by Jane Feather
"Why don't you wish to?" There was a low languorous note to his voice, a deep caressing invitation to enter a world he was creating for them both.
"I want to find out what happens," she replied without a moment's hesitation. "I feel so different… everything's different, new… I'm experiencing everything as if it's for the first time."
"Take off your chemise."
Cordelia caught the hem of the thin garment and drew it up her body and over her head. She tossed it aside and stood naked, the breeze from the open window cooling her heated skin.
"Turn around."
She obeyed, standing with her back to him, hands at her sides, every inch of skin alive, waiting, wondering when and where he would touch her. There was utter silence. Utter blackness.
Leo waited, forcing himself to keep still as he gazed upon her; the narrow back, the sharp pointed shoulder blades that he longed to touch with his tongue, the line of her spine, carved deep into her back, the indentation of her waist, the flare of her hips, the taut round cheeks of her bottom. He waited, knowing that as she stood there, her body, already aroused, was working its own magic under the orchestration of imagination.
When he touched her shoulder blades with a brush of a fingertip, she gave a startled little cry. He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder, then languidly traced the line of her spine with the pad of his thumb. His flat palm stroked over her bottom, then slid between her thighs. Cordelia quivered and again he steadied her with a hand on her shoulder while his fingers reached for her, dancing, probing, feeling her readiness as they slid inside her.
His tongue stroked upward along the grooved nape of her neck, then his hand left her shoulder, slipped round to clasp one breast, teasing her nipple as the hot moist caress on her neck continued and his fingers opened inside her while his thumb played on the hard nub of her sex.
Cordelia no longer knew which part of her was responding to which exquisite caress. The hard lines of her body were fluid, and she seemed to be adrift in a world without physical boundaries. Her eyes were now centered inward on herself, and she could almost see the blood moving through her veins, her soft nether lips pink and swollen with joyous need, the pulsing of her thudding heart.
And yet the explosion took her by surprise. It was as if she were consumed in a roaring conflagration; her skin was on fire, her blood was molten lava as the searing bliss devoured her.
The flames were still roaring in her ears when Leo toppled her forward. She felt the soft arm of the sofa under her belly, her arms stretched out in front of her, her toes touching the carpet. Holding her hips he entered her while the conflagration still raged and the new sensation of his hard driving flesh added fuel to the flames. She no longer knew who or what she was, aware only of flesh and blood united, the point where Leo's body was separate from her own blurred beyond definition.
Leo felt as if he had limitless staying power. He felt as if he were drifting godlike above the two joined bodies, capable of bringing them both to the extremes of physical bliss. He was filled with the burning need to take his lover to the top of her mountain, to the absolute pinnacle beyond which there was only infinity. And he would do this not once but many, many times during the next hours. He wanted to brand her with his lovemaking so that nothing and no one would ever erase the glorious memories of this night.
Where Michael had violated her, exploited her weakness, he would show her the perfect joy of surrender. He passed his flat palms up her bent back, pressing his thumbs into the vertebrae. Her back arched in response, her inner muscles tightened around him. He scribbled a path with his nails down her back and over her bottom. Her body rippled around him. He drew back for a second, then plunged deeply, and she convulsed around him. He remained inside her, his own responses now well in control.
Cordelia sobbed her pleasure into the sofa cushions, and then he began to move again inside her. His hand slid beneath her belly, reaching down to touch her so that the muscles of her belly tightened and the pleasure built again, rippling through her in little rivulets that gradually swelled to a full stream. The instant before the stream burst its banks, he slid from her. He turned her over on the sofa, rested his bent knees on the arm, drew her legs high onto his shoulders, and entered her again.
Cordelia existed in her own darkness, every nerve centered on the one part of her body that seemed truly alive. She thought she couldn't bear another dissolution, another moment of this intense pleasure, but she found she could. Not once more but many more times during the next hours. She was mindless, sightless, insatiable.
The stars faded, the sky lightened, red streaks of dawn filled the sky outside the window. Neither of them noticed in the reckless world of their own entrancement. But eventually Leo could hold back no longer. Cordelia sat astride his lap on the end of the bed, her hands on his shoulders, her lips parted, head thrown back, as she held him tight within, moving only her inner muscles.
The instant before the wave broke, Leo fell back on the bed, holding her tight against him as he rolled sideways, finally separating their joined bodies.
Cordelia lay bathed in sweat, prostrate, unable to move or think. When Leo moved her head sideways and unfastened the blindfold, she protested weakly, so accustomed was she now to her own private darkness that the intrusion of the visible world was a violation. Her eyes closed against the unfamiliar light, and she was immediately unconscious, sleeping the sleep of total exhaustion.
Leo's right hand rested on Cordelia's breast, the fingers splayed; the other hand was flung around her waist. His body felt hammered into the thick feather mattress, and even the growing light in the room and the knowledge that they were moving into a dangerous time couldn't prevent him from sleeping.
He awoke soon enough, fully alert, his heart hammering as he listened to the sounds in the corridor outside. People were talking and moving around. From the courtyard below came the clarion call of a herald's trumpet as the night guard was changed.
"Hell and the devil!" he muttered, pushing himself onto an elbow, looking down at the unconscious figure beside him. Despite his anxiety he smiled, brushing a tangled ringlet from her cheek. She was so beautiful. And dear God in heaven, what a partner in love. Not once had she fallen behind, not once had she pleaded exhaustion, not once had she failed to divine what he wanted of her.
She had woven such chains about him, gossamer chains of love that were nevertheless adamantine. How had it happened that in a few short weeks this young girl had bewitched him out of all rational sense?
His eye flickered to the bracelet that he didn't think he'd ever seen her without. Elvira had always worn it too, he remembered. It was a curious piece of jewelry, undeniably beautiful but with something almost repellent about it. And yet both its owners had rarely taken it off. But surely it must symbolize marriage to Michael? A bondage to a loathsome man. Cordelia daily struggled against those bonds. Had Elvira also? Had Elvira suffered in the same way? Had the bracelet symbolized bondage for her too?
Cordelia stirred, her eyelids fluttered up. She caught his expression as he looked down at her before he had time to banish the dark thoughts. "What is it?" She reached up a hand to touch his face. "Were you thinking of Elvira?"
Her intuitive insight was uncanny. He caught her wrist, bringing it down so that he could examine the bracelet. "Why do you never take this off?"
Cordelia frowned. "I don't know. I didn't realize that I don't. Don't you care for it? It belonged to Elvira, I know. I saw it on her wrist in the portrait in the library on the rue du Bac."
"She never took it off either," he commented. "And no, I don't like it."
Cordelia examined it closely. "It's unique, I'm sure there's not another one like it in the world. The jeweler at Schonbrunn said as much. But it is a little sinister, I suppose."
"The temptations of Eve," he said. "But why would you wear a present that Michael gave you to mark a betrothal that has brought you nothing but suffering?" '
Cordelia's frown deepened.
She had never thought of the bracelet in that way. Somehow it just seemed to belong on her wrist. "I won't wear it if you dislike it," she said slowly. "But don't you think Michael might wonder if he noticed that I had suddenly stopped wearing it?"
"Yes, I'm sure," he said with a careless shake of his head. "It's of no consequence, Cordelia. I was just struck by its curious design." He swung himself off the bed. "What is of consequence is getting you back to your own apartment without drawing attention to yourself. The entire place is awake."
Cordelia peered blearily at the discarded heap of clothes in the middle of the room. "I can't put those on again."
"I don't see much choice." He swung himself off the bed. "Come, let me help you."
Cordelia got gingerly off the bed. "I'm sore," she complained. "How did that happen?"
Leo couldn't help laughing. "Use your imagination. If it's any consolation, you're not the only sufferer."
"I don't think I could sit on a horse," she said with a mock grimace, coming over to him, slipping her arms around his neck, pressing her naked body against his. "And we're to go to the hunt this morning."
Leo glanced over his shoulder at the window, where it was full daylight. "In less than an hour," he said ruefully, reaching behind him to break her hold. "Be good now, Cordelia." He picked up her chemise and dumped it in her arms. "Hurry."
"Oh, Lord!" Cordelia groaned. There were clear penalties for a night of unbridled lovemaking. She pulled the garment over her head. "I won't bother with stockings and garters,
no one will be able to tell under my skirt. What about my corset? I can't wear it if the laces are cut." She stepped into her first petticoat.
"I'll get rid of it." Leo shrugged into a dressing gown as he went over to the window. The court below was abustle, horses, wagons, soldiers going about the business of the new day.
Cordelia balled up her stockings and garters in her fist. She sat down to manipulate her shoes over her bare feet. "There, now I'm as dressed as I'll ever be at this point. Shall I just go?"
"No, wait." He went to the door and opened it, holding up an arresting hand as he looked down the stairs, then backward along the corridor. "All right, hurry!"
Cordelia darted to the door, reaching up to kiss him. He was prepared for a light farewell embrace, but she threw her arms around his neck, palming his scalp, pulling his head down to hers with all the passionate fervor of the night. He wanted to yield, but knew that they couldn't. He still held the door open and broke her hold almost roughly. "For pity's sake, Cordelia! We have less than an hour." He pushed her through the door and closed it briskly at her back.
Cordelia chuckled and danced down the stairs. Despite a sleepless and extraordinarily energetic night, she was filled with vigor and energy. A whole day in Leo's company stretched ahead, even if it was on the back of a horse. She grimaced at a prospect that ordinarily would have filled her with delight. Mathilde would know how to soothe the soreness, dissipate the stiffness. But instead of Mathilde, she had only the gormless if well-meaning Elsie.
But she would make the best of it, she told herself firmly. Mathilde would expect it of her, and this miserable situation wouldn't last forever. They would defeat Michael.
As she turned into the corridor leading to her own apartments, a scurrying maidservant bobbed a curtsy, looking a little curiously at the disheveled lady in her evening dress tottering on her high heels in the early morning. Cordelia gave her an airy smile but waited until she passed before opening the door to her own apartments.
The salon was deserted. She'd told Elsie not to wait up for her, and if Monsieur Brion was aware that she hadn't returned overnight, he was discreetly ensuring that she returned unobserved.
She slipped into her own chamber, threw off her clothes, bundling them into a corner, dragged a nightgown over her head, and jumped into her cold, unrumpled bed. Reaching out, she hauled on the bell rope, then lay down, pulled the covers up, and closed her eyes tightly.
"I need a bath, Elsie," she declared when the maid arrived somewhat breathlessly a few minutes later, bearing a breakfast tray. "I'm to join the hunt within the hour and I need hot water." She threw aside the bedclothes as she spoke, leaping to her feet. "Hurry, girl."
Elsie bobbed a curtsy and disappeared. Cordelia poured hot chocolate into a cup and hungrily attacked her breakfast.
She was as ravenous as if she hadn't eaten in days. She slapped thick slices of ham between hunks of rye bread and wolfed it down while Elsie laboriously filled a porcelain hip bath from steaming brass jugs of water.
Cordelia rummaged through Mathilde's pouches of herbs, trying to identify by scent the ones her nurse used to relax muscles in a bath. "These should do." She scattered the herbs on the surface of the water and sank into the tub with a little shudder of pleasure. "Oh, that's better. Put out my riding habit, Elsie. The emerald green velvet one, with the tricorn hat with the black feather."
Forty-five minutes later, feeling immeasurably restored, Cordelia joined the hunting party assembling in the outer courtyard. Her groom held Lucette. Leo, already mounted, was drinking from the stirrup cup presented by a footman.
"Good morning, Princess. I trust you slept well."
"Very well, thank you, my lord." She smiled serenely, putting her booted foot in her groom's waiting palm.
"Isn't it wonderful to be riding to hounds again, Cordelia?" Toinette's excited call came from the royal party gathered a few feet away. "You must come and ride with us."
Cordelia shot Leo a ruefully disappointed look and obeyed the dauphine's summons. The king greeted her pleasantly, the dauphin with a dipped head and averted eyes. Toinette was radiant.
The huntsman blew the horn, and the crowd of gaily dressed riders moved out under the early sunshine with a jingle of silver bridles and a flash of spurs into the thick forest surrounding Versailles.
Chapter Nineteen
The broad ride stretched through the trees, dappled with green and gold as the bright sunlight shone through the new leaves. The scent of the earlier rain rose from the turf, crushed beneath the hooves of a hundred horses. The lean, elegant deerhounds ran yapping ahead of the hunt, their huntsmen on sturdy ponies following. Beaters crashed through the bushes, driving up birds for the archers' skill, scaring doe and rabbit into the path of the dogs.
For the first hour, Cordelia rode with Toinette in the king's party, but when the dauphin had drawn alongside his bride and begun a stilted conversation, Cordelia had discreetly excused herself and dropped back. The dauphin, it seemed, needed all the encouragement he could get to increase his acquaintance with his wife. And Cordelia needed no encouragement to join Leo, who was riding just behind.
He greeted her with a doffed hat and a formal "I trust you're enjoying the ride, Princess."
"Immensely, it's such a beautiful day," she replied in like manner. "And I've already shot two pheasants," she added with the ill-concealed triumph that usually followed her gambling wins. But she certainly hadn't cheated with her bow. The arrow had flown clean and swift to its target, bringing the bird down dead and unmangled for the dogs to fetch and the keepers to bag.
"So I saw," Leo said, amused. "You're a fine archer, if a trifle immodest."
Cordelia chuckled and fitted another arrow to the bow that rested across her saddle. She held the reins with one hand, the bow and its arrow with the other, with an air of assurance that bespoke both experience and skill. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Leo, can you think of any reason why the dauphin should not have consummated his marriage as yet?"
"What?" He was incredulous.
"It's true. Poor Toinette is at her wits end. Every night he leaves her at her door. One of his gentlemen must have told the king, because yesterday he spoke to her about it. That was why he came to her boudoir when we were in dishabille and I had no shoes on. She said he was very delicate and gentle, but it was so embarrassing to admit that she didn't know what was wrong."
"Good God! Poor child, what c
ould she possibly know of such things? Maybe he needs a physician."
"Yes, she said the king was going to order an examination. So she's waiting on tenterhooks to see what happens. She has to conceive."
"Of course," Leo agreed wryly, the realities of the marriage no more lost on him than they were on the lowest members of the Paris stews.
What if Cordelia already carried Michael's child? It was a question he had tried to ignore, but no longer. If Cordelia gave Michael a son, perhaps, just perhaps, Michael might be prepared to surrender his wife in exchange for his male heir. In a fantasy land, perhaps he would be prepared to surrender his wife and his female offspring in exchange for an heir. But how could Cordelia give up her own child? How could either of them contemplate leaving an infant in the hands of such a man? But Michael would move heaven and earth to reclaim a male child. There would be no safety, no peace, ever, unless they lived outside of society in a world where the children would be deprived of their birthrights, unable to claim their rightful place in the world, and therefore unable to make even the ordinary choices of adulthood, like whether or whom to marry. They would be dispossessed. How could he condemn helpless innocents to such a future? But how could he condemn Cordelia to a living death at the hands of Prince Michael?
First things first! He reined in the galloping thoughts before they bolted from him. If she was pregnant, they would cross that bridge when they came to it.
The cavalcade turned onto a broader thoroughfare, where a group of carriages awaited them. Madame du Barry sat prettily at the reins of an open landau, her ladies beside her. The king drew rein and greeted her. The dauphin bowed to his father's mistress. The dauphine looked the other way.
"Oh, Toinette, you're behaving so stupidly," Cordelia said in low-voiced exasperation, cutting into Leo's absorption.
"Why? What's she doing?" Leo was suddenly aware of the ripple of whispered awareness around him.
"She refuses to acknowledge the du Barry. She says it would be countenancing immoral behavior at court. Look at her, sitting there like some prissy nun at an orgy!"