Royally Seduced

chapter 13


LILY SAT CROSS-LEGGED on the stone patio behind the guesthouse kitchen, her camera aimed at an industrious bee buzzing around a purple sage plant. Not being a fan of bee stings, she moved slowly to frame her shots. One set had the golden-and-black insect in front of a solid wall of purple blooms, and for the second set, she lay down on her back and aimed upward. That angle showed the bee more in profile against the blue, blue sky.

She took a few pictures of the sky to capture the color. No wonder painting legends like Cézanne and Van Gogh, Picasso and Matisse had immortalized Provence in their art. She only wished she had the talent to do the same.

Ah, well. Her talent was with words, and maybe her photos would illustrate the land in some small way.

A shadow fell over her and, still looking through the viewfinder, she rotated to see Jack looking down at her. She fired off a couple shots of him silhouetted against the sky.

He looked startled. “That’s an odd angle for a photo. Wouldn’t you like my regal profile instead?” He turned his head to the right and put his finger under his chin, staring haughtily into the distance.

“I’m aiming for the artsy look. Don’t worry, I won’t put that one on my blog. But you do have that snooty expression just right.”

He chuckled and extended a hand to her, the bee buzzing around him for a second until it decided to find greener pastures.

“You must not be scared of bees,” she told him, standing and shutting down her camera.

He grinned. “Working on a flower farm knocks that out of you pretty fast. I don’t bug them and they don’t bug me.”

She groaned at his pun.

“Bee-sides,” he continued, “you have probably never had lavender honey. It is a local delicacy and Marthe-Louise has a wonderful recipe of duck glazed with lavender honey.”

“Oh, yum. Do you think she would give me the recipe?”

He shrugged. “Sure, but she’ll cook it for us if we ask.”

“We could bring her the ingredients.”

Jack rubbed his chin. “Let me talk with her and see what she would prefer. I know she has a little understanding with the butcher and likes to pick out her own fowl.”

“The sign of a true artist,” she told him. “Stan would never let anyone else pick the giant beef roasts that Mrs. Wyndham likes to serve at her dinner parties.”

“Fortunately for us today, we will benefit from Marthe-Louise’s culinary generosity. You can’t come to Provence in the summer and not have a picnic. She fixed us a basket full of food and we’re going up into the hills for the afternoon.”

“Great.” Lily tightened the laces on her sturdy hiking boots and socks. Bees and bare feet were a bad combination. “We’ve been staying close to home for the past several days.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints.” He nuzzled her neck. “On the other hand, we could eat here. Later.” She shivered as he nibbled her ear. “Much later.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” She pushed him away, though gently.

“Rejected.” He pressed a hand to his heart.

“Hardly.” Jack laughed and Lily realized her unintended pun. “Oh, you.” She started to blush and his grin widened.

“Yes, me indeed. But alas, it is picnic time.” He locked the back door of the guesthouse and they went around to the driveway. The picnic basket was already waiting in the car’s backseat, and they drove up a dusty road deeper in the hills.

They stopped at a field full of workers. “Would you like to see how they harvest the lavender?”

“Absolutely.”

A couple dozen harvesters, mostly young men and a few women, straightened as they approached. An older man started to chastise them for pausing but caught sight of Jack. He shouted a greeting. “Eh, M’sieu le…Jacques!”

He rapidly picked his way across the lavender field like a plump but nimble ballerina, not trampling or bruising a single plant. He wore a button-down shirt that had seen better days, a vest with several pockets, work boots and a round, flat-topped hat that she had seen on several of the older men. His face was round as well, bisected by a luxurious black mustache. “Jacques, mon brave.” He slapped Jack on the back. “And who is this?” he asked in heavily accented English.

“Lily, this is Monsieur Jean-Claude Chailan, husband of Marthe-Louise. Jean-Claude, this is Mademoiselle Lily Adams from America.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Lily extended her hand.

“Ah, Mademoiselle Lily, I am sorry we have not met before. I have been supervising the farm workers and Jacques has been keeping you all to himself.” Jean-Claude swept off his hat and actually bowed to her. He replaced his hat and clasped both of her hands, gazing at her with such a fond expression that she was momentarily taken aback. She saw the cheek-kiss routine coming, though and was prepared for it, although the third and fourth kisses were a surprise. Jack had told her that a fourth kiss was basically reserved for special occasions.

Jean-Claude drew back, still holding her hands in his work-hardened ones. “Ah, Mademoiselle, my good wife said you were beautiful, and I can see she was not exaggerating.”

Lily reddened and Jean-Claude shook his head. “Ah, the touch of the rose on your cheeks. Jacques, you old dog, what did you ever do to deserve such a pretty girl?”

“Nothing, mon ami, nothing.”

“Too true.” The older man barked out a loud laugh. “Eh, but I should not tell all of your secrets today, no?”

“No,” Jack said firmly.

“Oh, you’ve known each other a long time, then?” Lily asked.

“A lifetime, chérie,” Jack answered. “Jean-Claude came to Provence with the Roman legions and liked it so much he stayed.”

Jean-Claude gave him a narrow stare. “Are you calling me an old man?”

“Just joking,” Jack said hastily. “You are a man of experience, seasoned like an expensive red wine.”

“That is better, you young punk.” Jean-Claude let go of Lily’s hands and slapped Jack on the back again. He bent and broke off a lavender sprig. “Voilà, Mademoiselle. This is the best lavender in France.” He offered it to her.

Lily inhaled deeply. The perfume spiraled up into her nose, making her almost dizzy with the ripe scent.

Jack steadied her. She smiled at the men. “Powerful. But it doesn’t smell like what I’m used to.”

“You are used to the scent of the lavandin plant, a sterile hybrid that has more of a woodsy, camphor smell,” Jack told her.

“Good for soap and clothes washing, but perfume—bah!” Jean-Claude waved his hands dismissively. “No good unless you want to smell like laundry.” He puffed out his chest. “In fact, we are providing the lavender oil for an upcoming royal wedding. The bride is creating a perfume to be sold for her children’s charity.”

“Fascinating.” Lily turned to Jack. “Did you know about this?”

“Many of the details are hush-hush, right, Jean-Claude?”

The older man put a finger to his mustache in a shushing gesture. “But of course.”

Lily was disappointed not to have a big scoop like this but she wasn’t some tabloid journalist to snoop around. “Tell me all the details as soon as you can.”

Jean-Claude spread his hands wide. “I promise, you will be the first to know.” His stomach growled loudly. “Lunch!” he called to the crew, who cheered and straightened. “I would invite you to eat with us, but Marthe-Louise told me you are going on a picnic.”

“I thought we’d go to the northeast field. It has a great view and some shade.”

“Ah, oui, that field will be ready for harvest next week. But not yet—there will be no one around.” Jean-Claude didn’t quite wink or waggle his eyebrows, but Lily got the gist of it.

“Merci, Jean-Claude. We’ll see you later.” Jack put his arm around Lily’s shoulders and they strolled back to the car.

The northeast field was as beautiful as the lower field, overlooking the valley. A large oak tree stood nearby, and Jack spread out their picnic blanket underneath it.

“What did Marthe-Louise pack for lunch?” Lily asked eagerly.

He opened the big cooler and handed her a plate from the smaller bag of supplies. “Cold roasted chicken, ham on baguettes, a wheel of goat cheese, crackers, fruit and her special potato–green bean salad with an oil-and-vinegar dressing.”

Lily’s mouth watered as he served her a heaping plateful. “Any dessert?”

“But of course.” He grinned at her, lifting a container. “Cherry tarts, made fresh from our own trees.”

She moaned in anticipation, and he laughed. “I’ve heard you make that sound before.”

She swatted at him with her fork. “I enjoy the basics of life.”

“And that is why you fit in so well here.” He gestured to the beautiful farmland and perfect weather. “The basics of life are the best things in life.” He pulled out a bottle of white wine and deftly decanted it into two goblets. Marthe-Louise had thought of everything.

Lily raised hers. “A toast to the most beautiful day in the most beautiful place on earth.”

“To the most beautiful woman on earth.” He raised his in return.

“Where?” Lily looked around, half in jest, but subsided when he gave her a stern look. “Well, um, thank you.”

“To the most beautiful woman on earth,” he repeated, and they touched rims.

“A votre santé.” She remembered the traditional French toast to his health.

Jack smiled approvingly. “Very good.” They drank some wine and did their best to do justice to Marthe-Louise’s picnic.

Between the wine, the sun and the hypnotic buzzing of the cicadas, Lily’s eyes started to droop by the end of the meal.

“Come lie down, chérie, we will have dessert later.” He cleared the remnants of their meal and beckoned to her.

“Only for a little,” she insisted. He nodded and she rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

It seemed like only a few minutes later, but the angle of the sun had dropped when she opened her eyes to find Jack watching her, an indescribable expression of tenderness on his face.

Without saying a word, she reached for him. Their clothes quickly disappeared and he was inside her, their gazes still locked. She didn’t close her eyes until her senses were overwhelmed with the touch of his body, the scent of the lavender, the heat of the day and the blue of the sky.

They came simultaneously, and stayed in each other’s arms for another eternity. Lily wondered at the perfection of it all, knowing she was at least half in love with Jack, if not totally. And remembering the expression on his face as she’d awoken, she thought he might feel the same way.



LILY SHUT DOWN her laptop after webchatting with Sarah. Her cousin was predictably over the moon with her pregnancy, which was continuing well, but not so engrossed that she forgot to warn Lily about the dangers of strange men, particularly strange Frenchmen.

Sarah had lowered her voice, presumably not to have her husband, Carl, overhear, and said, “Lily, believe me, I spent a whole year and several summers there. I know how sexy and charming they can be. There was this one chef in Lyon who could do the most amazing things with chocolate…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes got dreamy for a second as Lily watched in amusement. “But that’s not the point.”

“The point is that I am being careful and having as much fun with Jack as you did with your pastry chef.”

“That much, huh?” Sarah had sighed in nostalgia. “Oh, well, all of that is off my plate, so to speak, until I hear the all-clear from the doc. I’ll get the details from you at some point, but not now.”

Lily smiled as she remembered all the so-called details of last night. She stretched and stood up from the desk. Jack was up in the lavender fields with Marthe-Louise’s husband Jean-Claude. Lily worried about him overexerting himself, but Jean-Claude seemed to look after Jack like a kindly old uncle.

The morning sun and sky were too nice to waste indoors. She ran upstairs and pulled on her swimsuit, a lime-green string bikini. Only old ladies wore one-piece suits in France. Even then, they rolled down the top and went topless like everyone else at the beach.

No issues like that at their private pool, however. Thanks to Oncle Pierre’s privacy issues, a high limestone wall surrounded the pool area.

She went downstairs with a towel and grabbed a bottle of sparking water and a bowl of plump red grapes.

She carried her snack outside and decided to get some color, lying down on the large chaise lounge. With her round-framed sunglasses and pricey French water, she felt positively decadent. All she needed was a pool boy.

She closed her eyes and tipped her face up to the sun. She drifted in and out of sleep, enjoying the lavender-and-rosemary scented breeze.

“A good idea on such a hot afternoon.”

Ah, there was the pool boy. She opened her eyes to see Jack wearing a tiny competitive-swimmer type suit.

“Ack, what is that?” She still wasn’t used to European-style men’s swimsuits.

“Oh, is this the clothing-optional pool? I should have realized.” He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and calmly pulled them off, kicking them away.

“Jack!” Sure, she’d been naked with him, and in daylight, too, but that time in the lavender field had seemed like a dream.

“Come on, sunbathe topless. You’re in France, you know.”

“Oh, fine.” She rolled onto her stomach, untying the bottom string so her back was bare. She rested her face on her arms, ignoring his laughter. “If you want to get sunburned on your…well, that’s up to you.”

He laughed even harder and sat next to her. “Maybe you could put some sun lotion on my…well…”

Lily rolled onto her side. “Oh, yeah? And why should I do that?”

“I’d do the same for you.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She looked down and saw her top had shifted to the side, baring her breasts. “Hmmph.” She unknotted the tie at her neck and tossed the two triangles aside.

“Ah, that’s better,” he said in appreciation. “We’ll make a Frenchwoman out of you yet.”

She sniffed. “Somehow I can’t imagine your Provence ladies wanting to sunbathe topless.” The image of Marthe-Louise getting a lineless tan was a bit much to imagine.

“You’d be surprised.” His deadpan expression amused her. Who knew what these staid matrons got up to?

Jack was not tan all over, either. Working shirtless with Jean-Claude had browned up his torso, but he had a definite tan line at his waistband. Somehow, though, she didn’t think he’d come out to even up his color, considering how hard and aroused he was growing under her gaze. “Good thing you took off your suit. You might have hurt yourself trying to fit all that inside.”

He crawled up the lounge and positioned himself between her thighs. “But I like fitting myself inside…you, that is.” The tip of his erection prodded the thin green fabric of her bikini bottom.

He was so big and hard and hot on top of her, a summer god come to life and wanting to have his way with her. Her nipples tightened in anticipation.

“Chilly?” He lifted an amused eyebrow. It was at least eighty-five degrees outside. She pursed her lips and he laughed. “Mmm, let me warm you up.” He lowered his mouth to one tight pink peak and drew it into his mouth.

Lily was burning up. Jack licked her gently, first back and forth, then with round swirling strokes around her whole areola. Then a hard suck and a little nip. She gasped in a mix of shock and pleasure, and then he soothed her with his tongue. He lifted his head to admire his work. Her nipple was like a berry, firm and reddish pink, glossy and ripe.

“Oh, Lily, I could suck on your pretty tits for hours.” He blew a cool stream of air over her wet flesh and she bit back a scream. He shook his head disapprovingly. “Don’t you want to scream for me?”

“Well…”

“Don’t be so shy. No one is around.”

“Are you sure?” she whispered.

He laughed. “Jean-Claude is a stern taskmaster. Everyone is in the upper fields to harvest the prime lavender crop. Where we were the other day.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“There are benefits to being the…guest. Enough of that business. You are my business now.” He moved to her other nipple and gave it his full attention.

The first wasn’t neglected, though. His long, clever fingers caught it and gave it several gentle tugs. The double attention was more intense than anything, making her hips start to writhe under his.

He angled his erection so she rubbed up and down his length. He moaned against her breast and then his fingers were undoing the side ties of her bikini.

The fabric easily fell away and he was pressing on her, almost into her. He was so hard, and she was so wet. She shifted slightly so his tip entered her.

His eyes flew open. “Lily, the protection.” They were both gasping at the new, erotic sensation. “Let me go get a condom.”

“Why not like this? I’m on the Pill and healthy. Aren’t you?”

“Not on the Pill.” He gave a choked laugh. “But healthy. I’ve been tested for every infectious disease known to man.”

Jack was wavering, she could tell. But it was his decision.

He surrendered with a groan and slid all the way into her to his hilt. She automatically locked her legs around him and they both stared at each other.

“I’ve never done this before,” she confessed.

“Me, neither.” He closed his eyes and shuddered. “Oh, Lily, it’s beyond words.”

“Tell me,” she coaxed.

“You’re burning me up, my sweet. Your heat, your creamy juices on my skin.” He started moving inside her. “You make me crazy for you.”

She tipped her head back. Every part of him touched her, unblunted by any barrier. His juices mixed with hers, making his thrusts even more slippery and delicious. Her plump, swollen nipples caught in his russet chest hair and she cooed in pleasure at the rough texture.

“Ah, you like, eh?” He picked up his pace, slamming inside her as she moaned with every jolt. “You’re such a bad girl, Lily. I shouldn’t do this, but I can’t help myself. Sexy girl. Naughty girl.”

Lily had never thought of herself as bad, sexy or naughty, but it sounded fun.

Suddenly, he raised his head. “Uh-oh.”

“What?” She looked around but Jack kept thrusting into her.

“I think someone’s there.”

“What? Who?” She stopped moving but her body was drawing her on, not letting her matching thrusts stop.

His brown eyes were mischievous. “Someone who might hear how much you like this.”

She moaned, sinking into the lounge, letting his fantasy take her away.

“Someone who wonders how wild you get with a bare cock inside you.” He moved his hand between their bodies. “How wild you get with a finger on your *.” He touched her and she screamed. “Like that.”

“Jacky…” she moaned.

“I love it when you call me that. Only you, mon coeur Lily.”

She swallowed hard in a wave of sudden emotion. He called her “his heart.” She threw her arms around him and kissed his neck, his chest, wherever she could reach.

He responded by renewing his touches and caresses, worshiping her body with his as they moved together as one.

She dug her fingers into his back and tightened around him. He caught her earlobe between his teeth and flicked it with his tongue. She arched into him and broke apart, her climax pitching her up fast and strong. “Oh, Jacky, Jacky…”

He pushed with one last strong thrust and groaned, his head tossed back with all the cords in his neck pulling taut.

He flooded into her and she climaxed again, even harder. He called her name over and over again and she loved how his French accent got thicker during passion. She clung to him, almost desperately as they gasped for air.

He slumped on top of her, resting his head next to hers against the lounge cushion. She kissed his cheek and he turned his face to softly kiss her lips.

“You are wonderful, Lily. So much fire when we make love.”

Love.

A ray of sun lit up his hair as she twisted her fingers around a strand of burnished copper. He was heat and fire and tenderness and…love?

He lifted his head and smiled sweetly at her. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She hadn’t meant for him to notice. But to her horror, her eyes started to prickle. Why would that happen? She quickly closed her eyes so he couldn’t see them fill.

“Look at me, Lily.”

Rats. There they were naked on a huge chaise lounge with the sun shining on them and she was starting to cry. She opened her eyes and gave him a wide smile. “Yes?”

His brown gaze didn’t miss a thing. She wondered if they trained him for that in foreign-aid school. “Do you have any regrets, Lily? I know this is a very sudden relationship, and neither of us has ever been with anyone else…like this.”

She didn’t answer, didn’t know what to say, and his face tightened in concern. His muscles tensed as if he was about to get up.

“Wait!”

He rolled next to her, brushing her hair off her face.

“I, um…” she started. “It’s not what you think. I was looking at you, and the sun was shining on you, and I thought how, um, wonderful it was to be here at this perfect time and perfect place.” Geez, for a writer she was incredibly incoherent. Maybe because she preferred describing other people and their activities rather than open up her own emotions for scrutinty.

“Oh.” Relief spread across his face. “As we talked about before—the moment where everything is exactly as it should be. The poet Baudelaire said to ‘dream of sweetness,’ where everything is rich, peaceful and sensual.”

“That’s it, exactly. I’ve never experienced that with a man.” She fought back a blush at being so open, but, hey, she was already physically naked. A little bit of emotional nakedness wouldn’t be out of place.

His eyes widened. “And you feel that with me?”

“Well, yes.”

“And I have felt that with you—from the first time you bumped into me at the hostel.”

“No.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You thought I had a terrible accent and was an obnoxious summer tourist.”

“I did not. I thought you were a beautiful, cheerful American woman who took pity on a scruffy, rude backpacker and bought him breakfast.”

“And look how well you cleaned up,” she joked. “All for the price of a cup of coffee and a croissant.”

“Did you call me cheap?” He placed his hand on his chest in mock dismay. “Cruel woman.”

“Cruel man.” He was the furthest thing from cruel, but he knew she was teasing him.

“What? And considering how hard I work to please you?”

“How can I ever make it up to you?” she purred, running her hand down his belly to cup his growing erection.

He thrust into her hand. “Surprise me.”

She pushed him onto his back. “You’re on.” She swung her leg over his waist and straddled him.

“Ah, Lily.” He grabbed her hips and helped her settle on him, his cock pushing inside her again. He cupped her breasts and played with her sensitized nipples, his big hands brown against her paler skin.

“My favorite bikini top.” She smiled down at him.

He grinned. “If you have to wear anything, wear me.”

“You wear me out.” Her legs were starting to burn from moving up and down on him but she didn’t care. “But in a good way.”

“Poor Lily.” His chest glistened with sweat and his hair was falling into ringlets at the edges. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He caressed her * and she leaned forward, bracing her hands on his shoulders.

His free hand cupped her bottom running up her back to the nape of her neck. “Kiss me, ma belle Lily.”

She eagerly complied, opening her mouth to him as his tongue possessed her as thoroughly as his cock. She moaned and squirmed, her climax building. He slid his hand down to her bottom and massaged there. The double sensation of his hands in front and back was overwhelming and she bucked sharply on top of him.

He hummed low in his throat and kept it up until she arched and clutched at him. He quickly followed her over the edge and she collapsed onto him.

Jack rolled her onto the chaise and they kissed naked in the sun. “Not so shy anymore, eh, Lily?”

“Only with you.” She nuzzled his neck.

“But of course.” He gathered her into his arms. “And despite what you may think, I am only clothing-optional with you.”

She laughed and pinched his firm buttock. “I know that—you have tan lines.”

“And we are going to get burn lines if we don’t get out of the sun.” He stood and scooped her up as she squealed in surprise.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

He scoffed and walked toward the house. “You are much lighter than some of the equipment Jean-Claude has me tote around.”

“Don’t let him work you too hard,” she fretted.

He pinched her bottom and she yelped. “Oh, I work hard. A strong woman like you needs a strong man.”

“You think I’m strong?” Lily hugged him closer.

He shook his head in mock dismay. “But if only you could be a little more docile instead of quizzing everything I say.”

“Yes, milord.” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“What?” He looked shocked at her joking acquiescence.

“Isn’t that what all the French peasant girls say to the local nobleman who’s offered to ravish them?”

He tipped back his head and roared with laughter. “And I am the local nobleman who has the right to ravish the peasant girls!” He nudged open the patio door with his foot. “I am luring you to my noble lair to have my way with you. How do you feel about a noble attempt at a bath in a hot tub?”

“Milord, lead the way.”