All the Sweet Tomorrows (75 page)

“I have my honor!” Skye cried.

“A woman’s honor is easily mended,
chérie,”
the King of Navarre said softly. “Give her a diamond necklace or a small château, and all is well again.”

“You have acquired a great deal of knowledge in your nineteen years, m’sieur,” Skye replied tartly.

He laughed, enjoying her show of spirit. “I had my first woman when I was thirteen, madame. I do not think that a night has passed since then that I have not had a woman to pleasure me.” Henri of Navarre stood and began to divest himself of his clothing. “You have appealed to my finer self, madame, and you have scolded me, neither of which has deterred me from my intent. Perhaps,
chérie
, you did not come willingly to this bed, but you are here, and if I released you I should regret it all my days.”

“I shall scream,” she threatened him.

He laughed. “No one will hear you,
chérie
. Catherine de Medici put her private study in the most remote part of the Louvre for many reasons, not the least of which was that no one hear what transpired in this room should the Queen decide to interrogate a prisoner. If you scream not one soul will come to your aid, and you will give yourself a very sore throat.” His forefinger reached out to smooth across her cheekbone. Then his
hand slipped behind her head and loosened her hair, pulling the pins out and placing them on the small nightstand until her midnight-black locks fell about her naked shoulders like a satin mantle. “Don’t be afraid,
chérie,”
he soothed her in a low and now passionate voice. “You will like what we do together. I am an expert lover, I promise you, and I will only give you pleasure,
chérie
. I won’t hurt you, I swear it!”

Skye looked into Henri of Navarre’s amber-brown eyes, and knew that nothing she might say would divert the young King from his path of seduction. She was helpless before his lust, and the best that she could hope for was that he was telling the truth, and would not hurt her. He would, however, get nothing from her. She would lie quietly while he had his way with her, and she hoped he would be quick. They were leaving court and Paris tomorrow, and she would never see him again. Adam would never have to know. Skye was ashamed of her final thought, but she would not hurt the man she loved with this tale when there was no need.

“Will you untie my hands, monseigneur? My arms are numb and I am most uncomfortable. I promise not to fight you.”

Reaching behind her, Henri undid the silken cord by which she had been held fast, and Skye rubbed her arms, which ached painfully as the blood began to flow back into them. In freeing her he had taken the opportunity to remove her blouse entirely, and now, to her surprise, he pushed her back onto the pillows, drew her arms above her head, and retied them quickly.

“I’m sorry,
chérie,”
he said, genuine regret in his voice, “but despite your vow, I know that your natural morality will cause you to defend your virtue against me. I have far better uses for my hands at this time than fending off your blows.” Standing up again, the King finished undressing.

Skye assessed him from beneath lowered eyelids. He was a tall man, almost as tall as Adam, and he was big-boned. If anything, he erred on the side of thinness, which gave him an awkward appearance, and she noted quickly as he climbed onto the bed with her he had huge feet. His hands, however, were big, slender, and very elegant, she saw as he drew her petticoat off her and caressed her hip.

He was gentle and soft in his leisurely exploration of her body. “How lovely you are,” he said quietly. “You have skin like the finest silk, but I suspect I am not the first man to make that comparison. Still, I have never known a woman with such fine skin,
chérie
. It has an almost druglike effect upon me.” He bent down and began to kiss her breasts, his lips scorching the
tender nipples with their fiery touch.
“Mon Dieu, chérie
, but you are perfection!”

Damn him, Skye thought furiously as a tiny quiver rippled through her. He is an expert lover, and he is not going to devour me like a piece of cheese, but rather go slowly until I can no longer bear it, the bastard! The King’s mouth closed fiercely over her left nipple, where it sucked hungrily, forcing a small cry from between her lips. Instantly he lifted his head.

“You like that,
chérie?
You must tell me what pleases you.”

“I care not what you do,” she replied coldly. “It matters not.”

“What a little liar you are,
chérie
. Do you think that you can hold back your passion from me? You’re too honest a woman,” he laughed softly. “Soon,
ma belle
, soon,” he whispered into her ear, “soon you will lie beneath me crying with your pleasure. You are one of those deliciously rare creatures born for loving, and I am a man who was born to love women! We will be incredible together!” Then his mouth left a trail of kisses down her straining throat before moving upward to capture her lips with his own.

He kissed her with an expertise born of much practice, forcing her own lips apart with the pressure of his. His tongue leapt forward to plunder within her mouth, tasting of her greedily, slid beneath her upper lip along her teeth leaving the scent of mint wherever he touched her. It swirled around her mouth to sweep downward, and Skye felt the first stirrings of desire awakening within her. She despised herself for her weakness. With an angry cry she tore her head away from him, hissing furiously, “You bastard! Have me and be done with it!”

He looked down at her, his amber eyes dancing devilishly, and then he laughed. “So,
chérie
, you begin to feel it, too.”

“I feel nothing,” she snarled back at him.

“I can feel you quivering,
ma belle
. Oh, it is very faint, and very deep down, but I am sensitive to such things.”

“I am not sure, monseigneur, which is bigger, your imagination or your opinion of yourself!” she said scathingly.

Again he laughed. “Neither,
chérie
, as you will soon discover, for I possess an altogether larger part, and already it grows hungry for the taste of your wonderful body.” Straddling her easily, he bent and again began to taunt her nipples with his tongue, nipping, licking, and sucking teasingly until she thought she would shriek with the pleasure that began to tug at her.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Skye muttered the litany as she cursed her treacherous body, which was beginning to respond
shamelessly to his ardent suit. Skye knew what she felt was lust, but she nonetheless was angry at herself that she could not prevent the delicious stirrings within herself.

What was worse was that he knew what she both felt and thought. The amber eyes looked mockingly down at her, daring her to deny the truth. With a sob Skye turned her head away from his gaze, hating him even more for his gentle tone as he soothed her distress. “No,
ma belle
, you mustn’t hate yourself. Yield to me,
chérie
, and I will give us such pleasure.”

“N-never!”

With a sigh of regret the young King moved from her lovely breasts and began caressing her long torso with his hungry lips. Slowly, tortuously, his mouth moved downward, firmly parting her resisting thighs, to stare admiringly at her hidden treasure, to kiss it softly. His curious tongue began to explore her, inhaling her haunting woman’s fragrance, slipping along the folds of sensitive flesh, pushing gently into her to rouse her passions until she was no longer able to deny them.

Skye clenched her bound hands into fists, her rounded nails digging cruelly into her palms. She bit her lip so hard that it bled, but she could not prevent the sob that was torn from her reluctant throat. He lifted his head to stare at her, his eyes passion-drugged. Slowly he pulled himself up and atop her. Then with a quick thrust he was inside her warm body, moving smoothly, rhythmically. After what seemed like an eternity to Skye, the King demanded, “Does it please you,
chérie
? Will you admit now that I am the best lover you have ever known?”

“This is not love, monseigneur,” Skye whispered. “This is rape! Do you not know the difference?”

“How stubborn you are,
ma belle,”
he groaned, “but I will not give up. I have been known to stay hard and potent within a woman an entire night before spilling my seed.”

From the city there was the faint sound of the two o’clock tocsin, and Henri of Navarre buried his face into the perfumed tangle of Skye’s hair, inhaling the taunting fragrance of her damask rose scent. He had been modest, if anything, when he numbered the women he had possessed in his young life; but this woman! Never had he enjoyed a female as he was now enjoying Madame Burke. Had she been willing instead of reluctant, she would, he suspected, have unmanned him half a dozen times already.

Skye lay beneath him wondering if he would ever cease. She had been gone from the ballroom an hour now, and Adam might begin to seek her. How was she going to explain a longer absence?
God only knew what Anjou would say to set Adam on the wrong track. The passion Navarre had managed to arouse in her died away with her concern. She had to force him to release his seed, and Skye knew just how to do it. Closing her eyes so he could not see she was deceiving him, Skye moaned convincingly, and began to move her body in time with his. Using the old trick she had learned in the harem she tightened her internal muscles about his manhood.

Navarre groaned with total pleasure. “Ah,
chérie
,” he half-sobbed into her ear, “what delicious torture you abuse me with. Don’t stop, I beg of you!”

He was not an easy man to break, she found, and she almost grew too tired to continue when, with a loud shout of triumph, he flooded her with his creamy tribute. Skye cried out herself, but it was with relief. Now perhaps he would be content, and she could go back to Adam before he learned of her shame. For several long moments the King lay on her breasts catching his breath.
“Mon Dieu, chérie,”
he finally exclaimed, “you are magnificent, but then I will wager you have been told that, too.”

Skye let a deep sigh escape her. “Now, monseigneur, now that you have satisfied yourself, may I please go?”

“Chérie
, we have only just begun to love. I have no intention of releasing you until the dawn.” Still lying atop her, he bent and kissed her softly. “Come,
ma belle
, did I not please you the tiniest bit? You most assuredly pleased me.” He smiled winningly at her, and although Skye felt she should hate this arrogant young man, to her surprise she found that she did not.

“Monseigneur, if you hold me until the dawn what will I tell my betrothed husband? I will have to tell him the truth. That the Duc of Anjou kidnaped me from the ballroom under a false pretense, and prepared me for your rape. My husband’s mother was with me when Anjou came to me. She will swear to my story. Think of the scandal, M’sieur de Navarre. You are married less than a week to a princess of the blood royal of France, and you are already philandering with another woman, and an unwilling woman at that. Release me now, and I can return to the ballroom with no one the wiser.”

“You reason well,
ma belle
, but the fact I am already chasing other women will cause no scandal. It is my nature, and it is expected of me, bridegroom or no. My dear wife has already betrayed me with her lover, de Guise, allowing him into her bed in the afternoons when I have been with my brother-in-law Alençon. Now
that
, madame, is a scandal, but because I am a Huguenot and Margot a good Catholic, it is not considered a sin
by the good people of France. Margot considers it her royal duty to cuckold me. Therefore my making love to you, madame, will be no scandal.”

“M’sieur, be reasonable! Where is your pride? Do you truly find deep satisfaction and pleasure for your ego in forcing a bound woman who does not want you? For shame, M’sieur de Navarre!”

“You are really most adorable,
chérie
, when you are angry,” he teased her, but before Skye could spit out her angry reply, the door to the study burst open, and the Prince of Condé rushed in frantically calling to his cousin.

“Henri! Thank God you are safe! Get up! Get dressed! We are about to be murdered, and we must escape!”

Navarre looked lazily at his cousin as he rolled off Skye. “Henri,” he said, “your timing is deplorable as usual. What are you babbling about?”

“Paris is in civil disorder, cousin!” Condé cried. “Our people are being massacred in their beds by the members of the Catholic League led by de Guise! Already a mob looking for you and for me has tried to storm the Louvre. The King’s soldiers held them back, but God only knows how long they can! I have already received word that Coligny is dead. Get up, Henri!”

But Navarre was already up, and pulling on his clothes. His smiling, boyish face of moments before had grown grim and old with his cousin’s words. “I believe that we are safe, Henri,” he told Condé. “I don’t know
how
involved Madame le Serpent is, but she is involved.” He turned to Skye. “Madame, I regret I ignored your words of caution earlier. My weakness has always been that my cock ruled my head; still, I regret nothing of our interlude but that it was not longer. Follow the stairs from this room down three flights. The door at the bottom opens into the gardens, and you will easily find your way back to the ballroom from there.” Bending, he kissed her quickly, the regret clear in his eyes.
“Adieu, chérie!”
He turned to go.

“Monseigneur!” she cried after him.

Henri of Navarre turned. “Madame?”

“Monseigneur, you have not unbound my hands.” The King leaned over and quickly undid the silken knots.

“Your pardon,
ma belle,”
he said softly.

“God go with you, Navarre,” she answered him quietly.

Suddenly he grinned rakishly at her, saying as he ran from the room, “I knew I had touched your heart,
chérie!”
Then both he and Condé were gone.

Skye had to laugh. That damned vain boy was within a hair’s
breadth of losing his life, and all he cared about was that he had been successful in his lovemaking. Suddenly she heard the sounds of battle and terrible cries of agony outside. Skye rose from the tumbled bed and dressed hurriedly, her fingers fumbling with the laces and ties of her gown. She had to find Adam, and she knew that he would be frantically searching for her. It was not easy getting into court gear without Mignon to help her, but Skye managed to attain some semblance of order with her clothes and her hair. Without a backward glance at the room, she fled down the staircase to the gardens.