Esmeralda hurried along the rain-slicked laneway, came in through the squeaky gate and darted across the garden. When she opened the kitchen door the housemaid turned from tending the fire in the pot-bellied stove. The girl's astonishment sank into sourness as she saw who it was.

'Is he home?' Esmeralda panted.

The maid shook her head and Esmeralda sighed in relief. She'd been dancing on the far side of town and time had got away from her. So far she'd been careful to always be home and demurely settled in a chair before Claude came in, but she'd been so tired that morning and had slept late.

She divested herself of her cloak, raindrops pattering on the flags, revealing her gypsy blouse and multi-coloured skirt. The housemaid gasped and crossed herself.

Esmeralda clicked her tongue at the housemaid. 'You cross yourself at me, she who receives the archdeacon's nightly blessing?'

The girl turned bright red, and Esmeralda smirked. Inflicting embarrassment was her only revenge against the girl's tuts and scowls. And her hypocrisy – she'd seen how the maid fawned over their master.

Ten minutes later she had changed into a black silk dress and was standing before the window in the chamber upstairs, bouncing on her toes. The room offered an excellent view of the street. She watched couples picking their way around puddles of water and boys pushing handcarts of apples, her fingers drumming on the window frame. The sun had set some time before and dusk was fading into night. Finally she saw a lone, dark figure making its way toward her, his black cowl hiding his features and his hands pushed into his sleeves. When he was beneath the window she leaned out and called to him in a loud whisper, unable to contain her happiness at the sight of him.

He raised his eyebrows at her and gave her a hard, disapproving look, though his mouth quirked a little at the corners. Then he pushed through the front door and disappeared.

Standing before the door she waited for him to ascend the stairs. 'My lord,' she said when he entered, curtseying and spreading her skirts, her eyes modestly downcast.

'Hmm,' he said, closing the door behind him. 'And where is the little imp who was calling to me from the window just now? I see only my sweet Esmeralda.'

She looked up, blinking wide eyes at him. 'Why, Father, there is no one else here.'

'Hmm,' he said again, deeper this time, but a moment later he smiled and opened his arms to her. She rushed into them, breathing him in and tucking herself beneath his chin. He was so solid, and somehow not cold against her cheek as he'd once been, but warm and vital.

'And what did you do today, mon ange?' he asked, planting kisses on the top of her head.

'Oh,' she said, feeling herself flush slightly. 'This and that.' She didn't like to deceive him about dancing, but he'd been adamant that she should not do so any longer. At first she'd been content enough to sit at home, soaking up the Claude-ness of her surroundings. His house was very much like him: grave and dark, but never dull. He had strange trinkets and rocks and odd paraphernalia, as well as hundreds of books with odd diagrams and charts that she couldn't make out. She'd sewn in the parlour, demure black dresses that she knew he would approve of, but during those long, lonely hours she'd felt her gypsy clothing calling to her from the trunk upstairs …

His forefinger tilted her chin up to him and he kissed her softly. It stopped the tide of her thoughts, as all his kisses did.

'Mon coeur,' he murmured, releasing her, and then sank into his chair by the fire with a great sigh.

'You are tired?' she asked.

He shook his head a little, but she knew that he was telling an untruth. He slept fitfully, often pacing about the house at night or sitting in his study. 'I've always been a night owl,' he'd told her, but she wondered if there was something weighing on his mind, keeping him awake.

'Bring me a glass of wine and let us sit together until dinner,' he said.

Esmeralda poured out a glass and took it to him along with a slim book of psalms for children. It was the book he was using to teach her to read. She sat with him in the large chair, curled against him and with her legs over his lap, holding the book open for both of them to see the pages. She slowly recited the lines, frowning over some of the words.

'Anointed,' he supplied when she stumbled, trailing a hand through her hair.

She kissed him, liking the rich, plummy taste of the wine on his lips. Then she read on. Deliverance, he supplied when her lips stilled once more. Absalom. Righteous. Each word was thanked with another kiss.

How sweet this is, she thought as the fire crackled, and she felt the warmth of Claude's arms around her. When he was in this house it felt like home, as it never did when he was gone.

...

'Bohémienne!'

The word was rapped out like the crack of a whip. Esmeralda froze, and turned. This was the far side of the city, at least a mile from the cathedral. Claude did not come this way – or so she'd thought. The dark figure of her beloved stood in the middle of the square, sunlight streaming down on him, as straight and tall as a new gravestone. Such a look of fury was stamped on his features.

The little knot of people who'd gathered to watch her suddenly dispersed, fearful of the archdeacon's wrath. As they scurried away they averted their faces as if worried he would recognise them from his services. But his eyes were not on them, but her.

Esmeralda did not hide her face, though her hands shook a little as he slowly approached her. It had been months since he'd looked so at her – like she was something obscene. Just last night they'd been so quiet and tender together, the whispered psalms on her lips, his gentle coaxing as she read.

'Such a display,' he said, his voice loud and pitched to carry. 'Such a flagrant, shameful display.' It was what the people expected him to say and there was something theatrical in his manner, but she could see real anger burning in his eyes; her betrayal had hurt him.

She raised her chin. 'Many gypsies dance, Monseigneur.'

He strode closer until his nose was just a few inches from hers. 'Many gypsies have not promised me that they would not,' he growled, his voice pitched low.

'I did not promise,' she hissed, 'and you never asked. You demanded.'

Claude's jaw worked as he seemed to tease this out. Demanded and asked were very likely the same thing to him. 'I have risked so much for you,' he whispered. 'I thought you understood.' Then, loudly, for the last few who had stayed for something even more entertaining than a gypsy's dance, 'Leave this place, jezebel!' He grabbed her wrist as she turned away. 'No, you don't.'

She scowled up at him. 'Well, which is it?' Tears had begun to prick at her eyes – guilty tears, though she was cross with him for his harsh words.

'This is no place for a whore of Babylon, accursed witch!' he shouted.

Esmeralda bristled. Must he be so colourful with his insults?

His grip tightened on her wrist and he glanced at her attire, lips pursed and disapproving. And then his mouth slackened in surprise. She remembered that he hadn't seen her in her own clothes for some time now. They were more revealing than the dresses he'd grown used to her wearing, and she had shunned a corset that morning, her belly feeling tight and uncomfortable.

'This is no time for your wandering eyes,' she snapped. But he seemed not to hear her, and a moment later he reached for her waist. She jumped back. 'Claude! Now it is you who is making a spectacle.'

'I have not seen you in daylight for so long,' he said slowly, his eyes flicking back to hers. Cold, accusing eyes. 'When were you going to tell me?'

She frowned, puzzled. 'Tell you what?'

'That you are with child.'

...

Thanks as always to my CP Nine Bright Shiners!

I'm so sorry there's been such a long gap between chapters. I've been on holiday for more than two weeks. I've also had some very exciting news: Carina Press have offered me a two-book deal for my contemporary erotic romance. The first one is going to be published Summer 2017 :)

If you like the sweetness, kinkiness and smutiness of this story and you're interested in reading more of my writing, PM me and I'll send you a link to my Tumblr where you can keep up to date with publication news. I'm also starting to post some short fics there too.

More Frollo and Esme very soon! xxx