by Leda Swann
“Innocent - yes. Childish – never. No, you are too evidently a woman to seem like a child. You are terribly charming – which is far more dangerous.” He crouched down beside her and picked up a crust that the squirrel had dropped in his haste to decamp with his booty. He held it on his open palm, coaxing the shyer squirrel nearer and nearer, until with a quick snatch, it too bounded off to dine in safety.
He laughed out loud and held out his hand to Suzanne. “Give me another crust, if you would.”
Suzanne shared the last of the bread out between them. Together they crouched on the grass, tempting the squirrels nearer and nearer to eat the bread out of their hands, until it was gone.
Once the food was all eaten, the squirrels scampered away again to find another source of easy provender. Courtney rose to her feet and brushed her hands together to get rid of any crumbs that were clinging to her palms. “I always bring a crust for them. I love to see them play.”
He followed suit with a grin. “I haven’t done that since I was a boy. You have given me a great gift today in making me remember how happy I was then.”
She smiled up at him, thinking how happy she was right now in his company. Childhood pleasures were nothing to her in comparison with this moment.
He offered her his arm as they walked together along the grass. With a frisson of pleasure that skittered down her spine all the way to her toes, she placed her hand on his sleeve. He drew it up into the crook of his arm, pressing her body as close as he could against his own.
Suzanne had tactfully slowed her step, gradually falling further and further behind the pair to allow them a modicum more privacy. Courtney made a mental note to give her a new pair of gloves for her quiet thoughtfulness.
Monsieur de Tournay broke their companionable silence. “I have been absurdly busy since that night I first met you, and was cursing the demands of my position that it prevented me from seeing you for so long."
“My gathering was only three days ago.” She was not ready to confess that she had spent every moment of those three days thinking about him. Even when she was asleep, he haunted her dreams. She would never be free of him, not even if she lived to be a doddering old crone of fourscore and more. Still, that was not for a lady to confess to a gentleman she had only just met, particularly when she was still unsure of his feelings towards her.
He placed his free hand on her arm, clasping it tightly to him. “Three interminably long days to me. Each minute that I was not with you stretched out to the length of an hour, each hour seemed longer than a day. I have aged a year and more since I last saw you.”
His words sent a shiver down her spine. The days had seemed long to him as well, then. She was glad that she that she was not the only one who had shivered herself to sleep each night, longing for the sight of him, longing for the warmth of his presence close to her. She inched her body closer to his so that her breast brushed lightly against him as they walked, delighting in the contact of their bodies. “I am happy to see you now.”
He did not look satisfied with her lukewarm confession. “Did you not miss me at all? Did you not lie awake in bed at night, thinking of me? Did I not haunt your dreams when at last you finally fell asleep? Did you not jump up with a start every time there was a knock on the door, hoping it was me?”
“I do not know you well enough to miss you yet,” she lied. “I hardly even thought of you.”
He stopped dead in his tracks behind a small clump of bushes that sheltered them from the view of anyone who might pass by. He dropped her arm and turned to face her, holding her hostage with his penetrating gaze. “I will have to remedy that on the instant so you will miss me the instant I go away again.”
Courtney felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach burst into flutterings of panic as he put his hands on her shoulders and bent his head towards her. He was going to kiss her again – in broad daylight in the grounds of a church. She had never heard of anything so sacrilegious in her life before. “Y..you cannot kiss me here,” she stammered.
He raised one eyebrow. “I cannot?” he whispered, his sweet breath fanning her cheek.
There were at least a million reasons why he should not kiss her but she could not think straight with him nibbling gently on her ear. He made her want to melt into his arms at the slightest touch. “Some one will see us.”
He tickled her cheeks with his moustache as he traced her jaw-line with a series of feathery kisses that she felt all the way down to her toes. His hands on her shoulders caressed her in slow circles, holding her ever tighter to him. “Have no fear of that. We are well hidden in our corner. Even if they do see us, what then? They will give a little sigh at the sweet sight of two young lovers locked in an embrace and avert their eyes.”
She looked around nervously. There was no sign of Suzanne the serving maid, or of anyone else, either, but she was not pacified. Someone might walk by at any moment. “God can see us.”
He did not seem in the least concerned at the prospect, but clasped her closer to him with his strong hands. “I doubt that he is looking. With all the plagues and pestilences there are in the world, he has more to worry about than a couple of stolen kisses in a garden.”
Her whole body was plastered against his now. Her breasts were firmly pressed up against the round pewter buttons of his jacket. One strong thigh of his had nudged its way in between her legs so that she was almost sitting on his leg. She wriggled a little to try to get away from such a compromising position, but he did not let her go. “Mmmm, do that again,” was all he said, as he arched up his thigh in response to her movements.
The rasp of his thigh against the juncture of her legs made her gasp and her breath come in panting snatches. She had never felt such delight before. It felt so good that she was sure it must be wicked. She stood still and did not try to wriggle out of his clasp again. “Do not do that again,” she instructed him, half wanting the temptation to go away and half wishing that he would ignore her and continue his sweet torment.
“Do what? That?” he asked, moving his thigh against her again until she squirmed again with guilty pleasure.
“Yes, that,” she said when she had mustered enough breath to speak.
He looked at her with an innocent air. “Did you not like it?”
“That is not the point.” She brushed a few loose tendrils of hair away from her flushed face and tried her best to look severe. “I asked you to stop. A real gentleman always honors a lady’s request. Particularly in matters such as this.”
He took his hands away from her shoulders and his brown eyes looked hurt to the very bottom of their depths. “I am sorry if I caused you distress. I would not ever do anything to hurt you.”
The sincerity and severity of his penitence made her feel even more wretched. He was not to blame that she liked the touch of his body on hers too much. She could not have him feeling guilty for her own wanton thoughts and desires. “I did like it,” she confessed in a tiny whisper, hoping to smooth out the troubled wrinkles that marred his fine brow. “But I am sure that I ought not.”
“Do not take the blame on to yourself that rightfully belongs to me.” He looked ruefully down at her as she shook out her crushed skirts and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ears. “I will not tease you any more.”
She could not help feeling disappointed at his promise. Was he never going to touch her that way again? Would he never make her squirm with a secret burning as desire for him unfolded in the pit of her belly?
She shook her head at her foolishness. Regrets were out of place in such a situation. It would be safer if he did not touch her again. She lost her head whenever he so much as laid a finger on her.
“But you must help me to keep my promise. You would make it far easier for me if you did not look so deliciously edible.”
His promise did not sound so binding as all that. She was glad of it. “I will scowl so fiercely at you that you have no desire to kiss me again.”
With a last check to m
ake sure that neither her hair nor her clothes looked too badly rumpled, she took a step out of the leafy corner that concealed them from prying eyes.
“Not so fast,” he said, putting out his hand to stop her. “First I must have that kiss that I have been promising myself ever since I saw your pretty face dance into my sight.”
A kiss? He wanted a kiss from her before he let her go? All her senses went on high alert again. Only too well she remembered the kiss they had shared by the fountain three long nights ago, the night she turned eighteen. His kiss had turned her life upside down.
She had escaped from one danger only to fall headlong into another, but her will to resist had evaporated in the face of a new temptation. All her strength had gone. She could only succumb to his powers of persuasion without a single word of protest. “Just one.”
The grin on his face looked almost malicious in its intent as he drew her into his arms. “I had better make it one worth remembering then.”
Her stomach contracted with molten desire as he held her in his arms, just looking at her for the longest time. Then, ever so slowly, he bent his head towards hers. She thought she would die of anticipation in the eons of time it took before his lips touched hers at last.
His breath mingled with hers in their sweet embrace. She felt her soul entwine with his as she poured out all her wanting and all her desire for the man who had captivated her heart with his fierce wooing.
He accepted her desire and returned it with his own, pressing her body into his as he deepened their kiss. His tongue sought hers, making her tremble with fear and passion as it searched out all her secrets.
His tongue demanded. She gave in to his demands, leaning her whole body into his kiss.
She shuddered he held her to him with one hand, close against his body. His frame was solid and strong. Encircled in his embrace she felt safe from all the world. She felt more than simply desired – she felt protected and cherished as if she were his precious possession to be treasured and defended against all who would rob him of her.
His other hand swept past the planes of her back and settled on her bottom. Shamelessly he caressed her bottom, urging her into him. Shamelessly she pressed back against him, her desire building with every stroke of his hand and every touch of his tongue on hers.
She had never known that such urgency of feeling could exist.
He lifted his head from their kiss at last, looking straight into her eyes, vacant and unseeing with desire. “Can I come and see you tomorrow?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she said in a whisper. She did not trust her voice to speak any louder in case it begged him to stay with her, by her side for ever.
He looked almost as shaken as she felt inside. “I will walk back with you to your father’s house.”
Courtney hardly knew what they talked about on their way back. Her whole body felt as though a tornado has passed over her – she was still shaking and trembling inside from the ravaging torrent that had possessed her. Still, by the time they reached the door to her father’s house, she had mustered up enough self-control to ask him to come in.
He shook his head. “I doubt that your father would welcome me into his house.”
Courtney was puzzled. Her father was an hospitable man, always ready to welcome friends into his house. “He does not like you?”
“I imagine he likes me well enough for what I am – a hired guard to look after the consignment he is preparing for the King.”
She saw his point immediately. “But not as a suitor for his daughter?”
He shrugged. “Your father is a wealthy man. I am a poor soldier with few prospects unless the King singles me out for his special favor.”
She cold not think that her father was motivated by greed in such a matter as her marriage. “My father cares naught for a man’s wealth, but for his honor. He wants only for me to be happy.”
He looked uncomfortable at her words. “Fathers and daughters are bound to disagree about which path may lead towards happiness. I am not foolish enough to think that your father will welcome me because his daughter has a small fondness for me. Indeed, I think that the opposite would be very much the case.”
She would bring her father round to her way of thinking. Surely she could manage that. She would not lose her lover to a cross word from her dear papa. “Will you risk my father’s wrath, then, to see me again?”
He looked deep into her eyes as if they were the windows into her soul. “I would risk the wrath of the King himself to see you again. Will you walk with me again in the churchyard on the morrow if the weather is fair?”
She thought of the kisses he had stolen there today and her face grew red. Walking with him on the morrow would mean more kisses, she knew. Accepting his invitation was also implying an acceptance of the kisses that he would offer her there. She felt her face grow hot as she murmured softly, “I will.”
He touched her lightly on the cheek as if to thank her for her words. He, too, knew what he had just offered and what she had accepted so simply and honestly. “Fare thee well, then, my sweet Courtney. Until the morrow.”
She bid farewell to her handsome soldier and hurried up to her chamber, her face set in a straight line with unusual determination. Her father would have to be made to understand that Monsieur de Tournay was her path to happiness. She would make him see it. He had never refused her anything before that she had set her heart upon. Surely he would not refuse her in this most important of choices.
One of her windows looked out on to the street, the other on to the garden at the back of the house. She pulled back the light curtains on the window that looked on to the street and watched as her Musketeer walked away, his jet-black hair gleaming in the sunshine. She would confess to her father that she was in love with her handsome soldier – that she loved him as dearly and as deeply as ever he had loved her mother. He would not refuse her then.
Her papa did not return home until late that evening. His face looked drawn and weary and his steps were slow. He called for a brandy and water and sat in his library drinking it in silence.
Courtney sat with him by the dying fire, putting the finishing touches on a tapestry case she had designed for him to keep his spectacles in. “You look weary, papa,” she said at last, when the silence became too oppressive.
He sighed and stretched his feet out towards the feeble flames. “I shall be glad when this last shipment for the Queen of France has been delivered. I mislike dealing with royalty. They are slippery customers.”
She could not see why. Surely royalty could afford to buy her father’s jewels better than most. “Do they not buy many jewels, and pay you royally for them?”
“The King of France, for all his spendthrift reputation, is a miser at heart and has no love for us Flemish merchants. He thinks us not so loyal to him as Frenchman are and, who knows, maybe he is right to be suspicious. For certain, I have no great love for him. He examines every bill I send him with an eagle eye, looking only to find fault. His soldiers are no better. Sometimes I feel they have been sent to guard me, not the jewels I am sending to their master.”
Courtney felt her heart beat faster at the mention of Monsieur de Tournay. “The soldiers I met the other night at my birthday celebration?”
He sighed again. “I regret giving into the impulse of inviting them to my home. It seemed a friendly enough gesture to make at the time, but now I am not so sure of the wisdom of it. They seem to think that the home I have made for you, the furnishings provided with the profits from my dealings, are richer than an ordinary, honest merchant should be able to afford. I do not like their snide insinuations. I do not like them at all, I must confess, and would not have them in my house again.”
It pained her to hear of ill of the man she adored from the lips of her dear papa. “Monsieur Charent and Monsieur de Tournay both have offended you?”
He caught the anxious tone in her voice. “You were taken with Monsieur de Tournay, were you not, at your birthday party? I no
ticed you scarcely danced with anyone else – not even with Justin.”
She felt her cheeks go hot. “He was very pleasant to me. I hope he has not offended you. I am sure he would not want to earn your displeasure.”
“It matters not, my cherie. Come Wednesday week they will both be gone back to Paris where they belong. God willing, we shall never see either of them again.” He swallowed the last of his brandy and gave a wide yawn. “Off to bed with you, Courtney. I would have you up betimes. There are things we must discuss in the morn. Things of more import than you can possibly imagine.”
Courtney lay awake in the darkness for a long time listening to the sound of her father in his study below. Even as she drifted off to sleep she could hear the pacing of his footsteps up and down, the scraping of his chair legs against the wooden floor, the rustle of papers as he read and discarded them one by one.
She was sorry that her father had taken a dislike to Monsieur de Tournay. He must be more worried than she had thought about this latest consignment of merchandise to King Louis and transferring his worry to the guards with whom he had to deal. She hoped he could be persuaded out of his dislike of her beloved Musketeer. Her papa’s approval was important to her. She would have to make him see that Monsieur de Tournay was an honest man, and well fit for his precious only daughter.
She would not give in, even if her papa proved tenacious. Like it or not, Papa would have to accept him as her favored suitor. She loved Monsieur de Tournay with all her heart. She would not lose this battle.
The first light of dawn was barely creeping over the horizon the next morning when her father was up and knocking on her chamber door. “Make yourself ready,” he instructed her through the closed door. “The carriage will be here any moment.”
She sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from her heavy-lidded eyes. Her father had said to be up early, he’d not mentioned that his idea of early was before it was yet light. “Make myself ready for what? Where are we going?”
