead, removed his own shirt, then mine. Before long, we were all half naked, caressing each other’s bare skin.

“Let us make you feel good,” Alexandre said, his voice a low purr that sent waves of anticipation to my core. I allowed him to lead me to the bed, where he took up position behind me, massaging my shoulders with a gentleness that belied his rough, calloused hands.

Vincent took one of my bare feet in his, and I found that my fantasies about the skill in his long, slender feelings had not been far off base. He worked each foot gently in his hands, easing away the tension, as Alexandre worked my shoulders. Lost in the sensation, with both men tending to my body, I felt my fears and doubts lift, at least for now. I leaned back into Alexandre’s broad, sturdy chest and sighed deeply.

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