Louisa Rawlings (60 page)

“The
potage
was tasty.”
 

“Not as good as the one you made.”
 

She leaned back in her chair and gazed dreamily at the fire. “I’d forgotten.” She closed her eyes. She’d had far too many glasses of wine. Her head felt light. And she wasn’t even concerned about it. She took another sip from her cup, then giggled. “What a vile cook you were.”
 

“You had the soup only that one time,” he said sulkily.
 

She opened her eyes. “No. Twice. The first morning. When you combed my hair.”
 

He nodded. “And you wept.”
 

“I’d only just realized you’d spent my money on the shoes, and I had nothing left. I remember how helpless I felt.” She sighed, finished her wine, and held out her cup for more.
 

“And I carried you to the bed. And you wept again.”
 

She laughed softly, her hand going to her mouth. She was really feeling quite giddy. “You were always carrying me about.”
 

His smile was warm and friendly. “I haven’t carried you in a long time. And from the way you eat,” he teased, “I fear I’ll not be able to do it much longer!”
 

“Pish tush, monsieur!” She got to her feet and pirouetted before him. It made her dizzy, all that spinning around, and she giggled again. “You see, I’m as dainty as ever I was.”
 

He shook his head. His eyes twinkled with merriment. “No. You’ll soon be as stout as Madame Benichou. By my faith, your face gets rounder by the day. I should break my back if I tried to carry you now.”
 

“Oh! Pick me up!” she cried indignantly. “Pick me up this very minute! You’ll see I haven’t so much as put on a feather’s worth of weight!”
 

He sighed in resignation and rose reluctantly to his feet. “You’ll ruin me, madame.” He lifted her in his arms and staggered about the room, moaning loudly. “Now God save me!”
 

She clung to his neck to keep from falling, and laughed with delight. “My poor Pierre. It’s only that you’re growing old and weak.”
 

“Now, madame!” He set her on her feet and pointed to her thick dressing gown. “When you go about in heavy armor…” He grinned. “But perhaps you use it to cover the fat.”
 

“Fat?” She fairly squeaked the word, choking on her laughter all the while. “You villain! You rogue! Look you!” She unbuttoned the heavy dressing gown and threw it from her. “Now, you puny miller, am I still too much for you?”
 

He scowled and advanced on her. “Not if I carry you like a sack of grain!”
 

“Oh, no,” she laughed, holding her hands before her to defend herself. “If you carry me like that, I’ll be sick! I swear I shall!”
 

“Because you’ve eaten too much, woman. As I told you,” he said. He reached for her and tossed her over one shoulder.
 

Ciel!
She’d meant it only as a ruse; but, hanging upside down like this, she felt a sudden wave of nausea and dizziness. “Truly, Pierre, I
shall
be sick!” The laughter had left her voice.
 

He carried her to the bed and put her down gently, then sat beside her. “Do you feel better?”
 

She lay back, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. The nausea passed. “My head is still spinning,” she said.
 

He laughed softly. “You had too much wine.”
 

“I suppose so.” She opened her eyes. The wine had put a gauzy curtain before her vision, so everything was soft and magical. Pierre smiled down at her. His face was beautiful, strong-featured yet sensuous. She lifted a languid hand and traced the edge of his cheek, the curve of his smile, with a soft finger. She began to tremble, her heart pounding wildly. “Pierre,” she whispered.
 

He hesitated, then covered her mouth with his own.
 

She was on fire. Her body ached for him, yearned for his touch. Even as his kiss deepened, his tongue seeking the warm recess of her mouth, she tore at his clothing. Her hands tugged at the sides of his shirt, in a frenzy to pull it free from his breeches. He sat up for a moment and pulled off the garment; his bare chest invited her hands. She scratched at the furry softness, her fingertips thrilling to the sensation. “Oh, Pierre, I want…” she breathed.
 

“What do you want, my love?”
 

“I want to touch you. Every part of you.”
 

“Rouge,” he said in wonder. He stood up and peeled off the rest of his clothes with shaking hands. His eyes burned with passion, a smoky green fire.
 

She watched him hungrily, the sight of his strong body inflaming her desire. She tore off her chemise and waited impatiently for him to return to her side. He lay on his back and looked up at her, then softly murmured her name. She knelt above him and leaned down, shuddering in pleasure as her naked breasts brushed across the tight curls of his chest. She stroked the roughness of his hairy arms, feeling his muscles tighten beneath the warm flesh. She explored his body with searching hands and traced the ridges of his abdomen, the narrowness of his hips. He groaned, his eyes closing, as her hand caressed the throbbing center of his passion. She had never known such exquisite delight and joy—to return to him in full measure the pleasure he’d given her so often. She caressed him until her own fire was beyond containing, then she straddled his body and lowered herself onto his hard shaft.
 

“You witch,” he gasped, and rolled over with her, taking her body in a frenzied rush, a pulsing conquest that had neither victor nor vanquished, only lovers who gave to each other in equal measure.
 

At last Rouge stirred in his embrace. She laughed, her voice quavering. “My head is spinning again. I don’t know if it’s you or the wine.”
 

He chuckled and kissed her softly. “I’m sure it was me! But a nap will cure you.”
 

“Oh!” She nipped at his lip with her teeth. “I’d forgotten the arrogant Don Juan! I’ll take a nap, you knave. And if I still find you desirable after the effects of the wine have worn off, I give you leave to strut and crow to your heart’s content!” Laughing together, they burrowed under the coverlet, falling asleep to the sound of the cold rain on the windowpanes.
 

Rouge awoke to a night-darkened room, her head pounding. She shivered, despite the coverlet. It was cold.
Dieu!
Small wonder it was cold! What was she doing in her bed without a nightdress? She sat up. Pierre knelt at the hearth in his shirt and breeches, piling fresh logs on the embers. She put a hand to her aching head. “What time is it?” Her voice sounded strange to her own ears.
 

He smiled and stood up. “Nearly nine, I think. I’ve sent for some wine and a bit of cheese.”
 

She groaned. “Not wine. My head hurts.”
 

“Just a little. It will make you feel better. Trust me.” He picked up her dressing gown and brought it to the bed. “Here. Come and sit before the fire while I light a few candles.”
 

She arose from the bed, still unsteady on her feet. Pierre laughed softly and helped her into her dressing gown, then carried her to a chair near the fire that had begun to burn brightly again. While he lit several candles around the room, she put her head in her hands and tried to think. She felt disoriented, waking this way, at this hour, after a long afternoon’s sleep. She leaned back in the chair and opened her eyes. “Almost nine, you said.
Ciel!
I’m surprised that Madame Benichou didn’t come in all day. Not even to ask about supper.”
 

He blew out the taper that he’d been using to light the candles, and set it on the mantel. “I told them not to disturb us.”
 

She frowned. “But you’d only come for dinner. And they left us alone for the whole of the afternoon.”
 

He leaned over and took her face in his hands. “And a wonderful afternoon it was, my sweet.” He kissed her softly, then straightened as a knock announced a footman with a small tray of food.
 

The afternoon. Oh, God! Rouge sat, her mind whirling with confusion, as the food was laid and the servant retired. The afternoon. He’d made love to her, enjoyed the pleasures of his wife’s bed. Despite her vow. How could it have happened? What had she been thinking of, to allow him to think he’d won?
 

He handed her a cup of wine. “Here. Drink this. It will make your head feel better.”
 

“Was I drunk?” she asked, putting down the cup untouched.
 

“Only a little.”
 

“But enough for you to have your way with me.” Her mouth tightened in a hard line.
 

He scowled. “I don’t recall that I had my way with you. You were a willing participant.”
 

“You did it on purpose! All that wine. So I wouldn’t have the strength to fight you. Didn’t you? Damn you, didn’t you?” She turned her head away, her stomach churning. “No. Don’t bother answering. I can see it on your face. You base villain, to trick me like that. How could you?”
 

“Because I was tired of seeing you sulking like a child,” he growled. “Because I love you. I’ve tried everything, God knows! I’ve told you over and over again how sorry I am for…for the circumstances of our marriage. I’ve sent you gifts. I’ve stayed away from your bed, to keep from forcing you, until you were ready to be a wife. I was pleased to have you send for Emilie. To give you a companion.” He laughed bitterly. “Instead, she’s made things worse. I’d thought we were beginning to be friends again. But Emilie, still angry about Colinet, has managed to persuade you that we’re all villains. Oh, don’t deny it. She’s made no secret of it among the servants. Colinet is a brute, and I’m a whoring knave, poisoned by my past. And not fit to wipe the boots of
her
lady. My God, since she’s come, I don’t even have your company at meals anymore!”
 

She stared at him.
Emilie.
“You knew the road would wash out, didn’t you? Is that why you sent her on the errand today?”
 

His eyes were hard. “Would you like another lie, or do you want the truth? It was another one of your villainous husband’s tricks. The road is always passable, though Emilie has been told there’s no way to return to Choisy tonight. It was the only way I could think of to get your
watchdog
”—he spat the word—“away from this fortress you’ve built!”
 

She rose to her feet, quivering with indignation. “So that you could storm the fortress, get me drunk, and seduce me!”
 

He swore under his breath. “By God, you try my patience!”
 

“I suppose it was the only way to have me,” she said maliciously. “You tried rape once. Without success!”
 

His eyes narrowed. “You spiteful baggage,” he said through clenched teeth. “Will you resurrect all your grievances?”
 

She glared at him in righteous anger. He was completely in the wrong, damn him! And wasn’t even man enough to admit it! “Only the latest grievance. The craven seduction of your drunken wife!” she sneered. “Is that what you did in the old days, at Versailles? Insured your conquests with a jug of wine?”
 

“I’ll ignore that bit of venom, wife, and remind you that you seduced
me
this afternoon. You made love to me. All I did was give you enough wine to benumb that stubborn pride of yours for a little while.”
 

She flinched. His words hurt. Because they were true. She
had
made love to him. Shamelessly, like a whore—forgetting her pride, his deceptions, everything. And it was all his doing, curse him! She swirled away from him and paced the room in bitter fury. “I wish to God I’d never met you! Never married you! I should have married Arsène when I had the chance!” She was glad to see the flash of jealousy in his eyes. Let him suffer! “Yes. I should have married him!”
 

“That dog Falconet?” he muttered.
 

“He’s a gentleman. He wouldn’t have made a low-minded proposal to my father. Sneaking behind my back…”
 

“And you’d be happy with him? In Versailles?”
 

“Yes!” she said, wanting nothing so much as to hurt him. “I like Versailles! It’s more amusing than
this
place is, with you! I shall die of boredom!”
 

“You have an intemperate tongue when you’re angry, madame.” His voice was like cold steel against the heat of her anger. “I’ll not sink to the level of your childish insults. Isn’t it time you began to take responsibility for your own behavior in this marriage? I’m tired of being the evil one—who bought you. Who seduced you. You never were a helpless creature. Don’t pretend it now, for the sake of your pride!”
 

“Oh!” How could he be so coldly calm, so sure of himself, when he’d betrayed her heart a thousand times, the wretched villain? She lashed out with the only weapons at her command. “You disgust me! You bore me! Maybe that’s why Madame de Levreux killed herself. You
bored
her to death!”