The Lily and the Lion by Catherine A. Wilson, Catherine T Wilson Page B

hours are kinder to your wardrobe, Mademoiselle,’ smiled Lord Stock. He proffered his arm invitingly. ‘Lady d’Armagnac, you are breathtaking.’
    In black silk chausses and richly embroidered murrey-coloured velvet adorned with an amethyst studded gold chain, he exuded nobility. Was he a knight, perhaps? He certainly looked as though he would be comfortable astride a horse.
    â€˜Milord, you flatter me.’ I thrilled with pleasure as he kissed my hand.
    â€˜Call me Édouard.’
    Over a magnificent repast of duck, roast game, preserved figs and several cheeses, Édouard and I talked long into the evening. He encouraged me to speak of my beloved family, and was graciously amused as I prattled endlessly of my loving childhood. By an unspoken, mutual agreement, we disregarded the war as too tenuous a subject, but as the hours wore on I was sure he was a liberator of some distinction, even though he had not boasted any of his own achievements. He had about him a hidden strength, a determination, and the only useful fact I learned was that he was not married.
    Flushed with Burgundian wine and exhilarated by his charm, I was overcome when, at a nod, his servant discreetly left the room, and Édouard pushed a tiny wooden box across the table.
    â€˜Lady d’Armagnac … Cécile, it would be my pleasure to have you accept this gift as an apology, and a token of our friendship. I would be in your grace, lady, and have you accept mine.’
    With a startled cry, I opened the lid to reveal a necklace heavily wrought in gold and set with three startling rubies, the size of which could compete with those of Duc de Berri.
    â€˜Monsieur … this is superb, but you cannot expect me to accept it.’
    â€˜A clam without a pearl is naught but an empty shell. What good are glorious jewels if they cannot adorn the fairest lady in the land? Accept it, Cécile, by way of atonement for my behaviour earlier.’
    â€˜Sir, it is too much!’
    He lifted my fingers to his lips and kissed them gently. ‘Any less would be an insult to your beauty.’ He let go and reached for the box. ‘But I shall not press you.’
    â€˜No! Wait.’ My hand landed atop his and understanding flooded his eyes.
    â€˜You feel the scale weighs too heavily on one side. What would it take, Mademoiselle, to see the matter balanced?’
    I modestly lowered my gaze. ‘Had you stolen my first kiss, Sir, I would have felt the injustice deeply. Such an impropriety would have indeed required serious reckoning.’
    He removed the necklace from its silken bed and moved behind me, his voice husky as he slid it over my throat. ‘Steal your first kiss? From where I come, they hang thieves.’ He raised me from my seat, his palms capturing my face. Mesmerised by his enigmatic aura, I felt nineteen years of curious longing slowly unfurl. Armand and I had spent one delightful summer discovering a kiss that belonged to us alone, and although it exceeded that of siblings, it remained youthfully innocent. I suddenly found myself yearning to know a true lover’s kiss.
    â€˜Prepare your noose, Lady,’ he whispered, ‘but I warn you. This thief shall not die on your gallows for naught.’
    Ã‰douard’s lips alighted upon mine and I closed my eyes. A wave of tenderness rose to the surface, then gushed forth like a newly tapped spring. His mouth pressed firmly, his tongue crossing forbidden boundaries as he possessively drew me close. I swayed as his lips crept to my neck. Mon Dieu ! Is this what it felt like to be seduced by a god from Olympus? No wonder so many earthly maidens fell beneath their spell. My eyes fluttered open and with a will of their own, my fingers slid into his golden hair. Yes, he could have passed for one of Zeus’s own.
    Playing traitor to good virtue, my sleeve slipped from my shoulder and I drew breath sharply as his fingers caressed the exposed skin,