My Cherie Amour

by Azod, Shara

  guarantee you by the time the pieces of your body make it back to Spain; he will be cursing

  your name. I promise you, if you ever place you nose into my business, darken my

  doorstep, or even think about sullying the princesa’s ears with the sound or your voice, I

  might have to feed to creatures of the swamp with your carcass, then have you family’s

  lands and titles confiscated by the crown and have you sons impressed upon my ship.

  ¿Entiende?”

  To emphasize his point, Diego nicked the governor’s throat just enough to cause a

  small trickle of blood to trickle down his throat. The governor stumbled to his feet and

  practically ran out of the room with his secretary trying to hide a suspicious wet spot on his

  breeches, right on his heels.

  Crossing to a chair directly in from of Maria-Teresa, Diego sat heavily and regarded

  the wan looking woman. She sat as serene as ever, as if nothing that had just happened

  affected her in any way. But of course it hadn’t. Maria was rarely affected by anything

  outside the spiritual. How in the hell did she get involved with Agathe? Come to think of

  it, where the hell was Agathe?

  “Carlos, did you see where the other woman went?” “I am sorry Señor, she must have left after you started, uh, talking to the governor.

  Do you want me to see if I can find her?”

  Diego sighed wearily. “No. I want you want you to go find several of my men. I will

  give you a list. For now, escort Ana to the kitchens. I am sure she could use something

  heartier than coffee, tea and petite fours.” Ana shot him a grateful look, but waited for

  permission from her mistress before moving a muscle. When none seemed to be

  forthcoming from the tight-lipped Maria, Diego prodded. “Maria, I will speak with you

  alone. Give Ana leave to go.”

  “You should not refer to Ana so familiarly,” Maria-Teresa sniffed. After traipsing

  across the ocean to find him, she still had no desire to be alone in a room with him. “You

  may go Ana, but be back here in fifteen minutes.”

  “Make that thirty.”

  Ana bowed to Diego before a hasty curtsy in the general direction of her mistress. At

  forty-years -old and a poor relation, Ana would always be a spinster, but she was not really

  cut out to be a duena. There had been no other choices for her so did her duty to the best

  of her abilities, but she was not the best choice for the Princesa. She did not relish the hours

  upon hours spent in prayer and confession nor the endless amounts of fasting her mistress

  opposed upon all of her household. She frankly could not imagine what Maria-Teresa had

  to confess. The woman rarely left the chapel or the company of her personal priest. It had gotten increasingly worse when Diego had finally convinced the king to petition the

  Church for an annulment only to leave Spain as soon as it was final. Maria-Teresa had

  become almost fanatical; she was in chapel before sunrise staying until mid-morning, she

  was often on a diet of bread and water, demanding Ana do the same, she was never without

  her priest, Father Manuel by her side whom she lavished with gold and expensive gifts.

  Maria-Teresa raved how it was her purpose in life to show Diego the errors of his

  ways. If only he would reconsider their annulment and agree to a chaste marriage. She

  believed she and she alone could save him and bring “back to the fold with God”. She had

  convinced her father to send her to bring Diego back to Spain since none of the emissaries

  had been successful. The king wanted Diego to marry her sister, Isabella now that she was

  widowed, but Maria-Teresa had other plans. She would sometimes rant for hours about

  how the duque was a carnal creature in peril of losing his immortal soul to wine and

  women. She believed he was being led astray by what she called “demonic native

  seductresses” and “African witches” which was why he had failed to return to Spain.

  Many in Maria-Teresa’s household worried about her, especially Ana. They all had

  serious doubts as to the piety of Father Manuel who was the major influence on the

  princesa. The priest was rarely in chapel during the predawn hours though he encouraged

  his patroness to be there. He disappeared for hours, sometimes days at time, always

  insinuating he needed more money when he returned. The household maids steered clear of the man, an ominous sign in itself. Ana had wanted desperately to tell the duque all she

  all this and more, but her mistress never let her out of her sight. As she followed Carlos out

  of the room she tried to catch the duque’s eye, to give him some kind of signal. Maria

  Teresa was getting worse, especially after the inexplicable appearance of the strange woman

  named Agathe. Ana feared for her mistresses sanity if the people around her kept adding

  fuel to the unnatural fire burning in her mind.

  “My things should be here shortly. If the African woman is here, you must make her

  leave immediately. I will need at least three maids and some sort of social secretary so

  that…”

  “Maria, how many times must I tell you we are no longer married?” Taking a deep

  breath, he rubbed his head trying to think of way to tell there was no way in hell she was

  moving anywhere near him in a way she would understand. “Maria, you are an unmarried

  woman. It is against all propriety you stay here with me.”

  His voice was dangerously quiet. Maria hated when used that tone. It frightened her.

  Although he wouldn’t raise his tone of his voice, it seemed to get colder. She pulled her

  rosary from the folds of her gown and silently began to pray. She had to be strong. Dear

  Agathe had warned her that the voodoo priestesses here that seduced decent mean were

  potent; she would have to be stronger. She decided to attack the problem head on. Diego

  was far too stubborn for anything else. “Diego, I know you cannot see it now,” she began earnestly, “but this woman, this

  African, she has got some kind of spell on you. I am here to help you. You must send her

  away, for the sake of your soul!”

  Diego regarded the Maria noticing how gaunt and wasted away she looked. She ran

  through the rosary in her hands at a speed had not seen from priests. Her formerly

  luxurious jet black hair was scraped back into a painfully tight bun and looked to be

  thinning. She was dressed in a dark gray gown that began at the top of her neck falling past

  her feet. Her sleeves ran down slightly over her wrists and her hands, which were covered

  with gloves. Not an inch of flesh was visible. On closer inspection her gown appeared to be

  made of coarse linen. Maria had always been deeply religious; she was fast becoming a

  fanatic.

  “Is that why you are here Maria? To save my soul? This is what your father sent you

  half way around the world for?”

  Maria’s gaze slid from her husband to the floor. She could not lie.

  “No. My father wants an heir for your lands and title. He wants you to marry

  Isabella.” She admitted softly. “But, Diego she is no good for you! Her husband and his

  court have corrupted her. She is a sinful woman who would only farther imperil your soul.”

  “And you, you are right for me, sí?” He rose in one fluid motion to circle the sofa in

  which she sat. Leaning down to whisper against her ear he continued his assault. “You do remember what it takes to get with child, don’t yo
u Maria? You remember how I must lift

  up your nightdress, spread your legs wide and slip my…”

  “Stop! We must have a chaste marriage! Pure and free from all carnality. It is the

  only way you can repent!” Maria jumped to her feet whirling to face her know smirking

  husband. “I refuse to listen to such filth! I am a princess of Spain and you will do as I say!”

  She was yelling, crass as that was, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t take it. The thought of

  him, of any man touching her flesh made her physically ill. She had thought she could

  endure it, but she knew she couldn’t. She most certainly couldn’t with this man. He was far

  too, too virile.

  “And I what am I supposed to do for an heir?” he smirked.

  She knew all men wanted heirs, but it that was a problem of the world. Diego

  needed to be concerned with the problems of the soul.

  “You will cease speaking to me of sinful things this instant!” she demanded,

  stamping her feet for emphasis.

  “You do not command me to do a damn thing.” He had not raised his voice above a

  normal octave, but then he didn’t have to. “I want you to understand what it is you are

  asking for.”

  “I am trying to help you! You must send that, that person away! Now!” “So that you can take her place in my bed? Will you let me bury my face between

  your legs to suckle your woman’s honey? Will you let me bend you over my desk or a chair

  and take you from behind, riding you until we both scream from the sheer joy of it? Will

  you let me take your ass, Maria? Would you let me slide into your forbidden entrance and

  ride you there?”

  “You will be silent! Shut up now!”

  “Yes, Diego,” came a soft voice from the doorway. “Why don’t you shut up now?”

  “Cherie!”

  Diego rushed out of the parlor, leaving a confused Maria-Teresa standing alone with

  what appeared to be a young gentleman. Who or what he was she couldn’t begin to know.

  One was never sure here who was a regular person and who was descended from slaves.

  Agathe had warned her of that. The man bowed appropriately but did not introduce

  himself, as was proper. She was a woman alone, it was not proper to talk to her without a

  proper introduction from someone she knew and trusted. She did not however, appreciate

  the amused look on his face. He was not smiling, but his eyes implied inappropriate mirth.

  She decided she would use her royal imperative to put him in his place.

  “Who are you and what are you doing in my husband’s house?” “Your husband’s house? I was unaware Diego had remarried.” The young man

  replied rudely. “”I am sorry, but this house belongs to Cherie Bonnet. And I, Your

  Highness, am Étienne Barbin, first and only son of Rémi Barbin, Vicomte de Alsace.”

  Maria dismissed the notion that this was that woman’s house. Of course this was

  Diego’s home. “You are impertinent. What are you doing here?”

  “I am a friend of Diego and Cherie,” Étienne replied undaunted.

  “Well, go and fetch him.”

  Seeing that she had dismissed him with her decree, Étienne walked away in

  amusement. Poor Diego.

  He found the man standing in front of the closed door of a guest bedroom looking

  lost.

  “The pricesa has demanded I come and fetch you.” Diego growled in reply. Étienne

  decided to take pity on him and leave the subject of his strange former wife alone. “Let me

  talk to Cher. You go, deal with the Spanish woman. We will talk later.”

  Shit! That was the last thing Diego wanted to do. There was no way out of it.

  “Do not let her leave this house alone, ‘Tienne. Agathe was in this house”

  He was gone before the other man could question him. On his way back to the

  parlor he noticed workmen brining in several traveling trunks and crates. “No, no, no! Take these things right back to the wagons!” He bellowed striding to

  what appeared to be the man in charge.

  “Diego what are you doing?” Maria-Teresa rushed out of the parlor. “These are my

  things. I will need them until we return to Spain.”

  Merciful Heavens, take me now! Diego pinched the bridge of his nose trying valiantly

  to contain the rage threatening to erupt. Turning to Maria he spoke slowly and deliberately

  through clinched teeth. “You will not be staying here. This house belongs to – someone

  else. If you must stay, you can stay at my plantation about fifteen miles upriver. When I

  have calmed down, I might come and deal with you then. I will provide you with all you

  need, but you need to leave now.”

  Turning from her he bellowed for Carlos, and as the man came running with Ana in

  tow he was hit by a sudden inspiration.

  “Carlos, you need to go find Maria…”

  “I am Princesa Maria-Teresa!”

  “Whatever. You will go to the plantation and you will wait. Carlos will acquire a

  couple of holy sisters to keep you company, Ana will stay here and before you open your

  mouth to protest I must warn you I am fast losing patience and would not encourage you

  to push me too far. I seriously doubt your father had any hand in this hair brained scheme of your for us to remarry. King Ferdinand is well aware of the reasons why our annulment

  was necessary. ”

  Maria swallowed but said nothing. He took small comfort at least she was chastened

  enough to looked embarrassed. Turning on her heel she returned to the parlor head held

  high. Carlos ran out the door, just happy to be given a task away from this madhouse. Ana

  fell to his feet in tears.

  “Thank you, thank you senor! Thank you so much! I do not know how much more

  I could take!”

  Considering the woman weeping at his feet he suddenly felt completely out of his

  depth. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “How dare he bring that woman into this house!” Cherie ranted.

  “He didn’t bring her here.”

  “I don’t care who brought her ‘Tienne, I do not want her in my house!”

  Étienne enclosed her in his arms holding her tight, drawing her into his lap while he

  sat down. God, how he loved this woman in all her tempestuous fury. For a moment, when

  he first found out where she was in Florida, he had despaired he had lost her forever. But

  when he had entered Diego’s study watching the man had made love to her while he

  watched, something strange had happened. He still wanted Cherie so badly it hurt, but his

  dreams had an added player. His father’s plantation bordered Bellemere, so he had known

  Cherie’s parents, all three of them, most of his life. His mother died in childbirth and his

  father never remarried, so Cherie’s mother had become a surrogate mother to him. His

  father had known about the ménage at Bellemere but being that he had a predilection

  towards men rather than women, he hadn’t cared. Growing up with a father with a secret

  such as homosexuality had taught Étienne not to judge. It also made it easier to spot

  alternative lifestyles. He himself had never felt attracted to another man until Diego. He

  still had no interest in any other man. It was like being with Diego was an extension of

  being with Cherie. He couldn’t explain it he just knew it felt right. Of course, he was now going to have to convince Diego to marry Cherie, for her sake and the sake of whatever

  children
the three of them might have.

  Thinking back to last night Étienne shivered. He had known Diego was just as

  attracted to him, but he also understood that such a thing was unthinkable to such a

  dominate man as Diego. It had been Cherie’s soft invitation to their bed that had broken

  Diego’s guard. At first, both men had focused their attention on her. Étienne had dove

  between her legs to feast on the banquet he had been denied for so long. She tasted better

  than his wildest dreams, but there had been more there than just her natural juices. Her

  natural scent was light and flowery with just a hint of musk, but there had been the added

  scent of Diego. He had tasted the other man right along with her honey, and Diego had

  stood back to watch.

  She was so delightfully responsive, flying apart on Diego’s demand as the older man

  had devoured the sight of Étienne licking, suckling and nibbling as if she was his last meal.

  When Diego had instructed him to take her while kneeling behind him while kneading his

  shoulders and nipping his ear he became harder than he had ever been in his life. He had

  sunk into Cherie’s waiting warmth in one powerful stroke, while Diego whispered the most

  erotic encouragements Étienne had ever heard in his life.

  The feel of Diego’s hard cock against his backside as he powered in and out of the

  snuggest, sweetest pussy he had ever experienced in his life drove him crazy with yearning for more of Cherie and more of Diego. Then he had felt Diego’s hand moving down his

  ribcage to his hips to settle on each cheek of his ass. He felt something cool and wet being

  spread inside his crack until finally it reached his puckered rosette. When Diego’s thick

  fingers had breached him, he had gone wild. He couldn’t stop powering into the woman

  beneath him especially when he felt fingers penetrating him, spreading cool cream until he

  was well lubricated.

  Étienne had cried out at the sudden loss of those deliciously wicked fingers; then all

  of the sudden something alarmingly large, hard, and smooth was questing entrance. Diego

  had entered slowly, instructing him not to stop driving into Cherie. Finally Diego was fully

  seated inside him causing so many sensations he felt he would die from the intense pleasure

  attacking every nerve ending. It had been so hard not come right then. But Diego had