Wildblossom (56 page)

Fox noticed the beautiful burnished lights of Maddie's hair when she tipped her head down, and then he heard the rustle of her taffeta gown as her knees gave way. Startled, he realized that she was fainting—and managed to catch her just before she tumbled into the mud.

Cradling her slim yet satisfyingly curved body against his broad chest, Fox couldn't suppress a wry smile. It looked like he was going inside her clean and proper house after all....

If you enjoyed Wildblossom, page forward for an excerpt from

Of One Heart
, the story of Geoff's look-alike ancestor, the third Marquess of Sandhurst!

Excerpt from

Of One Heart

St. Briac Novel #2

by

Cynthia Wright

And wilt thou leave me thus,

And have no more pity

Of her that loveth thee?

Helas! thy cruelty!

And wilt thou leave me thus?

Say nay! say nay!

—Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503-1542)

In 1532 France, Aimee and St. Briac from YOU & NO OTHER are concerned for their lovely friend Micheline Tevoulere after her husband is killed in a joust. Micheline doesn't know that Bernard had been flagrantly unfaithful to her, and Aimee is determined to help her find happiness again. They take her to Fontainebleau to winter with the court...

Chapter 4

Chateau de Fontainebleau

December 16, 1532

Late-afternoon sun gilded the great trees of the forest. Oak, hornbeam, wide-girthed chestnut, and birch had shed their autumn finery to begin the long rest through winter. Naked gray branches arched toward the sky, impervious even to the thundering hooves of horses, packs of tired hounds, and fine-looking gentlemen riders returning from yet another successful hunt.

Bursting from the forest, the hunting party made for the palace gates, above which shone imposing high-roofed sandstone pavilions set in rhythmical order, their ornaments, pilasters, and capitals decorated with Francois I's bold F.

The king's horse galloped first through the gateway, hooves clattering over the cobbles of the magnificent Oval Courtyard. As grooms rushed forward to relieve the men of their horses, the king stole a private word with his old friend Thomas Mardouet, seigneur de St. Briac.

"That was a fine hunt,
mon ami,
but I am dusty and drenched in sweat. Let us have a cold plunge before we sup."

St. Briac had been craving the company of his wife, but one look at the bold, determined profile of the king made him sigh inwardly and reply, "I am at your service, sire." To guard their three-decade-old friendship, Thomas had always taken care never to accept favors or rank from Francois, yet the fact remained that one did not refuse the king when he made requests in a certain tone of voice.

They walked leisurely across the cobbled courtyard toward the arched doorway that would lead them into the new
appartements des bains.
The Chateau de Fontainebleau was in the midst of a series of elaborate transformations. Ever since the king had decided, several years earlier, to spend more time near Paris, this once-modest hunting lodge had been the focus of dramatic changes. Much of the time Fontainebleau was noisy and dirty, filled with scaffolding and workmen, but slowly the grand new Fontainebleau was emerging.

A new wing had been added to the keep, and so far housed the king's dreamed-of baths and sweating rooms. Upstairs a long, splendid gallery was being constructed, and Francois had already begun to recruit the finest artists from Italy to ensure its perfection. He was extolling the virtues of Rosso and Primaticcio to Thomas when a familiar figure appeared on the stairway next to the entrance to the
appartements des bains.

"You go on, Thomas," the king murmured. "I'd like a word with Madame Tevoulere."

St. Briac arched an eyebrow, but left his friend alone to greet Micheline.

When she reached the bottom step, Francois exclaimed, as if surprised, "If it isn't the loveliest lady in all France! How do you fare this afternoon, madame?"

"Very well, Your Majesty." Micheline flushed slightly and dropped her eyes. Clad in a simple gown of dark blue silk which was properly modest for a widow, she nonetheless felt his hazel eyes sweep the curves of her body. Eager for distraction, she produced a book from the folds of the cloak she carried. "I hope you won't mind, sire. I took you at your word and borrowed this from your splendid library. I thought I might read in the garden."

"Mind?
Have I not told you that all I have is yours for the taking?" Francois grinned at his own subtle wit, then leaned forward to read the title of the volume Micheline had chosen. "
Roman de la Rose!
An inspired choice, my dear. 'Twill do you good to read of romance. I've worried that you might have forgotten such pleasures!"

Micheline hardly knew how to reply. When the king reached for her hand and kissed it, the uneasy flush in her cheeks intensified. "I mustn't keep you from your bath, sire.
Au revoir."

Francois watched as Micheline walked under the archway leading to the elaborate gardens. The sight of her hair, gleaming in the sunlight, and the gentle sway of her hips made him sigh. Finally he turned and went to join Thomas inside the bathing room. Quickly the two men shed their sweaty garments and walked down the flight of wooden steps that led to the great square pool. It was five feet deep, with two spouts that provided hot and cold water.
 
Priceless paintings and statuary decorated the perimeter of the room.

"Ah!" exclaimed the king. "Could heaven itself be sweeter?"

St. Briac ducked his head under the water and emerged to shake the cool droplets from his hair. "I must agree, sire, that God Himself would doubtless be content here."

Servants appeared with jeweled goblets of strong red wine and plates filled with crusty bread, oysters from Cancale, strawberries from the king's greenhouses, and tempting little wedges of Auvergne cheese. The men, hungry after their exercise, ate contentedly.

“I feel that life is finally settling into place after the changes of recent years,” Francois reflected.

St. Briac watched him plunge into the water and swim across the pool.
 
Indeed, there had been changes.
 
Two of the king’s young sons, who had become hostages to Emperor Charles V in place of their father, had been ransomed in 1529 after three years.
 
The negotiations for their release had been effected by two women, one of whom was Louise de Savoy, the king’s mother. “The Ladies’ Peace” ended years of war, but in return for the safe return of his sons, Francois had to reconfirm his marriage by proxy to Charles V’s sister Eleanor.
 

Francois had paused to rest against the gilded edge of the pool beside his friend.

“The death of my mother continues to grieve me,” he said suddenly.
 

“Yes, sire.
 
But it has only been a year, and she was your trusted advisor. You continue to adjust.”

At length, Francois remarked more jauntily, "I do find myself intrigued with this subject of change. How boring life would be if nothing ever changed. Take women, for instance...."