L'amante de Porthos
Chapter 31 Back to You
"You!" she whispered, as he caught her.
The feeling of her body between his arms ignited him. As he looked into her eyes it was as though he had finally come home.
Alas, that precious moment he had been so ardently looking forward to, the moment that he had hoped to prolong and devour, was short-lived. A movement through the glass door had caught his eye as a familiar silhouette could be seen moving decidedly towards the doors. As he approached, Porthos could see a part of the stranger's face hidden under an eyepatch. He grimaced. That insipid bastard, Rochefort! He somehow found her and had come to drag her back.
He spied his sister pretending to wipe the glass in an attempt to discourage or delay the intruder, but he knew she wouldn't be able to hold him up for long. He had to act quickly.
After securing Marianne in his arms, he made a swift jump into the tall hedges with such force so that they would come out on the other side unhindered by any branches. Having realized at the last second what was going to happen, she instinctively put her hands to her face and buried herself as much as she could in his chest.
They successfully made it to the other side before anyone had the chance to spot them. Porthos bit his lower lip, suppressing a loud groan as he landed violently on his back. His arms tensed around her body, and he buried his face in the crevice of her shoulder, where the voluptuous waves of her hair fell, hoping it would muffle any further sound.
For a long period of time, neither one of them dared move. On the one hand, it was the safest thing to ensure that, had anyone succeeded in penetrating the gardens, they would not hear a sound nor suspect their presence and then they would promptly leave.
Certainly, this was far from the meeting he had anticipated, going into the evening, but there was something deliciously indecent about the way she was perched on top of him. He could feel her breasts pressing down onto his chest, as he struggled to suppress his own body from reacting to this sensation. They were ever so close to each other and any hint of an erection would certainly be remarked.
Her body began to shift between these strong brawny arms that still surrounded her as tightly as when they had caught her – a degree of tightness that was unnecessary given that they had already fallen and she no longer needed this physical protective barrier. But Marianne stayed quiet for as long as she could to savour this warmth haven that had enveloped her, her heart alternating between the excitement of the moment and the fearful anticipation of the moment he would decide to let go of her and liberate her. But he didn't move and so she stayed, until her anticipation became overbearing and her breathing difficult.
She squirmed her hands free and placed them palms down on his chest, closer to his neck. She lifted her head and pulled her body up closer to his level and their eyes finally met.
They were both still panting from the excitement of this strange meeting. They swam in each other's eyes. They had been apart for what seemed like a lifetime and now… now they were so physically close, it felt like it would be the most natural thing in the world to simply melt into each other.
His gaze shifted between her eyes and her lips, going lower to her breasts, which were almost popping out of this ill-fitting corset with all the tight squeezing her upper body had just received. How appetizing she looked! And how conveniently placed she was! She was so accessible to him…But he did have the right to it? To her? After everything?
They looked in each other's eyes searchingly, as if trying to read the other's memories of the short time they had been apart so as to reacquaint themselves with each other. But the only thing that seemed apparent was the desire that had suddenly overtaken them in the heat of this moment.
He had her right there. The woman of his dreams, the woman who had broken his heart, who had shown him what his heart was capable of. He had dreamed and thought of nothing but her ever since he had met her.
…
She should have known it was going to be him. But how did Emilie and Cecile find out the truth? She thought she hid it so well. How did he know she was here? Probably the same way Rochefort did…
She reveled in the warmth of his body, under the force of his colossus figure. She felt safe again, warm again… loved again. The look in his eyes was unmistakable. He hadn't come to reproach her. He wouldn't have come at all if he didn't want her.
There were so many thoughts going through their heads. Tangled messy thoughts. Many questions and many things to say and yet… no one moved.
She just held his gaze, her eyes flitting from his downwards to lips. She wanted him. She wanted to devour him, to have him. She wanted him to possess her. It had been too long. It was as if every cell in her body was awakening, her heart was beating again. She felt alive once more. As if reborn.
She quieted her thoughts and let her newly found energy take over. She slid herself along his body, and lifted herself up gently.
She felt his grip on her loosen as one arm disengaged from her waist. He brought it to her face, as he gently stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and smiled.
"It's nice to see you," he whispered.
As a response, he only saw the hint of a mischievous smile on her lips before she lowered her face to his and their lips reunited with a force so violent with passion, Porthos felt he was going to explode right in that moment.
….
They embraced wildly for a few minutes as his hands moved furiously anywhere on her body that was accessible to him, starting with her back, her waist, her neck, her hair, her thighs. Blast! This dress was such an impediment. He tried to lift the skirts but from the position she landed in, she seems entangled in this spacious fabric that formed it.
Once again, he placed his arms tightly around her waist and in a swift move, he flipped her over, reversing their positions. Caught by surprise, Marianne gasped and couldn't help but let out a chuckle.
Now on top of her, he shifted his waist uncomfortably, feeling that discomfort grow between his legs.
As in response, Marianne attempted to part her legs more to give him more room, or at least to lift up these infernal skirts but it seems like such a struggle to them both. Frustrated by this impediment, the young musketeer did what he did best:
*RRRRRIIIPPPPP*
Marianne's eyes flit wide open and she gasped in bewilderment. But he didn't leave her enough room to contemplate the fact that he had just torn her dress in half. And oh, good riddance to this abomination! He moved back on top of her and she was now free to wrap both her arms and legs around his waist as tightly as she could.
The music from the ballroom was perfectly audible through the windows on the side of the wing, drowning the delicious moans and sighs that were escaping the two lovers. Their tongues danced along furtively, as their bodies moved together in a lascivious rhythm.
…
She sighed on feeling his erection grow in between her legs. How she longed to unite herself with him! She could feel a ball of pleasure forming in between her legs, warm and moist. He placed his hand behind her neck, anchoring her further to him. She was completely possessed by him, under his control and she reveled in that!
"Forgive me…" he breathed in between furtive kisses. "I was a fool… completely idiotic…"
She could only smile and pull him in for more kisses. It was all forgotten. Somehow, seeing him, feeling him, loving him… she forgot everything and she never wanted to remember. Yes, he still cared for her! He had come to make up with her, to take her back. And she will accept and they could finally run away together. She pulled him to her even more.
"I know you ran away from him…" he continued.
He knew! She was jubilant. He knew she had escaped for her life, from that villain. Thankfully, she didn't have to relate that horrific night in detail. He had come to protect her, to save her from the wretched Iron Mask. Her guardian, her protector! He was here once more and she would give anything for him.
"What you did was brave… and I was a fool not to realize…"
Everything he had rehearsed was coming out disjointed. He could barely think. But he still felt the need to say something, to reassure her of his devotion, to ask her forgiveness. Because if he was going to continue this, he didn't want to unite himself with her under false pretenses. That wasn't his way. He still had some honor left.
She shivered as she felt his tongue gliding in between her breasts. Oh heavens, if only he could tear that corset apart and liberate her!
"That it was because of your uncle and the Cardinal… ," he went on, "That otherwise, you would have come with me… You didn't love Rochefort and couldn't stand the idea of a marriage to him…"
He continued to kiss her furtively, without remarking that the last thing he had said reduced her pace.
"What?" she whispered.
He had moved down to taste her neck. He brought his head up for an instant.
"Rochefort. You were forced to marry him? You tried to tell me and I was an absolute arse about it. So, you ran away from him."
Marianne dropped her head and averted her eyes. Ugh! So, he didn't know. He only knew the story she had told Cecile and Emilie. Then how did he come to be here? Did that mean he hadn't actually been looking for her? That his being here was all just a coincidence?
He continued to kiss her neck but she was gradually tensing up. The thoughts in her head becoming more coherent and more troubling. More… rational. What in God's name was she doing?
"I didn't run away from Rochefort!" she snapped at him with indignation.
His tongue was midway in the air, about to caress the top of her breasts when he abruptly stopped.
"What do you…?" he was confused.
"I did not run away from Rochefort!" she repeated, "Now get off of me, if you please."
He swallowed with difficulty. What did this mean? Could it be? That she had lied? That she had seduced him again only to betray him not long after?
"PORTHOS!" she yelled at him, seeing that he wasn't moving.
As if in a daze, he disengaged from her in a mechanical way and helped her up.
….
He brushed his fingers through his hair. His cheeks went red with shame. What a fool he had been! He stared at her as she brushed down her dress from the dust and dirt and ungracefully removed the branches from her hair, making it more dishevelled.
"I… don't understand," he began, "If you didn't run away from him then you were going to marry him?"
Marianne rolled her eyes in disbelief.
"That had been the plan," she answered unceremoniously.
He looked away from her, the anger rising to his head.
"Do you love him?" he uttered with clenched teeth.
"For God's sake, Porthos, is that all you care about? Rochefort?" she yelled.
"I CARE that the woman I…" he paused, re-examining his words before he said too much, "that the woman I care about cares about me as well and is not off traipsing with someone else while I am just… just a fool being taken advantage of and laughed at."
Marianne lost her temper. She stomped her feet and clenched her fist to the side while she painfully poked him with her finger, "YOU! YOU KISSED A WOMAN right in front of me because you thought it would be amusing to make me JEALOUS!" she yelled. Thankfully, the music was too loud that no one could hear them.
He rolled his eyes and sniggered, "Not this again…"
She shook her head and turned her back to him, "You have no right to demand any explanations of me. I owe you NOTHING."
She was about to storm out when he grabbed her wrist to stop her. He panicked. He didn't want to lose her again. But Marianne revolted reflexively at this gesture, her right hand instinctively covering her left arm and Porthos froze. He immediately released her, the memory of their last altercation and the consequent guilt he felt flooding through him.
"I'm sorry. Forgive me. Don't leave, please," he pleaded.
The look in his eyes tugged at her heart strings. He seemed genuinely remorseful.
"Marianne…" he whispered.
Her name in his voice sounded so woundingly delicious. All she wanted was to go back to him, to forget everything. But she couldn't. She felt alone. He hadn't come here for her, after all. He hadn't been looking for her. He just found out by chance that she was here and he came to… to what?
"What are you doing here?" she finally spoke after a long moment of awkward silence.
Let's see… I was grieving the fact that you left me for another man and I thought you had played with my feelings and betrayed me. So, I acted out of sheer foolishness, plunged myself into an excess of alcohol, drinking and women. I ruined the mission and soiled the reputation of the musketeers. Oh yes, and I almost killed one of my comrades-in-arms. And then I was suspended.
He blushed deeply, scratched his neck, "I… well, it's a very long story."
She sighed and looked away, not knowing what to say. Did she even want to know? She felt really tired all of a sudden, almost defeated.
He took a step closer to her and lifted her chin up.
"I am sorry."
She turned away once more. She felt a lump forming in her throat. It was such an unfamiliar feeling and it rarely happened. She just wanted to tuck herself away in his arms and think of nothing more.
"Tell me what happened, please."
She stared at him straight in the eyes and she exhaled. Fine. She cleared her throat.
"I ran away from the… from the…" she lowered her voice, "from the Iron Mask."
….
Marianne looked at her lover with confusion as he obscenely roared with laughter at her declaration.
"Oh God! I knew you were many things, ma belle, but a jokester was not one of them," he jested, wiping away tears from his eyes.
"I'm not joking," she snapped.
He sniffled, "Of course you are! I blame myself. It's all those stories I had been spinning to you and the Prince. Surely, you must know that some of them were exaggerations," and in a more serious tone, "But I can assure you that the Iron Mask is undeniably D.E.A.D." he made sure to spell out the last word as he went into another fit of laughter.
Marianne crossed her arms on her chest and just stared at him in utter disbelief.
"You're more of an imagination-lacking simpleton than I ever thought," she icily shot at him.
His face immediately changed and he realized that she wasn't actually joking. He looked straight at her, hurt by her words and also by the mere fact that she was lying. Straight- up lying to him. And he realized: once again, Athos was right. He didn't really know her. One day, she offers herself to him, the next day, she's with another man, she doesn't even deny it, then she lies about, then she runs away. Maybe Bertrand was right, maybe she was also a sorceress. But whoever this woman was, she was not all sound in the head and he was foolish to have trusted her, to have felt anything for her. Suddenly, he could only see her the same way he looked at the whores in the brothels: someone distant, someone disposable and whose history was questionable and muddled.
"Alas, Madame," he retaliated, "I don't entertain the opinions of whores."
Her eyes shot wide open as her palm violently crashed onto his chiseled face, leaving a red imprint.
"I NEVER want to see you again," she screamed and turned on her heels.
But just before she could even take a step ahead, the music from the ballroom had come to a screeching halt. They heard the sound of a window breaking and then… a pistol shot followed by screams and a big commotion from the ballroom.
From the screams, they could make out, "THE IRON MASK! THE IRON MASK IS HERE!"
And then another pistol shot.
The two lovers were frozen in place and Marianne's heart almost leapt out of her chest when a figure with a cape and a pointy hat appeared on the window overlooking the garden. She could see the moonlight reflecting brilliantly off his metallic face. He was barely there before he disappeared.