The Queen and the Courtesan Read Free Page B

in his head, the ache in his loins was almost unbearable. So much so that he made no attempt to chide her over the criticism of his former favourite. This one would be very different. Henry could sense the latent passion in her. He could smell it, taste it. It burned like a fever in her eyes, in her teasing little touches on his person. She would be like a tiger in his bed, not the sweet willing participant he’d grown used to in Gabrielle. Henry recognized this aura of sensuality in her and welcomed it. He needed a woman in his bed who knew how to give him pleasure, particularly if the rest of the time that same bed would be occupied by a fat Italian princess. Rosny was constantly impressing upon him the benefits of marrying Marie de Medici, not least for the sake of the treasury. The net was closing in, no doubt about it. He met the girl’s furious glare, all jesting gone. ‘I would have you come to me for no other reason, but come you must.’
    A short, breathless silence, in which a silent acknowledgement passed between them.
    â€˜Much as I might long to give in to my desire, how can I?’ she gasped. ‘My father would never agree. Nor my mother, who is overly protective of me. She warns me that I would court disappointment, were I to succumb to your pleas. And I dare not go against my father’s wishes. His anger would be so terrible he would marry me off in a moment, to the first man willing to take me, however fat or old; a husband I would surely loathe. How dare I take such a risk?’
    Mildly irritated by this show of resistance, which he had heard many times before, Henry hastened to offer the usual reassurances. ‘I swear you would not be disappointed. I would be true, and I would never leave you at the mercy of a cruel father.’
    â€˜You might mean to protect me, but my father has sworn to protect the family’s honour.’
    Henry longed to explain that he had always generously provided previous mistresses with a rich husband, but thought better of it. In any case, some of those had indeed been fat and old. He’d never enjoyed competition. Girding his patience he decided to try another tack. ‘In that case we must employ different skills. I wish for our future destinies to be most certainly entwined, so we must seek some way to pacify your father.’
    And on that promise, she allowed him to kiss her.
    Following this heartfelt declaration, Henriette grew ever more daring and generous with her favours, cleverly allowing the King increasing liberty with her body, which only encouraged him to press for more. He would blaze a trail of tantalizing kisses along the slender white curve of her throat. She would creep up on to his lap and allow him to dip his fingers beneath the low bodice of her gown. Henry did so love to fondle her breasts; would rub a teasing thumb over her rosy nipple, or flick it with his tongue, surprising her by how quickly it hardened with desire. Henriette discovered to her delight that although the King was quite old, he was a generous and exciting lover. In her turn she would daringly take in hand the King’s member and pleasure him too, but she drew firm boundaries. There could be no true intimacy between them, no risks which might damage her reputation, and ruin her chances of a richer prize.
    Consequently Henry’s frustration grew by the day, his patience stretched to the limit.
    In early August, still eager to avoid the loneliness of his own bedchamber, Henry was staying at Zamet’s house. Following supper with the Marquis d’Elbeuf, he returned rather late and went straight to bed, only to be roused from his slumber in the early hours by an uproar. Some dispute or other was clearly taking place in the courtyard. Taking up his sword, and clad only in his nightshirt, Henry hurried to investigate. He found his Grand Equerry, the Duke of Bellegarde, and Claude, Prince de Joinville, fourth son of the late Henri de Guise,