The Diamond Slipper

Chapter Eighteen

On the stroke of midnight, Cordelia yawned delicately behind her fan and murmured to her dance partner that she was utterly exhausted. Her coach was about to turn back into a pumpkin if she didn't seek her bed without delay.

He smiled a little pityingly. To be exhausted at midnight was rather pathetic at the height of the wedding festivities, but the princess had been a less than exhilarating partner, so he was perfectly ready to escort her off the floor. He bowed punctiliously and left her at the double doors of the ballroom.

Cordelia glanced casually around the throng swirling and swaying beneath the brilliant light thrown by hundreds of massive crystal chandeliers. There was no sign of Leo. Had he left already? Was he waiting for her? He'd said she was not to go to him before midnight. Presumably, he'd been present at the king's couchee-an absurd ceremony, Cordelia thought. The king in his nightgown retired to his ceremonial bed surrounded by his courtiers, then as soon as they'd left, he got up again and went off into the town, or even to Paris, or simply to the card tables in his private apartments. It was the same at the morning levee. Most mornings, the king had been up and dressed for hours, before returning again to the state bed to be ceremonially and publicly dressed by his gentlemen of the bedchamber.

But at least once the ceremony of the couchee had been observed, the court was freed from royal observance for the remainder of the evening, so it had some useful purpose.

Cordelia slipped out of the salon and glided away from the bright, noisy scene. The antechamber was much quieter, containing only a few card players being entertained by a

group of musicians. Christian had played for the king earlier in the evening. It was a mark of great honor and the king had been visibly impressed; the Due de Carillac, Christian's patron, had beamed with pride and pleasure. Christian's once uncertain future was looking assured, Cordelia thought. But her satisfaction was tinged with the wry reflection that while Christian's future was now assured, her own and Toinette's, once so certain, had developed some distinct hiccups.

But all such distracting thoughts vanished as she sped down the quieter corridors and up the narrow stairs of the less fashionable parts of the palace, each step drawing her ever closer to Leo.

His door at the head of the stone staircase was ajar. Cordelia paused, glancing behind her down the stairs. There was no one around. The other doors along the passage that stretched from the stairs were all closed; a few candles flickered dimly in wall sconces. Cordelia lightly laid her fingers on the door. Why was it open? Had Leo perhaps gone somewhere? If so, it couldn't have been far. He wouldn't leave his door open if he was expecting to be gone long. Perhaps his servant was in the room. But Leo was expecting her. He wouldn't summon his servant. She pushed and the door swung soundlessly inward.

She stepped into the chamber. It was empty. A curtain fluttered at the open window. Fresh candles burned brightly on the dresser and the mantel. A decanter of wine stood on a table, a half-full glass beside it.

"Leo?" She took another, this time tentative, step, feeling like an intruder. Her heart skipped. Her scalp crawled. She had the sense that she was not alone.

Something flashed across her eyes. Then she was staring into a soft, velvety blackness.

"Leo?" she whispered again as the blindfold was drawn tight and tied at the back of her head. She heard the door close quietly.

"Don't be afraid." There was a depth to his voice, a potent current of lust.

"I'm not," she said truthfully, standing very still, trying to orientate herself in this private darkness. Her mounting excitement mingled now with the sense of entering some dangerous and unknown territory.

She could feel him standing in front of her, and she put out her hands to touch him. He was naked. Her heart beat faster. She was fully dressed, buttoned, hooked, laced into corsets, hoops, three petticoats, and a heavy gown of thickly embroidered ivory taffeta. She became conscious suddenly of every garment on her body, of her garters fastened at her thighs, of her silk stockings, of the lace edging to the stays that pushed her breasts up over the low neck of her gown. Of the shape and texture of her flesh and bone beneath.

Her hands moved over him, an eye in every fingertip. Deprived of sight, she found that her fingers were extra sensitive. They saw as they touched, they absorbed every little bump and ripple on his skin as she stroked his chest, finding his nipples. Delicately, she licked her fingertips and caressed his nipples with the damp tips, feeling them lift and harden. She listened to his breathing, more aware of every sound in the stillness than she'd ever been before. The tiny hiss of a spurting candle, the rustle of her feet on the woven rug, the sudden catch in his breath when she slid her hands down over his rib cage into the concave space below. She played in his navel with a dampened fingertip, clasped his narrow waist between her hands.

He put his hand on her head, not hard but with an urgency, pushing her down. She slipped to her knees, her skirts billowing in an ivory corolla around her. Her hands gripped his buttocks, her thumbs pressing into the hard pelvic bones, and she nuzzled blindly against his belly, stroked with her tongue, before gathering his erect flesh on her tongue and drawing him into her mouth.

She moved her mouth up and down the hard pulsing stem, keeping her hands where they were, using only her face and her mouth to hold and caress him. She inhaled deeply of the scent of his arousal, savored the saltiness of his flesh on her tongue.

Leo looked down at her from the plane of his own bliss. Her upturned face was radiant, somehow made even more so by the black velvet scarf that prevented him from seeing the soul in her eyes. Her head was back, her throat a graceful white curve, as she pleasured him with an all-absorbing concentration. He knew as he looked down into her blind face that she was aware of nothing but his body so close to hers, of the taste, the scent, the feel of him, and his blood thrilled with a strange deep power.

Cordelia was lost in her own sense of power, the power she had to give him such pleasure. She could feel his joy in her fingertips, feel it on her tongue, at the back of her throat. She adored his body, reveled in what she was doing to him, gloried in the moment when she knew the merest flickering caress would cause him to plunge over the edge… gloried in the moment when it happened and his jubilant cry filled the room, his fingers twined in her hair, holding on as if she were his only rock in the storm that promised to sweep him away.

His grip loosened finally, but she remained on her knees, resting her head against his belly. His legs were braced as if he needed to withstand some force, but his hands on her face were gentle, stroking the curve of her cheek, lifting her chin to caress the soft tender flesh beneath. Then he took her hands and drew her firmly to her feet.

"Do you wish me to take off the scarf?"

Cordelia shook her head. "Not unless you wish to."

Leo smiled and kissed her, tasting his own salt essence on her lips. "What a wonderfully compliant lover you are, my sweet."

Cordelia smiled. "Do you?"

"No, I have a few other ideas up my sleeve." He drew her farther into the room and she clung to his hand, taking hesitant little steps, afraid to trip over something. "There, now stand quite still."

She felt him move away from her and was suddenly lost, but it was only for a moment. Then he was behind her, his fingers on the hooks at the back of her gown. She kept very still as he stripped her with unhurried movements, leisurely loosening each hook, each button, each tie, until she stood in her chemise, corset, stockings, garters, and shoes. She blinked behind the velvet blindfold, aware of the cool night air on her bared skin, seeing herself in her mind's eye as if she were looking at her image in a mirror.

She waited for him to untie the laces of her corset, and then caught her breath as she heard the snip of scissors and the garment fell from her.

His hands moved down her, pressing the thin chemise to her body, molding her breasts, the curve of her bottom. He kissed her throat, drew his tongue along the line of her jaw, traced the shape of her ear. Cordelia quivered, waiting for the unbearable yet exquisite moment when his tongue would delve into her ear. He knew the sensation drove her wild, but he teased for long minutes, his teeth nipping and tugging gently on her earlobe, his tongue stroking behind her ear, little darting thrusts within, withdrawn as soon as he felt her begin to shrink and shudder. Her blindness accentuated every sensation and every instant of anticipation. She couldn't see him, could only feel him, couldn't guess when the tantalizing would stop.

He clasped her head firmly between both hands, and she knew it was coming, was already wriggling and squirming. Then his tongue was ravaging her ear, sending her into helpless paroxysms where the line between torment and entrancement was so fine she couldn't possibly have drawn it.

He laughed as he held her still and his breath mingled hot with the dampness of his probing tongue. Cordelia tried to squiggle away, laughing even as she begged and pleaded for him to stop. But her excitement grew with every fruitless wriggle, and the sensations were all becoming mixed up so that she no longer knew which part of her body was responding.

When at last he took pity and raised his head, she sagged against him, exhausted by her struggles, weak with laughter and the pulsing arousal in her loins.

"I'd like you to finish undressing." His voice was almost shocking in her velvet darkness, banishing laughter. He spoke softly but definitely and she felt him step backward from her so that she was standing in her own cool space.

She kicked off her shoes and the carpet was coarse beneath her stockinged feet. She lifted the hem of the chemise and untied her garters. She rolled her stockings carefully to her ankles and drew them off her feet. Every movement was exaggerated by her sightlessness. She knew his eyes were upon her, watching every movement, but she could only imagine his gaze.

She dropped the stockings to the carpet and straightened. Where was he? Was he behind her, to the side, or facing her? She stood very still, trying to feel his presence. She couldn't even hear his breathing, couldn't sense the warmth of his skin. She turned slowly, moving her hands through the air. And encountered only air.

"Take the scarf off if you wish." The voice came from behind her. She spun around.

"No… no, I don't wish to. But I didn't know where you were."

"Why don't you wish to?" There was a low languorous note to his voice, a deep caressing invitation to enter a world he was creating for them both.

"I want to find out what happens," she replied without a moment's hesitation. "I feel so different… everything's different, new… I'm experiencing everything as if it's for the first time."

"Take off your chemise."

Cordelia caught the hem of the thin garment and drew it up her body and over her head. She tossed it aside and stood naked, the breeze from the open window cooling her heated skin.

"Turn around."

She obeyed, standing with her back to him, hands at her sides, every inch of skin alive, waiting, wondering when and where he would touch her. There was utter silence. Utter blackness.

Leo waited, forcing himself to keep still as he gazed upon her; the narrow back, the sharp pointed shoulder blades that he longed to touch with his tongue, the line of her spine, carved deep into her back, the indentation of her waist, the flare of her hips, the taut round cheeks of her bottom. He waited, knowing that as she stood there, her body, already aroused, was working its own magic under the orchestration of imagination.

When he touched her shoulder blades with a brush of a fingertip, she gave a startled little cry. He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder, then languidly traced the line of her spine with the pad of his thumb. His flat palm stroked over her bottom, then slid between her thighs. Cordelia quivered and again he steadied her with a hand on her shoulder while his fingers reached for her, dancing, probing, feeling her readiness as they slid inside her.

His tongue stroked upward along the grooved nape of her neck, then his hand left her shoulder, slipped round to clasp one breast, teasing her nipple as the hot moist caress on her neck continued and his fingers opened inside her while his thumb played on the hard nub of her sex.

Cordelia no longer knew which part of her was responding to which exquisite caress. The hard lines of her body were fluid, and she seemed to be adrift in a world without physical boundaries. Her eyes were now centered inward on herself, and she could almost see the blood moving through her veins, her soft nether lips pink and swollen with joyous need, the pulsing of her thudding heart.

And yet the explosion took her by surprise. It was as if she were consumed in a roaring conflagration; her skin was on fire, her blood was molten lava as the searing bliss devoured her.

The flames were still roaring in her ears when Leo toppled her forward. She felt the soft arm of the sofa under her belly, her arms stretched out in front of her, her toes touching the carpet. Holding her hips he entered her while the conflagration still raged and the new sensation of his hard driving flesh added fuel to the flames. She no longer knew who or what she was, aware only of flesh and blood united, the point where Leo's body was separate from her own blurred beyond definition.

Leo felt as if he had limitless staying power. He felt as if he were drifting godlike above the two joined bodies, capable of bringing them both to the extremes of physical bliss. He was filled with the burning need to take his lover to the top of her mountain, to the absolute pinnacle beyond which there was only infinity. And he would do this not once but many, many times during the next hours. He wanted to brand her with his lovemaking so that nothing and no one would ever erase the glorious memories of this night.

Where Michael had violated her, exploited her weakness, he would show her the perfect joy of surrender. He passed his flat palms up her bent back, pressing his thumbs into the vertebrae. Her back arched in response, her inner muscles tightened around him. He scribbled a path with his nails down her back and over her bottom. Her body rippled around him. He drew back for a second, then plunged deeply, and she convulsed around him. He remained inside her, his own responses now well in control.

Cordelia sobbed her pleasure into the sofa cushions, and then he began to move again inside her. His hand slid beneath her belly, reaching down to touch her so that the muscles of her belly tightened and the pleasure built again, rippling through her in little rivulets that gradually swelled to a full stream. The instant before the stream burst its banks, he slid from her. He turned her over on the sofa, rested his bent knees on the arm, drew her legs high onto his shoulders, and entered her again.

Cordelia existed in her own darkness, every nerve centered on the one part of her body that seemed truly alive. She thought she couldn't bear another dissolution, another moment of this intense pleasure, but she found she could. Not once more but many more times during the next hours. She was mindless, sightless, insatiable.

The stars faded, the sky lightened, red streaks of dawn filled the sky outside the window. Neither of them noticed in the reckless world of their own entrancement. But eventually Leo could hold back no longer. Cordelia sat astride his lap on the end of the bed, her hands on his shoulders, her lips parted, head thrown back, as she held him tight within, moving only her inner muscles.

The instant before the wave broke, Leo fell back on the bed, holding her tight against him as he rolled sideways, finally separating their joined bodies.

Cordelia lay bathed in sweat, prostrate, unable to move or think. When Leo moved her head sideways and unfastened the blindfold, she protested weakly, so accustomed was she now to her own private darkness that the intrusion of the visible world was a violation. Her eyes closed against the unfamiliar light, and she was immediately unconscious, sleeping the sleep of total exhaustion.

Leo's right hand rested on Cordelia's breast, the fingers splayed; the other hand was flung around her waist. His body felt hammered into the thick feather mattress, and even the growing light in the room and the knowledge that they were moving into a dangerous time couldn't prevent him from sleeping.

He awoke soon enough, fully alert, his heart hammering as he listened to the sounds in the corridor outside. People were talking and moving around. From the courtyard below came the clarion call of a herald's trumpet as the night guard was changed.

"Hell and the devil!" he muttered, pushing himself onto an elbow, looking down at the unconscious figure beside him. Despite his anxiety he smiled, brushing a tangled ringlet from her cheek. She was so beautiful. And dear God in heaven, what a partner in love. Not once had she fallen behind, not once had she pleaded exhaustion, not once had she failed to divine what he wanted of her.

She had woven such chains about him, gossamer chains of love that were nevertheless adamantine. How had it happened that in a few short weeks this young girl had bewitched him out of all rational sense?

His eye flickered to the bracelet that he didn't think he'd ever seen her without. Elvira had always worn it too, he remembered. It was a curious piece of jewelry, undeniably beautiful but with something almost repellent about it. And yet both its owners had rarely taken it off. But surely it must symbolize marriage to Michael? A bondage to a loathsome man. Cordelia daily struggled against those bonds. Had Elvira also? Had Elvira suffered in the same way? Had the bracelet symbolized bondage for her too?

Cordelia stirred, her eyelids fluttered up. She caught his expression as he looked down at her before he had time to banish the dark thoughts. "What is it?" She reached up a hand to touch his face. "Were you thinking of Elvira?"

Her intuitive insight was uncanny. He caught her wrist, bringing it down so that he could examine the bracelet. "Why do you never take this off?"

Cordelia frowned. "I don't know. I didn't realize that I don't. Don't you care for it? It belonged to Elvira, I know. I saw it on her wrist in the portrait in the library on the rue du Bac."

"She never took it off either," he commented. "And no, I don't like it."

Cordelia examined it closely. "It's unique, I'm sure there's not another one like it in the world. The jeweler at Schonbrunn said as much. But it is a little sinister, I suppose."

"The temptations of Eve," he said. "But why would you wear a present that Michael gave you to mark a betrothal that has brought you nothing but suffering?" '

Cordelia's frown deepened. She had never thought of the bracelet in that way. Somehow it just seemed to belong on her wrist. "I won't wear it if you dislike it," she said slowly. "But don't you think Michael might wonder if he noticed that I had suddenly stopped wearing it?"

"Yes, I'm sure," he said with a careless shake of his head. "It's of no consequence, Cordelia. I was just struck by its curious design." He swung himself off the bed. "What is of consequence is getting you back to your own apartment without drawing attention to yourself. The entire place is awake."

Cordelia peered blearily at the discarded heap of clothes in the middle of the room. "I can't put those on again."

"I don't see much choice." He swung himself off the bed. "Come, let me help you."

Cordelia got gingerly off the bed. "I'm sore," she complained. "How did that happen?"

Leo couldn't help laughing. "Use your imagination. If it's any consolation, you're not the only sufferer."

"I don't think I could sit on a horse," she said with a mock grimace, coming over to him, slipping her arms around his neck, pressing her naked body against his. "And we're to go to the hunt this morning."

Leo glanced over his shoulder at the window, where it was full daylight. "In less than an hour," he said ruefully, reaching behind him to break her hold. "Be good now, Cordelia." He picked up her chemise and dumped it in her arms. "Hurry."

"Oh, Lord!" Cordelia groaned. There were clear penalties for a night of unbridled lovemaking. She pulled the garment over her head. "I won't bother with stockings and garters,

no one will be able to tell under my skirt. What about my corset? I can't wear it if the laces are cut." She stepped into her first petticoat.

"I'll get rid of it." Leo shrugged into a dressing gown as he went over to the window. The court below was abustle, horses, wagons, soldiers going about the business of the new day.

Cordelia balled up her stockings and garters in her fist. She sat down to manipulate her shoes over her bare feet. "There, now I'm as dressed as I'll ever be at this point. Shall I just go?"

"No, wait." He went to the door and opened it, holding up an arresting hand as he looked down the stairs, then backward along the corridor. "All right, hurry!"

Cordelia darted to the door, reaching up to kiss him. He was prepared for a light farewell embrace, but she threw her arms around his neck, palming his scalp, pulling his head down to hers with all the passionate fervor of the night. He wanted to yield, but knew that they couldn't. He still held the door open and broke her hold almost roughly. "For pity's sake, Cordelia! We have less than an hour." He pushed her through the door and closed it briskly at her back.

Cordelia chuckled and danced down the stairs. Despite a sleepless and extraordinarily energetic night, she was filled with vigor and energy. A whole day in Leo's company stretched ahead, even if it was on the back of a horse. She grimaced at a prospect that ordinarily would have filled her with delight. Mathilde would know how to soothe the soreness, dissipate the stiffness. But instead of Mathilde, she had only the gormless if well-meaning Elsie.

But she would make the best of it, she told herself firmly. Mathilde would expect it of her, and this miserable situation wouldn't last forever. They would defeat Michael.

As she turned into the corridor leading to her own apartments, a scurrying maidservant bobbed a curtsy, looking a little curiously at the disheveled lady in her evening dress tottering on her high heels in the early morning. Cordelia gave her an airy smile but waited until she passed before opening the door to her own apartments.

The salon was deserted. She'd told Elsie not to wait up for her, and if Monsieur Brion was aware that she hadn't returned overnight, he was discreetly ensuring that she returned unobserved.

She slipped into her own chamber, threw off her clothes, bundling them into a corner, dragged a nightgown over her head, and jumped into her cold, unrumpled bed. Reaching out, she hauled on the bell rope, then lay down, pulled the covers up, and closed her eyes tightly.

"I need a bath, Elsie," she declared when the maid arrived somewhat breathlessly a few minutes later, bearing a breakfast tray. "I'm to join the hunt within the hour and I need hot water." She threw aside the bedclothes as she spoke, leaping to her feet. "Hurry, girl."

Elsie bobbed a curtsy and disappeared. Cordelia poured hot chocolate into a cup and hungrily attacked her breakfast.

She was as ravenous as if she hadn't eaten in days. She slapped thick slices of ham between hunks of rye bread and wolfed it down while Elsie laboriously filled a porcelain hip bath from steaming brass jugs of water.

Cordelia rummaged through Mathilde's pouches of herbs, trying to identify by scent the ones her nurse used to relax muscles in a bath. "These should do." She scattered the herbs on the surface of the water and sank into the tub with a little shudder of pleasure. "Oh, that's better. Put out my riding habit, Elsie. The emerald green velvet one, with the tricorn hat with the black feather."

Forty-five minutes later, feeling immeasurably restored, Cordelia joined the hunting party assembling in the outer courtyard. Her groom held Lucette. Leo, already mounted, was drinking from the stirrup cup presented by a footman.

"Good morning, Princess. I trust you slept well."

"Very well, thank you, my lord." She smiled serenely, putting her booted foot in her groom's waiting palm.

"Isn't it wonderful to be riding to hounds again, Cordelia?" Toinette's excited call came from the royal party gathered a few feet away. "You must come and ride with us."

Cordelia shot Leo a ruefully disappointed look and obeyed the dauphine's summons. The king greeted her pleasantly, the dauphin with a dipped head and averted eyes. Toinette was radiant.

The huntsman blew the horn, and the crowd of gaily dressed riders moved out under the early sunshine with a jingle of silver bridles and a flash of spurs into the thick forest surrounding Versailles.