Authors: Bertrice Small

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

Intrigued (15 page)

BOOK: Intrigued

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Easter was celebrated on April 9. Spring had come to the Cher, and Autumn knew she would have to make a decision soon. She had still not allowed either Etienne or Guy to kiss her, although both men had tried, even pleading with her. It was, Autumn considered, as if she was afraid their kisses would prove every bit as exciting as Sebastian’s, and that was something she didn’t want to know yet. “I don’t know what to do,” she said aloud one afternoon as she walked with Guy d’Auray in the gardens of the chateau.

“Do about what?” he asked her, curious.

“Kiss me!”
Autumn said suddenly.

The Comte de Montroi needed no further encouragement. Taking Autumn into his arms, he kissed her slowly and sweetly.

It was lovely, Autumn thought, but it was not exciting. Drawing away from him, she sighed deeply and bit her lower lip in distress.

“Ahhh,” he said, knowledge dawning quickly in his blue eyes. “I am not the one, am I,
ma belle?”

Autumn shook her head. “No, Guy, you are not. I am sorry!”

“Do not be,” he told her. “Love is a precious and very rare commodity, Autumn. It should not be denied, nor should it be feigned. It is d’Auriville, isn’t it?”

“I think so,” she admitted.

He smiled gently at her. “We shall remain friends,
oui?”

“Oui!”
she said, returning the smile. “Oh, Guy, the girl who captures your heart will be a very fortunate mademoiselle.”

“Indeed she will,” he concurred with a twinkle. Then he bowed, taking her hand to kiss.
“Adieu, ma belle.
I shall not come for awhile, and when I come again it will be as your
bon ami,
eh?”

Autumn nodded and watched as he left her.

“Nicely done,
ma fille,”
her mother’s voice said, and Jasmine came from behind a tall hedge where she had been seated upon a marble bench. “You have made a good friend, Autumn, for as gallantly as he behaved, he will always be a little bit in love with you, and ready to come to your aid should you need him. I do not believe Etienne St. Mihiel will react as nobly. He is a young man used to getting what he wants; but you must send him away yourself.”

“He will be here tomorrow,” Autumn said. “I shall kiss him and then dismiss him as well.”

But as her mother had suspected, it was not as easy to send the Duc de Belfort away. They walked in the gardens as she had with the comte. There was no opportunity to kiss him, and suddenly Autumn knew it didn’t matter if she did or not. It was Sebastian d’Oleron, the Marquis d’Auriville, she wanted, and so she spoke.

“I have made my decision, Etienne,” she began. “I am not in love with you, nor do I believe I could ever love you. I hope you will understand and that we may remain friends, for we have family in common.” Looking up at him for the first time, Autumn was shocked by the fury she saw boiling up in his brown eyes.

“You dare to refuse me?” he demanded. “I have been patient with this little game you have been playing because I know you to be innocent and inexperienced. And have you dismissed your other suitors as well, or am I to be the only laughingstock, mademoiselle?” He had stopped now. His face was plainly angry.

“I told Guy yesterday, monseigneur,” Autumn said quietly.

“And d’Oleron?” His tone barely concealed his outrage.

Autumn hesitated, and the duke pounced on her indecisiveness.

“So! It is to be d’Oleron,” he said, his voice scathing.

“I did not say so,” Autumn quickly responded, her courage returning. How dare Etienne question her!

“Then you are turning him away also?” came the query.

“I did not say that either,” Autumn snapped.

“Then it is d’Oleron!” the duke insisted. “He shall not have you if I cannot!” Then Etienne St. Mihiel pulled Autumn against him, his mouth descending crushingly upon hers. Feeling Autumn’s tender young breasts pressed against his chest, his lust boiled over. He attempted to force her to the ground, where he might ravish her. It was then he was yanked most unceremoniously off his feet and spun about to face Red Hugh, who towered over the duke by several inches.

Autumn stumbled backward, just barely regaining her footing. She vigorously wiped her mouth with her sleeve, attempting to rid herself of his noxious kiss. It had been a hateful and unpleasant kiss.

“How dare you lay your hands on me,
cochon,”
Etienne St. Mihiel shouted furiously at Red Hugh. “I will have you arrested for this assault!”

“That would not be wise, monseigneur,” the big Scotsman said. “Then I should be forced to tell a justice that you attempted to rape my young mistress in an effort to force her into a marriage after she had refused your suit. You would be the laughingstock of the entire region. The parents of other eligible young maidens would certainly think twice before allowing you to court their daughters. I am sure that you do not want that, monseigneur. After all, you do need a wife.” Red Hugh smiled pleasantly and, reaching out, straightened the duke’s doublet, which had become rumpled in the altercation.

Etienne St. Mihiel leapt back as if he had been scalded. He shot Red Hugh a venemous look. Then he turned to Autumn. “I shall not call upon you again, mademoiselle,” he said coldly.

“Do not be angry, Etienne,” Autumn coaxed him. “We can be friends. Guy was content to accept that.”

“You have forfeited my friendship, mademoiselle,” the duke told her icily. “If we should be invited to the same affair, do not, I beg you, approach me, for I shall cut you.”

“You shall not have to,” Autumn advised him. “I shall avoid you at all costs, monseigneur. I am glad I followed my instincts, for you are really quite a dreadful man.” Then Autumn turned and left him.

Red Hugh bowed to the duke. “I will see that your horse is waiting for you in the stableyard, monseigneur,” he told him. Then he escorted the outraged gentleman from the gardens.

Autumn watched from a window of the chateau, discreetly hidden behind a curtain. “Good riddance!” she said aloud.

The next day the marquis did not come. At first Autumn was fearful that something might have happened to him. Then, learning that he was seen out in his vineyards helping to tie some new vines to their supports, she was outraged.

“You must understand that this is a man who loves his lands,” Jasmine told her daughter. “He is not so much the gentleman that he cannot work. I certainly approve.”

“But he is supposed to be courting me,” Autumn grumbled. “I will wager he has heard I have dismissed the duke and the comte. He thinks he has me, and because he does, he has dared to ignore me. Oh, I just hate his arrogance!” She stamped her foot irritably.

“You do not know he is aware that you have sent his rivals away. I doubt that either of them would publicly brag about it, particularly the Duc de Belfort. I think he just felt he was needed in his vineyards today.”

“But under our rotation agreement it also means I shall not see him for another several days,” Autumn complained.

“Are you so anxious then to see him?” her mother asked.

“Of course! Now that I have sent Guy and Etienne away, Sebastian’s courtship of me may begin in earnest. I want to know if we are to be married or not, Mama. Another six months and I shall be twenty!”

Before Jasmine could answer her daughter Madame St. Omer hurried into the Great Hall. “Thank heavens you are both here!” she said. “You will never believe what I have just learned. The king and his mother are at Chenonceaux! We are not, I am told, to acknowledge their presence there publicly, but all the families along the Cher are expected to go and pay their respects to his majesty! You must come too, Jasmine, and you must bring Autumn with you! Ohh, it is so exciting! I am behaving even worse than Gaby! I had to leave her at home, for she is so thrilled she cannot stop talking!” Then she looked more closely at her two relations. “What has happened?” she demanded to know. “You both have that
look.”

“Autumn has refused the suits of the comte and the duke,” Jasmine told her cousin.

“Ahhh,” breathed Madame St. Omer. “Then it is to be my candidate, d’Oleron. I am not surprised,
ma petite
Autumn. I could see from the first that you were taken with one another, but it has certainly taken you long enough to come to that decision. Does he know?”

“He didn’t come today,” Autumn said. “He is working like a common laborer in his vineyards, I am told.”

Her
tante
chuckled. “He is like that,
ma petite.
The land means everything to him. His family has always been so. Did not your papa revere his own Glenkirk?”

“But he took time to court Mama,” Autumn said.

“And when Sebastian learns he is your sole surviving suitor,
cherie,
he will take time also, I promise you,” Madame St. Omer replied. “Now we must think about what you will wear when you meet the king.”

“The king is a child,” Autumn said. “He is probably more interested in his toy soldiers than what I or any of us, for that matter, will wear to Chenonceaux. I have wanted to see the chateau, however. I understand that it stretches the entire width of the river.”

“The king, I am told, is mature for his age,” her aunt replied. “He would have to be to survive the past eight years. I am astounded they were able to leave Paris, but I understand that Gaston d’Orleans, the king’s uncle, arranged the trip because the king is suffering from being in the city too much. He far perfers the country.”

“But why Chenonceaux?” Autumn said. “Surely there are chateaux nearer to Paris.”

“Indeed there are,
ma petite,
but this is to be a
secret
trip, and closer to Paris, the secret could easily be revealed. Besides, the prince is terrified that Cardinal Mazarin will kidnap the king if he learns where the boy is. Possession of the royal majesty is power.” She turned to Jasmine. “Bring your Adali,
ma cousine.
I am told both the queen and her son love pomp and show. They will also be impressed that the emperor of India’s daughter has been living in Scotland and England all these years and now has chosen France for her sanctuary.”

“I will take your advice,” Jasmine answered. “When shall we go? I would, you will understand, prefer to travel with the family.”

“Meet us on the river road three mornings from now,” Madame St. Omer replied. She looked at Autumn. “I hope by then you have put poor d’Oleron out of his misery,
ma petite.”

“He has but to come to Belle Fleurs,” came the reply.

“He will come,” her
tante
said, nodding her head wisely,
“He will come.”

Chapter
7

T
he king could scarcely contain his excitement. He had never before been to Chenonceaux, and the pristine beauty of the chateau excited him. The magnificent gallery that extended across the river was to him a marvel. Louis had never been particularly fond of Paris, and the incident of the previous February had done little to endear the city or its populace to him. He disliked the archbishop intensely. His uncle and his cousins were equally in his disfavor, although he hid his distaste well.
Just a few more months,
the young king thought,
and then I shall reach my majority.
He wondered why his father had chosen the age of thirteen for him to inherit; but then, perhaps his father had known the difficulties he would face and had not wanted to tempt fate too greatly.

A week.
It was all his Uncle Gaston would allow him. He wanted to ride and to hunt, but instead he was forced to stand politely, greeting a stream of loyal and doting nobles who were frankly delighted to have him here. It was a bore. The boy smiled and gave his hand to be kissed over and over again. One day he would build a palace where all his nobles would come to live so he might keep an eye on them. Then there would be no more treasonous behavior and petty wars.

“My son,” his mother the queen spoke. “Here is a most especial lady come to pay you her respects.”

The young king focused his gaze upon the lovely woman who came forward and curtsied with exquisite grace. She was accompanied by a gentleman in clothing such as he had never seen.

“This, Louis, is the Dowager Duchess of Glenkirk. Madame la duchesse is the daughter of an Indian king, although she has lived in Scotland for many years. She has come to her chateau, Belle Fleurs, to mourn her husband, who was killed defending the rights of your cousin, King Charles II.

The young king, rather than allowing his hand to be kissed, instead kissed Jasmine’s hand. “How kind of you to come to see me, madame la duchesse,” he said. His fine, dark eyes swept over her. Yet in mourning, she was still impeccably and elegantly garbed in a gown of midnight blue silk, its sleeves tied with pearl-studded ribbons, her collar a soft cream-colored lace. Her dark hair, with its silvery chevrons on either side of her head, was simply dressed in a chignon.

“I am honored, your majesty, to make your acquaintance. Is it permitted that I present your majesty with a small token of my respect?”

The king nodded, his eyes bright with sudden curiosity and excitement. He had not expected a gift.

Adali handed his mistress a small square ebony box, banded in pure gold. Jasmine opened the box and then presented it to the king. Within, upon a bed of black velvet, lay an oval-shaped diamond. It was fully as big as the size made by the king’s thumb and second finger. Louis gaped, frankly amazed. He had never before seen anything like this perfect pale yellow stone.

“It is called a tiger’s eye, your majesty. It was given to me by my first husband, Prince Jamal Khan of Kashmir,” Jasmine told the boy. “I hope you will enjoy it. Its color is quite unique.”

The king took the box from her and looked more closely at the diamond. It was even more magnificent close up. “Madame, I do not believe I have ever been presented with such a wonderful gift.
Mille merci.”
Closing the box, he handed it to one of his servants; then his gaze went to Adali. “Who is this who accompanies you, madame?”

“My steward, Adali, who has served in my household since my birth, your majesty. His father was a French mariner,” Jasmine explained.

Adali bowed low to the king.

Louis nodded with a smile at Adali. “How good it must be, madame,” he noted sharply, “to have a servant one can truly trust.”

“Adali is my right hand, your majesty. I would trust him with my life, and have many a time. Now, if your majesty will indulge me but a moment more, I should like to introduce my daughter, Lady Autumn Rose Leslie.” She drew the girl forward.

Autumn curtsied low to the king. Louis stepped quickly forward and tipped the girl’s face up so he might see her better. It was a gesture worthy of a much older man, Jasmine thought; but then, she had heard the boy was extremely mature for his age.

“Exquisite,” he said, and raised her up. Then, turning to his mother, he said, “I have had enough for now,
Maman.
I should like to escort Lady Autumn across the gallery without the benefit of a royal retinue so I may learn how she likes our country. Uncle!” He looked directly at Gaston d’Orleans. “You shall see our guests are entertained. I will rely upon you.” Then, tucking Autumn’s hand in his, he led her off.

Autumn was astounded and did not know what to say. She had never before been in the company of a king. This was the sort of adventure her sisters and her mother had had. She smiled brilliantly at the others as they passed, reserving a particularly bright smile for the Duc de Belfort.

“Who is he?” Louis demanded to know.

“A suitor who did not take his dismissal well,” she replied, amazed she could speak.

The king chuckled. “Are you a coquette then, mademoiselle?”

“I should hope not!” she quickly replied, lest he gain the wrong impression of her.

“Why are you in France?” Louis wanted to know.

“My papa was killed fighting for King Charles,” Autumn explained. “I am the youngest in my family, and sadly neither Scotland nor England is a fit place for a demoiselle of my station to seek a husband any longer. Mama is mourning Papa. She owns a chateau nearby, Belle Fleurs. We came to France to escape Master Cromwell and his pocky, treasonous Roundheads. And, hopefully, to find a husband for me.”

“And you rejected the gentleman who was glaring so hard at you?”

“The Duc de Belfort, your majesty. I have also rejected the Comte de Montroi, but not the Marquis d’Aurville,” Autumn told him.

“How fortunate you are able to to choose your mate, or will it be your mama’s choice, ma belle?” he wondered. “I shall be matched with some princess from Spain or Italy, of course. Then I shall be expected to get heirs upon her, but at least that is the enjoyable part.”

“Your majesty is yet a boy,” Autumn said. “Surely you cannot have already . . .” She stopped, blushing.

“‘I had my first woman when I was eleven,” he told her, amused by her blushes. “A man should begin taking his pleasure as early as he can if he is to learn how to please women, ma belle. Are you a virgin?”

“Yes!” Autumn squeaked, not certain whether to be shocked or to laugh.

“Ah, how fortunate your husband will be, ma belle. I have not yet had the pleasure of initiating a virgin into the delights of Eros, but done properly, I am assured it is a wonderful experience for both man and maid. How old are you?”

“N-Eighteen,” Autumn fibbed.

“Diane de Poitiers, the lady who was responsible for making Chenonceaux the exquisite creation it is, was my ancestor Henri the Second’s mistress. She was twenty years his senior, but he adored her and was faithful to her until death. You are only five years older than I am, ma belle.”

Autumn wasn’t entirely certain what the king meant by telling her the story. Finally she said, “She must have been a remarkable lady.”

“I suspect that you are remarkable also, ma belle,” the king murmured, stopping and gently pressing her against the stone wall of the gallery, between two windows that overlooked the river. His fingers stroked her face. “You are very beautiful, Mademoiselle Autumn,” he told her. He ran his fingertips across her mouth. “Kiss them!” he commanded.

Autumn’s eyes widened with shock.
“Your majesty!”
she gasped.

“Louis,” he said softly. Then, pressing himself against her, the king kissed Autumn. It was a deep and passionate kiss, his tongue slipping along her lips, attempting to force entry into her mouth.

Autumn wasn’t certain what to do. This bold boy was a king, but she had to admit his behavior was that of a much older man. She half-struggled against him, pulling her head away. “Your majesty! Louis, please! I have not your experience, and you are frightening me!”

He looked surprised by her words even as his hand fondled one of her breasts. She had said she was a virgin, but surely she had played little love games with her suitors. He squeezed the sweet breast in his grasp. “I want to see you naked,” he told her. “You are delicious in your innocence, and you excite me. Stay here with me, Autumn. This chateau is meant for lovers, and I would be your lover.”

She was astounded by the young king’s impudent and brazen speech. Suddenly regaining her courage, she pushed him firmly away. “I must assume your majesty is jesting with me, else I should be forced to be mortally offended by your majesty’s words. You are certainly not suggesting that a virgin with my noble bloodlines, an heiress of my worth, squander her most precious possession,
her virtue,
on a brief liaison. When I come to my marriage bed I shall be pure for my husband. I shall not shame myself, or him, with loose behavior either before or after our marriage.” She reached out and put a hand on the king’s silk-clad arm. Your majesty, there is a tiny part of me that is flattered to have caught your royal attention, but that little bit of me shall not overcome my desire to do what is right and moral
. . . Louis.”

The king sighed so deeply that Autumn could not restrain a small giggle. Not in the least offended, the king grinned at her. “Mama would approve of you, Mademoiselle Autumn. So would the cardinal.”

They continued on now, walking across the River Cher through the windowed gallery that stretched from one side of the lovely stream to the other. Autumn thought it was the most beautiful place she had ever been, and said so.

“You do not live upon the river?” the king asked her.

“No, Belle Fleurs is located a mile or so from the Cher, but the chateau sits, surrounded by water on three sides, on a lake that is fed by a tiny tributary of the river. My French relations, the de Savilles have a great chateau, Archambault, set above the Cher.”

“Do you like living in the country?” he wondered.

“I have lived in the country my entire life,” Autumn told him. “I have been to large towns, but I do not like them. I prefer to live in the country, where I may see the seasons change.”

“One is closer to God in the countryside,” the king noted. “I do not like cities either. When I rule in my own right, I shall leave Paris and build myself a great palace in the countryside. It is there my court shall be settled, and nowhere else.”

“Do you think your nobles will like being in the country all of the time?” Autumn asked him.

“They will have no choice. I am the king. They will have to do what I say, or suffer the consequences. You see, mademoiselle, my entire life has been fraught with disorder, and I do not like disorder. The princes of the blood, Conde, Conti, de Longueville, among others, have squabbled back and forth, sometimes for me, other times against me. In Paris, Gondi, the archbishop, foments trouble all of the time, setting the people against me one day, the princes the next. Only the good offices of my mother and Cardinal Mazarin have kept me safe and within sight of my majority. In a few months I shall be king in fact as well as name. I cannot wait!

“I shall build my palace one day, and make it the most exciting place in the world to be. I shall not have to force them to come. They will want to come, because to not be at my palace with me will be worse than exile. I shall make my palace the most fashionable place on the face of the earth. And when they all gather there, I shall have total control, mademoiselle! No rebellions shall be fomented, for those who displease me shall be expelled from the heaven on earth that I will create!”

“What a wonderful dream!” Autumn told him. “Do you know where you will build this marvelous palace, Louis?”

“I have a hunting lodge outside Paris in a place called Versailles. I very much like it there. That is where I shall set my new palace. And when it is habitable, will you come and see me? With your husband, of course, Mademoiselle Autumn. The proprieties must be observed with you, I now know.”

“Build your palace, Louis, and I will come,” she promised him. “I do not like cities, but I think I would like a lively court.”

“Let us seal our bargain with a kiss then,” the king said.

Autumn shook her finger at him. “You are very naughty,” she told him. Then, pursing her lips, she leaned forward to kiss him.

The king, however, wrapped his arms about her and again kissed her with great passion. His dark eyes were dancing with mischief as he released her, blushing and protesting. “I don’t know how to kiss any other way,” he explained.

Autumn shook her head. “I hope,” she said, “you will rule France as well as you kiss, Louis.”

“Your majesty, forgive my intrusion. Your mother is looking for you.” The Marquis d’Auriville bowed low to the king. “I will escort my betrothed back to her family for you.”

The king, who was taller than Autumn by several inches but not yet fully grown, replied, “And you, monseigneur, are . . . ?”

“Jean Sebastian d’Oleron, Marquis d’Auriville, your majesty.” He bowed low again. “I am at your service.”

BOOK: Intrigued

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