Just a brief warning. This chapter is heavily Chauvelin/Marguerite. If you don't like it, leave.
Disclaimer:If I owned the Scarlet Pimpernel, you would know. I don't. Pity me.
Falcon in the Dive
Chapter 2: Bring Your Renegade Heart Home to Me
Chauvelin led Marguerite by the arm into the depths of the prison. Mercier and Coupeau followed with their eyes downcast, no doubt ashamed at their betrayal of their leader in both forfeiting a classified secret and touching and holding his woman.
The entered an empty circular room that appeared to be a stationing room for off-duty prison guards. There were several doors along the walls, no doubt leading to the areas where the prisoners were kept. Chauvelin released Marguerite's arm and paced around the room as Mercier and Coupeau stood guard in the corridor.
"You do know, Marguerite, that I admire you, yes? Coming here to save your brother, that shows spirit, courage." Chauvelin stood before her and lifted her head so her frightened blue eyes met his blazing gold ones. "But did you truly think I could be near you and not know you?" he said breathlessly. "Even you are not that great of an actress." He gallantly gestured to a chair in the center of the room. "Will you sit, milady?"
Eager to escape Chauvelin's grasp, Marguerite tore herself away from his burning gaze and sat down in the offered chair. "Armand is here?"
"Ummm."
"Is he…" Marguerite swallowed back threatening tears, "is he well?"
"At the moment." Chauvelin glanced over at the young French woman and felt his icy disposition melt as he was consumed by passion and lust for her. He knelt before her to bring himself level with her desperate gaze. He cupped a hand under her chin and gently ran his thumb across her cheek.
"How beautiful you are, my little love." He whispered longingly as his other hand buried itself in her hair. "My dreams corrupt your image. You're more lovely then I remember." He leaned in to kiss her, but Marguerite turned her head away at the last moment and his lips met her cheek.
Chauvelin felt a piece of him die as the woman he loved turned away from him. His breath caught in his throat, and as his head dropped to her shoulder he thought he might weep. Marguerite placed her hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him away.
"Enough games, Chauvelin." She whispered. "You know why I am here. I will do anything to save my brother. Name your…" Try as she might, she could not keep the tremor out of her voice. "Your price. Just release Armand."
Chauvelin's world came crashing down around him. "A game." He looked into her eyes in desolation. "My Margot, you think this is a game?" came his broken voice. He stood and strode away from her to give himself the chance to compose himself. Name my price he thought. My price. If she won't come to my side willingly, I'll make her come to me. I'll make her remember that she loves me, that she needs me. He quickly pulled himself together and resumed his authoritarian position.
"Mercier, you go. Question the boy." Chauvelin looked over his shoulder at Marguerite with unrestrained, animalistic passion. "I find I have better things to do tonight."
"Right away, Citizen." Mercier crossed the room and entered one of the doors at the far end.
As soon as the door closed, Chauvelin was bearing down on a frightened Marguerite. His hands tightly gripped the arms of the chair and he brought his face inches from hers. "Two things, petite." he growled. "Tonight: Who is the Pimpernel? Where does he hide while in Paris? Armand will not live another day if you fail."
"I will not fail." Said Marguerite defiantly.
"And," Chauvelin's voice softened significantly and his hand cupped her chin and brought her to her feet, "you will be a friend to me again, yes?" he asked, nearly begged, as one hand moved to brush her cheek and the other ran lazily over her breasts.
She involuntary shivered as he touched her and she could not suppress the moan that escaped her throat. With that, Chauvelin nearly lost control. He snaked one arm around her waist and drew her against him. "Promise me, darling." His voice was a soft, trembling whisper.
"I promise." She said breathlessly. All control left him; her very presence, her body pressing against his, it was driving him mad. "Show me, my lover." He moaned as he lifted her chin.
Marguerite could not understand what was happening to her. She should hate this man, who had imprisoned and threatened to kill her brother. This monster who had blackmailed her to commit murder, this demon who had shamelessly used her before, just as he was using her now.
Yet try as she might, she could not calm the feelings of lust and longing she felt for him as he held and touched her. She loved him once, was it possible she still did? Wrapping her arms around his neck, she lowered his head to her lips and kissed him passionately.
Something inside Chauvelin snapped. The Pimpernel was as good as dead, and Marguerite now belonged to him once again. All the pressure the Committee placed on him to find that elusive Englishman, the unbearable tension Marguerite's absence caused him; it was all about to be alleviated. The mere thought of it intoxicated him and he felt the little sanity he still possessed slipping out of his reach. Latching his hands on to her hips, he pulled her even closer to him as he deepened the kiss.
Marguerite constantly reminded herself that she was a married woman, that she was in love with Percy. That she didn't love Chauvelin anymore. She was doing this, selling herself to this man, for Armand's sake. Why then, did his words excite her and his touch make her tremble with pleasure? Though she wouldn't admit it to herself, she was on the brink of falling in love with him again and she wanted him to make her his once more. Moaning as he brought her closer, she entwined one hand in his hair and slipped the other under his vest.
Every inch of Chauvelin's body screamed to take the lovely Marguerite now, but an incessantly irritating voice in the back of his mind reminded him of the pressing need to capture the Pimpernel. Marguerite could easily get the information out of her brother, and this was a matter that unfortunately could not wait until tomorrow.
He reluctantly pulled away from her lips; after all, there would be time later tonight to indulge his passions and take his fill of the beautiful Marguerite.
She whimpered in protest as her lover parted from her, but was immediately silenced as he gently bit her neck.
"The Pimpernel." He whispered. "I must know." He released her, took a step back and looked into her flushed face. "Get to work, cherie."
Marguerite trembled as she gazed into his eyes. It was not the overbearing passion that startled her; it was something else she caught that she couldn't quite place. The fire of this foreign entity seemed to make him more alert, and his eyes quivered and trembled slightly. Had Marguerite not known better, she would have believed him to be possessed. Marguerite turned to leave through the door that Mercier had entered earlier and, with one last look into Chauvelin's feverish stare, left the room.
As soon as the door shut behind her, Chauvelin started trembling and his breath cam faster and in shuddering gasps. He felt light-headed, euphoric even, and he began to chuckle softly. All at once, everything seemed very funny.
Coupeau, who was still standing guard in the hallway, looked around the corner into the room and saw his superior standing in the center of the room with his back turned to him, and his hand at his side was shaking terribly. "Citizen?" Coupeau inquired softly.
Chauvelin was now audibly laughing and he began to make his way to the far side of the room.
Coupeau was beginning to become nervous; he had never seen or even heard of Chauvelin ever acting in this manner. It was unlike him to display any emotion other then irritation and anger. "Citizen…"
Chauvelin had escalated into frantic, maniacal laughter and he leaned his head against the wall, his hand, still trembling, traced along one of the stone bricks.
Coupeau was visibly concerned for his leader and rushed to his side. "Chauvelin, are you alright?" he asked as he lay his hand on his superior's shoulder.
Chauvelin quickly spun around and wrapped his long fingers around Coupeau's neck, lifted him off the ground, slammed him against the wall and held him there. Coupeau was astonished at the strength of the man and tried in vain to pry his vice-like grip off his neck.
"Fine. I'm perfectly fine." Chauvelin calmly stated as he looked up into the eyes of his subordinate. Had Coupeau at that moment the ability to breath, he would have lost it then as he looked down and saw insanity written clear as day across the face of the accredited agent.
Chauvelin suddenly dropped Coupeau and turned in the direction of the open corridor.
"Mon Dieu, Chauvelin. You're mad!" a terrified Coupeau whispered. Ignoring the mutterings of the horror-stricken soldier, Chauvelin strode through the corridor and disappeared around the corner.