He slips an arm around my waist. “Like this?”
“Not exactly.” I put my hands on his shoulders as they were in la volte. “That is better.”
He slips his other arm about me. “And this better still.”
I give a deep sigh and relax against him until I can hear the heart that a moment ago I felt. It has not slowed.
The Duc drops his head beside my neck and inhales. I give a little start as his lips touch the place where my ear meets my neck.
Pulling back, he looks down into my face. “Do I offend?”
“No. My lips are only jealous of my throat.” It is as close as I can come to asking for what I want.
“As a gentleman, I cannot have that.” Gently he takes my chin between his thumb and first finger and tips it upward. His mouth descends, hovers where I can feel and, to my surprise, taste his breath. At last it presses into mine. His lips are softer than I expected for a man whose body is all muscle. They give beneath mine just as mine give beneath his. His lips part slightly and mine mimic them. A small breath leaves his body and enters mine, animating me in a manner I have never known. I believe I can feel, and even hear, the blood in my veins. When his tongue follows, I am overcome with sweeping pleasure. My hands tighten on his shoulders as my own tongue reaches back in answer to his. His fingers leave my chin and his arm slides behind my neck, supporting my head as I let it fall back in ecstasy. There is no other word for it. I hear light laughter and wonder if it is my joy taking on a form of its own, before realizing it must be Henriette on the balcony. I want to remain as I am for as long as possible, but a soft, insistent rapping separates us.
Henriette steps back into the room.
“I feel much better,” she says. “And by the looks of it, you two do also. We had best return to the party before Her Highness is missed.”
The Duc nods and reaches out a hand for mine.
“Your Grace, you and the Seigneur should go by the ordinary way. Her Highness and I will slip back as we came. If she has been missed, nothing can be suspected if we are not in the same part of the room.”
As I move toward the hidden door, Henriette stops me with a hand on my shoulder.
“So?” she asks, her eyes eager.
“I got my kiss.”
“I promised you it could be managed.” She smiles indulgently.
“Oh, Henriette, I think I am in love.”
“Every girl thinks she is in love with the first gentleman who kisses her. It will fade.” She rolls her eyes. “Do not look so sullen and misunderstood. It is right that infatuation should fade. Unchecked, it is as destructive as it is wonderful. Enjoy the feelings of the moment—wallow in them—then bring them to heel. The sooner you have control of your emotions and urges, the sooner you may pursue them without danger.”
I dare not tell her, but I like the feeling of being out of control. It is very much like being lifted in la volte.
Charlotte appears relieved as we slip into the room.
“Trouble?” Henriette asks.
“The Baronne de Retz was looking for Marguerite. I told her that I had just seen Her Highness leave with the Duc d’Anjou.”
“Anjou is gone?”
“Slipped away with la belle Rouhet! Can you believe it?”
I can, but the thought kindles no spark of jealousy. Whatever they are doing, it cannot be better than the Duc de Guise’s kiss.
“She is old enough to be his mother!” Charlotte continues.
“Let her have her fun,” Henriette replies. “I have just reveled in Bussy d’Amboise’s kisses. I found them sufficiently exciting to warrant an invitation to my little house this evening. There I intend to enjoy every inch of him, grateful throughout that he is only nineteen. I am a firm believer in the old adage ‘young flesh is a great nourishment to love.’”
Charlotte laughs.
“Let us go and make ourselves obvious to the Baronne.”
For the space of two dances I stand beside my gouvernante while she talks of the everyday. I do not hear a word. I am watching Guise across the room. My Duc returns to my side for a dance. Where we could not find our tongues before, now, as if loosed by the kiss, we both talk eagerly. He praises my dancing, my looks, my voice. We speak of the war to come and I profess my faith that he will be the commander most distinguished in it. We flirt in the customary way of the Court but it feels very uncommon to me, because underlying every quip and look is an attraction that makes mere proximity intoxicating. We dance three dances in a row without even noticing before Charlotte assails us.
“Your Grace, you have not danced with me and I am very vexed with you. I am sure Her Highness will surrender you, particularly as her gouvernante has been watching the two of you closely for some time.”
*
The Baronne de Retz holds her tongue until I have almost convinced myself she will say nothing. Then, when I stand ready for bed, she says, “Mademoiselle Goyon, I will finish here.”