Chapter Six
Paris, France-1789
The grand ballroom was full of charming people and more charming decor. Tables were full of all kinds of food from chefs all over the world. The best quartet in France was set up in a far corner, playing lively waltzes. Ladies in their most expensive, glamorous dresses and men dressed in their finest, waltzed, socialized, and flirted.
But, there was one who did not seem to be enjoying herself. A casual glance would reveal a woman who could make a lady's eyes narrow in envy and a man's mouth water. A lush, slim figure was draped in crimson silk, the neckline plunging in the style of that day to expose an ample chest and the silk pulling tight around her tiny waist. Her sleeves ended at the elbow in cascades of lace and the skirt trailed on the ground behind her. Chocolate brown curls were piled atop her head, stray tendrils framing her delicate features.
The woman had a sweet smile on her face as man after man approached her, hoping to have her hand for the next dance. Warm, sincere words spilled from her lips as she gently rejected each one. She was there, standing in the corner, but her mind was out on the floor, golden eyes fixed on a pair twirling about the room.
The man of her attentions smiled charmingly down at his partner, a lock of black hair falling across his eye. Blue eyes twinkled as he threw back his head and laughed at something the woman in his arms had said. What? Was it actually possible that that vapid, shallow woman had said something witty? Unconsciously, one thin eyebrow arched, then returned to its normal state. That was rude of her. She had no right to judge these people. This was how they lived.
The music abruptly ended, and a smattering of applause sounded throughout the room. The blue eyed man smiled again at the young lady in his arms and bowed low. Then, turning on his heel, he crossed the room to stand behind the woman in scarlet. Taking her elbow in his hand, he gently pulled her from the room, leading her to a secluded side room.
Dropping her arm as he pulled the curtains shut, he sighed and sank into one of the plush love seats, resting his head on his hands. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. The woman allowed a small smile to grace her lips as she sat on the arm of his chair, gently stroking his hair.
"She hates me.I know it." He sighed again and leaned against her hand, closing his eyes.
"Now, Philippe, she doesn't hate you. She seemed to be having a lovely time with you." The woman nodded encouragingly and continued to stroke his head. This was hard...
He looked up at her with those hopeful blue eyes, resembling an eager child. "You really think so."
She forced another smile. "I know so."
He smiled gratefully and stood to leave, squeezing her hand briefly before venturing back out into the ballroom, intent on asking the blonde woman to dance once more. Only then did silent tears stream from those golden eyes, as she pressed a hand to her mouth. This emotion. It plagued her like none other. When she was awake, her thoughts were of him. When she slept, he haunted her dreams. When he was near, her heart leapt and pulled her in thousands of different directions. The women here, they constantly spoke of "love." Love...well, if this was love, it wasn't as great as they made it out to be.
Lifting her eyes to the heavens, the ceiling becoming transparent, she spoke angrily, nearly spitting out the words. "I didn't ask for this. I don't want this."
Almost immediately, an answer floated through her mind. Destiny. Your destiny.
"But why?" Her voice became choked and she sank back down in the plush chair, covering her face. "Why..."
You know what you must do, goddess.
She sighed softly, blowing a strand of hair that had fallen in her eyes. Of course she knew what she must do. Her divine duty, she remarked to herself in a slightly sarcastic note. It had to be accomplished. But, why did it hurt so badly this time? She had caused men and women to fall in love countless times. Count Philippe de Bocage was no different, right?
Peeking out of the heavy velvet curtains, she spied Marc talked to the blonde woman. Lila. She felt bubbles of anger rise up in her, but swallowed them back down. He was speaking animatedly to her, gesturing wildly. She responded by yawning in his face and fanning herself, obviously bored. Marc didn't deserve someone like that. He deserved better.
'What do you think,' she asked herself, 'that he deserves someone like you?' She laughed bitterly at that. There was no doubt in her mind; she could make him want her. Make it so that he couldn't breathe without thinking of her. But, of course, he didn't want that. He didn't want her. His heart's desire was to be with Lila. And whatever his heart desired...was what she would give him.
Those mesmerizing eyes began to glow, a golden flare rising behind her until the room flashed. Gone was the beautiful woman with golden eyes, gone from this time and place. Her job was completed. Light laughter rang out from a pale, blonde beauty, as she coyly smiled at a charming blue-eyed man. A quite shocking personality swing. She had gone from loathing this man to adoring him , all in a matter of seconds. By the end of the night, the two would have been engaged.the end of the month, married.
Had either stopped to gaze out the windows overlooking the garden, they would have been quite shocked to see the former belle of the ball dressed in quite shockingly revealing clothes. One hand rested on the windowpane longingly, before she was gone, caught up in a flurry of golden feathers.
Her next assignment was waiting.
Paris, France-1789
The grand ballroom was full of charming people and more charming decor. Tables were full of all kinds of food from chefs all over the world. The best quartet in France was set up in a far corner, playing lively waltzes. Ladies in their most expensive, glamorous dresses and men dressed in their finest, waltzed, socialized, and flirted.
But, there was one who did not seem to be enjoying herself. A casual glance would reveal a woman who could make a lady's eyes narrow in envy and a man's mouth water. A lush, slim figure was draped in crimson silk, the neckline plunging in the style of that day to expose an ample chest and the silk pulling tight around her tiny waist. Her sleeves ended at the elbow in cascades of lace and the skirt trailed on the ground behind her. Chocolate brown curls were piled atop her head, stray tendrils framing her delicate features.
The woman had a sweet smile on her face as man after man approached her, hoping to have her hand for the next dance. Warm, sincere words spilled from her lips as she gently rejected each one. She was there, standing in the corner, but her mind was out on the floor, golden eyes fixed on a pair twirling about the room.
The man of her attentions smiled charmingly down at his partner, a lock of black hair falling across his eye. Blue eyes twinkled as he threw back his head and laughed at something the woman in his arms had said. What? Was it actually possible that that vapid, shallow woman had said something witty? Unconsciously, one thin eyebrow arched, then returned to its normal state. That was rude of her. She had no right to judge these people. This was how they lived.
The music abruptly ended, and a smattering of applause sounded throughout the room. The blue eyed man smiled again at the young lady in his arms and bowed low. Then, turning on his heel, he crossed the room to stand behind the woman in scarlet. Taking her elbow in his hand, he gently pulled her from the room, leading her to a secluded side room.
Dropping her arm as he pulled the curtains shut, he sighed and sank into one of the plush love seats, resting his head on his hands. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. The woman allowed a small smile to grace her lips as she sat on the arm of his chair, gently stroking his hair.
"She hates me.I know it." He sighed again and leaned against her hand, closing his eyes.
"Now, Philippe, she doesn't hate you. She seemed to be having a lovely time with you." The woman nodded encouragingly and continued to stroke his head. This was hard...
He looked up at her with those hopeful blue eyes, resembling an eager child. "You really think so."
She forced another smile. "I know so."
He smiled gratefully and stood to leave, squeezing her hand briefly before venturing back out into the ballroom, intent on asking the blonde woman to dance once more. Only then did silent tears stream from those golden eyes, as she pressed a hand to her mouth. This emotion. It plagued her like none other. When she was awake, her thoughts were of him. When she slept, he haunted her dreams. When he was near, her heart leapt and pulled her in thousands of different directions. The women here, they constantly spoke of "love." Love...well, if this was love, it wasn't as great as they made it out to be.
Lifting her eyes to the heavens, the ceiling becoming transparent, she spoke angrily, nearly spitting out the words. "I didn't ask for this. I don't want this."
Almost immediately, an answer floated through her mind. Destiny. Your destiny.
"But why?" Her voice became choked and she sank back down in the plush chair, covering her face. "Why..."
You know what you must do, goddess.
She sighed softly, blowing a strand of hair that had fallen in her eyes. Of course she knew what she must do. Her divine duty, she remarked to herself in a slightly sarcastic note. It had to be accomplished. But, why did it hurt so badly this time? She had caused men and women to fall in love countless times. Count Philippe de Bocage was no different, right?
Peeking out of the heavy velvet curtains, she spied Marc talked to the blonde woman. Lila. She felt bubbles of anger rise up in her, but swallowed them back down. He was speaking animatedly to her, gesturing wildly. She responded by yawning in his face and fanning herself, obviously bored. Marc didn't deserve someone like that. He deserved better.
'What do you think,' she asked herself, 'that he deserves someone like you?' She laughed bitterly at that. There was no doubt in her mind; she could make him want her. Make it so that he couldn't breathe without thinking of her. But, of course, he didn't want that. He didn't want her. His heart's desire was to be with Lila. And whatever his heart desired...was what she would give him.
Those mesmerizing eyes began to glow, a golden flare rising behind her until the room flashed. Gone was the beautiful woman with golden eyes, gone from this time and place. Her job was completed. Light laughter rang out from a pale, blonde beauty, as she coyly smiled at a charming blue-eyed man. A quite shocking personality swing. She had gone from loathing this man to adoring him , all in a matter of seconds. By the end of the night, the two would have been engaged.the end of the month, married.
Had either stopped to gaze out the windows overlooking the garden, they would have been quite shocked to see the former belle of the ball dressed in quite shockingly revealing clothes. One hand rested on the windowpane longingly, before she was gone, caught up in a flurry of golden feathers.
Her next assignment was waiting.
