The next morning they began the process of packing. They'd initially meant to stay a week, and yet they'd not made it beyond the third day.

The night prior, Stéphane had remained true to his word, and other than drawing her close and burying his face in her hair, they'd slept. It was nice, she acknowledged to herself, to lie inside the arms of a warm, strong man again. It was thrilling to wake up with a possessive arm clasped around her waist. In the summer months it might be a slightly different experience, but with the winter chill permeating the large, stone room, Lola had unashamedly burrowed closer.

Sexual anticipation was also a new concept to her. She'd never experienced it before – at least, not this intensely. The brush of his hand, a long, lingering stare, his lips pressed quickly to the nape of her neck in passing or her fingers caressed idly as he spoke. These were all devised to torment her, she was sure. And it was working. Beast.

By midmorning, she went back to the nursery to say farewell to her son. She didn't think it would ever be easy to leave him. Every time felt like the first, the heartbreak and sorrow so palpable, she swore she could taste it. Her throat constricted as she pressed kisses to his soft skin repeatedly, reminding him that she loved him and would see him soon.

Leaving Jean-Philippe in the care of his wet nurse, she went to find Mary. She didn't regret their tenuous words, but she did not want to leave things so ugly between them. Lola walked through the hallowed halls of the castle, supremely aware of how in such a short space of time, it no longer felt like home. This, the place she'd lived for most of her time in France. At the end of the corridor she saw the Queen and was about to call out when she saw Louis, the Prince of Condé, step up to her side. Instinctively, Lola moved out of sight, embarrassed to be so sneaky but something about the scene disturbed her. Peeking surreptitiously at the couple, she observed an intimacy to their whispered words that was unmistakable. They never touched; in fact, the distance between them was cordial. But there was something inimitable in the way their bodies angled towards the other. She watched Louis bow before turning and leaving Mary staring – longingly? - in his wake. There were rumours at court that the handsome prince was taken with the Queen. These rumours were not unique, especially when courtiers were prone to salacious gossip – mostly without much cause. But how had she missed this? She knew things were not well between Mary and Francis - the whole palace knew they now kept to separate quarters, but surely Mary would never stray from her marriage?

Lola played the scene over in her mind and kept coming back to the same conclusion. There had been a familiarity, a trust yes, but also an unmistakable intimacy between Louis and her Queen. Taking a moment, she moved from her hiding place and called out to Mary.

"Lola," Mary said, startled from her reverie. "I was coming to find you. I've heard you are leaving court?"

"Yes. Lord Narcisse and I think it best... under present circumstances. Things are tense enough as is and he needs to rest." Among other things. The latter, along with her stifled smile, she kept to herself.

Mary nodded, looking pained and awkward. "Lola," she began.

Lola shook her head. "There is no need," she said. "We have been friends for many years, more like sisters actually. If we cannot be honest with each other, then we do not deserve the right to call upon the other as such." Tears filled Mary's eyes and Lola moved closer, pulling her friend into her arms. They would be alright.

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

"You were right," Mary acknowledged. Lola didn't ask about what. They both knew.

"I didn't want to be. Can we at last truly move past this?"

Mary nodded. "Yes," she said with vehemence. "I want that very much."

"So do I."

Lola shifted uncomfortably. Should she say something? "Mary, before I go... How are things between you and Francis? I know since... the incident, things have been difficult. I've heard the rumours and I have eyes. I know you speak little of your troubles but-"

Mary shrugged, an unbridled pain reflected in her eyes. "I love him. I love him still. But I cannot... It's better this way. For both of us."

"Are you sure there is nothing that can be done?"

"It's... complicated." But when Mary offered no more, Lola didn't press. Feelings for another always made matters more complicated. The Queen gave her a weak smile meant to inspire confidence. It did no such thing.

"Despite our difficulties, I want you to be happy Mary."

Mary kissed her cheek. "I know."

Here they were, both of them married and yet who would have imagined she would feel the greater hope at the prospect of her union to Narcisse. And she did feel it keenly – she felt hope.


"You leave, I hear? And without my permission, I might add." Lola found Francis in the gardens and steered him towards the rose court. The other direction... well, that was where she and her husband had…

He spoke with a small, but inviting smile and Lola smiled back, relieved that perhaps, he too, did not want to part in anger. In many ways, things between them had always been easy. That is, it was so until her marriage.

"Francis, I really do not wish to-"

He waved a hand to silence her. "I know that things have been difficult for you. God knows Mary and I have made our fair share of mistakes. Perhaps one of our greatest was marrying you to Narcisse."

Lola bit her lip and looked away, saying nothing as they strolled side by side. The gardens were lush, the smell of roses permeating the air.

"Lola?" She glanced at him. "You're not... Dear God don't tell me you're in love with him?!"

Clutching at the handle of her parasol wearily, she said softly, "The status of the marriage you bartered me into is really none of your concern." Lola sighed, tired of all the questions. Why was she constantly expected to justify her feelings for her husband? And then made to feel guilty for it?

"We had an agreement." He'd stopped but she kept walking, forcing him to catch up to her.

Lola shook her head, her tone calm and even. "No, we never had an agreement. You asked me to marry him and I did - although we both know I had no choice in the matter. But I am making a choice now. I will not spy on him for you, or anyone else."

"Your allegiance to France should be your primary duty."

"That is where we differ. My allegiance is to myself and as an extension our son is my primary concern. And seeing as it is forbidden for Jean-Philippe to even visit with me at my new home, that leaves me as my first and only concern."

"You would let him plot against me and stand by idly?"

Lola stopped then, saddened to be having such a heavy conversation amongst such beauty. The roses were in bloom, their scent meant to soothe and bring comfort, spread joy. She faced her friend and King and looked him in the eye, resolute.

"It should not be necessary for me to say this, but no. Never. You know this. But I will also give him the benefit of my trust." I have to, she added silently. It's what you did for the people you loved. "I need you to trust my judgement on this."

"Clearly your judgement has been clouded by Narcisse's charms," he said bitterly.

Lola's eyes narrowed and she felt her temper spike. She would not give him the satisfaction. "You think so little of me, that I would be swayed by flowery sentiment?" Lola shook her head, disappointed.

"I feel like..." he closed his eyes and she saw pain flash across his face."I feel like... I'm losing you," he admitted. "Just like I've lost Mary."

Lola's heart broke. She loved him dearly, respected him still. But she could not be that person for him any longer. She was a married woman. And he, he was the King who needed to make a choice about the type of life he wanted.

Gently, she placed a hand to his arm. "I will always be your friend Francis. I will always be a loyal subject. But I cannot be your confidant. You are the King of a country, but you are also a husband and friend to many. Perhaps you should focus more on the people in your life who love and care for you. Vengeance is no life partner." Lola thought of Mary and Condé. "Let go of the bitterness and attempt to rebuild your marriage."

She saw him slump over in defeat and her heart ached for him. But comforting the king was no longer her duty.

"You will regret this," he said, his eyes hard, anger and disappointment vivid in the aura he projected.

With a heavy heart, Lola turned and cast off the shackles of her past. Trusting Narcisse was her choice. She'd made it. And she would live with the consequences.

"Goodbye Francis."


"You're leaving?! But you've just arrived!" Kenna said, quite sulky for a grown woman.

"It's for the best. But we will be back. Stéphane still has business with the King. Right now, he just needs some rest."

"I look forward to having you back," Greer said, giving her a hug.

"I'm sorry, about what I said the other day," Kenna began. "It was tactless of me - which is usually my thing anyway," she rambled on before saying sincerely, "but you know this. I didn't mean to make things worse for you. I just-"

"There have been more than enough apologies in the last few days to last me a lifetime."

"I promise to try and be more supportive. I just don't want to see you hurt."

"Then don't pretend Kenna. I, more than anyone else, know who I've married and like every other married couple, we're trying to navigate our way through many complexities. I need you to trust my judgement. That is all."

"You have it," Greer said.

"How about we visit you in a few weeks? It's hunting season and I know Narcisse is an avid hunter?" Kenna offered.

Lola positively beamed. "You would come and visit with me?" It meant the world that they would try.

"Yes! We'd love that. Bash is always off on official duties, so it could easily be arranged."

Lola waved her friends off and was left with one final task – find her husband. A quick enquiry later and she knew he was with the King. Approaching Francis's chambers, she heard raised voices and entered – for the moment, unobserved.

"I warn you, this approach will not work." Narcisse said, his voice formal, stiff, and slightly elevated. He was frustrated as he stood in front of Francis's desk.

"I am the King, Narcisse. This is my decision."

"Indeed. You are the King and as such people will bow to you in deference. But the Nobles will gather in secret and bemoan their fate amongst themselves. You will not win their loyalty in this way."

"What makes you the authority?"

"Perhaps because I've been there? I've been to those meetings, headed them actually," Narcisse said, his voice a challenge, his stance defiant. Lola swallowed, uncomfortable. "Let us not pander about aimlessly. I'm sure my candour will be appreciated. Your rule is tolerated Francis. You need to do more to collaborate with the Nobles. Henry knew when to give and take. His decision making..." he shrugged, "well, that left a lot to be desired. The point is, he was venerated because of his approach. You... you're behind on both counts."

"Oh shut up, Narcisse." Francis seethed. He was standing now, resting his hands on the desk. He was angry.

Lola saw her husband's jaw tense, barely containing his own rage. The tension between King and subject was thick and explosive.

Finally, bowing low, his voice cold and mocking, Narcisse said, "As you wish, Majesty. I have said my piece and now you must lie in the bed you've made."

"Are you threatening me?"

Lola's heart leapt into her throat as she moved out of sight.

"A mere warning," Narcisse drawled on his way out, "of the inevitable consequence of this route. You will not win this battle. I can guarantee it."

She shivered at his clipped tone and steely resolve.


Their departure from Court took longer than either had anticipated. She waited in the throne room, everything she'd heard ruminating in her head. The threat had been implied and clear. What had they been discussing? When Narcisse found her, he smiled warmly but she could see the latent anger simmering in his eyes. She stared uneasily at him but mentioned nothing of what she'd seen or heard.

The carriage ride was uncomfortable for him, not anticipating how painful the jostling about would be. It was made worse by the fact that he had instructed their driver to get them home as swiftly as possible.

It was late afternoon, the sun almost setting when she walked into her rooms. It felt like a lifetime had passed since she had stepped from it, when in actuality, it was mere days prior.

Stéphane had left her in the parlour with a surprisingly chaste kiss on her forehead. Her disappointment must have been evident because his eyes twinkled as he leaned in close, his beard ticking her cheek as he whispered something naughty in her ear. She gasped, sure her face was beat red. He only chuckled.

"I have one piece of business to attend to. Thereafter..." he let the innuendo hang in the air before asking, "Have dinner with me?"

She nodded, not sure she could actually speak. What business? Dared she ask? His hand tugged at an errant curl and it dropped to her shoulder. Her heart began its usual erratic beat, but with only a heated gaze, he turned and left. Trust. He had offered her trust. Despite her unease, she reminded herself that it worked both ways. Lola spent the next few hours fretting about what she had heard and whether she should discuss it with Stéphane. Perhaps he would tell her himself? What if he did not?

Eventually however, dinner was brought in by the servants and a table beautifully laid on the terrace. Candles blazed everywhere, casting a beautiful, intimate and romantic glow to the immediate surrounds. She realised then that she didn't want to fight tonight. She'd exchanged enough heated words with her sovereigns and friends. Tomorrow she would deal with court intrigue and possible treason - she shuddered at the thought.

So she made a choice. Tonight would be about them. No Francis, no Mary. She pressed her hands to her belly and breathed out slowly. Decision made, she felt the morning's nerves return. Had it been mere hours since their encounter in the palace gardens? If she closed her eyes, she could see it with crystal clarity; feel his mouth on her-. Dear God. She went warm all over.

"Lord Narcisse is on his way up, my Lady," Jacqueline said with a bow. Dinner had been served.

Instantly an idea struck. Dared she?

"Jacqueline, if I might make a request?" she asked conspiratorially. As the girl left, Lola waited on the terrace, relieved to feel the cool breeze caressing her heated face. She felt warm and restless, curious, anxious, excited about the night that lay ahead. Arms embraced her from behind and she jumped in surprise, but instantly relaxed when she felt Stéphane's lips at the nape of her neck. Well perhaps she didn't relax, but she did turn around to face him.

"Hello," she whispered, her eyes drinking in the sight of him. He had changed, wearing a dark grey shirt, a red vest and black breeches. He looked relaxed, his eyes warm and soft.

Lola caressed his rough cheek, her finger trailing from his temple to his chin. He really was devilishly handsome.

"Hungry?" he asked, his head cocking in the direction of the table laden with food.

"Yes," she said, her fingers still trailing down his neck, skimming his Adam's apple, and coming to rest over his heart, the other hand at the nape of his neck.

His brow lifted in surprise as his eyes flicked from her hand back to her eyes.

"Shall we then?" he moved towards the table, but her hands stalled him.

Lola breathed deeply. "Not for food."

The brow hitched even higher, a surprised chuckle escaping from his lips.

"What would you like then?" His arms enveloped her, pulling her flush against him, his hands resting possessively on the swell of her buttocks.

"You." Desire flared in his eyes, a satisfied smirk across his lips. He tugged, pulling her even closer. Just before their lips were to meet, she shook her head, heady on the sound of his heightened breathing. She placed a finger to his lips to stall him and gasped when he gently took it into his mouth and sucked. Oh. Simmering desire spiked.

"I need a few minutes. Would you meet me in your chambers?"

"We're currently in your chambers." His mouth tried to claim hers again and she averted, his lips instead trailing down her cheek to suck gently at her neck. She almost moaned but tried to regain her balance. She pushed gently.

"One moment," she promised. "Now go."

Reluctantly, he stepped back, his eyes burning into hers. She swallowed a few times, her throat dry. His gaze held so much promise.

The minute the door closed behind him, Lola turned and went to work. It took slightly longer than a minute, but soon enough, she knocked breathlessly on the door to his chambers and entered. He stood in the centre of the room, turning towards her as she stepped inside. When his eyes rested on her, all he did was stare. She'd never seen him thus - slack jawed, at a loss for words. The feeling went a long way to soothing her nerves, replaced in fact with a surge of pleasure at the knowledge of the power she held over him.

Walking towards him, she watched his eyes trail down her body, her form completely outlined in the deep red negligee Kenna had given her.

"You're a gift," he whispered, his hands reaching for and spanning her waistline. "Shall I unwrap you?"

The soft lace moulded to her curves, hidden slightly by the chiffon robe.

"Oh Lola," he whispered, his voice deep and low. He reached for the broad satin sash at her waist and tugged, the fabric giving way under the pressure. The lapels opened and he parted the gown. His eyes found hers as his hands moved slowly upwards, his palms cupping breasts that fairly spilled out of the snug bodice. "You never cease to surprise."

Before her courage failed her, or she fully succumbed to his sensual ministrations, she turned her head and saw the bathtub before the fireplace. It had been the request she'd made of Jacqueline. "Will you join me?"

He shook his head but smiled in utter delight. "Not this time."

She shivered as he pushed at the fabric and the gown fell to the floor, leaving her standing in the tight lace corset and sheer skirt. His hands skimmed from her shoulder to her fingertips, the fine hairs across her skin rising in response. Lola shivered even though she was not at all cold. Unable to stand the anticipation any longer, she grasped his vest and yanked him towards her, her lips meshing with his in an outrageous kiss. Fire - hot, instant, all consuming coursed through her as she pressed into him, needing to get closer – nothing felt close enough.

His tongue played with hers, the game slick, hot and to any lady's sensibilities, most definitely improper. She couldn't get enough of him, wanting to breathe him into her person if she could. They would combust spontaneously; she was sure of it.

Deft hands saw her from her clothing, the fact registering when lace pooled at her feet. She had the impulse to cover herself, but raising her gaze to his, all she saw was desire and deep appreciation. Gone was his usual smirk. Blue eyes raked across her, leaving her in no doubt that all he wanted, all he was focused on, was her.

"You are exquisite," he breathed against her mouth, each word punctuated with a deep, wet kiss as he hoisted her up and against him, his hands gripping her behind. Their faces were now level as they panted with mutual lust, his gaze dark and penetrating and she admitted, so very sexy. Lola wrapped her legs around his waist, biting her lips as she pressed against him intimately. Her hands cupped his face, taking a moment to run her fingers across his cheeks, placing soft, intimate kisses along his jaw line. She was naked, breathless, eager, her cascading hair brushing tantalisingly at the top of her backside as he walked over to the large bathtub. Lola gasped as his nails gently raked across her thighs.

"Step inside."

Lola lowered her legs into the warm, fragrant water, her hands tugging at the collar of his shirt.

"Get in with me."

He chuckled. "Not tonight. Tonight..." he drawled, "is all about you."

"What is it with you and a bath?"

"Soon," he promised. But those were the last words he spoke for a very long time. He ran his soaped hands across her skin, his fingers gliding across the smooth, wet surface, caressing the crevices, pinching gently at sensitive places. Lola felt drunk under the onslaught, completely and utterly under his spell. Palms now massaged her firm breasts, his head dipping every so often to suckle at the pebbled buds of her nipples. Lola felt moisture pool between her thighs, the feeling accompanied by the need to rub against him. But he lifted her again and when her feet touched the ground, their kisses became a carnal of frenzy of need.

Tugging at his clothes, she began unbuttoning his vest at the same time that he attempted to shrug out of it. She helped him remove his shirt, her hands and eyes grateful to finally have the opportunity to look and touch. He was beautiful. Lola bit her lip as her eyes feasted on muscled, warm skin. His chest was hard, dark hairs arrowing downwards and disappearing into breeches that hung low on his hips. Her hands went to his stomach and she could feel the muscles there contract under her touch. Her fingers skimmed across the white bandage that still covered his midsection, her eyes searching his.

"Are you sure?"

His response was a searing kiss that left her mindless. His hands fisted in her hair and Lola turned her face against his wrist as his lips nipped across her neck. She caught sight of the scarred butterfly birthmark and gently placed her lips to it, kissing the bruised flesh. His eyes, soft with surprise, caught hers as he gently, but with deliberate intent, hoisted her back into his arms.

His lips were magic and she could not stop sampling their perfection. His tongue, deft and sure, sucked on her own, his teeth tugging playfully on her bottom lip.

"Turn around," he ordered and Lola frowned. She assumed he was taking her to the bed. Instead, she was back on her feet, facing a long mirror. She gasped, mortified at the image of her nakedness reflected back at her. She moved to turn away, but he stalled her, holding her in place, her back to his chest, his arms around her waist.

"Look," he ordered. "Look at what happens when I touch you."

With her heart beating in her throat, her eyes rose from the ground and looked with trepidation. Her cheeks flamed with colour, but she could not deny the erotic picture they presented. She was utterly naked, Narcisse behind her in only his breeches. Bracketed around her hips, his powerful thighs held her in place as he caught her eyes in the mirror, his teeth nipping at her earlobe.

Heat shot towards her groin and she trembled, unable to stop her eyes from looking to her breasts as she felt her nipples tighten in response.

"Now," he whispered, his rough cheek against hers, "raise your arms and link it behind my neck."

She didn't think about, she just did it. Then she gasped. Her breasts, already swollen and heavy, lifted and rose even higher as she moved her arms upwards. The rosy peaks throbbed; stiff, begging for his touch. The hands that had been resting on her naked belly, now moved upwards, his fingers drawing maddening patterns on the skin just below the swell of her breasts.

In the mirror, she watched fascinated as his darker skin contrasted with the paleness of her own. It was sensual and utterly sexy. She watched her skin flush, her ribcage expanding and contracting as desire spread, consuming every part of her.

Her knees wobbled and Lola braced them, trying to stop herself from swaying. Her eyes locked with his briefly and butterflies flapped furiously in her belly at the possessive look in his. His hips jutted forward, his thighs squeezing the outside of her own. She could feel his erection against her backside and flushed. Her eyes squeezed shut when his hands cupped her breasts, kneading the high, firm mounds gently.

"Breathe, Lola," he whispered and her breath stuttered out in a rush as his fingertips rolled her nipples between them, pinching gently. She felt her mind shut down, her breathing now that of someone who had run for miles.

"Oh please..." she moaned, her eyes heavy lidded, opened again, riveted to the sight of what his hands were doing to her body.

But he showed her no mercy from the delicious onslaught. His hands travelled lower and her eyes widened as she watched him cup her sex. She was wet, drenched, his fingers gliding easily against her slick folds. His breathing was louder now as she watched (and felt) the slide of a finger, then two inside of her. Her thighs did tremble then, and shamelessly, she opened them to offer him better access.

He took full advantage of the concession. His fingers moved, pushing into her with erotic frequency. She watched the hypnotic display, his fingers glinting with the moisture from her body. Lola moaned, so very turned on by the shocking display. His fingers stretched, flexed, rubbing against the swollen walls inside of her.

When he started to withdraw, she clamped her thighs around them, trying to hold him in place. His rich chuckle in her ear drove her to distraction.

"Patience," he whispered as he moved his hand from her front to her back, his soaked fingers now entering her slick passage from behind. The view this presented her in the mirror was the most erotic thing she had ever witnessed in her life. She had an unblocked view of three of his fingers thrusting inside of her, the moisture from her body glistening off them. The arms around his neck trembled as she shut her eyes, her hips rising and falling instinctively to meet him.

"Now," he whispered, just as his thumb brushed against her clitoris. She cried out, her entire body spasming as her orgasm hit her. Her mouth was dry, her senses in overload. He turned her around and their lips crashed together. Lola could not believe everything she felt for him, everything she wanted from him. Her hands pushed into the back of his breeches, bold in her exploration of his firm behind. She tugged, wanting his breeches off, wanting him inside her. She had waited enough.

"Impatient, are we?" he drawled, his lips at her throat, her breasts, his lips tugged – oh. His tongue swirled around the stiff peaks, her groan loud as he took as much of her breast into his mouth as he could. Dear God.

"Please. Please."

He left her for a moment as he stripped off his pants. Whatever thoughts she had left, fled at the sight of his impressive erection. She swallowed, then tried again, her eyes rising to find his own. Their gazes collided and for a moment the frenzy died down as he swung her into his arms, their lips meeting in a tender, but rousing kiss. The moment did not last long however, their kisses now beyond modesty or anything tame and contained. She was thoroughly swept into a storm of passion that she could see no end to.

When he laid her upon the cool sheets of his bed, Lola could not remember ever feeling as mindless or out of control. Her need for him was unlike any sexual experience she had ever had. His thighs parted her own, his legs spread wide, forcing her to hook her ankles around his calves.

"Stéphane, now, please," she panted. She was dying and he was her only salvation.

He raised a brow, his coarse cheek brushing against her own as he panted into her ear. "Still making demands."

"I've learnt," she gasped out between gulps of air as he pressed into her passage.

"Yes, yes you have."

He thrust into her then and she cried out, the sound transformed into a garbled moan when his tongue glided across hers. Tears welled in her eyes at the intensity of the pleasure that shot through her and she shut them tightly as he thrust again and again, the tempo frantic, carnal, exquisite. She matched him, her head resting on his forearm as they kissed with wild abandon. She was surrounded by him – and it was glorious. Everything went dark, her body the receptacle of nothing but concentrated bliss.

His hands fisted in her hair and he pulled, the sting associated with the gentle tug the catalyst that released her orgasm. Lola fell, tumbling into nothingness as he thrust once more, following her into the abyss.


a/n: This chapter is more than 1000 words longer than any of the others that preceded it. The honeymoon continues and some court intrigue follows. Thank you for reading. x