What Love Is Worth, Ch. 2
The next evening, the King threw a party to celebrate the arrival of his cousins. The ballroom had grown hot with the celebrating and over-indulging nobles.
Valentina sat perched on a chaise near the King, scorning and flirting with a group of courtiers who simpered at her feet. She seemed to be quite enjoying herself.
Christine left the ballroom to escape the gossip, the falsity and the advances of the noble class.
She stood by the terrace's railing, savouring the coolness of the outdoors and appreciating the skill of the musicians whose melodies trickled lightly over the din of the party, the rest of the revellers ignorant of its brilliance. She tilted her head to better discern the sweet notes of the music.
"It's Eurydice," said Marcello as he approached the Comtesse where she stood next to the railing.
"I know," she said calmly, turning to face the man. "It's beautiful."
"So are you," he said smiling at her. She blushed and looked away.
"Forgive me. We have not been officially introduced and I fear my sister may have left you with a poor first impression. I am Marcello de Medici, Duke of Mantua," he said, bowing to her.
"Christine," she said simply and curtsied politely.
He smiled at her directness. "I believe I should apologize on my sister's behalf," he said.
She smiled and gave a small laugh. "There's no need. I expect you were both tired from your journey, and I think that I have actually had more riveting conversations with some cows than I have had with some of the members of court," she said.
He laughed out loud at her comment and she smiled at him again. Finding wit and beauty was a rare thing, he thought as they made their way back across the terrace towards the crowd of the ballroom.
"Your Italian is excellent," he said, "Where did you study?"
"My father taught me," she responded, "Though we did live for a while in Florence and Venice where I continued my education."
"That's impossible," he said, stopping to look at her. "Yours is a face I would not have forgotten had I met you at the Venetian court." Something inside him leapt as she blushed slightly once more.
"I was little more than a child at the time," she said. She cast her eyes towards the now emptying ballroom, relieved that she could excuse herself. She was very aware that she was alone with the handsome Italian.
"It seems as though the party has ended," she said as they entered the foyer that led towards the palace doors.
"Please let me summon a carriage for you," he said.
"I prefer to walk," she said smiling as she saw Aramis and Porthos approaching her.
"Unaccompanied? I won't hear of that! Please, allow me to have my coach called for you," he insisted.
"That's very unnecessary," she said. "My friends Aramis and Porthos, of his Majesty's Musketeers have promised to escort me, and they are the best of men," she said still smiling at the musketeers as they approached.
"Ah, yes. These are the men who accompanied us into the city. How do you do," he said, appraising the soldiers as the pairs met.
"Your Grace," said Aramis, as he and Porthos gave slight bows.
"It was nice to meet you," said Christine to the Duke as she beamed at Aramis, her eyes glowing as he offered her his arm. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your night," she said as she moved to step away from Marcello and towards the man she loved.
But the Duke stopped her, reaching for her hand.
"The pleasure was mine entirely," he said. Aramis' jaw tightened as the Duke bowed low and placed a kiss on the back of Christine's hand. The two men eyed each other as she stepped between them, taking Aramis' arm.
"I hope we can speak again soon," Marcello said as she made her way out of the palace with the musketeers.
oOo
Activity at the garrison was slow the next day. Guard duty was minimal as the King was ensconced in his room, recovering from his indulgences from the night before.
Christine was in the infirmary treating a cadet who had earned a cut to his brow from another's overzealous punch. As she bent over the young man, cleaning the wound she did not notice Aramis enter. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall as he watched her place a row of small neat stitches across the small wound.
"Are you in any pain?" she asked the cadet as she stitched.
"Huh?" he asked distractedly. His eyes kept straying to the top of her bodice, lingering a little longer than they should.
"I asked if you were in any pain?" she repeated.
"What…no…" he said distractedly.
"How about now?" she said as she cuffed the ear on the side of his head that did not bear her stitches.
"Ow!" he yelped.
"A gentleman, Maurice, does not stare at a woman as though she were a Christmas goose!" she scolded.
The boy turned the colour of beets. "No Miss, of course not, I'm sorry," he said as he covered his ear. "It won't happen again."
"It better not," she warned.
"The way to a woman's heart is through her brain, not her bodice," said Aramis sternly, but his eyes burned with humour. "Thank you Mademoiselle Comtesse. I'm sure this is a lesson that Maurice won't soon forget. Especially after he's completed stable duty for the next week."
The young cadet's shoulders sagged, but he nodded his head sagely.
"Thank you, my lady," he said sincerely as he bowed to her and left the infirmary, stitches forgotten, but his hand covering his tender ear.
"You didn't need to give him stable duty," Christine said as he crossed her arms and looked at the marksman.
"I know," he said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him. "But perhaps it will help the lesson sink in – and will save his other ear from your wrath," he said. "Though to be fair, it's hard to fault the lad," he said grinning mischievously. "You really have no idea how beautiful you are."
She tried to pretend to be angry, but she was helpless in the face of his beautiful dark eyes. She soon found herself laughing as he covered her neck and shoulders with his lips, his hand toying with the laces of her bodice.
"What happened to the path to a woman's heart not being through her bodice?" she asked breathlessly pulling him into the back room, as she dropped the sash and weapons belt from around his waist.
"At this moment," he panted as she pulled him against her, the fingers of her hands running through his hair and pushing at his jacket, her mouth leaving its own trail along the exposed flesh of his neck and chest, "My main concern is for what's under this bodice," he said kissing her passionately as he lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the bed.
oOo
They emerged after a time grinning at each other with a flush in her cheeks and a button or two missing from the shirt beneath his doublet.
She kissed his cheek swiftly and ascended the stairs to give her report to Treville and to excuse herself for the day. Etienne was on hand for any medical emergencies, and days off like this were rare for the Comtesse and the Musketeer.
Aramis raised his hand to caress the mark her lips had just left on his cheek. Grinning he walked towards the table where Athos and D'Artagnan stood preparing for a fencing demonstration.
"Where have you been?" asked D'Artagnan as Aramis approached.
Aramis grinned a little sheepishly and raised an eyebrow, "Teaching?" he suggested; D'Artagnan blushed.
"Before D'Artagnan naïvely inquires any further as to your itinerary for the rest day, she appears to be coming this way," Athos said with a cool smirk on his lips. "I suggest you might take your extra-curricular activities elsewhere, as some of our younger men may be ill prepared for your lessons," he said, his eyes twinkling.
"I'm not going to live this one down, am I?" D'Artagnan asked.
"Not for a while at least," said Aramis with a grin.
oOo