Intrigued

by Bertrice Small

  By the time the two women had thoroughly discussed the advantages of the garnet velvet gown and the rubies she would wear with it, Autumn’s bath was ready. Lily opened the curtains, and they climbed from the bed. Kissing her daughter on the cheek, Jasmine returned to her own chamber, which was located at the far end of the corridor. Orane helped her mistress finish disrobing, and then Autumn entered her tub, settling happily into the water even as the king entered the room through a little door in the silk-paneled wall. The two young maidservants cried out, surprised, but remembered their manners enough to curtsey.

  “Shall I put a screen about the tub, madame?” Lily said boldly.

  “I think not,” Autumn replied. “I believe the king has come to watch me bathe. Is that not so, sire? Bring his majesty a comfortable chair, Orane. Lily, some wine for the king, please.”

  “I love your fragrance,” the king said, seating himself and accepting the goblet of wine from Lily. “Honeysuckle and woodbine, is it not? It radiates innocence, ma bijou, and is most exciting.”

  “You have a good nose, sire. I quite like your violet scent,” she replied.

  “It reminds me of the countryside in spring,” he said almost wistfully. “When I am in Paris I wear sandalwood or ambergris, which are more suitable to the surroundings there.” He drained the goblet and handed it back to Lily. Then he stood, knelt, and took the soft flannel cloth from the tub’s side. Soaping it, he began to wash her back. “Send your women away,” he said softly. “I want to make love to you, Autumn. I can barely contain myself after this afternoon!”

  “No,” she heard herself saying. “Remember that you promised me you would be discreet. I cannot be ready for the evening meal if you distract me now, Louis. Restrain yourself. Anticipation but whets the appetite, monseigneur. Remain while I finish bathing and I shall let you see me naked in the light.” She brushed his lips with hers.

  “I am not used to having anyone deny me, ma bijou,” he said.

  Autumn smiled sweetly. “I am not some Parisian whore brought in to amuse your majesty, nor am I a highborn court whore eager to advance herself and her family by pleasing your majesty. I do not refuse you. I ask that you wait until after our meal so whatever may be thought of me, nothing can be proved of me. If your majesty does not choose to keep his word, I shall depart within the hour for Chermont with my mother.”

  His visage darkened, but then he laughed. “You are a vixen,” he told her. “And you shall pay for your behavior, madame, I promise you.”

  “I am your majesty’s most obedient servant,” she replied blandly. “Do not be in such a hurry to celebrate passion, sire. There is time for us, is there not?”

  He nodded, then said, “I want to see you naked now!”

  “But a moment more and I shall be properly washed,” she told him. And when she was, she stood and stepped down the tub’s steps to the carpet. Her two women gasped, shocked, and did not know what to do. Autumn slowly pirouetted about once, saying as she did, “Lily, my towel, please.”

  The king took the warmed towel from the serving woman and slowly wrapped it about Autumn, kissing her wet shoulder as he did. “I want you naked in your bed tonight,” he said softly. Then he turned abruptly and left her.

  Autumn laughed to herself. So that was the way to handle a man. It was like making a donkey move forward with a carrot on a stick, she giggled. But she must be careful, for she could but drive him only so far. “Come,” she called to her serving women. “I must be ready sooner than later.”

  “He’s a bold one,” Lily remarked in English.

  “He is the king,” Autumn replied in the same tongue, and then, “Speak French, Lily, or you will make poor Orane overly curious.”

  “I am teaching Orane to speak our language, my lady, for the day when we return to Scotland. We’ll get to go back one day.”

  “There is nothing for us there, Lily. Do you miss it?”

  “Sometimes,” the serving girl replied, “but Marc makes it easier for me. He is so kind.”

  “Do you wish to wed him?” Autumn asked. “You have kept company for several years now. I will permit it if it is what you both want.”

  Lily nodded eagerly, and then she and Orane hugged one another.

  “I must get dressed,” Autumn reminded her servants. “What a pair of lazy wenches you two are,” she teased them.

  Quickly, Lily and Orane returned to their duties. They dried Autumn and began bringing her garments. A chemise and a dozen petticoats; stockings of pure, soft silk, a garnet velvet skirt, and finally the matching bodice, with its horizontal neckline cut across her bare shoulders. The sleeves of her bodice were slit up the front from wrist to elbow and trimmed with gold ribbons. Square ruby broaches were fastened at either side of her neckline. She wore a necklace of pink pearls that matched the fat pearls in her ears. Autumn’s hair was affixed in a simple chignon, and on her feet she wore gold silk shoes with ruby-studded heels.

  “No wonder the king is in love with you,” Orane said when they had finished and stepped back to examine their handiwork.

  Autumn did not bother to disabuse the romantic Orane with the truth. The king did not love her, nor did she love him. They had an arrangement to enjoy a sweet idyll together. Instead she said, “It is the two of you who keep me at my best. Thank you.” She accepted the painted fan Lily handed her and departed her bedchamber for the salle a manger, where the king would be awaiting her.

  Tonight the king’s companions paid no especial attention to her, except to admire her gown. To Autumn’s surprise her mother was not in the dining room. She looked about anxiously, and Montroi came to her side.

  “Madame la duchesse has asked to be excused tonight. She sent word that the day’s hunt was more strenuous than she had anticipated,” the comte told Autumn.

  “It has been several years since she last spent a day such as this one,” Autumn admitted. “I shall go and see her after the meal.”

  The boar they had killed early in the morning was now brought to table, well roasted and with a bright red apple in his mouth. The royal carver sliced the beast with agility and skill, placing the first two pieces upon a gold plate for the king. Then he proceeded to serve the rest of the guests. There was a rabbit stew smelling of leek and rosemary in a wined gravy. There was a flaky-crusted pie filled with tiny ortolons in a cream and dill sauce. There were artichokes in white wine, braised celery, hearty breads, sweet butter, and cheeses.

  “I love country foods!” Baron Chaizefleurs said, smacking his lips and downing his second goblet of rich red wine. “In Paris it is all so delicate and saucy and overly rich. I am always filled with the bloat, but not here in the country. How fortunate you are, madame la marquise, to live in this rural paradise.”

  “I am indeed fortunate, monsieur,” Autumn agreed. “May I suggest that you eat less food in Paris and take a bit more exercise, but if that does not help you, then I would suggest peppermint tea to cure you of your complaint. It is quite excellent for getting out the wind.”

  “Peppermint tea! My mama often prescribed it for my papa. I had forgotten. Merci, madame, for reminding me.”

  Autumn smiled and nodded at the baron. His complaint obviously came about because he ate too much in Paris and moved far too little. Here at Chambord the meals were simple affairs, and they spent most of their time out-of-doors. The king preferred it that way, for he disliked the city greatly. That was why he was building his palace at Versailles. It would be near enough to Paris, but also far enough away.

  After the meal was over they were entertained by a group of local villagers who danced for them and played upon their simple instruments, the pipe, the drum, the tambourine, and the whistle. When the entertainment had ceased, the king announced that they should all seek their beds as the hunt would begin again early, and he expected to see them all ready to ride. Autumn hurried off to see her mother while the others scattered to their own chambers.

  Jasmine was ensconced in a large bed surrounded by
plump pillows when her daughter entered the room. “Are you all right?” Autumn asked anxiously and sat by her mother’s side on the bed.

  “I am fine,” came the reply. “Just astounded to find I am not as young as I used to be,” Jasmine chuckled. “There was a time when I could hunt all day and dance the night away. Obviously those days are past for me now. I even intend staying a-bed in the morning. Did I miss anything, ma fille?”

  “Nothing,” Autumn responded. “Just a group of men bragging about things that I certainly didn’t see happen today. Some villagers came and entertained after the meal, and the baron complained about having the bloat all the time in Paris.”

  Jasmine chuckled again, and patted her daughter’s hand. “You had best go now, Autumn. The king will be awaiting you impatiently, I am quite certain. Good night, ma fille. I will see you tomorrow.”

  Autumn arose from the bed and, bending, kissed her mother tenderly. “Good night, Mama,” she said. “Sleep well.” Then she left the duchess’s bedchamber and hurried down the corridor to her own room. Lily and Orane were waiting to prepare her for bed. Her gown, her petticoats, and her jewelry were removed, along with her stockings and shoes. She used the chamber pot, then bathed herself in a basin of warm scented water and scrubbed her teeth. She sat naked as Orane brushed her hair, but when Lily offered her a clean silk chemise she waved her away.

  “No nightgarment?” Lily looked askance, and Orane was hard put to keep from giggling.

  “The king has ordered it,” Autumn told her women, “and I am here at the king’s invitation, after all. Neither of you will speak of this. Whatever anyone may believe, only the king and I can determine what goes on between us. We both prefer to keep it that way. Do you both understand me? Discretion is most important in this matter.”

  “Oui, madame,” both servants replied together, and they curtsied.

  “Good. Now you are both dismissed until the morning,” Autumn said quietly.

  “Duke Jemmie would not approve of this,” Lily burst out, and then blushed that she had voiced her thoughts aloud.

  “Nay, he would not, Lily,” Autumn agreed, “but if he had heeded my mother and not gone to Dunbar, he should not have died and we would be safe in Scotland. He didn’t heed Mama. Now he lies in his tomb at Glenkirk and we are, for good or bad, here. We will make the best of it, eh? I am told being a king’s mistress is different than being just an ordinary man’s mistress, although for the life of me I cannot fathom why. Fornication is fornication.”

  “Oh, but madame, to lie with King Louis is indeed a great honor!” Orane said suddenly. “I wish it were me he favored!”

  “Your auntie hears you talking like that, Orane, and she’ll take a hazel switch to you,” Lily said. “That kind of behavior is not tolerated among the likes of us.”

  “Go to bed, you two,” Autumn told them. She was close to laughter. Lily was so typically Scots and Orane so very French. It was rare they agreed on anything, but they served her well. She waved them off, and with a final curtsey the two girls left the bedchamber.

  Realizing she was chilled, Autumn climbed into her bed beneath the warm down comforter. There was a bevy of goosedown pillows behind her back, so she was half seated. The bed was almost as comfortable as her own. The fire crackled in the hearth opposite the bed, and the few candles that Lily had left burning cast a golden glow about the chamber.

  She heard the click of the lock on the small hidden door, and it swung open with a protesting little creak. The king stepped through into the bedchamber. He was quite as naked as she, and for the first time she was able to observe him. He was of medium height with sturdy limbs. His dark curls, pulled back earlier, now hung loosely about his shoulders. He really did have wonderful hair. Her gaze swept briefly to his manhood. It hung relaxed and was relatively long and thick in its repose. She quickly turned her eyes back to him as he came to the bedside and took her hand to kiss it.

  “Bonsoir, ma bijou,” he said.

  “Bonsoir, Louis,” she replied, flinging the comforter back so he might enter the bed.

  Joining her, he immediately yanked her into his arms and began kissing her most passionately, murmuring in her ear between kisses, “I want you right now, Autumn! I have waited all evening to slack my hunger for you!” Flinging back the coverlet, he literally dove between her legs, pulling them apart and pushing his dark head between her thighs. His fingers opened her nether lips and he began at once to tongue her most sensitive parts quite vigorously.

  Autumn gave a little shriek of surprise, but so skillful was his tongue that she felt herself being aroused in spite of herself. It was outrageous! It was scandalous and uncivilized, not to mention very, very wicked, but she couldn’t help herself. She cried out almost immediately with undisguised pleasure. Encouraged, Louis ceased his loveplay and mounted her, his love lance quite engorged and ready to do battle with her. He thrust fiercely into her over and over again until she was sobbing with open delight. Then, with a loud cry, his passions burst, filling her with his juices.

  He withdrew from her with a sigh of deep satisfaction. “Ahhh, ma bijou, that was marvelous! We shall repeat it again shortly when I have caught my breath. Will you bring me a goblet of wine, cherie?”

  Autumn arose from the bed on slightly shaky legs. Slowly, she walked across the chamber to where the wine decanter sat with two silver goblets. She poured them both a draught, but then, seeing the cloths and basin, she picked them up instead, and returned to bathe his manhood, having first bathed herself. He watched her, fascinated, but remained silent until she had returned a second time with the wine.

  “I’ve never had my lover attend me so tenderly,” he said. Then he drank deeply.

  “It is a custom of my mother’s land,” she told him.

  “It is charming, cherie. Now come back to bed. I am eager for you again.” He pulled her down and caressed her breasts. “Lovely,” he said. “They are simply lovely. Women’s breasts are quite distinct in their differences,” he told her. “I fancy myself an expert.”

  Autumn laughed; and then, surprising him, she climbed atop the king. “Are you indeed, Louis?” she teased, taking her breasts in her two hands and lifting them up so he might admire them further.

  “Be careful, cherie,” he warned her, wagging his dark eyebrows at her in what he hoped was a dangerous manner.

  In response Autum took the wine goblet from his hand. Sliding her body down his thighs, she poured several drops of the ruby liquid upon his chest and belly and began to lick it up, her facile tongue sliding over his taut skin. “Ummm,” she said. “You are most delicious, Louis. Slide yourself down farther and let me tease you even more.” When he had, she moved up again, now leaning over him and taunting his lips with just the tips of her nipples, rubbing them over his sensuous mouth until he reached up and, grasping a breast, began to suckle hard upon it, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh and sending a shiver rippling down her spine. Releasing her breast, he reached out with both hands and, lifting her, impaled her upon his manhood. Autumn rode him quite expertly, the walls of her love sheath closing and releasing him until he was moaning with total pleasure. Unable to control himself, he poured his juices into her again, shouting a cry of utter delight as he did so.

  “Ah, witch,” he told her afterwards, “your husband taught you well. I have never had such satisfaction from even the most skilled whores in Paris, ma bijou. You must come back with me when I return.”

  “No,” she said. “I am a country girl, Louis. You promised me a sweet idyll, and we shall have it for as long as you are at Chambord. When you leave, however, I shall go back to Chermont, to my child and to my vineyards. If when October comes again, and you return to Chambord, I shall be at your disposal for as long as you desire me, monseigneur.”

  “You are hard,” he replied, reaching up and stroking her hair.

  “I am a realist, your majesty. I choose to keep my reputation intact and not have all of France pointing at me and saying, ‘Ther
e goes madame la marquise d’Auriville, the king’s whore.’ I am older than you are, Louis, and I believe, for all your sophistication, that I am a bit wiser. Trust me in this, and let us be friends.”

  “Very well, ma bijou,” he agreed, although there was a reluctant tone in his voice. Still, he thought, she was a clever young woman to prefer his friendship to his false vows of love. How often Mazarin had told him that the Marquise d’Auriville would make an excellent courtier. He was beginning to understand what the cardinal had seen in this woman. He looked at her, saying, “Fetch the cloths, cherie, for I will soon want to play with you again.”

  Autumn was shocked. “Louis! You are the most insatiable man I have ever known! How can you be so damned randy after the two bouts d’amour we have just completed?”

  “You have only known two men in your life, ma bijou,” he began, “but in answer to your query, I am only eighteen. They say that men my age are the most passionate. I, however, intend remaining this way forever and ever. Sacrebleu, your lips are tempting, cherie. Kiss me!”

  With a laugh Autumn bent and complied, preparing herself for a very long night. She must remember to ask her mother in the morning if men the king’s age were indeed the randiest, or whether he had just been teasing her. By dawn, however, she had learned the answer to the question herself, and the hunt departed without her.

  Chapter 15

  “Oh, God!” Autumn wretched into the basin Lily was holding, her face pale and beaded with perspiration.

  “It was to be expected,” her mother remarked sanguinely.

  “What was to be expected?” Autumn demanded. She backed away from the bowl. Her head hurt and her belly wouldn’t stop roiling.

  “God’s blood, Autumn, you have had one child! Don’t you realize you are expecting another?” Jasmine said, exasperated.

  “I can’t be!” Autumn wailed.