Francis's fingers are entwined in mine, giving me a strong sense of security. His arm is wrapped possessively, protectively, around my waist as he sleeps. I'm unable to help myself as I turn so I'm facing him. Francis de Valois is asleep right next to me; what a gorgeous view! He is completely serene and yet, I know that he is prepared to protect me should my assailant try to kill me again. I reach for him, gently stroking his face. Unconsciously, Francis leans into my touch.
"Mary," he whispers. "Mary." I take his hand in mine and kiss his knuckles. There is nothing but us. The rest of the world is nonexistent. I realize that he must be dreaming of me. "Mary," he sighs as he stirs.
"Shhh, shhh," I say softly. I snuggle closer to him, if possible, burying my face in the crook of his neck and drape his arm around me. I kiss his hand again as I let darkness take me into sleep's oblivion.
Francis is caressing my cheek. His touch is the first thing I am aware of. I almost open my eyes, but then I realize that he still thinks that I'm asleep. Our fingers are still entwined with each other. His lips brush my neck and it takes all of my self-control not to moan. Oh my god, Francis is driving me crazy. There is something going on between us and we're both afraid to act upon it. More than anything, I just want him to be honest with me about what he wants, but I know not to push him about it.
Francis's lips are still at my neck and I abruptly swing my leg around him, propelling myself so I'm straddling him. "Good morning to you too," I exclaim.
"Jesus Christ, you startled me!" Francis laughs. I smile down at him as he brushes his hand through my hair. "God, Mary…" His hand slowly finds its way down to my breast and I lean down so we're looking straight at each other. God, I want to kiss him so badly and I know he wants to kiss me, too. His eyes are filled with awe as he stares at me. How much longer can we go on like this? Acting but not acting on whatever is going on between us? He cradles my face in his hands and I can feel myself losing control. Fuck. I want to lose control and just lose myself in him completely, but I can't. I immediately pull away and clear my throat.
"Shit, I'm sorry, Francis. It's…it's just not right," I say hastily.
"It is right," Francis tells me gently, "just not right now." He pauses briefly. "How'd you sleep, Mary?"
"Like a baby, honestly," I answer. "You?"
"Like a baby," he echoes. He takes my hands in his, our fingers interweaving. "How're you feeling?"
"A lot better, actually, but I'd breathe easier knowing that whoever attacked me has been disposed of." I climb off him and off the bed and he sits upright. "You think they may have caught him overnight? I know, it's a bit too much to ask for, but…"
"Knowing my parents, I wouldn't be surprised if they managed to pull it off," Francis admits. "They have always tried to keep this castle's security top-notch."
"Well, let's go see if they've been successful," I tell him. I reach for his hands as I lead him out of the room. And for once, I feel a sliver of hope that things just might be okay.
"Wait, you actually found the guy?" I ask incredulously. "How did you do it so quickly?" Catherine chuckles humorlessly.
"Mary, darling, we've dealt with this kind of thing a lot longer than you have," she says curtly. "We found him scurrying through one of the castle's secret passageways and managed to pry some information out of him."
So, Catherine isn't responsible for my attack, I realize. I exchange a glance with Francis and, sensing my growing uneasiness, he grabs my hand and squeezes. I return the pressure as a silent thank you. It's over now. It's going to be okay. "What did he tell you?" I ask.
"It was like pulling teeth, but he mentioned that England was involved," Henri explains.
"England? Elizabeth?" Francis demands. "Father, we need to do something. We—"
"Francis, son, we have it all under control," his father reminds him. "We've taken measures to ensure not only Mary's safety, but the safety of everyone here in the castle. The secret passageways have been blocked. Nobody is sneaking in nor sneaking out."
"What of my attacker?" I press. "What are we going to do with him?"
"Oh, we'll deal with him. He's going to be executed tonight," Catherine says nonchalantly. "Mary, Francis, you have nothing to worry about. I promise."
"Thank you," I say. "Is it alright if I speak with him? I want to know what he knows. If my cousin did indeed send him, I should have as much information as possible."
"Are you sure about this, Mary?" Francis questions me. "This man is dangerous. If he does anything to hurt you—"
"I have to do this, Francis," I say firmly. "I'll be okay. After tonight, he will never be able to hurt me again." I face him, stroking his cheek with my thumb. "I'll be okay. I promise." I kiss his cheek and brush my hand down to his heart before making my way out of the throne room and to the dungeon.
Dammit, Mary. Why the hell didn't you ask for a gun before coming down here? I reprimand myself. I find my assailant's cell, the only one that isn't vacant, and I knock on the bars, startling him from his sleep. He's resting on a makeshift bed made from the mattress and his food has hardly been touched. What the hell has he been doing down here?
"What the fuck you doing?" he shouts. "I'll kill you, I swear to God! I should've opened your throat last night!"
"Stop talking," I snap. "Henri and Catherine say that my cousin decided to be a doll and grace me with the pleasure of your company."
He laughs like a madman. I have to resist the urge to slap him across the face just so he can shut up. "What does it matter if Bessy sent me? I'm a dead man! And I'm not telling you anything, cunt!"
"You spilled the beans to the king and queen of France, you sick bastard," I snarl. "Now, you will tell me everything you know otherwise I'm going to fetch the torturer. And although I may not know what exactly is going through that sick little head of yours, I'm pretty sure you don't want to go through that again? Am I correct in this assumption? Or are you one of those sick fucks who thrives on pain?"
"These fucking bars are the only things preventing me from going over there and squeezing the life out of you," he hisses. I stare at him in revulsion. This is the man Elizabeth sent to kill me and he is absolutely criminally insane. He won't tell me anything. My cousin's secrets will die with him. "I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU, BITCH! I'M GOING TO SLIT YOUR THROAT AND FEED YOU TO THE DOGS!"
"No, you won't," I say coldly and calmly, "because you'll be dead by morning." I slowly turn on my heel and walk away as he begins to scream in rage, a loud, harsh, guttural scream that sends shivers down my spine. My hands are shaking involuntarily and I hastily shove them in my pockets.
"Your Majesty," one of the guards greets me.
"Make sure he doesn't get out of that cell," I order him. "If he does anything, kill him on the spot." I don't hear his affirmation, for I pick up my pace, trying to calm my breathing. Breathe, Mary. Just breathe. What the hell was I thinking, trying to extort answers from my attacker? He had no reason to give me answers, even under threat of torture – and there is no reasoning with a man who has no reason. I don't want to face the king and queen – even Francis, after this. I can't, but I know they're expecting my return. I'm a queen, not a scared little girl.
"Mary, you're back already," muses Catherine. "I didn't expect it would go that quickly between you two." Her tone is acerbic, almost mocking. "Did you learn what you needed to know?"
"Mother…," Francis says warningly.
"Francis, it's fine," I tell him. "Catherine, I didn't learn anything aside from the fact that he is criminally insane. It's for the best that he be executed as soon as possible. Earlier than tonight, perhaps. I don't feel secure as long as he's still breathing." Henri nods slowly, taking my suggestion into consideration. Catherine is almost unreadable; her eyes are poison as she stares at me. "We've imprisoned an insane man. It's not safe for anyone with him lurking in the dungeon, possibly plotting his next move."
"Nothing like housing the insane," Henri says humorlessly. "You're right, Mary. He must die, and soon. We can't have a mad assassin running about the castle or running back to report to England. No, he'll be executed. Thank you for sharing your concerns. Francis, Mary, you have my permission to go." Without another word, Francis escorts me out of the throne room.
"Mary, are you alright?" he asks me. "You're shaking." He reaches for my hands, pulling them out of my pockets. "Jesus, what happened in the dungeon? Did he hurt you again?"
"No, no, he didn't hurt me," I say. "He just scared me. I'll be okay. He's going to die sooner than tonight, so we can all breathe easier, as your father said." I force a smile. "As certain as I am about political matters as far as your parents are concerned, Francis…I would much rather have hope with you than certainty anywhere else. I feel secure and safe with you."
"Mary…"
"And I know that you aren't sure about our marriage. I know that," I continue, "but I can't keep on pretending that there isn't something going on between us. I know, it's crazy. It's only been a day since I came back and things are already getting crazy, but…I'd be lying if I told you that I didn't have feelings for you. I'd be lying if I said that if something were to happen, I wouldn't save you without question – because I would." I smile sadly, running my hand through his blond curls. "But you don't feel the same way about me. I need to accept that. For us to stay sane, it's best that we stay apart."
"No, Mary…," Francis begins. His azure eyes are filled with shock and pain, overwhelmed by my words. "Mary—"
"Please, Francis. Don't make this any harder for me than it already is," I plead. Much to my chagrin, tears are stinging in my eyes and blurring my vision. "You have my blessing to be with another upon our marriage. It's okay, Francis." He touches my face, and for a moment, I think I see tears shining in his eyes. I kiss his palm before hastily taking my leave.
I don't even remember making it back to my rooms, but when I do, I jump when the door slams shut behind me. I whirl to see Francis standing in the doorway. "Francis, what are you do—" I don't even finish my sentence, for he grabs my face and his lips hungrily take mine. The kiss is raw, passionate, hungry. My fingers are knotted in his hair as I pull him closer to me, if possible. I don't remember falling back onto the bed; Francis absolutely consumes me. I'm breathless from his kisses and I want more. I want him completely, entirely.
"Francis," I sigh between kisses.
"Oh, Mary," he whispers. His mouth claims mine and for a moment, I can taste the saltiness of his tears. My face is wet with our mingled tears. His hands find the hem of my tank top and I discard it immediately, throwing it to the floor. I practically tear his shirt off him and I stroke his bare, muscular chest. I'm feverish with desire and Francis knows it. His eyes are devouring me, making love to me, and I want nothing more than for him to make love to me. Francis kisses me between my breasts, slowly making his way down. I'm scarcely aware of his hands unbuttoning my jeans, slowly pulling them down as he too slowly goes down too. Francis kisses my thigh, once, twice, before his mouth finds my womanhood. White hot pleasure surges through me and I cry out in ecstasy as the first orgasm pulses throughout my being. I arch my back, bringing a hand to my brow, overcome by Francis as he loves me with his tongue.
"Oh my god, Francis! Don't stop, please don't stop!" I cry. "Please, don't stop!" His tongue plunges in and out of me, circling and plunging back in again. I'm begging within minutes; why hasn't he taken off my undies yet? His lips find mine once again briefly before finding my neck. He sucks at the nape of my neck and bites; I wrap my legs around him, desperate to bring him closer to me, grinding against him. "Francis," I cry.
Francis looks into my eyes; we are both breathless and startled by our passion. He holds my face gently, as though I were a fragile dove in the hands of a giant. "Mary, we shouldn't," he says huskily. "Not now." Only then do I realize our situation. It's only been a day and, god, as much as I want to, the timing isn't right.
"Right," I say. Francis hurriedly climbs off me; I notice his visible effort not to stare at my breasts as I bend down to reach my jeans. My body is tingling with the memory of Francis's touch and I try to conceal my smile as I slip my jeans back on. There is an awkward atmosphere; we are both silent as we recover our lost articles of clothing. I reach for my brush in one of my bedside table drawers and brush my hair out, flustered. "Why don't we just take things slowly?" I suggest. "And not rush into it?"
"That sounds nice," Francis agrees. He draws close to me and kisses me softly. I restrain myself this time, but I return his kiss nonetheless. "I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Okay," I respond, and I kiss him one more time before he walks out the door. Oh my god, Mary. You don't even know what you're getting yourself into.
"Mary! Jesus, where have you been?" Kenna barges into the room, with Lola, Greer and Aylee following behind her. "We've been looking for you; tracking you down has been almost impossible!"
"I've been busy," I answer tersely. "Being the queen of Scotland and future queen of France, I've had some affairs to attend to. Political affairs…but why would you care?" Lola flinches at the harshness of my tone.
"Mary, what's bothering you?" she presses me. I shake my head in defeat and rise from my bed, approaching them. My disgust and disappointment with them boils near the surface and it takes a superhuman effort to keep my voice calm quiet.
"What's bothering me?" I parrot. "You're kidding me, right? Just exactly where the hell were you last night? Surely you were aware of the fact that I was almost killed or raped or god knows what else! The entire castle was practically in a riot afterwards! What were you guys doing? Where were you when I needed you?" The entire group is silent.
"We…honestly had no idea," Greer confesses slowly. "We left the party early, got drunk, and passed out. Only this morning did we hear about what happened."
"You what?" I exclaim. "You were getting drunk while I was going through hell!"
"Mary—" Aylee begins.
"Get out!" I shout. "Get the hell out!" Aylee gives me one more regretful glance as she and the others hurry out. The others are visibly shaken by my outburst as they silently leave. I quickly wipe away a stray tear.
Damn you. Damn all of you.