Love Entwined (16 page)

“I thought the Marquess was away on business for his father.”

“The last time I saw him he was in Spain, and most certainly not on business.”

“Then you are not here to spy on me for the Marquess?”

“Spy on you…” the captain looked down at her bodice. “Take that off.”

“What?”

Their eyes locked as his fingers brushed away a lock of hair resting on her chest. Slowly, those fingers traveled to the ruffles above her breasts and dipped into the cleavage. Slipping the dragon ruby pendant out, he broke eye contact and rubbed the rubies between his fingers.

She shivered, still feeling his fingers skimming across the top of her breasts as he unclasped the pendant and put it in his pocket.

“I don’t want you to wear this. Ever again.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know its meaning.”

“He is my fiancé…”

The captain arched a brow.

“
Maman
will wonder why…”

“Tell her you’ve lost it.”

She touched the ruby dragon bracelet under the ruffles at her wrist. The hot gold warmed her blood. It was so lovely that she could not bring herself to take it off. The flames rose, agonized screams of the dying echoed in the chamber…“They are dying…,” she murmured.

“Jacqueline.” The captain shook her. “What is the matter?”

She rested a hand on his chest and focused on him. The horrible screams died away. “I am tired. I have not slept well lately.”

He cupped her chin. “Yes, I can see that. I know it seems impossible now, but everything will be all right. I wish I could tell you more, and I will, but you must be patient, Jacqueline. And now is not the time to approach your father about Lord Alsborough. There will be time to sort things out later. Trust me on this.”

“How will anything be all right after denying Papa’s third match?”

He raised her hand from his chest and brought it to his lips. “Do not worry so.”

“You knew what I was going to tell Papa when I came into the study?”

He smiled down at her. “You had the most beautiful look on your face. Hope.”

“If you will not tell me about the Marquess, won’t you tell me what this business is you are working on with my father?”

“The future,” the captain replied. “I must go now, Beauty, but I will be back in time for dinner.”

The captain left the library. His words echoed in her mind.
Trust me on this.

She had no reason to trust him, having only met him weeks ago, but the idea was not as shocking as it should be.

Rubbing her neck now free of the dragon pendant, she sighed. It was as if a weight had been lifted from her neck. It was tension, nothing more.

Versailles Palace, Paris – May 31, 1789

Roman scanned the crowded ballroom.

Courtiers haunted every grandiose affair. Not one wished to be excluded else they appear not to have the Crown’s ear. Tonight it seemed all of Louis XVI’s cronies attended, showing support to the faltering sovereign.

King Louis sat on the dais with his consort Marie Antoinette, their haughty expressions identical masks. Both shimmered in cloth of gold trimmed in ermine while the heart of their country wallowed in dysentery.

As a personal friend of King George, Roman was welcome at King Louis’s court and used it to his advantage when necessary. Though he grew bored with posturing officials, it was necessary to attend tonight’s ball.

He looked over the balustrade to the main ballroom into the sea of pastel satins and silks of the bewigged and bejeweled aristocrats.

There.

Duke Argo stood in conversation with the Princess of Lamballe, Marie Therese Louise of Savoy-Carignan, the queen’s confidante and a notorious courtesan.

He chuckled under his breath, meeting the eye of the duke who would never learn. He had recently extricated Argo from an indelicate situation. It seemed Argo was now on the brink of another.

The duke followed his gaze to the double doors leading out to one of the many terraced gardens of Versailles and nodded. Argo had names and information, which would be useful in setting the scene for the Comte’s escape from France.

Outside, Argo handed him a small package.

Roman slipped it into his jacket. He put a hand on Argo’s shoulder when the man turned.

“A moment. What do you make of this?” He took the dragon pendant out of his vest pocket.

Argo leaned in for a closer look and then stepped back. “A gift?”

He nodded. “Curiously bright. They glow from within.”

“Blood rubies. Destroy them”

“I’ve heard the phrase in my travels but what does it mean?”

“I can tell you nothing based in fact. In my country, they say if you keep these rubies – the gift—you will die. It may be too late already.”

He put the pendant back in his vest pocket. “How so?”

Argo glanced at Roman’s hand and then back to his face. “You have touched the rubies. Evil knows you now.”

Glancing at the double doors across the garden and the festivities within, Roman chuckled. “Evil has known me for a very long time.”

Argo stepped into his line of vision. “King Louis’ realm is nothing compared to what follows the rubies. Have a care, my friend.”

“Where do they come from?”

Rings glittered on Argo’s hand as it rose in the Gallic gesture of his country. “Those who have sought that truth never lived to tell the tale.” He paused and his eyes lightened in welcome as he glanced over his shoulder. The Princess of Lamballe stood just inside the double doors.

Argo faced him and his sober expression was back in place. “My father once knew a man who had a blood ruby. Someone gave it to him as a gift. Soon after, the man disappeared. Why would a man leave a beautiful young wife and children along with the land and riches he covets? Destroy the blood rubies, Captain Cardiff. Part ways with whoever gave them to you.”

Duke Argo went up the path. In the unspoken language of lovers, he placed the Princess of Lamballe’s hand on his arm. They entered the King’s ballroom, where the musicians began a lively set.

* * * *

Jacqueline’s satin slipper tapped against the ballroom’s gold-veined marble floor.

Gowns and waistcoats encrusted in jewels were blinding, reflecting in the crystals of huge chandeliers. Headdresses and tiaras swayed in time to the dulcet tones of a minuet.

Mortified that she was looking for a black forelock in the crowd, she pushed Captain Cardiff from her mind. She joined her mother and sister in discussion of the royals in attendance.

Marchese Falco greeted them, requesting a meeting with Papa. A dark complexion made his green eyes seem luminous as he stole glances at Margaux. It was not long before they danced off into the crowd.

She smiled wistfully as Margaux attempted to keep her composure being so close to the Marchese. Margaux had dressed to impress in a white empire waist gown with columns of gold embroidered from waist to hem. Anyone could see they were enamored with each other. Theirs would be a happy union.

“Good evening.” Captain Cardiff stood next to Papa. He wore a grey satin waistcoat and white breeches. His black curls were queued back however the forelock was rebellious as ever.

She looked away from the forelock and curtsied.

“Did your meeting in Paris go well, Captain Cardiff?” her father asked.

“Very well. Perhaps we can talk later?”

“I will meet you after dinner.”

Of course, they would not speak of such matters in front of her. She was a daughter of the house, a prized showpiece for whom decisions were made. Since her betrothal, it seemed the only decision that was hers to make was which gown to wear for the appropriate hour.

She hid a smile. She already knew their secret. When the captain left for Paris, she had approached her mother about this secret business.
Maman
had confided that Papa was investing in the trade industry and worked with the captain on these ventures.

The musicians began a new set and more couples surged onto the floor. Her parents melted into the crowd.

“Mademoiselle Jacqueline, may I have this dance?”

A week ago, she had decided never to touch him again, accidentally or otherwise for all his secret nonsense. She hesitated only a moment before placing her gloved hand in his. He was her father’s houseguest and this was just one dance.

It wasn’t really a touch. She could not feel his skin with the soft kid glove on her hand. She would not think about that now.

“How do you find Versailles, Jacqueline?” He was staring at her lips.

Her eyes dropped to his white silk cravat. The intimacy of her given name on his lips always warmed her. She had come to know it signified his satisfaction of being alone with her. It was a forbidden pleasure, quite like the dance they shared now.

“It is a wonder,” she replied. “I have never seen so many striking jewels in my life.” His hand at the small of her back sent tingles down her spine.

“I am looking into the most striking jewels I have ever seen. Your eyes shine like emeralds.”

She studied the fine silver thread on his waistcoat.

“Did you miss me?” he whispered in her ear.

“I did not know you would be here tonight.”

His laughter was a soft rumble that made her dizzy. Or was it the way he whirled her around the floor?

“Ah, Beauty, I missed you too.” His hand slid further down her back across the turquoise silk, but stopped before reaching the curve of her hip.

She could not stop the shiver of anticipation but managed to hold her serene expression in place.

“You look lovely tonight.” The mild smile curving those warm lips did not deceive her. If she looked up now she would see that familiar craving in his eyes. The silence lengthened and still his probing eyes devoured her upswept curls, her neck, and finally moved over the low neckline of the square-cut bodice to the exposed rounded halves of her breasts.

She had been holding her breath and now inhaled because she felt faint. “Devil take you, why don’t you say something?” She tilted her face upward. They were too close. His lips brushed her cheek.

His playful smile vanished and in its place was a look of such heat that she missed a step. They came to a halt.

Without a word, he led her off the floor and out through the double doors into the gardens of Versailles.

* * * *

The captain walked her down a dark, rose-bowered trail, which ended in front of a flower-garlanded gazebo. He left her there and walked a few paces away.

“Do you know what you do to me, Jacqueline?” His blunt, calmly spoken words did little to put her at ease. There was a wicked light blazing in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to…”

He advanced on her.

She took a step back. “I am sorry…”

“I am not sorry, Jacqueline. I see you like this; your innocent eyes asking questions you dare not, wanting to know what these feelings are that you feel. It is your body responding to me, Mademoiselle. You want me. I want you. I will not stand aside and let that insolent pup have you.”

He took her in his arms and there was nothing gentle about this kiss. He crushed her to him and his tongue delved into her mouth on a quest to conquer, rolling over hers. Like a snake charmer, he coaxed her until she wrapped her arms around his neck.

There in the fertile darkness of King Louis’ gardens she shed her inhibitions. She would not stop him now, she no longer wanted to. His honest passion spoke to her more fluently than words.

She leaned back in his arms and he trailed his tongue down her neck, taking light nips as if just merely kissing her was not enough. His other hand kneaded and cupped her breast through the silk. His mouth traveled farther still, to the swell of flesh above the silk, his tongue working her nipple free from restraint, licking and sucking.

Jacqueline moaned. Her whole being centered on his ministrations. Fear of the future had no place in this paradise, and when the last cerebral barrier fell away like a chrysalis, she belonged to him.

She rubbed against his erection where she ached the most and he scooped her up and carried her into the gazebo. Laying her down on the cushion, he knelt before her.

When he lifted her skirts there was a breeze on her wetness before his hand covered her. The sensation of his warm hand massaging her mound was hypnotic.

She bucked against his hand. “
Mon cher…
” She wanted something. There was pressure building inside of her, right under his hand.

“Yes, my Beauty.” He slipped one long finger inside of her, in and out, faster and faster and she moved her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. The pulsating pleasure mounted, robbed her of breath, and then delicious waves crashed over her, sweeping her up and tossing her about again and again as he drained from her every drop of essence, until she was falling, floating, gently down in surrender.

He covered her mound with his palm, rubbing as she jerked against him through the delicious aftershocks. She clung to him as he kissed her, wishing they could stay this way forever in this garden paradise. She could not conform to a society that would see her married to a man she did not love.

She stirred when Roman covered her bare breasts. “You will not wed Lord Alsborough. Say it.”

She kissed him. “I will not.”

“We will find a way to be together. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, my
mon cher
.”

She trusted him with her life.

The Paris Docks – June 9, 1789

Roman sat in his office aboard
The Raven
looking over the trade accounts. Wrought iron, raw silks, cottons, drugs, and saltpeter were side by side in the hold with English staple commodities such as woolen goods, tin, lead, hides and corn.
The Raven
had turned quite a profit this trip, and he had gained much needed information.

Duke Argo had provided him with the names and locales of several key insurgents against the monarchy. The crew kept a watchful eye on these individuals, and reported to him. What he had learned made him want to leave the country today.

He’d told the Comte what his network of informers had discovered. Claude thought it best to attend several more legislative sessions and then let it be known he would be away on a journey with his family. It was understandable the Comte did not want to alarm his family, but Roman’s sense of urgency grew with each report of unrest and every time he thought of Jacqueline, which was constantly. He had to get her away from all of this.