Jaqueline And Tany

Continued... Um...yeah...about that. It'll be here soon. Cheers!! Enjoy! 1652. In the Reign of King Charles II. Castle D’Artagnan. The chamber floor was covered with lush pillows of the deepest shades of red. The chamber itself was hung with scarves of varying shades of gold such that not one part of the wall was visible and, save for the lady in the middle of the floor, it was empty of any life. The lady. The lady sat, bent over some object in her lap, and from her head fell wave upon wave of scarlet hair. The waves cascaded over her shoulders and splashed noiselessly about the pillows she sat upon. She moved her hand – so smooth and like a pearl was that hand – and diverted the flow of the red sea about her, leaving her neck exposed. No swan that crossed Mother Earth could have possessed so graceful or so long a neck. I gasped in spite of myself and she looked up. ’Twas a glorious sight. Her eyes like the richest gold mined from the heavens lit upon me, a mere human to her angel, and full lips that could surely be rubies curved into a smile that sent my veins singing. I swallowed lest I choke and came forward for I must preserve some small ounce of dignity. I was but two steps into the chamber when her scent hit me. I was winded to be sure; like no fruit I knew and yet like a fruit to be sure, the perfume entranced me and I knew I would be unmanned an I did not control myself. I delivered a bow of inordinate proportions and felt the heat around my ears as those lips of hers widened slightly. I rescued myself, throwing in a salutation. “My Greetings, Your Grace.” Her laughter was like a cool glass of red wine on summer’s day; it made me long for more to quench my thirst. “Surely Monsieur D’Oie, you need not be so formal. Après tout, nous sommes amis. ” «Certainement. Mais je viens pour des affaires.» «Je vois.» Her exquisite eyes seemed to die and she looked down at her lap in which lay a golden miniature of an astrolabe. It tore at my heart to see her even slightly cheerless so I searched my mind for something of interest to discuss afore I would be forced to sadden her again. «Asseyez-vous, Nikki. » Her voice was weighed down lugubriously and she did not look up as she said it but swept her hand in a semi-circle indicating that I choose a pillow. As much as I preferred to stand, an it would please, I walked forward and settled myself in one directly opposite her. «C’est très belle.» It was not intelligent nor was it engaging but she looked up at me then and that at least was a start.

“Do you think so? It is Tany’s, I…came across it.” I smiled what I knew to be a knowing smile and she colored beautifully but did not look otherwise penitent. The young duchess was notorious for finding things, especially when she was in some trouble with the duke. At these times, too, he was most likely looking for something. “You should return it; he will be angry.” “He is angry now and what of it? I beg you, let us speak of aught but Tany, Nikki; I have come close enough to him this morn alone to be sick of his very self.” “You do not mean that.” “Nikki! Do not start, please.” “Oui, Madame. I will tell you of my visit to Lyon et La Fête des Lumières, if you wish.” «Oui, je vous en serais très reconnaissant si vous parlerez.» I began, as usual, with flair but it was more so with she who I knew would appreciate my words. Her small face epitomizing beauty in its every particle was upturned towards me and she looked enraptured. She was thrust forward and her gown, of a very risqué fashion, left enough of her chest exposed to have my heart pounding in my head, valiantly trying to knock out reason. At her neck hung a single golden chain and at its end was a stone of blood red that threw light around those two alluring mounds. I swallowed, pausing in my story and hoping I would not succumb so easily. In my predicament she did the worst thing possible…or perhaps the best. She reached out and brushed away a hair from my face. The feel of her soft skin against mine had me reeling and I felt would have…And in came Garvais. Garvais D’Artagnan was a man’s man and a woman’s idol. No sculptor alive could have captured him and I vainly believe I am the only poet in all of England who could have described him. He was nigh six feet and a half with skin like burnished gold. His eyes, azure in color, were piercing and have been known to have speared many a man. His chiseled nose and lips were surprising companions for his wavy, charcoal locks that hinted a playfulness that had long since died. He was a well built man with muscles I must resist to describe for he would turn into a hero ere I am finished. I shall suffice it to say that he was a strong man. With an even stronger character. He would be gainsaid by no one – as many had found – and it was not because of the sword strapped, in its scabbard, to his side. His gaze rested upon us both and I felt the duchess pale and in a quick movement, the astrolabe was gone. “I thought I would find you here, Jacqueline. I also thought I told you to remain in the solar.” An almost imperceptible frown crossed her features and she rose reluctantly. As she did so, the astrolabe fell into my lap. I was reluctant to join in this scheme but I kept it hidden

nonetheless. She walked to the duke with a proud look and an even prouder stance that I could have cheered her for could I speak then. She reached him and sent him a baleful look to which he raised an eyebrow before stepping aside and letting her pass. He watched her till she was perhaps out of view then turned to me. I truly felt the caught man before he smiled, a careful quirk of his lips. “You are my friend, Nikki. Let us not change that.” I sent him a smile of equal proportion to his and rose. “Her grace is my friend too. Hopefully we will not change that either.” “So she comes to you for comfort.” There was a curious look in his eyes, as though he found the idea ludicrous but was waiting for my confirmation. “Why would she need comfort?” I asked instead knowing that as my friend, D’Artagnan would most likely answer. He sighed and walked by me, into the room. “She disobeyed me…again. I was forced to show myself her master. I sometimes wish that she would not be such a child but then I see her and I know that I am not wed to child.” I knew Garvais would only tell me such a thing as he almost never opened himself to anyone and then only to those he was closest to. This did nothing to lessen my anger at him for even daring to touch the lady Jacqueline. I had no right to think such a thought and yet. And yet I could not stand the thought and I said almost savagely. “Then you should not have wed her in the first place.” “I love her.” He answered simply. D’Artagnan was known to never be drawn into a quarrel as he considered it the work of fishwives and for once I was glad for it; I would not have to explain myself. “This place is filled with her. I wonder how she stands it.” How very much like the duke. He was so lacking in all that was poetic it sometimes stunned me as to how Jacqueline could stand him. I turned to him after rolling my eyes heavenward and I saw him walk along the left wall, running his hand over it. “This place needs…why does she cover these windows with such… dizzying things?” Of course. Spoil the one place she finds solace from you. I thought angrily. I was frustrated to be sure. For he had Jacqueline. He owned her and he was so utterly boorish that I could at times not bear him.

The Hamlet. 1652. I sought out the lady close to sunset and found her, not in the solar, but in one of the Dowager’s chambers. I must confess, ’twas not my superior knowledge of Jacqueline’s habits that brought me to her but the mere chance that the Dowager had sent for me under the guise of delivering a message of most delicate content. It is the chance though that I feel I must question. I wonder, tis very cautiously that I do so, if her ladyship is in league with myself. But in truth I have no plot in my mind that she should join me in. I have no plot and my honor would prevent that such a plot should ever slip into my thoughts. And yet, the matter about which her ladyship summoned me was one of such inanity that I can not but think that that was not her true purpose. I know truly that she loves the delicate rose, Jacqueline as she would her own child…but would she then think that the child could be happy with…I must not think such things! She must remain with that boarhound. Ha! Tis a fitting name. How he struts about his castle like the god of the world. And he is unfaithful. That wench could not have lied. He as good as condemned himself too. Laughed at the suggestion! As though such a thing were funny. To cuckold the lady Jacqueline! To use so innocent and so perfect a creature. The dastard! Her face today, like new milk, pale but only slightly in the pink and gold hues that that poured through her ladyship’s windows, turned away but still only slightly as she, shyly, kept herself from our conversation. So modest is the child! Even then I was undeserving, when I first saw her face, in the grand hall of her father’s castle. A sprite or some creature from the land of fairies; I thought that surely such a lady must not be of this world. I was like him then; vain and foolish, unwilling to see that such a gem must be approached with care and not the crudity that would shock any tavern wench into the hay. But then an she had chosen me for a suitor, her father, the damnable man, would have refused. For all that I was Charles’s man, I was still little more than a landless knight. What man would give his daughter to a man of mortgaged holdings? But I could have tried. No…I would not have done it. But the brute. He took her like the savage he was. Why I could not see it before is beyond me. I trust I was not that way myself that I could not find fault with myself in him. It was done then. And he came back to me asking that I stand beside him while he wed my love. Perhaps even now he is still fool enough to think that I do not know what he did. Perhaps… “I was not aware that you imbibed, Nikki.” I looked up at the jarring voice of the Baron Damien, blinking as my eyes were forced to meet the yellow flares from torches around the crowded room. “I was not aware that you were aware of me, my lord.” I held back the bitter bile that threatened to pour forth and merge with my words. “A poor knight such as myself could surely not be of importance to one such as you.”

“And yet you are of great importance to me…well you will be.” He eased himself into the bench upon which I sat and the wood creaked as it genuflected to his lofty self. “For gold I believe much can be done. Or is that not so, Monsieur Nikki?” “For gold many have been killed. Or is that not so, Sir Baron?” xx The Castle D’Artagnan “You surprise me, Jacqueline.” The duke’s voice floated into the large chamber from the wide balcony where he lounged, staring but not seeing the twinkling stars scattered upon a blanket of the deepest blue. “I am not sure why I would surprise you, my lord. But rest assured it was not my intention to do so.” “What, pray tell me, would you have to discuss with the poet?” “Nikki and I are good friends…even you should know that, my lord.” “Do not provoke me, Jacqueline, I merely wish to talk.” “Then I must be silent, knowing as I do the ease with which that is accomplished.” She rolled over unto her belly where she lay in the center of a bed that dwarfed her in its largeness. Pulling a pillow towards her, she buried her face in its feathery softness. D’Artagnan was silent for moment then said slowly, “You realize, love that I will do one of two things were I compelled to come in there.” The night sighed; a gust whistled through the air and then it was as though the earth itself was asleep. “I do not wish to discuss this for the topic is one of little import to me. You two are obviously friends…I will not bend like most, Jacqueline. You know that.” He ended impatiently, as though the words were tiring to say. “Flexibility is not a virtue I would grant you.” From her lips it came as a condemnation and in the chamber she buried her face deeper into the pillow then turned her head towards the balcony, where, through the lightest of curtains she could see the silhouette of her husband. “Flexibility is not a virtue, it is a trait…it is a disease, that weakens most men and makes whores of women.” She did not reply to this, but he continued. “I give chances, I hope that is enough. In any case I am far from hoping that you would grant me anything. It would be unfair since I trust you know that I would on most days grant you nothing but your exquisite body.”

“Your attempts…” I do not attempt, my lady.” He cut her off sharply. “I accomplish.” “You have accomplished much today I trust.” “No, for you do not benefit from punishment.” “And yet you still try. Your cleverness does indeed precede you.” “How foolish you are who will only suffer where I will feel no pain.” “Do not speak to me like that! I am not one of the many common wenches that alone will grace your side.” “I will speak to you as I please,” He spat. “But you will do well mind your insolent tongue.” “I hate you when you speak to me in that manner.” In the chamber, she buried and raised her head again. “And I am hard pressed to like you when you disregard my orders.” He said with surprising equanimity. “Why will you not accept your fault? This digression is tiresome.” “Why should I? What difference would it make now?” She questioned scathingly. “Would you perhaps change the past?” “I will not change what has happened because I in that as in all things, stand firm.” There was a rustle of cloth and seconds passed in silence before the lady appeared at the opening of the curtain leading to the balcony. Her hair, waving in a restless twist to join the night breeze, swirled around her as she stood, motionless, her expression an accident for she looked to have not known her purpose for coming out. She looked at Garvais with a mixture of bewildered surrender, tinted, but only slightly, with anger and hurt. “Hold me.” Her voice, dragged from her lips was, nonetheless, successful in bringing the duke to his feet. He walked towards her and made as though to touch her but stopped. “I want you.” “Then why do you hesitate?” Her question was all but whispered into the night. “I will not have you knowing that you think me a brute.” It was simple.

“It matters not what I think now, my lord…things can change.” She slipped a hand around his neck. He did not pull away but bent his head to her neck and breathed over her pale skin. “I can always change things…’tis a gift I have. But I will give you a choice, this night and forever or nothing at all.” She smiled as she felt his lips upon her skin. “This night and forever…I fear, my lord, the temptation is too strong.” A/N: Hehe. I changed somethings... Starox, Cheers! Chapter 2 1652. In the Reign of King Charles II. Castle D’Artagnan Its enraged roar tore through the hall and it turned, and caught the creature on its back a blow that flung it across the pit. The dog lay motionless and the beast with mad eyes glared at the remaining whose teeth, bared, dripped with its blood. They salivated, moved with a hunger for flesh, eager to bring the screaming thing before them down. Blood poured freely from bear and hounds and the howls of both mingled with the cries of the crowd. The beast clawed at the shackle at its throat, jerking at its chain and all the while snarling at the hounds around it, daring them to come within its reach. One dog, grey and shining with sweat but no blood, circled from behind the others, seemingly searching for the best point from which to strike. A hound prized, it was the duke’s favorite; man and beast were brilliant to observe in a hunt. A black dog ventured closer to the tethered bear, drawing the latter forward. The grey hound, ignored for mere seconds, pounced, sinking its teeth into the bear’s neck and bringing the beast to the ground. The others followed, covering the bear, tearing madly. Fans waved among the crowed as many sought to calm themselves. I had not watched the baiting; my attention was held by an exchange above me. The duke and his lady had not enjoyed the entertainment either. I knew for I had watched them; watched each heated word and saw each mutinous glare. She slapped at him and he caught her hand in a crushing grip, pulling her forward and whispering something into her ear. She colored, her eyes widened. A threat. The beast. People were rising, leaving for the feast and I joined them my thoughts on the couple. Perhaps I could lure her grace from him. But Damien…I recalled the scene of the past night.

He had spoken of gold, as though I had been desperate but I’d confounded him with my words; he had not known that I was aware of his affairs with Cromwell. Then he could not master me and began again, now speaking with grudging respect. He spoke…nay he whined about his land and crops, burned by the peasants, as if I cared for him. But he soon noted my disgust and steadied his voice and brought his words to the point of the matter. And it pierced me deeply. I scarcely believe it true for Ranthulfe did not incite the peasants, only spoke for them. Of a certainty too, if he had involved himself to that extent, he would not have urged the rabble to his neighbor. For he himself did say that to harm thy neighbor is the greatest foolishness when he of all people is most in the position to strike back. Ah, those days. But no more! His treachery must paint his portrait in my mind the blackest black. But Damien was quite convinced. It is frightening, the man’s perception; that he should come to me with such errand. But I have him fast where he would not enjoy pulling away and would cry farther and with greater ear than he could hope for if he should attempt to tarnish me. But his conviction…And he is willing to pay for hope, and pay too well to not mind the loss should he be proven wrong. He wants a destruction…but I may lead him a tiring dance and he should always supply me. Could it be possible? All had entered the hall and I moved to take my place at the high table, my thoughts still in such clouds. I raised my eyes, unseeing and was almost before them before my eyes opened. He that I loathed and she that I loved, the thief and the victim and me unable to grant the lady her lips once more. It was possible. It would be. xx The evening breeze caressed their heated bodies, clasped together in a final moment of ecstasy. They were almost frozen in place and the world had stopped, awaiting their descent. Their bodies arched in spasms and, slowly, they floated in a sea of red and gold back to this world. The sounds of their breathing filled the room and with glazed eyes they looked to the heavens. There was a unity in their passion that could not be broken and as they returned to consciousness, the need of each to hold the other only grew. “Jacqueline.” It was whispered almost reverently as the duke rolled and collapsed beside her. He had drawn himself from her as he did so and she cursed the emptiness that would keep her from sleep while he drifted so easily into the deepest of slumbers. She watched him, enviously, lovingly, achingly. The need to touch was almost overwhelming but she resisted and rose quietly from the bed. An he did not wake, the moment was ripest for her duty to be performed. Even as she crept from the bedchamber, she heard the low whistle of the chosen serf. It had been long prepared and she had at last picked the night.

The Village. “Arrêtez-vous!” “C’est moi. Est-ce que c'est prêt?” “Jacqueline?” “Oui. Is it ready?” Her voice seemed harsh to her own ears and each breath was a difficult gasp followed quickly by another. “It is. Come, I have let it settle within. Did you bring a cloak?” “Nay, lest I should misplace another.” She replied, sending a fulminating glare at the man before her. He smiled, aged teeth gleaming in the candlelight. A/N: um…It’s been a while is putting it mildly isn’t it? Dreadfully sorry about that. Will endeavor to change my somewhat lackadaisical habits. Actually though, college must be blamed. Nehoot, Cheers. Starox. P.S: That one moment of eroticism is so random but I thought it was kind of cute so I left it in.