Chapter 11

Lord Narcisse hurried along the dark corridors, taking long and angry strikes. He tried to keep his annoyance at bay about the currently displayed stubbornness of his wife. Basially, if anyone was to blame for her behavior, it would be he himself. How could anyone in their right mind assume that Catherine de' Medici would submissivly bow to his commands without putting up resistance? And wasn't it her obstinancy and feral untamedness that he loved so much about her? A daring part of him had wanted to know how she would react to his provocation. And she did not disappoint.
But his actions had only unnecessarily hardened the fronts between them and he was pretty sure that Catherine had already raised her inner walls she had built around her heart as some kind of protective armor. However he hoped that this fortress would not remain impregnable to him.
The same fire that burned deep within his soul also blazed in her. He has already been on the receiving end of said fire. He only hoped he could reignite his feisty italien wife once again.
Narcisse wondered how great his life as Lord Chancellor could be with Catherine by his side as his wife- willently in body and mind.

It was outright amazing how fast fate could change one's course of life. During Lola's lifetime he had been fighting a losing battle – against his better judgement and his darkest desire. Nevertheless, the loyalty he should have felt towards his wife had not been big enough to fight the tremendous desire that Catherine was able to arouse with a single snap of her fingers. A desire he still didn't understand.
For she did not meet the profile of women that usually turned his head. Young women that displayed a well-balanced mixture of innocence, virtue and playing coy was what normally awakened his hunting instincts. The thrilling challenge to seduce a prim young woman. That's what he had found particulary appealing in Lola. Her indignation and her open rejection. Besides, she had been a stunning young Lady.

There were many girls like Lola and he had conquered quite a few of them. But he had never before met a woman like Catherine de' Medici. One who knew what she wanted and was willing to go to extremes to get it. Over the years he had shared his bed with many women. Most of them very young. He would call himself a well experienced lover who had tried everything imaginable and sometimes also unimaginable between the sheets as well as outside. He was a true expert when it came to making love.
And here it was Catherineas well, who had let him to higher heights and new dimensions of frenetic love-making. Never before did he have a more willing, more passionate partner than his beautiful wife.
She had completely lacked the kind of tantalising modestly he was normally pulled to. She had equally irritated and bewitched him.

Stephane did not immediately understand what it was that differentiated her from all these inexperienced dolls. But later he realized that all of them had been girls - incredibly young women - unnerved by love and life in general. Catherine, on the other hand, has already carved out a well-deserved place in the world, every inch a woman, a queen in whose life was no room for uncertainties.

And not only in bed did this woman fascinate him. Catherine had a very commanding presence. She just evaporated power. In a room full of people it was impossible not to perceive her right from the first moment. Her stunning appearance and royal attitude made her nearly omnipresent. This, combined with her steel-hard will and her intelligent, hazel eyes, which nothing seems to escape, still made her the most powerful woman in France. When he saw her acting among all those nobles and councilors, he sometimes forgot how petite she actually was. She was a shrimp, particularly when she was laying under him – naked and without her heels.
And she had curves. Gorgeous, womanly curves that made his fingers tingle as soon as he thought of them. Everything about her was feminine. And the moment he'd laid hands on her for the first time had sealed his fate forever.
Even after he had married Lola, it were the memories of his hours he'd secretly spent with Catherine that did haunt him. And when his sweet, lovely Lola had been lying beside him in bed - stiff and uncertain – his mind had often wandered back to Catherine, who had been dominating the world of his thoughts during these nights.

Stephane Narcisse paused in front of the King's rooms to regain control over his emotions. Then he knocked at the door of his monarch. But he did not get an answer. After a second, also unsuccessful knock, he simply entered the royal chambers. A stale and sour odor struck him. All curtains were drawn and the few burning candles dipped the room into a dim twilight.
In the bed, that occupied the main space of this room, he discovered the coild up figure of the king.
"Your Majesty, aren't you feeling well?" A superfluous question but he asked it anyhow. Charles did not even bother to raise his head. He merely hummed, muttering an incomprehensible reply. There was still no reaction after Stephane repeated his question.

"Charles, if you're not feeling well, I can call for a physician," he offered, although he knew very well that this young man was not suffering from any physical illness. Charles was traumatized by the events that resulted from his kidnapping by the Red Knights and it was his young and heavily damaged spirit, they had to worry about.
"No, I do not need a charlatan who clobbers me or who forces some other nonsense upon me." Narcisse, who had expected this kind of answer, circled the bed and tampered with the curtains.
"Then there is no reason for you to stay in bed. You are young, you are the King of France and the whole world lays at your feet. So go out and conquer it. Or at least have dinner with your family. I'm sure your mother is already worried about you." Charles groaned in annoyance but folded his duvet back and sat up in his bed.
"Doesn't my mother has other worries for the time being? Tell me, Lord Narcisse, does this new marriage suit both of you?"

This theme seemed to interest his monarch, for he straightened up and curiously looked at his Lord Chancellor.
"It is developing quite promisingly. I certainly will be no less occupied with this arrangement than your mother, my King." Charles nodded absently, then he rose with the verve of a gout-ridden old man.
"As I've heard you have already made her move into your chambers. I can very well imagine that she did not react particularly enthusiastic about this." Stephane nodded affirmatively while offering Charles an elaborately embroidered jacket and helped him dress.
"Catherine was far away from being enthusiastic ," he murmured mischievously, gesturing to his protégé to drive his fingers through his tattered hair to get it back in form.
"That I would have liked to witness myself," his wife's son mused with a crooked smile. "Just look how much this amuses me. Your marriage was a magnificent idea, Lord Narcisse. And now come on, we can't let our family wait any longer." With these words, Charles marched past him, his spirits obviously lifted.
Stephane quickly lowered his eyes and he firmly pressed his hands against each other until they cracked protestingly. Then he followed his king.

After all it seemed that at least one person was enjoying his marriage.


So what do you think about this part, is it anything you expected? Yes?! No!?

at D: once again the first one, Hon... :-) I'm glad that I can always count on you. So what do you think about this part?

at Suzan: How sweet of you, my dear friend. No clash yet but let me tell you - more to come, more to clash... :-) I love drama, I just can't help myself.

at MediciQueen: Yes Ma'am - I translated like a maniac, I hope it still makes sense... hihi

at CallmeCordelia: And I love your feedback! At first I tought I could not get into their heads - but I think I'm getting there. And writing Catherine's POV is so much fun. :-)