Her breath stuttered and her heart beat an erratic tattoo against her ribs. Lola felt the blood rush to her head, leaving her feeling lightheaded and breathless. But she cared little about the function of breathing at that very moment. His lips were masterful as they skimmed across her own, his tongue skilled and deliciously wicked as it stroked against hers. Dear God. She'd never been kissed thus - engaging, all consuming, robbing her of every sense except touch and taste.

The kiss stretched on forever and she lost all perception of time and space. Her hands were now restless as her palms brushed across his stubbled face, exploring the underside of his rugged jawline and the soft skin behind the shell of his ear. His lips moved from hers, running along her cheek, his teeth sinking into her earlobe as he bit down. She gasped at the sting and heard his sexy chuckle at her reaction. Beast. But then his tongue laved where his teeth had been and heat pooled instantly like liquid fire in her belly.

She felt her faculties slip as his hands skimmed down the sides of her body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Shameless, Lola angled her body closer, frustrated as her nightgown hampered his ability to fully settle between her thighs. His lips blazed a trail down her neck, sucking lightly at the sensitive flesh where her nape and shoulder met. Lola's fingers went to his hair, trapping his lips against her. She opened her eyes, but the world swam before her in myriad of kaleidoscopic colour - unfocused, blind - and she shut them again. Within minutes, he'd reduced her to nothing but a flaming ball of delicious sensation.

She felt his hand on her thigh and realised her hem had been raised. How had that happened? She didn't care. As his fingers slid up her soft skin, she parted her thighs and mewed like a kitten when he pressed against her intimately. Oh. She sighed, dragging his head back towards her and kissing him with all the passion she had inside of her.

"Lola." Her name was a ragged whisper as he groaned. Absurdly pleased, her hands pressed into the hard, muscled planes of his chest and back. By instinct, her knees braced against his sides, pressing herself closer.

"Fuck!" His sudden curse interrupted the preceding sounds of sighs, moans and moist kisses. He was breathing harshly as he stopped moving and Lola blushed, shrinking back, her legs falling from his sides.

"Are you alright?" Her hands went to his affected wound but did not touch. He was breathing deeply, his head now resting in the crook of her neck. His warm breath and beard tickled and she had the absurd urge to laugh.

"As pleasurable as this is, it seems my body has other ideas." He finally lifted his head, tracing his fingers across her lips. She swallowed hard, powerless to stop her eyes from meeting his. "If I were not forced to be prostrate at this very moment, you would be without half of your clothing by now." He leaned on his forearms and she felt enveloped by him.

The reckless feeling was back. "Only half?" Her brow quirked, the words a hurried whisper. "Have your talents been exaggerated?"

The corners of his lips turned up as his eyes dropped to her lips. "Well now, are you flirting with your Lord husband Lady Narcisse?" His voice had dropped a few octaves and she could feel the vibrations all the way in the recesses of her belly.

"Perhaps I am." A contented happiness settled inside of her. Despite everything else that was going wrong, this between them, the one thing she'd anticipated would be the hardest, was turning out to be the easiest adjustment of all.

He chucked again, his lips pressing to her temples."Bold are we?"

"Your influence no doubt."

He laughed loudly, lines radiating in circles around his talented mouth. She couldn't stop her answering smile.

"I think," she said, "we should suspend... that is... this doesn't seem the best of ideas in current circumstances..."

"Indeed. A condition I regret."

It was hard to think with him still lying atop her. Lola fiddled with the ties of his shirt, giving her hands something to do, to focus on, and asked, "Why did you do it?" He knew what she meant.

"Because it was the right thing to do. Francis might not be the best king - yet," he qualified at her frown, "but he is the only one we have. I would not see anarchy swell like wildfire at the untimely demise of its head of state. Francis and I might not be on the best of terms. But I do not wish to see him dead."

"You've said before that you felt guilt over the protestant uprising."

"Yes," he admitted slowly, remaining silent a moment longer before saying, "you once told me to help him be a better king. I've seen what the consequences were of doing things my way. I think I am ready to try something different."

Her heart warmed and she touched his chest as he hovered above her. "Thank you. Francis might not say it, but..." Her words trailed off.

"I want to trust you," he admitted.

Her heart stuttered and she blinked at the tears that formed in her eyes. She felt the incredible pull towards him and looked away, but with a finger under her chin he gently guided her gaze back.

"Lola?"

They both knew she was an unwilling agent of the King. His gaze hardened, disappointment clouding his features as he pulled away from her. Slowly, she inched out from under him and he rolled over onto his back.

"Are you alright?"

"Which part of me would you be referring to?" He lay staring up at the ceiling.

It was a trap and she couldn't help but fall right into it. Her eyes travelled down his body and she turned beat red at the clear evidence of his straining erection.

"Not that part," she mumbled as she all but fell off the side of the bed in her haste to put some distance between them. "I should check on Jean-Philippe. And you need rest." He looked to make a retort but there was a knock at the door before a servant entered.

"You're toilette is being prepared and the Doctor is here my Lady."

"Please, send him in."

Without a backward glance, she escaped to the antechamber inside their bedroom. Out of sight, she slumped against the wall, her hands lifting her heavy hair from her shoulders. She must look a sight. Her fingers went to her lips. They felt swollen and when she pressed them together, they were tender too.

She realised she wanted to place faith in her husband, to give him the opportunity to prove his loyalty. But would she survive being wrong about him? She sighed, tears eminent but she gathered herself. She should talk to Francis, understand exactly what happened.

Céline arrived with her robe as buckets of warm water were carried in for her bath. She was in very great danger, she realised, of wanting her husband as much as he wanted her.


Lola found Bash and Francis in the throne room, deep in discussion.

"Francis, if I might have word. It's about what happened yesterday."

"What about it?" Francis was frowning. "Has Narcisse confessed his reasons for saving my life?"

It was her turn to frown. "Reasons? I don't understand."

"Surely he must have planned the attack? Made it so that he ends up being the hero. To what end one wonders," said Bash.

Lola stared at them in open mouthed wonder. "He saved your life," she said slowly, enunciating every word. "And you think that he planned it all? He could have been killed."

"And yet he escaped with nothing but a flesh wound. Rather convenient wouldn't you say?"

"So if he'd been mortally wounded you might have believed him?"

"Perhaps," Francis said flippantly and Lola felt her anger rise.

"He is my husband! The one you gave me. You would see me a widow?"

"I didn't think it necessary to spell out the fact that this will likely be a temporary arrangement. Narcisse is valuable for as long as I deem it so."

"Do you think so little of me? I am not a pawn Francis! This is my life!" she cried, gathering herself. Bash stood off to the side but said nothing. "So you still plan of stripping him of his lands and position?"

Francis seemed to lose patience and snapped. "The only reason I haven't taken his lands is because if you!"

"Do not pretend you do this for anyone other than yourself." Frustrated, she said, "My dowry belongs to the estate!"

"So he hasn't told you?"

"Told me what?" she snapped.

"Your dowry is yours. He refused it. It was a condition of your marriage. So despite what Narcisse's fate might be, you are an independently wealthy woman. Quite a feat."

Lola tried to process the information but her mind had stalled. He had ensured that her dowry was separate from the estate? He would have known that his possessions could be taken from him. Was that his way of ensuring that she was taken care of, despite his fate? The fact that he had ensured this before they were married was a fact that did not escape her.

Lola shook her head, clearing it. "Francis, he saved your life!"

"As I said, no doubt for some nefarious purpose of his own."

"When did you become so callous... so cold?" she cried, disappointed in the man who now stood in front of her. He was jaded.

"If you'll excuse me..."

"He's done bad things Francis. But you killed your father!" Lola called after him and he halted. His face went white and his eyes widened.

"Lola," Bash cautioned but she would not be silenced.

"I'd say that between blackmail and murder, Narcisse isn't the one with royal blood on his hands."

"Do not for one minute believe that he has not killed for his own purposes or gain," the King warned.

Lola shook her head, no fool. "Oh, I know he has. But at least he is aware of who he is and the man he's now trying to be. Can you say the same thing?" Tears shimmered in her eyes as she looked at the King who she had once have called a close friend. She knew so little of the man who now stood before her. "I don't know who you are anymore Francis."

Hurrying from the room, she saw Mary standing off to the side.


Lola spent the rest of the day avoiding most everyone. She felt anger boiling inside of her and feared she would burst because of it. She spent all the time she could with her son, had a late lunch with Greer, ensured Narcisse had been made comfortable and checked in with the Doctor about his wound. He was going to be fine. Her relief did nothing to soothe her growing disquiet. She realised too that babies could pick up on all manner of emotional states. She gave up on trying to soothe her son when she realised her state made it harder for him to relax. With great guilt, she handed him over to his wet nurse and as the sun dipped below the horizon, she found herself alone in the palace gardens.

She was incensed and had no idea what to do with her feelings. A part of her understood Francis's mistrust. But the other side of her hated the injustice. She felt irate on behalf of her husband. When had that happened? Outside, she breathed deeply in an attempt to calm the tempest within her.

"I heard I missed quite the show this morning."

She whirled around, surprised to see him. He walked out from the shadows into the night with an almost indiscernible limp.

"It's nothing," Lola said, looking away.

"It's not every day I have my wife defend me to the King."

"Where did you hear that?" She panicked. She had mentioned the murder of Henry.

He raised his hand, soothing her. "It's alright. The walls inside the castle tend to have... strategic ears." He paused. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you defend me?"

She felt something snap inside of her and for the hundredth time in as many weeks, she found herself carelessly speaking her mind, damning the consequences to hell.

"I'm angry," she cried, ready for a fight.

"Why?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know why!"

"Enlighten me." His drawl was deceptively light and careless.

"I'm angry at being forced to marry a man who will never be welcomed by my friends. A man who gets me to behave in ways I know I shouldn't! A man who makes me feel-" she swallowed hard. "I resent being a pawn. I resent being separated from my son."

"You resent me." He stated it as a fact.

"No. I do not!" she cried, exasperated, exhausted, frustrated tears in her eyes. "Do you not see? Perhaps it would be easier if I did."

"Lola."

"I defended you because I want to believe that you are honest and that you are genuine in your sentiment to do the right thing. I want to believe that what you tell me is sincere, despite your past and the fact that I have given you very little reason to trust me. I want to believe you because I feel like you've allowed me a concession in getting to know you. And I want to believe that what I saw was the truth and not some ruse. Because Stéphane," the fight left her and she was on the precipice of tears. "You are my husband and I don't want to play games."

"Finally, honesty between us." He looked away briefly and swallowed hard. She frowned as he seemed to struggle with something. "After we'd married," he started slowly, meeting her eyes with force. "I was furious. I wanted no part of this farcical engineered by a King I knew hated me. But an idea struck me soon after... I set out to seduce you." Her eyes widened and he continued. "I knew you didn't want this marriage, but I thought perhaps that would be a way I could hold sway over you, punish you for your betrayal."

Lola turned away and wiped at the tears that rolled from her eyes. When she turned back, her face was damp, but her eyes were dry. "Why are you telling me this now?" She felt cold.

"I've realised it is the one plan I am incapable of executing." His eyes were soft and she recognised the sincerity in them. She realised she did know enough about him now to recognise the trait.

"Stéphane-"

"I once offered you the opportunity to journey towards trust. I want to extend that invitation again. In order to do that, I too must come clean."

"You risk a lot in revealing your plan."

"My wife once told me that to risk might yield greater gain."

She quirked a brow at the handkerchief he extended towards her, but took it. "She sounds like a wise woman. You should listen to her more often."

"So I'm learning."

Lola took a deep breath, leaping off the cliff. "You know that I've been asked to watch you... to report on any activities that might place the crown in jeopardy. I do not want to be your keeper and certainly no spy. But I cannot be complacent if you did attempt to do things that were unpatriotic. I love this country and despite the current difficulties between Mary, Francis and I, they are my friends."

He nodded. "Where does that leave us?"

"If you are honest with me, then I vow to always return that favour."

He nodded. "I can live with those terms." He moved closer and she felt her worldview narrow to focus only on him. He took her hand and she let him, energy humming between them. "I want you to give me sons. And daughters," he conceded with a crooked smile. "I want you to be the mother of my children and my partner. It is a modern notion, I confess, to have a wife as an equal. Perhaps I've learnt something from our regents."

Lola's mouth had gone dry as dust and she could feel her heart beat at a frantic pace in her throat, the answering roar in her ears. "You know I've had other wives, but you are the first I see myself building a life with. We were both forced into this marriage under... duplicitous circumstances. But how we progress from this moment onwards is of our choosing. I once offered the opportunity to journey towards trust. I would like to renew that offer - although this time, it is genuinely with no ulterior motive."

Dared she hope? She wanted to badly place her heart in the hands of a man she knew so little and yet wanted to trust with every fiber of her being. To risk everything is to truly live. Perhaps she should take the advice she doled out with such alacrity.

Covering his hand with her own, she met his gaze. God help her. "Alright."

His smile was slow and seductive and she gulped air into her lungs under the force of it. What had she just agreed to? Excitement exploded inside of her. Excitement and a generous helping of nerves. Could she even handle a man like him?

Narcisse took a step towards her, his arm going around her waist. "Step back." Lola frowned, but acquiesced.

"Again. Again." He walked her backwards until they were in a darkened alcove of the gardens, completely hidden from view. "Do you trust me?"

Did she? She wanted to. "Yes," she breathed, more sure than not. And when his lips claimed hers and this time, she eagerly met him halfway. The heat that exploded between them was instant. She didn't hesitate, wrapping her arms around his neck pressing her body into his. His hands were moving, leaving a trail of fire across the surface of her skin. Her mind clouded and all she could hear was the sound of their breathing, the ragged breaths urging her desire for him onwards.

His lips, those incredibly skilled appendages, moved from hers, his teeth grazing the dent in her chin. She sighed, her hands kneading his shoulders, already frustrated by the fabric now shielding her from the hard plans of his body.

She felt cool air caress the backs of her thighs, his warm palms following soon thereafter. His lips were back on hers and she felt heady under the sensuous torment. He inserted a leg in between hers and pinned her to the wall. Lola thought she might spontaneously combust as his pelvis pushed into hers. And they were nowhere close to being naked yet. She might not survive this.

Her breathing was harsh, erratic, completely out of control as his lips travelled south, nipping behind her ears, her neck before nuzzling into her hair.

"I want this down. I need it down."

Incapable of speech, their eyes met as she raised her hands, removing the pins that held the heavy mass in place. The dark curls tumbled down her right shoulder and his eyes glinted with triumph. Narcisse's hands fisted into her hair, tugging gently so her lips were served up to his as he restarted his sensual assault. Lola felt drugged, completely, willingly at his mercy.

His tongue laved at the tops of her breasts, massaging the engorged mounds through the stiff bodice of her corset. She bit her lip, her head thrown back against the wall as she eagerly pushed herself into his hands. Again cool air brushed against her legs and her eyes opened, meeting his.

"Still trust me?"

"Yes," she mouthed, clearing her throat and trying again. "Yes." This time she managed the affirmation with sound.

Again he gifted her with that wicked grin and she felt heat pool between her thighs. His eyes never left hers as he slowly lowered himself to his knees, his fingers skimming over her stockings, over the ribboned garters and massaged the backs of her thighs. Lola was no modest maiden, but was he going to...? Nerves, excitement, curiosity and bone melting desire waged war inside of her.

Gently, he coaxed one stockinged leg over his shoulder, his head disappearing beneath her petticoat and skirts. Lola reached out to brace herself against the wall, her legs about ready to buckle when his warm breath brushed the back of her knee. He feathered kisses all the way up her legs, across her thighs until he reached the apex at the top. Mindless, breathless with wanton anticipation, she bit down on her lip - hard - just as his tongue ran across the seam of her sex. DEAR GOD. The leg that held her body weight did buckle then, but he seemed to anticipate it, his hand cupping the back of the joint, holding her steady.

Her breathing was louder now as she tried to unsuccessfully stifle the litany of moans that burst from her. Her head thrashed from side to side as she carelessly pushed her pelvis against his lips, past embarrassment, past shame. The pleasure was shocking; building, building as his tongue circled the pulsing nub he'd exposed, laving it with skilled consideration. Lola felt her release build, holding her breath as her hips began to twitch involuntarily. But then he stopped and instead of using his lips and tongue on her, he gently blew onto her clitoris. She cried out and just like that, Lola convulsed, spiralling into the most intense orgasm she'd ever had. Waves and waves of pleasure radiated from her heart, skimming across her skin as he resumed his massage of her core, demanding all of her.

Limp, her leg slipped from his shoulder and he rose, his arms drawing her close. Drowsy with wonder, her head slipped beneath his chin, her hands fisting into the fabric at his shoulders to help keep herself upright.

"I don't think I read about that in the journal."

His chuckle vibrated under her cheek. "The journal is only the beginning. Come," he cajoled. "Let's get you to bed."

Dear God. He must have felt her stiffen because the chuckle was back as he pressed his lips to her temple, whispering wickedly in her ear. "I never thought I'd say this, but we'll sleep."

"Sleep?" she squeaked, confused.

"The first time we come together Lola, it will not be under the roof of the King of France." He kissed her, slow and deep and she could taste her essence on his lips.

Drawing back, she said, "If memory serves, I don't recall you following such protocols."

"I did not before. This... this is different." Her insides quaked at his admission.

Her eyes met his as she fingered his hair roughened chin with her thumb and forefinger. "Then let's go home."

His brow quirked in surprise, but he couldn't hide his pleasure at her suggestion.

Home. Yes. His estate, with him, that was where it was now.


a/n: Wonderful readers! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I was surprised by the almost unanimous sentiment that most of you enjoyed Lola's argument with Mary. As much as I love Mary, she can be rather heavy handed with her friends. Things are heating up between these two. Enjoy! x