The Hidden Mistress - An Erotica and Romance Paranormal/Historical Novelette (5 page)

The baroness regarded her with a face more still than stone. “Danger?” she asked after a long silence.

“I thought there was an intruder,” Marie stammered, hoping that the baroness would believe her. “A burglar, or an assassin. There was – I felt – oh, please forgive me,” she pleaded.

The wind raged faster outside the window. Underneath the cauldron, the fire snapped and cracked in the near-silence. From somewhere in the room came the sound of dripping water.

 “So you took down a sword,” the baroness said, “and rushed here to protect me?” Slowly, she lowered herself into the water again and threw the towel aside. “Very bold,” she mused. “How very noble indeed.”

“Had I known that it wasn’t –” Marie started, then stopped when she saw the baroness frown. Marie bit her lip to hold back her tears. There was nothing to do but to bow her head and accept the shame. She would not be able to show her face at any ball for the next ten years. “I mistook the sound for – something else,” she finished. “I heard –”

 “You heard nothing,” the baroness said.

Marie blinked. The baroness’s comment was casual, almost offhand, but Marie felt a moment of vertigo. When Marie’s focus returned, she tried to recall what she had heard, but it felt like trying to clutch mist with her bare hands. Surely there had been screaming. Or could it have been the wind all along? An illusion created by storm and night.

“I’m sure I did her something,” Marie said to herself, then shook her head. Now that she thought about it, the sounds she had heard must have been the wind. Yes, that was it; the storm outside, howling like a woman. “Perhaps I was wrong,” she mumbled.

“Put aside that weapon before you kill yourself,” the baroness suggested. “The candle, too. Yes, leave them on the floor. Now come closer.”

Careful not to slip on the wet floor, Marie walked closer on trembling legs. She glanced up at the artwork in the ceiling. It depicted hordes of mythological beasts running through a dense forest. The baroness gestured at a low stool next to the tub, and Marie sat down. Mist rose from the hot water and its thick layer of bubbles.

Marie kept her eyes on the floor; she was not sure it was appropriate to look up just yet. There was also the case the baroness, who was very close and very naked. The bubbles did not cover much of her upper body. Her hair, pinned up at the back of her neck, seemed to glow in the soft light.

When Marie had sat down, she had been unable to resist a quick glance into the water, and the sight had left her short on breath. No woman should be allowed to be so gorgeous. Marie felt like a dumbstruck kitten next to a mountain cat.

 “Even though you were mistaken,” the baroness said, “it was brave of you come here. Did you see anyone else outside the room?”

“I saw Mademoiselle Sophie,” Marie answered. Too late, she realized that she should not have let the baroness know. This was a night of endless blunders.

“Ah.” The baroness leaned back in the bath and moved a hand through the bubbles. “Well, there is not much I can do about that.”

“I’m sorry?” Marie asked, not understanding what the baroness meant.

“Nothing.” The baroness sighed. “Well, I suppose that I am to blame for this.” She shook her head ruefully and looked down.

“Blame?” Marie said, now ever more confused. “Surely you have done nothing wrong?”

The baroness regarded Marie and smiled kindly. “You are young,” she said. “Unblemished and pure.” Her voice grew quieter. “While I have fallen so far.”

Marie was unsure what to say. The baroness could be no more than thirty years older than she was, yet she was speaking of herself as someone much older.

“Perhaps when you are my age,” the baroness continued, “you will understand how the mind is full of pitfalls and perversion.”

“Everyone I know speaks of you with highest regard,” Marie said. It was true; every rumour she had heard about the baroness suggested that she was influential and intelligent.

“Not many truly know me.” The baroness turned her eyes away and down. “I have secrets. Vile and unclean thoughts, filling my head
and leading me to foolish ideas.”

“Surely not.” Marie exclaimed.

The baroness nodded to herself. “Sophie knows, and now you. Tonight, at last, I have been revealed.”

“Madame,” Marie said. “I’m afraid I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”

That, though, was a lie. The baroness’s sudden bashfulness, the insinuations and the way she talked about Sophie pointed only to one thing. Marie wanted to run from the room, but fascination and nervousness held her in place. Part of her was still in stark disbelief that she was having this conversation with anyone, especially a baroness.

“Oh, I am sure that you understand.” The baroness closed her eyes and turned her head away from Marie. “You saw Sophie leave, did you not?”

“I did,” Marie admitted.

“And a clever woman like you,” the baroness said, “can draw her own conclusions. Please,” she added. “Be honest. I deserve that much.”

Marie desperately wanted to console the miserable woman before her. And, underneath her worry and concern, she wanted to touch the baroness for other reasons. Caught between the many urges, Marie sat still. “You have feelings for women,” Marie whispered. “Is that what my lady means?”

“Yes,” the baroness replied quietly. “I do. But it is not my fault.”

“Of course not.” Marie leaned forward before she could stop herself; the baroness was far so beautiful to suffer. She longed to reach out and hold the other woman, but that would be going too far.

The baroness made a pained face. “As you’ve seen,” she said, “Sophie is an extraordinary woman.”

“I’m not sure – ” Marie said, feeling her cheeks start to burn.

“Ah.” The baroness smiled and shook her head ruefully. “You must have noticed. Her eyes, her lips, her poise. Well, all of her. An astonishing creature.”

“Perhaps,” Marie admitted with a choked voice. Her face was about to burst into flames.

“But she rejected me,” the baroness said softly. “All I asked for was a single kiss, and she laughed at me. She called me twisted and wrong.” The baroness turned away again. “I am sorry,” she said hurriedly. “I forget myself.”

“
Non,
Madame
.” Marie moved closer. The temptation to reach out and comfort the baroness was becoming irresistible. “There is no reason to apologize,” Marie insisted. She watched a string of shimmering bubbles travel down the baroness’s slender neck.
Like pearls down an ivory pillar, sliding towards a valley of –

 Swallowing, Marie decided to take the leap. “I understand,” she said. “Fully and completely. Sophie is very beautiful. And so are you.” Eyes wide, she held her breath. She had not planned to say that last part. Even her tongue was betraying her.

Moments passed while the baroness studied Marie from the corner of her eyes. The wind threw itself at the castle’s walls and rattled the windows. Marie sat still, paralyzed in fear of what might happen next.

“I don’t believe you,” the baroness snapped, but her voice was weak. She reached out for her glass, sipped from the wine and returned the glass to the sideboard. “I am a wretched creature,” she said quietly. “Depraved and ruined. I understand why no one wants – ” she motioned with her hand at her body under the bubbles. “ – this.”

Marie barely managed to stop herself from licking her lips. To run her fingers over the baroness’s body would be a luxury beyond belief. Such an idea could keep her awake for nights.

“I think – you are just as beautiful as Sophie,” Marie said. Her voice was quivering so much she could barely speak. “Even more beautiful, if I may say so.”

The baroness smiled widely at Marie, who had to hold on to the chair to stay upright. She was walking on very thin ice. Her comments were honest, and she did nothing to hide the emotion behind the words.

“I think you are trying to flatter me.” The baroness’s frown was sceptical but playful. “Still, I am thankful for your kind words.”

“Flatter?” Marie asked. “I am merely being honest.” She would not look at the soap that ran down the baroness’s shoulder. She would
not.

“Then join me,” the baroness said.

“Excuse me?” Marie felt her eyebrows climb.

“Undress and enter.” The baroness pulled back to show Marie that there was enough space in the tub for both of them. There was indeed room, but if Marie sat opposite the baroness, their legs would inevitably touch. As much as Marie’s self-control was good, being so close to the baroness’s would make her say – or do – something inappropriate. Something
very
inappropriate. Staring was one thing; throwing oneself at other people was another.

Marie rose to say that sharing a bath would be to intrude on the baroness’s privacy, but even as she was opening her mouth to speak, she was reaching behind her back to undo her bodice. Uninterested in Marie’s prudence, her body had made up its mind. She undid the strings while her face burned; she could feel the baroness’s eyes on her.

Once she had undressed and folded away her clothes on the sideboard, Marie looked again at the baroness. The baroness returned her look with a smile and motioned at the tub again. Cautiously, Marie stepped in and lowered herself down. It felt like entering a cage full of half-tame lions.

The water was hot enough to make Marie hiss through her teeth, which for some reason made the baroness laugh lightly. A myriad of scents from the luxurious soaps filled her head. Marie leaned back, swallowed, and looked up. In the other end of the suddenly-not-so-large bathtub sat a naked baroness. Had the water not been so scorching, she would have thought she was dreaming.

“Thank you,” Marie said, unsure what the appropriate etiquette was in situations like this. She did not often run armed and frantic into other women’s bathrooms only to end up in their bathtubs.

“My pleasure.” The baroness drank from her glass again, but her eyes never left Marie. “One does often have the privilege of the company of women like you.”

Marie’s eyes widened. “Don’t say that,” she stuttered. “Please, my lady. I have embarrassed myself in front you. I don’t deserve any compliments.”

“Nonsense.” With a lazy flick of her finger, the baroness parted a large bubble that floated between them. “Next to you, even Sophie pales.” She reached out and took down a tall bottle with a golden liquid inside. “Tell me,” she said and looked at the bottle, “are you interested in travels?”

“
Oui,
of course.” Struggling to keep her eyes away from the baroness’s breasts, Marie nodded and smiled in mild panic. The baroness had pulled back so that her nipples were visible just above the surface. Only firm concentration kept Marie’s face straight. “I hope to see the world,” Marie explained. “Next year, I hope to journey to the Americas.”

“I see.” The baroness held the bottle between two long fingers. “Have you heard of a country called Senegal
?”

Marie thought. “Africa?” she asked.

“Indeed.” The baroness twisted the cork off the bottle and threw it aside. “In some regions, the women have a long tradition of washing each other’s hair.”

“Have you been there?” Marie asked, intrigued. She wondered what was in the bottle; it looked like oil.

“A long time ago,” the baroness said. “Now,” she continued, “I have a request.”

“Anything,” Marie said quickly.

The baroness paused while she studied Marie with a curious expression. Marie hesitated; there was humour in the baroness’s eyes, but also a shadow of something sterner and harder.

“I would like to wash your hair,” the baroness said. “Not that it needs to be washed, but as a token of my forgiveness.”