Nearly two months they have been traveling staying in hotels, intimate inns, quaint villas, sleeper trains even but nothing could have prepared Jean for what she encountered walking into the Hotel Le Bristol. Lucien has kept this part of their honeymoon a secret. Only telling Jean that they would be spending two weeks enjoying all that Paris has to offer. As they drove through the french countryside making their way towards Paris, Lucien was childlike in his anticipation to get Jean to the destination. Jean knew from the glint in his eyes that something big was planned but this she never imagined.
Standing just through the doorway of the grand foyer, Jean is frozen in awe. Her dear bumbling husband, shuffling luggage to the porter, oblivious to the marble staircase and sparkling chandeliers; the grandeur that surrounds them. Watching him make his way to the desk, she is unable find her voice to call out to him.
Standing at the front desk about to check in, Lucien turning to address Jean, realizing she is absent from his side. He spots her still standing by the entrance and rushes back to her sure that something must be a miss. In a few quick strides he is once again in the comfort of her proximity. "Jean, my darling, are you alright?"
In a hush tone, trying to keep her composure she chastises him. "Lucien, we can't stay here. It's too much. Look over there." Lucien goes to turn when Jean grabs his arm. "No, don't look."
"But you just said…"
"That is Rita Hayworth over there." Squeezing Lucien's arm tighter, "I don't belong here Lucien."
Lucien is struck hard with the meaning behind Jean's words. How could he make such a mistake with this. This big surprise that is meant to take her breath away, to show her how highly he regards her. He recalls Jean once saying how someone may not want to be reminded of their humble beginnings and here he has done just that, unintentionally of course.
Taking her face in his hands, he kisses her gently on the lips before whispering to her. "Mrs. Blake you most certainly belong here. Please allow me to spoil you in this astounding city. I want to see Paris with you, through your eyes, do all the things I never did on my own." He feels her muscles lose some of the tension as her shoulders drop.
"But Lucien, we can't afford this."
"We can, trust me. And I'll even start to drink cheap whiskey if you're worried that we'll go hungry when we get home." This earns him a proper smack on the arm. But he sees the levity has brought back the confidence that is his Jean. "Come on, Darling, this may be the only opportunity for both of us to experience such luxury."
"Oh really, you mean you didn't stay in places like this on all your travels Major Blake?"
With a mighty laugh, Lucien watches as his wife struts past him towards the desk. This woman is such a marvel. Everyday he promises himself to be better for her. Some days he fails miserably but more and more he succeeds. She makes him better just by being his Jean.
Yes, his Jean. It was Patrick that pointed this out to him. They were having a friendly banter at The Colonist when Lucien called her my Jean. Patrick ribbed Lucien about his possessiveness over the housekeeper, knowing full well that the two were engaged.
"Lucien…Lucien," Jean returns to him. "You were a million miles away. I asked if you have the reservation information?"
"Yes, of course."
The porter leads then to their fourth floor suite. Jean is once again grateful for Lucien's knowledge of the language. She makes her way into the room as Lucien continues in an animated conversation with the young man. There is a sofa in front of a fireplace and a small table to dine at. Making her way to the balcony, Jean notices the bedroom to the right of the french doors. She continues to step outside to take in their view of the garden's below. The fragrance of the flowers in bloom and the sounds of the city assault her senses.
Lucien weaves his arms around her waist, pulling her in tight. "Is the room to your liking?" Jean nods her approval. "I opted for a more modest suite with this balcony over the garden. There is nothing like Paris in Springtime."
"It is perfect. I can't imagine what the other suites look like if this is a modest one!" pushing herself deeper into his embrace.
"Well Rita Hayworth has the grand one." He jokes as he starts kissing the tender spot behind her ear.
"Excusez-moi monsieur," the young porter interrupts them.
Lucien kisses her temple before going to finish up with the porter. Suitcases are deposited in the bedroom, champagne and some food ordered. Lucien has no intentions of leaving this suite today and he told the porter such. They are not to be disturbed. They have 2 weeks to explore the streets of Paris. Tonight he has other exploring he wants to do.
"What are you thinking about Lucien? You have a terribly mischievous look on your face." Jean catching him deep in salacious thought of her.
"You, my love." he growls as he brings her in for a deep kiss, hands roaming her backside.
She pulls out of the kiss and away from him. He almost cries at the loss of her touch. Jean takes great delight in the effect she has on her husband. She never thought it possible that a worldly, handsome man like Lucien Blake would be so enamoured by her, Jean Beazley. "I'm just going to pop in the shower. Will you wait for the champagne then join me?" Jean questions as she walks towards the bedroom, wearing her own mischievous grin. Lucien's answers with a nod as he curses the bloody champagne in his head.
He sits on the edge of the bed, having already disrobed of his outer clothing, watching Jean dry off. Then slip on the pale pink chemise negligee that he bought for her in Melbourne. He was so tentative to give it to her, weeks before they would be taking their vows but he couldn't wait. It was a bold move that he knew he may regret but the look on Jean's face when she opened the box eased his worries. Her hand ran over the soft silk in the box almost afraid to touch it. Lucien's first thoughts of being chastised were replace with thinking she would melt in a puddle of sentimentality but not his Jean. No, instead she looked at him squarely eyes sparkling and asked, "Should I save this for our wedding night or would you like me to try it on now?"
Jean feels him staring at her. She is having her own bit of fun, teasing him as she slides the silk down over her body, knowing that it will get the same reaction as the night Lucien presented her with it. That night in the studio when she wrapped herself in silk for the very first time, she knew she no longer was dipping her toe in the water but diving head first into the deep end.
It wasn't long into their honeymoon that they both accepted that they no longer had the stamina of their youth, Lucien claiming defeat to his age. The endless days and nights of love making would not be for them. Instead they found their own rhythm of intimacy that allowed the hours to be filled with passion and tenderness without any expectation or disappointment. They found comfort in the familiarity of their two bodies, their two souls coming together.
"I figure since we are staying in the room this evening I would just slip this on." she seductively says as she makes her way him.
"I thought you didn't know French?"
"I've picked up a few words and phrases the past couple weeks." teasingly as she stands in front of her husband before climbing onto his lap straddling his legs. "Je t'aime. Je veux faire l'amour avec vous." she whispers in his ear as she runs her hands over the ridges that brand his back.
This is what she wants. The hotel, the room, Paris are all too surreal for her take in at once. She needs to feel something known to her, something real. She wants to make love to her husband. She needs to have him, this man who would sell his soul to make her happy. They will have the rest of the evening to drink champagne, hold each other, plan their adventures in the city but now she has a visceral want for him that needs to be sedated.
"Je te veux aussi mon amour, my Jean."