Intrigued

by Bertrice Small

  “Oui, it is,” she agreed.

  He reached about to undo the pale blue ribbons that held her silk chemise closed. Deftly they were loosened until the king was able to slide the garment back off her shoulders, letting it slip to the floor with an almost silent hiss. Autumn stood naked, but strangely she found she wasn’t afraid, and she had certainly thought she would be.

  “Tonight,” the king told her, “I shall leave you to sleep in peace. It has been a long day, I know, but you will allow me the favor of your loveliness for just a few more moments. My appetite is already well-whetted, but I know you need your rest after a tiring journey from Chermont.”

  “Your majesty is kind,” Autumn replied, relieved to be able to postpone the inevitable.

  The king chuckled. “Your manners, ma bijou, are exquisite, even as everything about you is exquisite; but I believe it is permitted for lovers to call one another by their Christian names, no matter if one of them is a king. You will address me as Louis when we are in private, although I will admit it would be fascinating to hear you cry out, ‘Oh, your majesty!’ in your passion.”

  “Then perhaps I shall one day,” Autumn answered him boldly.

  Again the king laughed softly. His hands cupped her two round breasts, lifting them slightly to his gaze from over her shoulder. “They are lovely,” he said almost regretfully, brushing the nipples with his thumbs as he released them. He wrapped an arm about her waist, drawing her back against the silk of his nightshirt. The fingers of his hand pressing lightly, splayed out across the soft round of her belly. Then the fingers of his other hand sought out her nether lips, pushing between them, with unerring instinct finding her bouton d’amour. A single and very skillful finger began to stroke at the sensitive nub of sentient flesh.

  Autumn drew her breath in sharply. This was totally unexpected. It was a too suggestive and intimate invasion of her person. Worse, to her total shock, she could feel herself being aroused. How could, that be? How could this virtual stranger, this king, kindle and bestir her desires? Was that not a husband’s privilege? And then she realized as a jolt of feeling startled her, that perhaps these sensual skills were not just the province of a husband. What a fool she had been!

  “You are growing wet for me,” Louis murmured approvingly in her ear. His breath was hot and moist. His fingers teased and played with her.

  Autumn’s head fell back against his shoulder. She closed her eyes, her breathing ragged, as the pleasure began to build up within her nether regions.

  “You like it, don’t you?” the king said softly.

  “Oui,” she heard herself answer and, as if to emphasize her point, her bottom began to rotate against his groin.

  He purred with his delight but then said, “Non, ma bijou. If you continue such naughtiness I shall regret my promise to leave you in peace tonight.” He could feel her little bouton d’amour swollen and throbbing beneath his fingers. With his thumb and his forefinger he pinched it hard, smiling to himself as she cried out, and her love juices soaked his fingers and hand. “Ah, is that not nice, cherie?” he whispered to her. He began to suck each of his fingers and, giving her his hand, he commanded her to lick it so she might taste her own juices. Then he turned her about to face him, and Autumn half collapsed against him.

  The king gathered her up in his arms and walked across the room to lay her in her bed, bending to kiss her ripe lips. “Tomorrow,” he told her, “you will grow wet with the memory of these last few minutes each time I look at you, ma bijou. You do not wear caleçons, do you?”

  Wordlessly, Autumn shook her head.

  “Good,” the king said meaningfully. Then, with a smile, he turned and left her bedchamber.

  She lay stunned by his words; weak with the quick pleasure he had given her; amazed by her own wanton response to his lust. She hadn’t known. How could she have known? Why hadn’t her mother explained these things to her? Were they even explainable? And what other surprises awaited her in Louis’s arms? To her great amazement, she fell asleep amid the jumble of her very confused thoughts.

  Jasmine asked no questions in the morning when they met to hunt. Autumn’s face was an expressionless mask that offered no informaton at all. Madame la duchesse thought her daughter very beautiful in her forest green riding costume with a wide-brimmed chapeau atop her head, its soft white plumes brushing her cheek. The gentlemen were most complimentary of the ladies as they were helped to mount their horses. Louis looked directly at Autumn with a knowing smile. He noted the faint blush staining her cheeks and chuckled wickedly. They began to walk from the courtyard, the dogs and the beaters dashing ahead as the king’s head huntsman trumpeted his horn.

  The sun was not quite yet above the horizon, but the heavens above them were a bright blue. To the east the sky was a wonderful mixture of muted gold, deep orange, and creamy lavender. The earth was warm but the air cool. A light haze hung over the fields.

  “It is like riding through fine lace,” Autumn remarked as she kicked her horse into a canter. She had not ridden like this since Sebastian’s death, she thought quietly to herself, but it felt wonderful to be astride again, the wind in her face. It was a rare freedom, and yet she really wasn’t free at all.

  “You ride well, madame,” the king remarked as he drew his own mount up by her side. “You learned young?”

  “My father took me up on his horse before I could walk,” she told him with a small smile, avoiding his gaze. “I was given my own; pony when I was three.”

  Ahead of them the beaters flushed out a buck deer and the dogs dashed madly after the beast, who immediately made for the thick forest where, to their disappointment, they lost it. Their next prey, a large boar, was not so fortunate and was quickly killed. The creature was lashed by its feet to a carrying pole and sent back to Chambord to be prepared for dinner that evening.

  When the noon hour came they stopped in a sunny clearing where the royal servants had already set up a picnic for the hunters. There were roasted capons and ducks; a large country ham; a wheel of nutty-flavored cheese and another of soft Brie; fresh bread wrapped in linen serviettes that was still faintly warm; a basket of apples and pears; and, finally, several decanters of fine wine. They ate heartily, and then were up again to hunt, leaving the servants behind them to return to Chambord with what little remained of their open-air feast.

  Jasmine particularly enjoyed the hunt, as she had not been on one in several years. She rode enthusiastically and gained the open admiration of her companions, who found it difficult to believe this beautiful woman was in her sixth decade, or so she claimed. Consequently, none of them but the sharp-eyed Montroi noticed that the king and Autumn were among the missing. As the comte knew his master was well acquainted with the forest about Chambord, he did not worry. Obviously the king had had enough of the sporting life today and had seduction in mind for an afternoon’s entertainment. Guy Claude rode on with the hunt.

  “Where are we going?” Autumn asked the king when he leaned over and took her horse’s bridle in his gloved hand to direct it away from the others.

  “There is a charming glade up ahead I thought you might enjoy seeing,” he answered her. “I know the way back to the chateau when it is time for us to return, ma bijou.” His warm brown eyes gazed directly at her, and then he chuckled at the look upon her face. “You are wet for me, n’est-ce pas?” he teased her. “I told you that you would be when I looked at you today.”

  “You are very wicked, Louis,” she gently scolded him.

  “You must trust me, Autumn,” he said. “I will never hurt you, ma bijou. Women are meant to be loved and cherished, not harmed.”

  “Your words are most charming,” she replied, amazed that he could exert such control over her. “I suppose I must trust you, for it would seem I have no other choice.”

  He grinned boyishly at her. “Non, ma bijou, you do not,” he agreed cheerfully.

  Suddenly the forest about them opened slightly to reveal a small grassy clearing edged
with a narrow brook on one side. The brook formed a little pool of dark water that tumbled over a small waterfall before going on its way again. They stopped and dismounted, allowing their horses to graze freely. The king spread out his cloak and invited Autumn to sit by his side.

  “It is lovely,” she said as she joined him. “I would not have imagined such a delightful place in the midst of this thick forest. How did you ever find it?”

  “I have visited here since I was a boy,” he told her. “Chambord was a royal residence. My father gave it to my uncle, in hopes that the renovations he wished to make to the chateau would keep him down in the country and out of trouble in Paris. It will revert back to me upon his death. Unfortunately, my Uncle Gaston found very competent artisans and workmen, not to mention an excellent foreman to oversee it all for him. Then he trotted back to Paris and enmeshed himself in all manner of political duplicity, intrigue, and schemes. I shall never forgive him for presuming to exile Mazarin, or the troubles he caused my mother after my father’s death. I might have died at his hands had it not been for Mama and Papa Jules.” The king stopped and flushed. Then he said gravely to Autumn, “You did not hear me address the cardinal in that manner, ma bijou. I will admit that, to my shame, I forgot myself for a moment with you. You are very easy to be with, cherie.”

  “I heard nothing I should not have, Louis,” Autumn reassured him.

  Reaching out, he cupped her face in his hand. “You really are quite beautiful, ma bijou. I thought so the first day I saw you. I was quite heartbroken at the set-down you gave me,” he told her. Then, leaning forward, he kissed her softly, murmuring with pleasure as her lips softened beneath his and she kissed him back, easily engaging his lust for her. Pushing her back, he looked into her eyes again.

  Once more Autumn flushed, feeling the dampness welling up between her legs. He smiled knowingly, pulling his gloves off and slipping a hand beneath her skirts to caress the inside of her thigh.

  “Lift your skirts up for me,” he said. “I want to see the treasures you hide beneath them. Ah,” he sighed as the material raised revealed her slender legs encased in their knitted green stockings, held up by gold ribbon garters garnished with tiny cream-colored rosettes. Above the garters her thighs gleamed almost translucently, and at their junction a mound of dark, tightly bunched curls caught his eye. Her nether lips were slightly puffy and swollen. He could see in the dark curls the silver pearling of her juices.

  The king groaned as if in genuine pain. “I promised myself,” he told her aloud, “that when I first took you it would be in a candlelit and flower-filled room. But alas! I cannot wait, ma bijou. Open yourself to me, my beautiful Autumn. I must have you now!”

  “What if the hunt returns this way?” she said nervously, but she knew from the look in his eye that there would be no deterring him.

  “They will not come this way again today,” the king said, and before she might protest further he quickly mounted her, freeing his manhood from his garments as he did so. He placed its tip at the mouth of her love channel and, leaning forward, kissed her again, but this time with genuine passion.

  Autumn could feel the hot flesh actually throbbing against her. Her own body ached in response. Deliberately she spread herself even wider for him, wrapping her arms about him and crying out softly as he thrust himself forward and filled her. She was ashamed of her response, but she could not help it. How long had it been since she had enjoyed the attentions of a virile man who wanted her? No matter how she rationalized it, she was no better than a common whore, but she didn’t care any longer. She wanted him. She wanted his dark and furious lust for her. She wrapped her legs about him, encouraging him onward, and was quickly rewarded as his love juices flooded her. To her surprise her own hunger peaked almost immediately with his.

  “Oh, your majesty!” she murmured.

  “Oh, madam, la marquise,” he replied. “How delicious and how hot-blooded you are, much to my delight. Your passion is even more than I had dared to hope.”

  “I have ruined my chapeau,” she told him, sighing at the two broken plumes.

  “You shall have another, a dozen!” he promised, and then he leapt up, restoring his clothing to a more respectable state. “Come, ma bijou, we must leave this secret place of our first passion and return to the hunt, but tonight, madame, you shall come to my bed and we will continue this delight. I could take you again this minute, and I will, if you do not lower your skirts, you charming and bewitching beauty!” He bent and pulled the fabric down, covering her nakedness. Then he pulled her to her feet, and she swayed for a moment, quite dizzy.

  “Wait but a moment,” she pleaded with him. “I am faint with your vigorous attentions, Louis.” She leaned against him, her head pressed against his shoulder, her eyes closed.

  He put his arms about her and stood quietly, holding her, until at last she raised her head up and smiled at him. “You are divine, ma bijou,” he told her. Then he helped her mount her horse.

  They caught up with the hunt just as a stag was being taken back to Chambord to be butchered and hung in the royal larder for a future meal. Several of the hunters had game birds slung across their saddles. The sun was dipping lower on the horizon. The air had become chill. It was decided to return to the chateau.

  “I want a hot bath,” Autumn told her servants when she entered her bedchamber, flinging her gloves aside carelessly.

  “What will madame wear tonight?” Lily asked her mistress.

  “The garnet velvet,” Autumn replied. “God’s mercy, I am frozen to the bone! Build the fire up, Orane.”

  “Making love in the open air on an October afternoon will do that,” Jasmine remarked, walking into her daughter’s chamber.

  “And how was I to prevent it, Mama?” the younger woman replied. “He is the king, and for the moment I am his favored one.” She kicked the last of her petticoats aside and sat down so Orane might remove her boots. Then she climbed into the bed to await the footmen who would fill her tub.

  Jasmine climbed in next to her daughter and Lily drew the bed curtains to allow mother and daughter their privacy, as well as shield them from the water bearers. “Is he a good lover?” Jasmine asked her daughter.

  “I am not experienced enough in such knowledge that I can say, Mama,” Autumn primly answered her parent.

  “Compared to your deceased husband, then?” Jasmine persisted.

  “They are different,” Autumn noted, not bothering to elucidate further on the matter.

  “How many times have you made love?”

  “Once. This afternoon, Mama, and yes, I enjoyed it. I had forgotten how pleasant it is, but why did you not tell me that a woman can feel passion without being in love with the man? I was quite surprised to learn it, I can assure you. Such erudition makes me feel like a common whore. It is a difficult emotion to contain. I believed that enjoying passion was only possible with a man you loved. To learn otherwise, to find I can actually savor the king’s embraces . . .”

  “It is frightening at first, ma fille, I will grant you,” Jasmine agreed. “When your father and I first made love, it was simply to gain pleasure and comfort from each other. Your Aunt Sybilla thought she was to be his wife. I had no interest in James Leslie, other than as a convenient lover of the moment.”

  “Mama!” Autumn was astounded.

  “Do not look so shocked,” her mother said, half-laughing. “It is true. I hardly felt like a whore afterwards, nor should you. You didn’t seek the king out and enchant him by your wicked wiles with an eyes toward personal gain. Rather he has sought you out and demanded you for his own—temporarily, I will grant you, for he must wed a Catholic princess sooner than later. Now, answer me this, ma fille: Why did the king not make love to you last night? I am certain they all thought he would.”

  “He said he thought I should be tired from our journey, and he wanted me to be well rested for today’s hunt,” Autumn answered.

  “He is a more dangerous man than I anticipated,”
Jasmine mused, “and he is so young yet. Cardinal Mazarin has taught him very well, indeed. He will not be a Henry Stuart, falling in love with you. Do not, I advise you, Autumn, fall in love with him. This king will break your heart, I fear, if you do.”

  “I could not fall in love with him,” Autumn said. “While he is a charming man, I know he could not wed me, Mama. I suppose you are right when you say I will marry again one day. I had not thought it, but now I understand I may love again one day. Making love with the king has made me realize I like making love with a man, but I have not the temperament to be a mistress forever. I must have my own man, my own children, my own home, and live a country life. Louis cannot give me that.”

  “The right man will appear at the right time,” Jasmine said. “Until then, Autumn, please the king, gain his favor, and when he tires of you, which he will, retain his friendship by sending him off with a kiss, a smile, and a blessing on his reign. Such elegant manners will delight him, for like his mother he appreciates a nicety of behavior. You will also gain the queen’s and the cardinal’s friendship by doing so.”

  “You should have been a general, Mama, for you certainly know how to plan a campaign,” Autumn teased her mother.

  “I take after my Mughal ancestors, great warriors all from Tamurlane and Chingis Khan to my great-grandfather, Babur, to my grandfather, Humayun, and my father, Akbar. Once my father said that I should have been a boy, and had I been he would have named me his successor. My mother hushed him, and he never said it again.”

  “Do you ever wish you had remained in India?” Autumn asked.

  “Never! My fate was here in the Western world, with Rowan Lindley and James Leslie,” came the positive reply. Then Jasmine changed the subject entirely. “What will you wear this evening?”