The Maestro's Maker (11 page)

Then, watching, François removed his own ribbon and coat, and his blouse as well,

tossing everything on a chair. Jean went over and arranged the clothing neatly, though he

did not hang anything in the wardrobe.

Afterward, François knelt behind the girl and began touching her, running his fingers

up and down her ribs, kissing the side of her neck and pressing himself to her. Every

now and then he would turn his eyes to Claude-Michel’s erection, or his face, watching

intently.

After several minutes, Claude-Michel took in a big breath and said, “That is enough,

my dear. Save some for the finale.” She looked up. He closed his mouth quickly.

François whispered in her ear, “I want to spank you.”

Claude-Michel raised his eyebrows. The two men looked at each other.

The girl dropped her gaze demurely, then raised her eyes and looked at Claude-

Michel mischievously before Jean caught her attention. “What about him?” she asked.

“Is he going to play with us?”

“Not this time,” Claude-Michel said. “I think you’ll find my friend and I are as much

as you can handle.”

François got up and pulled her off the floor, then sat on the edge of the mattress and

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took her across his knee. While he watched, Claude-Michel finished undressing and sat

in the chair, stroking himself periodically. François placed his hand on the girl’s plump

derriere
and turned to give me a significant look. I tried to hold his gaze, but could not. I

wondered what he was thinking.

The spanking François gave the girl was nothing like the one Claude-Michel had

given me. He smacked her lightly at first, and then went on to sharper stings, making

her cry out from time to time, then stopping to stroke her bottom. In between the harsher

sessions, she wiggled on his lap and called him “
Signore
.”

When he finished, she went to her knees beside him, placing her cheek against his

thigh. “Please don’t punish me anymore,” she teased. “I’ll be a good girl.”

François shot me a look over his shoulder. I looked away.

“Very, very nice,” Claude-Michel said to François. “You may deserve to be promoted

after such a display.”

“I would like that very much,” he answered. “In fact, I think, since we are a family, I

should assist you in the discipline of our errant children, not just of whores.”

My blood went cold. I knew he was talking about me. “Claude-Michel—”

Claude-Michel looked momentarily agitated. “I think there are better times to discuss

this, François.”

François gave him a forced smile. “You are right, of course,” he said, with a slight

bow of the head. He looked down at the girl, who looked up at him with wide eyes. She

smiled.

“Things have changed a great deal,” Claude-Michel said softly. “And you are right. It

is the four of us.” He seemed to consider his words. “Mine is the final word on all matters,”

he said slowly. “But you may have both sexual rights and the right of punishment over

Chloe and Jean—when I am not busy with them instead, and unless I decide to revoke

this right.”

François listened intently. His expression softened, as though he could not believe

what he was hearing. “Thank you, Claude-Michel,” he said.

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I could not believe it either, but I didn’t say anything because tears were threatening

to come.

Claude-Michel got on his knees behind the girl and lowered himself over her body.

“Let me assure you that you will not die here tonight,” he said. “But you will feel pain,

perhaps great fear.” As he said this, his hand traveled her body. “If you are disobedient,

you will be whipped with that riding crop. And this will be no game. Do you understand

this?”

The smile left her face. “Why? What?”

Claude-Michel hoisted her onto the bed and flipped her over, then showed her his

fangs. Her eyes widened and her lips opened for a scream, but he placed his hand over

her mouth. Her eyes were very wide. “Do you know what I am?” he asked, and moved

his hand.

She shook her head frantically. Tears glistened in her eyes.

“Have you ever been taken by a vampire?” he whispered.

“No,” she whispered. François removed his boots.

Claude-Michel lowered his head, fluttered his eyes shut, and took in a deep breath.

“You smell lovely,” he said. “I am so hungry.” With that he held down her flailing body

and pressed his fangs into her throat. The sharp smell of blood hit me full in the face.

François tugged his blouse over his head and threw himself at the girl, trying to find a

way to puncture her throat even as Claude-Michel fed, but there was not enough room.

The girl tried to fight them off, but managed only to buck beneath Claude-Michel. Seeing

Claude-Michel force his will on her sent such a surge through my body that I wanted to

be the one under him. In that moment I wished he had been my maker instead of the other

way around.

Claude-Michel looked up at François. “I have fed since you,” he said, and got up.

François opened his breeches and mounted her eagerly, drawing from the wounds and

grinding his crotch into hers simultaneously, through the fabric.

My eyes widened like saucers when Claude-Michel stood behind François and slid

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his friend’s breeches down his slender hips, then grasped the shaft of François’s erection.

François gasped, blowing a bubble in the girl’s blood before resealing the wound with

his lips. Claude-Michel guided François’s erection into the girl, in spite of her panicked

undulations, and François pounded into her relentlessly.

It wasn’t long before François raised his head and cried out. The girl had grown quiet,

and simply stared at them with wide eyes. François rolled off her and lay on the bed as

Claude-Michel grinned at him. Then Claude-Michel took his turn, piercing her again

with his fangs and penetrating her with his erection as François watched sleepily. She

whimpered quietly and tried to move against him. François and Claude-Michel looked

into each other’s eyes with the tenderness of lovers.

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In the hours before dawn, Claude-Michel had Jean pack our things, and supervised as

François and I wrestled the groggy prostitute into my extra dress. They arranged her on

the bed in a position resembling repose, but she groaned and tried to turn over.

“Tie a cravat around those bites,” he said. “Loosen her clothing, too. The landlord

knows what she was here for.”

Jean stood by the bed, inspecting the riding crop Claude-Michel had come in with as

though mesmerized.

“Jean!” Claude-Michel said sharply, looking satisfied when the poor boy jumped.

“Stop daydreaming and get to work.”

“
Oui, Monsieur
,” Jean replied, and put the crop away hastily.

“Where will we go?” I asked Claude-Michel. “It was difficult to find this place.”

“I do not know,” he said irritably. “But we cannot remain here. The girl will talk. And

she has marks.”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before,” I said.

He grabbed my arm and whirled me around to face him. I looked him in the eye and

would not back down. At that moment, I did not care about punishment.

“Someone is jealous,” François sing-songed, and sat on the bed near the girl, his

hands behind his head.

I wanted so badly to tell François what I thought, but my courage was short-lived. I

was relieved when Claude-Michel let me go to call Jean over to give him money. “Pay

the landlord for an extra day. Do not tell him we are leaving for good. And buy wine,

bread and cheese for yourself and the girl.”

“Yes,
Monsieur
,” he said, and hurried away.

“Who do you think she is jealous of, Claude-Michel—you or me?” François asked.

“Shut up, François,” Claude-Michel said, and went to the window. “I have to think.”

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“But of course,” François replied, and closed his eyes.

I sat on the couch with my arms crossed. So far the day had started terribly. Within

moments, however, Jean burst into the room with promising news.

“
Messieurs
, there is something you should know about. A man downstairs needs

guards for his carriage to protect his sister.”

Claude-Michel, who had moved away from the window in favor of pacing, looked

up. Then he hurried out the door. I had to follow—so, of course, François wasn’t far

behind.

Downstairs, we could not help but hear their conversation. There were two men,

perhaps a little older than I, sitting near the cold fireplace.

“But I can’t take my sister across the country with no protection!” the youngest of the

two said. He looked like a rosy-cheeked cherub. “What of bandits?”

“You can’t allow her to miss her own wedding either,” his friend said sympathetically.

“Anyway, what happened to those men you hired?”

“They got a better offer somewhere else. There is the irony of hiring men—those vulgar

enough to protect one from criminals are often no better than criminals themselves.”

“I don’t see that you have a choice, Bernardo. It would disgrace your entire family—

and you especially, since you insisted on bringing your sister here in the first place.”

“It was for her health. She is allergic to the Northern air.”

“Of course, of course. But tell me...how did you manage that trip?”

“Our uncle arranged it. I only came as a companion for my sister,” Bernardo said with

a sigh. “I’m simply no good in business dealings.”

Claude-Michel approached them, smiling. “Excuse me, young man. I couldn’t help

but overhear your predicament. Where did you say your sister’s wedding was to be

held?”

The young man—a cherub with plump, pink cheeks and light brown curls—gave

him a haughty look. “I did not say, sir. What business would a Frenchman have in my

affairs?”

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“I don’t mean to pry,” Claude-Michel said with a regal nod of his head. “But you

seem in need of protection of a more gentlemanly sort than you had. My friend Monsieur

Villaforte and I are masters of both sword and pistol, and we are far from being ruffians.

We are also in need of transportation to Venice. You are in need of protection. I simply

thought we could reach an agreement.”

“See?” the friend said. “Ask and you shall receive.”

“How do I know you won’t rob me?” the young man asked.

“Le Compte Louis Claude-Michel du Fresne does not rob people, young
Monsieur
.

Are you lodging here?”

“Yes, but—”

“Good. Pack your things. My companions and I are ready to leave.”

The cherub gave his friend a worried look.

“Go on,” the friend said. “You can’t pass up an opportunity like this one. These

men are obviously gentlemen. You don’t often find gentlemen willing to hire themselves

out.”

“No,” Bernardo said. “It makes me wonder what strange circumstance led them to

it.”

“You’ve no other choice,” the friend said. “Except to travel unaccompanied.”

“That would not be wise,” Claude-Michel said. “Especially, if you don’t mind my

saying, when one has a maiden in tow. There are dangerous men about.”

“Yes,” Bernardo said. “I worry for my sister’s safety.” His gaze shifted to me. “Your

wife will perhaps provide company for my sister,” he said.

“Wife?” Claude-Michel said, then caught himself. “Oh yes. Of course,” he said. “She

is quite the conversationalist. If you will show my men to your carriage, my wife and I

will settle our business with the landlord.”

François glared at him for that, but went with Bernardo and his friend. I followed

Claude-Michel to the bar. Claude-Michel explained to the innkeeper that they had taxed

the prostitute’s abilities so much, he thought it best she be allowed to sleep it off for the

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day.

The innkeeper looked at me, confused, no doubt wondering why a man would bring

a prostitute into his room with his wife present. “For my friend,” he explained.

“Most are not so generous with whores,
Signore
, no matter what they’ve done with

them. Or to friends.”

“Then I am a rare man, my friend, the likes of which you shall never meet again.

Buon giorno
.”

* * * *

golden hair and eyes the color of turquoise from the New World. She was already in the

carriage by the time we came, sitting in the forward-facing seat. Claude-Michel bowed in

greeting. Florentine smiled and lowered her eyes before meeting his again, more boldly

this time. I could tell she was strongly attracted to him, but I was too put out by the night

before to care.

“At your service,
cherie
,” he said with a bow.

Bernardo didn’t have a driver, so Jean climbed into the driver’s seat. It was a large

carriage, with an extra forward-facing seat behind Florentine’s where two more passengers

could sit side-by side, or one person could stretch out. Claude-Michel suggested I take it

first, as I “no doubt got little rest the night before.”

I took it, but I did not lie down right away. I sat behind Bernardo at the end opposite