stalk, holding it between her thumb and her forefinger, and ate it slowly with relish, her little tongue skillfully licking the sauce so that not a drop was wasted “These are so good,” she told him. “What a delicious treat!”
He watched her, fascinated, particularly as he realized almost immediately that she had absolutely no idea how sensuous her dining on the asparagus was to him. He felt himself hardening briefly beneath the velvet of his breeches and considered if that pointed little pink tongue had any idea the uses to which it could be put. He knew in that moment that Fancy Devers was going to please him. He had never, since he returned to England, kept two mistresses publicly, but now that Barbara Castlemaine was almost gone, it was a distinct possibility. Even his cousin, the king of France hadn’t done that yet.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked him.
“Yes!” he said, and turned his attention to his own plate, which had beef and ham and salmon, as well as asparagus, on it.
There was also a silver basket of delicate little breads on the table. There was sweet butter and several cheeses as well. The servants kept their goblets constantly filled, but Fancy was careful not to drink a great deal. She didn’t know if she had a head for it, and besides she didn’t want to miss what was to come by being drunk. When the little light supper was over, the servants carried away the table and its contents.
“Shall I call a maid to help you undress?” the king asked her when they were at last alone.
“I am sure Your Majesty has the skills necessary to help me,” Fancy told him. Her heart was beginning to hammer a little nervously.
He escorted her into the bedchamber. The heavy gold-velvet draperies were drawn across the windows. The bed’s satin coverlet was drawn back, the bedcurtains but half open. There was a bowl of red strawberries with a pot of clotted Devon cream, a carafe of wine, and two goblets on a table. The candles reflected within their crystal lamps upon the mantel, on the table, and by the bed. The king closed the door behind them.
Fancy started at the finality of the door’s click.
He saw it and asked her, “Are you afraid?”
She shook her head. “Not of you,” Fancy told him. “I simply worry my inexperience will displease you.”
“You were married, I have been told,” he replied.
She nodded. “For a few hours, Your Majesty.”
“Are you a virgin?” he inquired.
“Nay, I had a wedding night,” she told him, her voice suddenly tight with her tension.
“It was an unhappy experience?” he guessed.
“Yes.”
“And yet you accepted my invitation knowing full well what I would demand of you. Why?” The king was distressed by her admission, and yet he still desired her very much.
“Cynara says you have a reputation of being the world’s best lover,” Fancy began.
The king could not help but smile at this.
“Women, even those lacking in experience, have an instinctive knowledge about lovemaking, Your Majesty. The man to whom I was married was the most handsome creature, with such charm that every woman who knew him loved him on some level,” Fancy explained. “He was a terrible, no he was a brutal lover whose only need was to satisfy himself. He died for it, I fear, and widowed me before he could destroy me.”
He had to ask. “Did you kill him?”
“No, and yet I was responsible for his death. I will leave you if that is what you desire, Your Majesty, but ask me no more now, I beg of you,” Fancy said quietly.
“Let us return to the point when you knew he was an inferior lover, my dear,” the king said as quietly. “If making love made you unhappy, then why are you here with me this evening?”
“Because of your reputation,” Fancy said honestly. “The women of my family have always known the delights of passion. I would too, but I don’t want to have to place myself in the keeping of another husband in order to discover what they know. And I can hardly question the amatory skills of a man before I wed him. Your Majesty, however, comes highly recommended as a lover. I should far rather have a lover than I would have another husband.”
Charles Stuart digested this statement, amazed.
“Have I shocked you, Your Majesty?” she said. “I am so new to England and to the royal court that I hope I have not offended you with my bluntness.”
He finally managed to find his voice again. “My dear,” he told her, “I do not believe I have ever met a more candid lady than you. I can but hope that I am as skilled a lover for you as my reputation would have you and the rest of the world believe.”
“From the moment I was introduced to Your Majesty,” Fancy told him, “I had not a doubt.”
He turned her about and began to unlace her bodice with adept fingers. “I think, my dear Fancy, that you will prove a most dangerous woman when you have grown up a bit more.” Then he dropped a kiss upon the curve of her delicate neck. “Your scent is intoxicating. What is it?”
“It is night-blooming jasmine, Your Majesty,” Fancy said. “My grandmother and her old maidservants distill it themselves. I love it.”
“As do I,” the king replied. The bodice unlaced, he turned her about again, and drew it off, laying it carefully upon a chair. “Now, my dear,” he told her, “it is your turn. Will you remove my coat?”
Fancy’s slender fingers painstakingly undid each of the carved gold buttons with their paste jewel centers that held the king’s claret velvet coat closed. Stepping behind him she pulled it off, and set it upon a second chair.
The king turned about so that he was facing her. “Now, together,” he said with a small smile, and he began to untie the ribbons that held her dainty lace-trimmed chemise closed. Fancy smiled back at him and loosened the ribbons holding his shirt closed. The garments removed, they were both naked to the waist. The king spun his companion around, and his hands as quickly cupped her two breasts. The twin beauties were perfectly round globes of firm, soft flesh. He closed his dark eyes briefly and allowed his other senses to take over.
His touch was so gentle, Fancy thought surprised. It was almost reverent, as if he were worshiping her. She had thought she might feel fear at first, but rather she was relaxed and leaned her head back against his shoulder. Eyes wide she watched as he caressed her bosom. His thumbs, like velvet, rubbed her nipples causing them to pucker sharply. His palms were warm and fondled her tenderly.
“Beautiful,” the king murmured in her ear. “Your breasts are the most beautiful I have ever seen, my dear. What perfect treasures you offer me. They are indeed fit for a king.” He turned her around and, lifting her up, lowered her just enough so that he might kiss the spheres he was so obviously admiring. His lips were moist and hot, and she could not refrain from a quiver as excitement raced through her body.
He lowered her so that her feet were once again upon the floor. His hands cupped her heart-shaped face and he drew her so close that the tips of her nipples, just the tips, touched his broad and smooth chest. Then he began to kiss her—long, slow kisses with his big sensuous mouth.
