Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7143194.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      The_Musketeers_(2014)
  Relationship:
      Aramis/Original_Female_Character(s), Anne_of_Austria/Original_Male
      Character(s), d'Artagnan/Constance_Bonacieux
  Character:
      Aramis, Anne_of_Austria, d'Artagnan, Constance_Bonancieux
  Additional Tags:
      Post-Season/Series_03, Loss_of_Virginity, Vaginal_Sex, Vaginal_Fingering,
      Oral_Sex, The_Fronde_is_coming, Breaking_and_Entering
  Series:
      Part 1 of Musketeer_Mistresses
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-09 Chapters: 7/7 Words: 21771
****** The Spymaster's Daughter ******
by Cusp_of_Sensitivity
Summary
     Paris, 1638. A year after Louis' death and civil war is making its
     way toward France. As First Minister, Aramis watches over his son,
     Louis XIV, guiding him on the road of kingship. But first he must
     work to stop a plot that would change the destiny of France forever,
     with help from old friends and new
***** Chapter 1 *****
Paris 1638
“Yes, damn it, yes!”
Aramis shouted as he thrust up into the pussy that was getting hotter, tighter,
and wetter around his cock. The pussy in question belonged to Apollonie Le
Carre, his young mistress, who was reaching her climax. The early morning sun
peaked through the heavy damask curtains to highlight the chestnut curls
cascading around her shoulders. Leaning forward, her ample breasts swung back
and forth and her hips bounced rhythmically as she rode him. The sound of damp
skin slapping filled the room.
Aramis reached up to stroke the responsive nipples. Apollonie moaned with
delight and circled her hips with increasing speed as she worked herself on his
shaft. He groaned thickly as he felt her tighten around him. This was the fifth
time they’d fucked over the course of the night. Aramis was impressed by her
stamina. Her mother, Giulietta Marco, had been one of the court’s most
scandalous courtesans in her day, notorious for her voracious sexual appetite,
which Apollonie had inherited along with a body worthy of being immortalized by
Rubens. He decided he would speak to the artist about making that happen.
Apollonie cried out as her orgasm took hold of her. Aramis watched as the look
of ecstasy washed over her face and her pussy contracted around him, squeezing
him insistently to join her in rapture. Aramis clasped her hips tightly to hold
her in place as he thrust hard into her wet heat before erupting as he came.
Slowly their breathing returned to normal. The thick, heady scent of sex hung
over the ornate bed to blend with Apollonie’s signature scent of ambergris and
vanilla. Aramis closed his eyes and inhaled the sensual perfume with
satisfaction. There was nothing like basking in the afterglow of a great fuck.
He felt Apollonie brush her lips against his and opened his eyes to see her sit
up, keeping him buried inside her.
“That,” she said, winnowing her fingers through her thick curls to move them
out of the way, “was incredible.” She looked like the cat who’d gotten the
canary.
“And you are incredibly good at fucking a man,” Aramis replied as he ran his
hands up her thighs to her full hips, admiring the creamy skin of the woman
straddling him, skin that was glowing from their recent erotic exertions.
“That’s because I’ve had a very good teacher.” Apollonie drew his hands up her
waist to her large breasts, smiling wickedly when he drew his thumbs over the
jewel like peaks. The clock in the corner chimed the half hour.
“Time to get up,” Aramis told her, regretfully letting go of that splendid
bust. “I have to attend the council meeting in half an hour.”
Apollonie made a face. “I know,” she sighed. “Important affairs of state.” She
slowly eased him out from between her thighs and crawled across the bed. She
went to the wash stand, removed the contraceptive sponge from between her legs,
and took a chamber pot behind the nearby screen.
“Speaking of affairs of state,” Aramis said as he donned a brocade robe, “I
have a task for you.” He went over to the escritoire on the table by the
window.
“Oh?” Apollonie asked as she came out from behind the screen and sauntered over
to where Aramis was writing a list of names. “And what, pray tell, will I be
doing?”
“I need you to search the rooms of the names on this list. They’re all here in
the palace, with the exception of the last, who is at the stronghold near
Montgeron.” He handed her the list.
“I see. And what am I looking for?” she asked, studying the list and already
making a plan of attack in her head.
“They have been conspiring against the crown. I need to know what they are up
to. Find out and report back to me.” Aramis held open an ermine robe for her to
put on for her return to her rooms.
“Of course,” she said, slipping the list into the inside pocket. She turned to
face him, giving him an unobstructed view of her body. “Will you be requiring
my…services this evening?”
“I know where to find you if I do,” he replied, dropping a light kiss on her
lips. “Now go.”
Aramis poured fresh water into the basin and began to wash as Apollonie
gathered up her clothes and left via the hidden passage, one of the many that
crisscrossed the Louvre since its construction by Philippe Augustus. He was
grateful that she understood his need for discretion in this matter. Aramis
remembered Louis’ flaunting of Milady in front of the Queen and the court and
how it had hurt Anne. He had promised himself that he would never show Anne
that kind of disrespect. But still, he did have needs and while he loved Anne,
the stolen kisses that were all they could risk in a palace full of eyes and
ears, some friendly but most not, they were not enough for a man who enjoyed
the company of women, who took pleasure in both their minds and their bodies.
Aramis dressed quickly in the clothes that had been laid out by his valet,
Bazin, the night before. Having been a military man for most of his life, he
didn’t require assistance with personal activities like dressing and shaving.
And the valet was grateful for the extra time to sleep while other servants had
to rise before dawn to see to their masters. He put on the ring and the
medallion that were the symbols of his office as First Minister and left his
apartment.
Aramis walked down the corridors toward the council chamber. The empty halls
had a tranquility that reminded him of the monastery at Douai. The servants
stopped cleaning to pay respect as he passed, then resumed their work when he
had gone. Morning had always been his favorite time of day as it allowed him
time and peace for contemplation. And with the problems that France was facing,
he needed a great deal of time for contemplation. He entered the council
chamber just as his head secretary, Patrice Fouche, was finishing the room
preparations. Aramis preferred to be the first one into the chamber. It allowed
him to set things the way he wanted them and gave him a small but vital
position of power over the other ministers.
“Good morning, Patrice,” he greeted the younger man, who bowed at his entrance.
“Good morning, Minister d’Herblay,” Patrice replied, handing him a packet of
papers. “I trust you slept well?”
“Yes, thank you” Aramis took the packet to his seat at one end of the table and
untied the strings to remove the papers. Patrice brought to the table a pain
tartine fresh from the palace ovens and spread with butter and preserves and a
cup of coffee, a Turkish drink that had recently arrived in Paris from Vienna.
Aramis found that drinking it in the morning gave him an alertness that he
needed and made his mind sharper. He bit into the tartine as he read the day’s
intelligence reports, followed by the dispatches from the front lines of the
war. Aramis smiled as read Porthos’ briefings on the attack on Maastricht. He
could hear his friend’s gruff voice.
He finished his coffee as the other ministers entered the chamber and took
their seats at the council table. Aramis exchanged pleasantries with the others
as they waited for the Queen Anne to enter so they could begin the meeting.
After a quarter of an hour, pages opened the doors to announce the Queen Regent
as she entered. Aramis and the rest of the council rose from their seats and
bowed as Anne made her way to her seat at the other end of the table opposite
Aramis. She was dressed in a light blue dress with an intricate lace collar.
The color brought out her alluring eyes and flaxen hair. She took her seat and
motioned for the others to take theirs as well.
“Shall we begin, my lords?” The Queen asked brightly. “What news of the war,
Rochebaron?” she said, turning to the Minister of War.
As Rochebaron launched into a full report on the state of the war effort,
Aramis studied Anne carefully. Even though she had made an artful use of
cosmetics, he could see the tiredness in her eyes and the strain in her
movements. It concerned him. He knew that the past year since Louis’ death had
been difficult, but he didn’t want her to become debilitated from overexerting
herself. He would have to speak to her.
One of the finance ministers, Claude de Bullion turned to the Queen. “I’m
afraid, Your Majesty, that the Treasury will not be able to sustain the levels
of spending this war demands for much longer.”
“Then we will borrow the money that we need,” Anne replied.
“Borrow from whom, Your Majesty?” asked Claude Bouthillier, the other finance
minister. “England is on the brink of civil war, the German states are in chaos
from the religious wars, Italian bankers won’t lend us more until Cardinal
Richelieu’s loans are paid back, and the Dutch will demand a usurious level of
interest that will bankrupt us.”
“And,” added Bullion, “what would we use as collateral? We’ve already mortgaged
our revenues for the next five years. The receiver general of Poitou had to
accept revenue from the 1646 receipts.”
“Then we must raise taxes,” Anne said.
“Raise taxes on whom, Your Majesty?” Aramis pointed out. “The people have
already given all they can. There is already discontent on the streets.
Petitions are being brought before the Parlement. Demand more and there will be
open revolt.”
“If we do not pay the soldiers or properly equip them, we will have a revolt
anyway,” Rochebaron stated matter of factly.
“Rochebaron is right. The people must support the army,” Anne said. “Taxes will
be raised.”
“Push a horse to exhaustion and it will collapse underneath you,” Aramis
warned. “You are making a mistake, Your Majesty.”
“The Queen does not make mistakes,” Anne tossed back imperiously. “You forget
yourself, Minister d’Herblay.”
Aramis saw by the dangerous look in Anne’s eyes that he had overstepped. “My
apologies, Your Majesty. I did not mean to offend you, only to give you
counsel.” He would speak with her when the meeting ended.
“Here is what we will do,” Anne continued, ignoring Aramis. “We will maintain
the current taxes on the peasantry and bourgeoisie and create new taxes on the
nobility and the church.”
“But Your Majesty,” protested Bullion. “The nobility will refuse to pay because
their ancient privileges. The church as well.”
“When I said the people must support the army,” Anne said pointedly, “I meant
all of the people. Those who have the most should give the most to the war
effort. But,” she lifted a hand to forestall argument, “if the nobles and
clergy will object to direct taxation, then we will tax them indirectly.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Bullion acquiesced, knowing himself to have been bested.
“Good,” Anne gave the council a gracious smile. “Have the levies drawn up for
signature.”
Aramis nodded to Patrice, who had been writing down the minutes of the council
meeting. Patrice would see that the task would be carried out quickly and
efficiently. Patrice nodded in reply.
“Well, my lords,” said the Queen, rising from her chair, “if there is nothing
more to discuss I shall leave you. It is time for the King’s levee.”
The council members rose from the seats and bowed as Anne turned and left the
council chamber, followed by her ladies. From the set of her shoulders and the
way she pointedly ignored him, Aramis knew that he was in trouble. He would
need to patch things up with her.
****
As Aramis walked down the corridor toward his office, he heard someone calling
him. He turned and saw Rochebaron coming toward him. He waited for the older
man to catch up to him.
“What can I do for you, Minister?” he asked pleasantly.
“I have a favor to ask of you,” Rochebaron said. “I understand that you are
close friends with General du Vallon.”
“We’ve known each other a long time,” Aramis acknowledged.
“I have under my patronage two young men, the Vicomte de Turenne and the Duc
d’Enghien, whom I would like to place under the General’s command.”
“As Minister of War, you may position men as you please,” Aramis said.
“However, I would advise you that General du Vallon is fighting hard against
Spain and won’t have time to act as nanny to two coddled boys.”
Rochebaron smiled ruefully. “These boys have shown an aptitude for military
matters and I think, with the right teacher, they could become great warriors.”
“I will write to the General to see if he can take them on,” Aramis promised.
“Thank you,” Rochebaron replied, bowing and leaving Aramis to continue on his
way.
Aramis entered his office, closing the door behind him. That had not been one
of the better council meetings. Raising taxes at a time like this was only
going to make things worse. He went over to the side table and picked up a
bottle of wine and a glass and took them over to his desk. He took a sheet of
parchment to begin writing the letter to Porthos to warn him of Rochebaron’s
plan when a rich baritone came from behind him.
“I think you’re going to need something stronger than wine to deal with what
you’re facing.”
***** Chapter 2 *****
Aramis turned to see Felix Le Carre, France’s spymaster, emerge from what
appeared to be a hidden door in the cabinet behind the desk, brandishing a
bottle of Scottish whiskey. Aramis looked pointedly from the unexpected visitor
to the cabinet.
“An addition made by the late Cardinal,” Le Carre answered the unasked question
as he went to the side table to get another glass. “He wanted something more
secure for keeping items of the utmost importance.”
Aramis should have known the Cardinal would have someplace to conceal all the
things he used to bend people to his will. And he wasn’t surprised that Le
Carre knew about it. Felix was one of only two people who knew the size and
extent of the hidden passages that ran through the palace. He’d been annoyed on
a few occasions when the spymaster appeared out of nowhere to discuss
something, then disappeared just as suddenly. He watched as the older man
poured whiskey first into Aramis’ glass then his own before sitting down across
from him. Le Carre raised his glass.
“A toast, to sailing the ship of state between Scylla and Charybdis,” he said,
taking a drink.
“You seem almost pleased at the prospect,” Aramis responded, taking a sip and
letting the warm liquid glide down his throat.
“Of course,” Felix said sarcastically. “I spend forty years risking my life and
my sanity for the sake of France and in less than two all that hard work will
come crashing down because the people in charge keep making one stupid decision
after another. Who wouldn’t be pleased?”
Aramis studied the man sitting across from him. France’s spymaster was a tall,
imposing figure in his mid-fifties. His long hair was ash gray with white
starting to come through at the temples, but his moustache and goatee were
still the deep mahogany shade they had been in youth. Two dark brows arched to
frame a pair of cornflower blue eyes that were an exact match of the pair he
had seen earlier that morning. His barrel chested figure bespoke of one of the
greatest military careers that France had ever seen.
His family had come over from Scotland a hundred years ago when Mary Stuart
came to marry the dauphin Francis and still maintained certain traditions, such
as fluency in the Scottish language and fondness for whiskey. Aramis could
easily see this man leading his clan over the moors to victory over their
enemies. At the age of fifteen Felix joined the King’s Scottish Regiment and
spent twenty years making his reputation as one of the fiercest fighters and
becoming the regiment’s top strategist before Cardinal Richelieu picked him out
to be the head of his spy network. Le Carre created the most extensive
intelligence operation France had ever seen, skillfully manipulating the agents
he sent out to bring in the most information, quickly interpreting the value of
each piece and delivering it to the Cardinal for use in the service of king and
country.
Even though he spent most of his time at court instead of the battlefield,
Felix was more than capable of holding his own in a fight. Aramis occasionally
asked him to be his opponent for fencing practice and each time found himself
having to work hard to keep the wily Scot at bay.
But Felix’s favorite pastime involved the fairer sex. As he was fond of saying,
there were two things that a Scotsman liked naked, one of them being whiskey.
In his younger days he had his pick of conquests, but like his favorite drink,
age had made him even more appealing, and he frequently captured the hearts of
ladies much younger than himself. Surprisingly, though, for all of his amorous
activities, he had only fathered one child.
Aramis smiled. “I take it you were at the council meeting earlier,” he said,
leaning back in his chair.
“Oh yes,” Felix responded tersely. “The plan to raise taxes will make the
people hate the regency council more than they already do and give the
Parlement more leverage in resisting the demands of the crown. Be careful
Aramis,” he said as he reached for more whiskey, “the English Parliament is
already questioning whether they need to have King Charles sitting on the
throne in their country. You don’t want ours to start questioning whether they
need King Louis sitting on his.”
“The people love the King. They would never do anything to harm him,” Aramis
protested.
“Yes, they do love him,” Felix agreed. “It’s the rest of you they can’t
stomach, especially the Queen. They believe that the councilors are lying to
the King and hiding the people’s true situation and causing all the country’s
problems. Never mind that the real cause was the policy of the late King and
Cardinal to borrow huge sums of money and increase taxes to pay for this on-
again off-again war with Spain that’s been fought for the last twenty years,
and the Queen shows absolutely no intention of changing that policy. Add to
that, the Cardinal’s patronage system which bound the provincial governors to
him died when he did, and the King doesn’t have those vital personal ties to
the nobles, which shielded his father from most of the discontent.”
“In other words,” said Aramis, reaching for the whiskey himself, “we have to
rebuild a government in the middle of a war and at a time when the people are
exhausted by the crown’s demands. Lovely.”
“I know you’re not asking for my advice,” Felix said, resting his elbows on his
knees, “but I’m going to give it to you anyway. End the regency as soon as
possible. As soon as you can declare Louis of age to rule, do it.”
“But, why?” Aramis asked. “The king is only seven and he needs the Queen to
guide him until he can properly handle the burden of state.”
“Aramis,” Felix said patiently, “the people resent the Queen. They will defy
her at every turn. Remove her from the regency and the people’s objections will
become superfluous.”
“The Queen only wants to do what is best for her son and for France. What is
wrong with that?”
“Do I really need to explain to a former monk that the road to Hell is paved
with good intentions?”
“Enough,” said Aramis, not wanting to talk about Anne and the regency. “Let’s
discuss something else.”
“Alright,” Felix said amiably. “the Duc de Beaufort has been meeting with the
Prince de Conti, the Duc de Bouillon, and Jean de Gondi. It seems they are
going to work with Parlement to limit the King’s power.”
“I know,” Aramis smiled. “I’ve already sent Apollonie to search their rooms,
along with the rooms of Madame de Longueville, Madame de Chevreuse, and
Mademoiselle de Montpensier.”
Felix nodded, satisfied. “Apollonie will find what you need. The question is,
what will you do with it? I highly recommend the Bastille, particularly for
Beaufort. He’s the most dangerous.”
“Duly noted.” Aramis refilled their glasses. “You know, Felix, there’s
something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”
“And what is that?”
“Why did you give your daughter to me?”
 
It was the masquerade ball for the arrival of the Venetian ambassadors. The
entire court was there, adorned in all their finery. There had not been a fete
like this since the King’s sixth birthday. Balls cost a great of money and were
a waste in time of war when people were starving, but sometimes exceptions had
to be made for diplomacy. To have done nothing would have been an insult. The
grand ballroom was aglow with the light from candles. Masked couples danced
together as the musicians played from the gallery.
Aramis chatted with the senior ambassador Ennio Sabatino while the Queen
captivated the junior ambassador Furseo Voci. Aramis and Ennio watched the
figures moving across the floor in a wash of colors. Aramis was looking for one
figure in particular. Felix’s note told him to look for a blue chequered
Colombina wearing a blue Venetian mask decorated with gold. He had been
scanning the figures since the ball began, but none of guests matched the
description.
He was discussing the latest theater piece to reach Paris when he caught a
scent of ambergris and vanilla around him. He heard a honey and cream voice say
“Mi Scusi” as a silk clad figure brushed by him. He turned his head to lock
eyes with a blue chequered Colombina wearing the mask that Felix had described
framed by a riot of chestnut curls. Colombina sent him an arch look and moved
to dance with a young lord in an elegant black domino costume. Aramis watched
as the couple danced in front of him and the ambassador. Colombina moved
gracefully in time with the music, her skirt swirling around shapely legs that
moved through the steps with practiced ease. The hem of the dress came down to
just below her knees, offering a tantalizing view of her ankles and calves. He
watched her waist curve, first this way, then the other, as she matched her
partner’s movements. As she lifted and lowered her arms, Aramis’ gaze was drawn
to the voluptuous breasts that were framed by the wide neckline of her dress.
He could imagine her writhing naked with a man, the nipples of those luscious
breasts standing at pert attention. The thought of taking one of those nipples
into his mouth sent a bolt of desire straight to his belly. Aramis shifted
uncomfortably, hoping he wasn’t calling attention to the stirring inside his
trousers. The eyes of the Venetian ambassador went from Colombina to Aramis
with a knowing look.
When the dance came to an end, Colombina bowed low, giving Aramis a better view
of her creamy décolletage, before being escorted off the dance floor by her
partner. Aramis’ eyes followed her hungrily.
“Go,” ambassador Sabatino told him when he turned his head away to see where
she going. “When the thunderbolt strikes a man like that, it is best to go
after the one who struck him.”
Aramis placed his hand over his heart and bowed to Sabatino, then turned in the
direction he’d seen Colombina go off in while the older man joined his
compatriot and the Queen. Aramis moved among the costumed lords and ladies,
trying in vain to spot her. It was like she had never been there. When he
reached the entrance to the ballroom, he saw the young lord who had danced with
Colombina in the corridor speaking to someone and went toward them. As he got
closer he saw that the lord was with a pretty young lady dressed in a white
shepherdess costume. Not her. Aramis climbed the stairs going to the upper
floors.
Climbing the stairs, he felt his body tightening with need. It had been seven
years since he had been to bed with a woman and right now he was intensely
aware of that fact. Since becoming First Minister, he had spent a lot of time
in Anne’s company, but they were always surrounded by people, whether it was
her ladies, courtiers, guards, pages or any number of other servants. Someone
was always watching one or the other of them. The only intimacy they felt safe
sharing were kisses, anything more had too much risk of someone seeing or
hearing something. After Rochefort’s accusations and Grimaud’s pamphlet, Anne
was very vulnerable to gossip about her conduct with men, and he didn’t want to
be the cause of her losing her reputation. So Aramis spent a lot of nights in
frustration, alone in his bed, his body demanding release.
He reached the fourth floor and turned to the right. He could no longer hear
anything coming from the grand ballroom. His footsteps on the polished floor
were the only sound as he walked down the empty corridor, mounted candles
lighting his way toward the chamber at the end. Complete privacy was exactly
what he needed right now.
Aramis entered the chamber, closing and locking the door behind him. Candelabra
filled the room with light, so he could see the magnificently appointed room as
though it was daylight. The ornate chairs and tables were from the best
craftsmen in France, the paintings on the wall from Masters long dead. But his
attention was focused on the massive bed, which was covered in a gold
embroidered counterpane, while damask curtains hung from the canopy.
Standing next to the bed was Colombina. She removed the mask to reveal an oval
shaped face with high cheekbones. Arched chestnut brows hovered over cornflower
blue eyes that sparkled with amusement. Her wide, full lips curled into a
mischievous smile. Aramis saw that while maturity had gloriously embraced her
body, her face was still very young. She couldn’t be more than sixteen or
seventeen. He frowned slightly. Felix had promised him a courtesan of
irresistible charms. Had Felix tricked this girl into being here? After the
Levesque incident, he didn’t want to take any chances of ruining an innocent.
“Do you know why you’re here, Mademoiselle?” he asked her gently.
She nodded and pulled down her bodice to reveal the beautiful breasts that he
had so admired while she was dancing. His mouth watered at the sight of the
rosy pink nipples that were tightly budded. He watched, entranced, as she
lifted the skirt of her dress up around her waist, revealing lushly curved hips
and thighs. She lay back on the bed and spread her legs to give him a view to
her feminine channel.
Aramis’ cock was rapidly hardening at the vision before him. He walked forward
to stand between her spread limbs. He looked down at her sex and saw that the
brunette curls were already glistening with moisture. The scent of her arousal
wafted up to his nostrils and he inhaled it, his cock surging against his
breeches. He watched her pink tongue peek out to wet her lips as his hand moved
to touch her soft mound. He felt the heat seconds before he felt the dampness
that told him all he needed to know of her willingness and readiness.
Aramis lost all ability to control his thoughts. He was going to feast on her
flesh and slake the pent up lust that been frustrating him for so long. He
would fuck her so deep and hard that her screams would echo through the palace
as she came. His cock was straining hard against the brocade fabric now,
demanding to be let out so it could plunge into the soft, wet heat in front of
it. He climbed on top of her, pushing her back and hungrily pressed his mouth
to hers. Her soft lips parted easily under pressure from his and their tongues
danced back and forth playfully, hers luring his into her mouth, where she
suckled him gently.
Aramis broke away from her mouth to rain a trail of kisses down her neck to her
soft, full breasts. His tongue laved the jewel like nipple before taking it
into his mouth. She cried out and arched against him, offering her succulent
body to his hungry mouth. He suckled one breast as his hand reached up to
massage the other, plucking teasingly at the peak. He felt her hand caress his
neck as she laid a kiss on the top of his head as he fed on her. He released
her breast and lifted his head to stare down at the red, wet nipple before
lowering his head to the other to suck that peak until it was as swollen as its
twin.
“Mi amante,” he heard her gasp. “Please. I need you now.” She lifted her hips
to brush the soft curls against his hard length in wanton invitation.
Aramis reared up on his knees to tear open his trousers and shove them down his
thighs. His cock stood fully erect and throbbing. He watched as her eyes showed
her surprise and that delicious mouth formed an “O” as she reached out to touch
him. Her fingers wrapped around the base of his thick shaft before gliding up
in a delicate caress to skim over the smooth, bulbous head. Those graceful
fingers gathered the moisture that was dripping from the tip and carried it to
her tongue to taste its saltiness.
Aramis spread her thighs farther apart and used his cockhead to circle the
opening to her body. He rubbed himself against her until he felt her juices
flood forth to dampen him, then moved to rub his tip between her nether lips to
find the little nub hidden there. She moaned and tried to shimmy her hips to
get more of the sensation. When Aramis decided that they had both had enough of
the sensual teasing, he held her hips still and moved back to circling her
intimate passage, this time pressing forward to open her body to his hungry
cock. He groaned thickly as her walls tightened around him, then sucked him
inside. She was tighter than he’d thought she would be, but so thoroughly wet
that he glided smoothly as he filled her.
And then, he came to the unlooked-for hymen. Aramis stared down at Colombina in
shock. He hadn’t been expecting her to be a virgin. But instead of shame, he
felt an overpowering surge of lust at the knowledge that he was giving her that
first taste of passion. Triumphantly he destroyed the sign of her innocence,
seeing a brief flash of pain in her eyes before the animal hunger came back to
wash it away. The muscles in his hips bunched as he surged forward to bury
himself to hilt between her thighs. He held himself still to let her body
adjust to his and to savor every inch of his possession.
“Better?” he asked when he felt an easing in her limbs.
“Yes. And you?”
“Uh huh. You feel like my own private paradise.”
And it was true. If there were such a thing as a perfect pussy, this was it. It
flowed over him like hot liquid silk and fit him so close it was hard to tell
where his body ended and hers began. He leaned forward to give her a deep kiss,
his tongue moving into her mouth to mimic the penetration down lower. When he
heard her breathy moan, he lifted his head to look down at her with dark eyes.
“Now,” he said as he reached out to fondle her velvety breast, “let’s play.”
Aramis pulled out until only his broad head was still inside her, then slammed
back in with a force that surprised him. He didn’t want to hurt her on the
first fuck, but he couldn’t resist the urge to plunder her sweet little pussy,
to impress himself on it, so that she never forgot this night, this moment, the
feeling of his cock pushing her toward her first orgasm.
He needn’t have worried. She easily met him thrust for thrust. Her hips moved
in perfect harmony with his to take his hard length as deeply as she could. Her
eyes gleamed with joy as he delved between her thighs over and over. Her skin
shimmered with perspiration and her plump breasts quivered with each thrust he
made. Her soft lips whispered encouragement in an erotic blend of French and
Italian.
“Yes. Mi amante. Fuck me. Like that. Deeper.”
Aramis drank in the signs of her passion as he plunged in and out in a rhythm
of mounting tension. He watched as her breath caught in her throat and her head
tipped back and knew she was reaching her peak. Aramis made sure that she came
first. Without breaking rhythm, he reached down and stroked the spot where
their bodies joined. It was as though he set off a firework. Colombina reeled
as her first climax was thrust upon her. Her back bowed, her pussy clenched
tightly around his cock, and she opened her mouth to scream, but Aramis clamped
his mouth over hers, swallowing her cries. He didn’t want anyone to hear that
song but him. He tried to pull out a little, but surged back in, unable to
resist the lure of her climax, which sparked his own. He locked eyes with her
as he made a final hard thrust and released a flood of seed. Her pussy squeezed
him like a magic fist to drain his cock of everything it had.
Aramis braced himself on his arms above Colombina, admiring the picture lying
under him as he gulped in air. With her curls fanned out across the
counterpane, breasts heaving as she regained her breath, and thighs spread
open, she looked completely debauched. But unlike most women, being freshly
fucked only added to her looks instead of detracting from it.
Aramis heard a noise from a corner of the room and lifted his head to see Felix
Le Carre emerged from a hidden passage, smiling at the scene on the bed. He
looked at the spymaster with deep suspicion as the older man walked over to
stand in front of the lovers.
“I trust that you found my daughter satisfactory,” Felix’s deep voice rumbled
in his chest as he eyed their entwined bodies. Aramis nodded slowly.
“Excellent.” Felix tenderly stroked his daughter’s hair. “Apollonie will be
available to service you whenever you wish. She will also be your agent here
inside the palace. She is highly skilled at picking locks, searching rooms, and
deciphering codes. Use her wisely.”
Seeing that things had turned out according to plan, Felix turned to leave.
“And now,” he said, giving Aramis a sly look, “I’ll leave the two of you to get
to know each other better.”
Aramis watched him leave through the hidden passage before turning back to
Apollonie, who had levered up on her arms.
“You know,” she said, her mouth inches from his, “I think I’m going to very
much enjoy serving under you.” Her lips brushed his.
 
“Why did you give your daughter to me? Most fathers would balk at the loss of
their daughter’s reputation and family honor. And, from what I’d heard, she had
a respectable offer of marriage from Maxim de Masse. Why not marry her off
instead?” Aramis took another sip of whiskey.
“And give Beaufort an entree to French intelligence because his bastard son is
married to Apollonie? Out of the question. Besides,” Felix said as he drank
from his own glass, “there were good reasons for putting her into your bed.
First of all, to keep the Queen out of it.” The spymaster watched with
amusement as Aramis choked on his whiskey and coughed violently to clear his
throat.
“What?” Aramis croaked when he could finally speak.
Felix gave him a pitying look. “Do you think I haven’t seen the way you two
look at each other? Or that you kiss each other when you think no one’s
looking? If I’ve noticed, you can rest assured that others have noticed as
well.”
“Nothing’s happened between the Queen and myself since I became First
Minister,” Aramis answered truthfully.
Felix’s eyes told him that the other man had noticed the specificity of his
statement. “Make sure that it stays that way. That pamphlet last year showed
how willing the people are to believe the worst of a foreign Queen. And there
are still people here at court who remember Rochefort’s show trial to convict
you of sleeping with her. An affair between the two of you would destroy the
Queen’s reputation and any confidence the nobility has in her ability to rule
for her son. And worse, it would drag you down with her. A lot of people were
not pleased to see a common soldier promoted to First Minister over men with
more noble lineages. Beaufort was one of them.”
Aramis studied the contents of his glass as he took in Felix’s words. “So you’d
rather have me fuck Apollonie so that I won’t fuck the Queen.”
Felix nodded. “Or any of the spies that Beaufort or his allies will send to
seduce you. Your reputation as a libertine is well known. Apollonie will keep
your cock under control and will be completely loyal to you.”
Aramis smiled at the memory of just how well she had controlled his cock that
morning. “And what is the second reason?”
Felix sat back in his chair. “Because as First Minister, you would be able to
appoint Apollonie as head of the French intelligence network after me.”
“Why Apollonie?”
Felix ticked off his fingers. “Because she’s the only one with the brains to
continue what I’ve built up over the past twenty years. Because I’ve spent her
whole life preparing her to assume the responsibilities of running our spy
network. And because you are capable of appreciating that a woman can do far
more than simply be a wife and mother, that women have minds in addition to
their bodies.”
“But she’s only sixteen,” Aramis pointed out reasonably. “Can she handle
running something so complicated?”
Felix fixed him with an icy stare. “You know, the Cardinal never questioned my
judgment,” he said with soft menace. “Neither did Treville. I’m going to put
yours down to youthful inexperience. Apollonie has been writing our codes for
the past four years and the last time I looked, French codes were unbreakable.”
Aramis put his hand over his heart. “My apologies, Felix. I didn’t mean to
insult you or Apollonie. You know your daughter’s capabilities better than I. “
Felix looked at him with an almost paternal air. “Don’t let your enjoyment of
my daughter’s pussy blind you to the fact that she inherited my wits and
ability in addition to her mother’s body.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, was there anything else that needed my
attention?”
Felix rose from his chair. “With the political situation in France becoming
less stable,” he said, picking up the bottle of whiskey, “it might be a good
idea to have a plan to get the King out of Paris as quickly as possible should
things go from bad to worse. I would see which chateaux have both the defenses
to withstand attack and proximity to a border if it is necessary to spirit him
out of France. Hopefully that will never come to pass, but it is better to be
prepared for any eventuality.”
With that, the spymaster disappeared into the hidden passage while Aramis
picked up his quill to dash off the missive to Porthos. He melted wax onto the
folded parchment and pressed it with his seal. He opened his office door and
signaled to an undersecretary to have the message sent to the General. He then
motioned for a page and gave him a different message to deliver. Closing the
door, he went over to the bookcase holding dozens of maps and brought six of
them over to his desk.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Aramis was studying the maps spread out on his desk when there was a knock on
the door.
“Enter,” he said without looking up from the desk.
“You sent for me?” a familiar voice called from the doorway.
Aramis looked up and smiled. “D’artagnan,” he said, coming around the desk as
the Musketeer captain closed the door. The two friends embraced each other
heartily.
“It’s been a long time,” Aramis said when they’d released their holds. “How are
things at the garrison?”
“Good,” D’artagnan replied. “The recruits will be ready to go to the front in a
few weeks. Constance is haggling with the horse trader near Montmartre to get
us the mounts we need.”
“I’m sure she’ll have him eating out her hand. She’s had a lot of practice
dealing with suppliers.”
“She does,” D’artagnan agreed. “But I’m guessing you didn’t ask me to come here
for small talk.”
“I have an assignment for you,” Aramis told him, turning back to the maps
strewn across the desk. “I need you to come up with an escape plan to get the
King out of Paris if rebellion breaks out.”
“I know things aren’t perfect in Paris, but is it really that bad?” D’artagnan
asked, coming to join Aramis at the desk.
“The people are falling out of love with those who govern in the King’s name,”
Aramis told him. “So far there’s only been sporadic violence in the provinces,
but that could change at any moment. I want to have a plan in place in case it
does. We need to get the King somewhere we can protect him. I’ve been looking
over the royal chateaux to see which one would be most suitable. I was thinking
Chenonceau would be a good choice. What do you think?”
D’artagnan, who had been studying the maps, shook his head and pointed to a
different location on the map. “No, I would pick Fontainebleau” he said. “It’s
far enough away to be safe from violence should it break out but not so far
that the people of Paris think their King is abandoning them. It has a
defensive moat circling the perimeter and the King’s apartments are in the
medieval donjon, which can be cut off from the rest of the chateau to protect
him if necessary.”
Aramis nodded, seeing the sense in D’artagnan’s choice. “You’re right, it is
the better choice. I want you to make a plan for getting the King there safely.
Hopefully we’ll never have to use it, but I want to be prepared.”
“Of course. I’ll see to it right away,” D’artagnan said, turning to leave.
“And, D’artagnan?”
“Yes?” D’artagnan asked, turning back to his friend.
“No one can know about this plan except the two of us,” Aramis said seriously.
“Not even Constance. I don’t want to panic anyone unduly, especially not Anne.”
“You have my word,” D’artagnan patted Aramis on the shoulder and left the
office. Aramis gathered up the maps and put them away before heading to the old
tennis court to give Louis his fencing lesson.

                                                                                                                    
****

Apollonie lowered the spyglass from her eye. For the past four hours she had
been carefully studying the movements in Beaufort’s stronghold at Montgeron,
looking for a way in so she could search it. The light was starting to fade as
she mounted her horse to return to Paris. She spent the time by thinking about
all that had happened.
This was the first order that Aramis had given her since she had become his
mistress a month ago. She still worked under her father’s instructions
deciphering messages from agents and helping him use the information provided,
but this was the first time Aramis had asked her to do something, and she
desperately wanted to show him that she could be trusted with this. She
remembered how things had started.
Her father had rejected Maxim’s offer of marriage. When she’d tried to argue
that it would be a perfect opportunity to put Beaufort under surveillance and
that she could handle Maxim, he cut her off and told her bluntly that she
wouldn’t marry Maxim, she would become the First Minister’s mistress.
Becoming a mistress didn’t shock her. Her mother had been a successful
courtesan who had scandalous affairs with well-connected men at court until she
met Apollonie’s father. Though they never married, they were passionately in
love with each other. Then Apollonie came along, and although the happy family
had only two weeks together before Giulietta succumbed to childbed fever, it
was enough to cement strong familial bonds between all three.
While he was heartbroken to lose the love of his life, Felix was not a man who
could do without a woman in his bed. So Apollonie witnessed a parade of women
that her father brought home to his bedchamber. Some were prettier than others,
but they all ignored the small child who watched them with curious eyes. That
hadn’t bothered the little girl, who was developing that skill of invisibility
that would serve her well in later years. Besides, those women didn’t last
long. Sooner or later, they would try to pin Felix down, but he would make it
clear that no one would replace his beloved Giulietta and send them packing.
Those nights were quiet, but there were many more nights where she heard noise
from her father’s room and shouts and cries. One night when she was five years
old, she’d gotten up to see what was happening. She’d crept out of bed and over
to the door that connected her room to her father’s. She’d just learned to open
doors silently and opened this one just enough to stick her tiny head through.
She saw her father lying naked on his bed and his latest mistress, a blond
woman named Odette, bouncing up and down on top of him. Apollonie couldn’t
understand how bouncing like that could make someone as happy as it made
Odette. So she closed the door and crawled back into bed, letting the noise
from her father’s room lull her back to sleep.
Her father told her that she would become the First Minister’s mistress on the
night of the ball for the Venetian ambassadors, her mother’s compatriots. As it
was a masquerade, she would wear a Colombina costume with a beautiful blue and
gold mask. She would dance the sault in front of the Minister before going up
to a private chamber where he would join her. Her father had made her practice
the dance over and over again with the footman Jacques, who would be her
partner. He also instructed her on how to brush past the Minister on the way to
the dance floor and the look to capture his attention, and the proper bow and
departure.
A few days before the ball, her father sat her down to explain what would
happen when the Minister came to the prearranged room. He told her how to
undress and lay on the bed with her legs open so the Minister could see her
pussy. He told her what would happen to the Minister’s cock, what would happen
to her pussy, and how the act of coitus worked. He gave her a contraceptive
sponge and explained how to use it so she wouldn’t get pregnant. He talked
about how enjoyable the act was, that men like the Minister enjoyed it, and
that they liked women who enjoyed it too.
Her father also told her that in addition to being very handsome and a good
lover, the First Minister held enlightened views on women’s education and
abilities, and had the power to appoint her as the next head of the spy network
they both worked so hard for.
On the night of the ball, Apollonie waited in the hidden passage of the
ballroom for the musicians to play the sault. In front of her, she saw the
First Minister and the Venetian ambassador watching the couples dancing. She
saw the Minister’s head moving as though looking for someone. For her. Her
father had sent him a note with her description. She saw Jacques, dressed in a
black domino costume, move toward her, signaling that the sault would be the
next dance. She took a deep breath.
The musicians struck up the familiar tune and Apollonie left the safety of her
hiding place and walked toward the Minister. Saying “Mi scusi”, she brushed
against him, letting her costume lightly touch his to get his attention. She
gave him the look her father had her practice and joined Jacques on the floor.
As they moved through the steps they had spent hours practicing, Apollonie’s
eyes kept returning to the man who would become her lover in a little while.
She had frequently seen him when her father met with him to discuss gathered
intelligence and how to act on that intelligence. She had always kept herself
out of sight so she wouldn’t disturb them, but it gave her a chance to study
him. He was very handsome, with olive skin, dark brown eyes, and dark hair that
curled in a charmingly disheveled way. His moustache and beard were well tended
and gave him a rakish look. Tonight, he was dressed as a Turk, in baggy
trousers and a vest over an embroidered shirt. She could easily imagine him
having a harem of beautiful women who would satisfy his every desire. That she
would soon be part of that harem sent butterflies to her stomach and a damp
tingling sensation down lower.
Jacques teased her that the Minister couldn’t take his eyes off her as they
danced. Such teasing made Apollonie dance with more verve to show off. The
music ended and she bowed low to show the Minister her décolletage. Jacques
took her hand and hurried her through the ballroom to the hall where her father
waited to take her up to the bedchamber. Her father met them at the entrance
and took Apollonie to the hidden passage to take her to the room. He guided
them through the passage to the chamber on the fourth floor, telling her that
she had danced beautifully and the Minister would be eager when he got to the
room. He told her that no one would hear them since everyone was at the ball
and the servants had been paid to disappear. When they got to the bedchamber,
he gave her final instructions, kissed her forehead, and told her he would be
in the passageway. She went over to the bed to wait for her lover to appear.
She didn’t have to wait long. The Minister entered the bedchamber, locking the
door behind him. The sound of the lock had a finality as it slid home, but
Apollonie wasn’t worried. Instead, the knowledge that she couldn’t get away
from this powerful man caused desire to pool in her stomach. She took off her
mask and smiled at him. He frowned slightly, which she hadn’t expected him to
do, and asked if she knew why she was there. She should’ve considered the
possibility that she might not please him. She nodded and pulled down her
bodice, hoping her father was right that men liked breasts as big as hers were.
The Minister stared at them the way a starving man looks at a plate of food.
She lifted her skirt around her waist before she could lose her nerve and run
away. She climbed onto the bed and lay back, spreading her legs so he could see
her pussy. She looked up at the canopy, hoping that he would find her body
pleasing.
He walked over to stand between her legs and looked down at her. She could see
that his trousers were tented out in front of him as he reached out to touch
her where she’d only touched herself twice before. Her fingers had never felt
right down there, but his did. He came down on top of her, his weight pressing
her down into the counterpane and his lips pressed hers. Apollonie felt like
she was kissing a waterfall. His tongue slipped in to caress hers and darted in
and out before she captured it in her mouth. She could feel the outline of his
cock nudge her as he moved his lips softly down her throat to her breasts. His
breath teased her nipple before taking it in his mouth.
She nearly flew off the bed, arching against him. She’d never realized how
sensitive that part of her body was until his tongue lapped it and his mouth
gently suckled her. She felt his hand on her other breast, squeezing it and
rubbing the tightening tip. She lifted her head to place a kiss on his soft
curls while her hand stroked his neck soothingly. She felt dampness spreading
between her legs as he sucked on her, lifting his head only to move from one
breast to the other. With each draw of his mouth, Apollonie wanted more, wanted
to feel him touch every part of her, wanted him to fill the void that was
aching to take him in. So she rubbed herself against him and begged him to fuck
her.
He backed off of her to undo his trousers and pushed them down, revealing his
cock and testes. Apollonie was filled with wonder as she reached out to touch
him. She had seen cocks on statuary before, but none that were as large as this
one. Her fingers didn’t touch as her hand went to the base. It was hard as a
stone, but a stone was never this hot nor did it pulse against her hand. She
moved her hand up his length to the head, which was the size of a plum and red
as a ruby. As her fingers lightly traced the velvety skin, she saw milky fluid
emerging from the top and used her fingers to bring it to her mouth,
discovering a salty taste.
The Minister pressed her legs wider apart and rubbed his cock against her
pussy. The sensation of the smooth, rotund head touching her delicate skin
nearly drove her mad. She couldn’t stop herself from wetting him, but he
groaned and moved his tip to rub the little pearl hiding in her folds. He
teased her until she thought she would scream, then moved back to where he’d
been, using his body to open hers.
Apollonie felt her pussy stretch wide as the Minister entered her. She hovered
right on the knife edge that separated pleasure from pain as his cock slid
further along then stopped suddenly. He looked shocked. But then he moved
forward and she felt a snap of pain as he ended her virginity, but the
excitement of him filling her came flooding back.
Finally, he was completely buried and Apollonie forgot everything but the
sensual wonder of having him inside her. He stayed still as her body adjusted
to the new intruder, leaning over to kiss her. His tongue filled her mouth the
way his cock filled her pussy. Then he lifted his head, and with a devilish
grin, and said “Let’s play”.
He pulled out and then thrust back in. She should’ve felt pain at the hard
impact, but she felt nothing but joy. Each stroke sent a burst of pleasure
coursing through her body. She finally realized why her mother and Odette and
her father’s other mistresses enjoyed fucking so much. She moved her hips in
time to the rhythm her lover set, keeping pace with him. His face lit up and he
grunted with satisfaction as he pumped himself in and out between her thighs.
She felt his testes slap against her as his cock went in all the way to the
hilt. She cried out her pleasure and begged him to continue the erotic dance.
He increased the tempo and Apollonie felt her excitement build. She was
reaching for something but she didn’t know what.
Then the explosion hit her. She felt like she was flying up to heaven, that
she’d never felt so fulfilled before. She felt her pussy squeezing the
Minister’s cock over and over. She opened her mouth to shout, but he clamped
his lips on hers, so it echoed in his mouth. When she couldn’t cry out any
more, he raised his head to look at her. His stare bored into hers as he thrust
one more time and she felt a hot flood spreading between her thighs. She knew
that he was marking his territory and knew that she belonged to him completely.
Her father came out of the hidden passage to confirm that the Minister enjoyed
fucking her. The Minister nodded and her father explained that she would be his
spy in the palace in addition to being his mistress. Then he left them alone to
get better acquainted. She levered up on her arms and told the Minister that
she would enjoy serving under him.
He smiled. “I don’t doubt that you will, mademoiselle...” he said, brushing
lips with her.
“Apollonie,” she replied. “I’ll do whatever you require of me, whenever you
require it, Minister….”
“Aramis,” he said, running his fingers down her neck to her breast, squeezing
it as she lay back to give him better access. “I’m glad to hear that. Because
I’m going to require a great deal of you. And often.” He moved his hand lower
to rub the little pearl between her nether lips. “I trust you’ll be able to
handle the demands of my…”
She smiled as the delicious sensations she had experienced earlier came back.
“I look forward to satisfying that splendid cock of yours, Aramis.” She pressed
against him and felt deeply rewarded when his cock jumped inside her. His
breath hissed out and he gave her a lascivious look. So they fucked a second
time before he returned to the ball and she went back to her rooms. It wasn’t
until she saw the jar on the nightstand next to her bed that she realized she’d
forgotten to use the contraceptive sponge.
Over the month that followed, Aramis became her tutor in the erotic arts. He
taught her new positions for fucking, some that gave greater pleasure to her,
others that gave greater pleasure to him, but many more that left them both
shuddering as they came. He taught her how to use her mouth on his cock, how to
move her tongue and how to suck. And he returned the favor, using his tongue to
stroke her pussy until she collapsed from orgasm. He used his skills to
transform her from a young woman into the most accomplished of courtesans. And
she repaid him by using her body to please him in every way he desired.
And now she finally had the chance to please him using her other skills. Night
had fallen and she just made it through the gate before it closed for the
night. She made her way to the Louvre, depositing her horse in the stables
before heading up the hidden passage to her rooms. When she got to her rooms,
she checked to see if the statue of Apollo, the signal Aramis used when he
wanted to fuck, had been sent. It had not. It was just as well, she decided as
she stripped off the dark shirt and breeches she’d worn to do her surveillance.
She needed to think on the information she’d found when she’d searched the
rooms he requested before she reported to him. She also needed to come up with
a plan for getting in and out of Montgeron undetected. And besides, her pussy
needed a rest. She climbed into bed and lay back against the pillows. Hopefully
sleep would bring her the answers she needed.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Aramis was at his desk dealing with the massive amount of communiques that had
come his way. The news from England was troubling. Opposition to the King was
forming around Cromwell and his forces. And Charles, instead of heeding the
warnings that presented themselves, only became more obstinate about his right
to impose his will. Where a wise man would have recognized the need for
compromise to avoid catastrophe, Charles had become more arrogant and insisted
on his absolute authority over all. Unfortunately for Charles, when faced with
tyranny the English simply got rid of the tyrant. For unlike the French, their
loyalty was to the office of King, not to the man occupying it.
Aramis sighed deeply. If things went badly for the Stuarts, they would look to
France for help. And as Charles was Louis’ uncle, at least officially, France
would have to give it. And apart from asylum for the royal family should they
be forced to flee England, which looked increasingly likely given the way
Cromwell’s forces kept besting the royalists, there was not much France could
give. The country needed all her resources to support the war with Spain. Men,
money, ammunition – all were desperately needed by France and could not be
wasted on a lost cause.
A knock on the door brought him out of his reverie. “Enter,” he said, pushing
aside foreign policy.
“Is this a bad time?” D’artagnan asked as he entered, holding a parchment in
his hands.
“Not at all,” Aramis smiled at his friend. “You’ve given me the opportunity to
forget the England is spiraling out of control. Charles Stuart is letting his
own arrogance destroy his throne. If he keeps this up, he’ll be left with
nothing.”
“What about the money we recovered from Bonnaire?” D’artagnan asked.
“Spent on an army that was routed by Cromwell six months ago,” Aramis said
grimly. “But enough about England. Have you finished the plan?”
D’artagnan nodded. “Right here,” he said, indicating the parchment. “We’ll be
able to get to Fontainbleau in less than an hour following this route.”
D’artagnan unfurled the map and pointed out the route he determined would be
the fastest.
“Excellent,” Aramis replied. “Now, who are your four best men? I want them to
guard the King once they get to Fontainebleau.”
“Brujon, Pasquier, Clerico, and Toussaint are my best men, but they’re all
serving under Porthos right now,” D’artagnan told him.
“Don’t worry,” Aramis replied, rising from his chair. “I’ll let Porthos know
what the plan is and arrange a signal for having them sent back to Paris should
the need arise. He’ll understand. The King’s safety is paramount.”
Aramis picked up the papers and turned to the secret cabinet. He felt around
until he found the mechanism that Felix showed him to open the door to France’s
state secrets. He stopped short upon seeing that the cabinet was occupied.
“What are you doing here?” He asked sharply as Apollonie shot him her most
winsome smile, replacing the parchment she had been reading and sauntering out.
She plucked the papers from his hand, studying them as she sat down in Aramis’
chair. “I was looking at the old plans for Montgeron to see if there was
another way in,” she said, looking from Aramis to D’artagnan, who scowled at
her. “There’s an old tunnel going from the dungeon area to a point just over a
half league into the wooded area south. That looks like the best chance of
getting in undetected. Which brings us to how to get Beaufort out of the
stronghold.”
“Why does Beaufort need to leave?” asked Aramis.
“Both Beaufort and Maxim know who I am,” Apollonie told them. “If they see me,
especially in a disguise, they’ll know something’s wrong. So, they need to be
elsewhere while we search. I think a royal summons will do nicely. Beaufort’s
pride will puff up at an audience with the Queen and it will give myself and
D’artagnan time to conduct the search.”
“Why do I have to go with you?” D’artagnan asked, surprised.
“I need someone to watch my back and take care of anything unexpected while I
search,” she explained, holding up the escape plans. “You put together a very
good plan to protect the King. You’re exactly who I need with me.”
D’artagnan looked at Aramis, hoping his friend would get him out of going on
the unwanted assignment. But Aramis nodded in agreement with Apollonie, seeing
the sense in her plan. “I’ll speak with the Queen about setting up the audience
with Beaufort,” he said.
“Excellent,” Apollonie said, rising to go to the door. “I’ll gather the
supplies we need for the search.” She turned to D’artagnan. “I’ll meet you at
the Slippery Table by the eastern gate,” she said before exiting the office.
“Why did you agree to that?” D’artagnan asked when they were alone.
“I need to know what Beaufort is planning,” Aramis replied. “You can get her in
and out of Montgeron safely. Besides, we’ve been in more harrowing situations
than this.”
D’artagnan sighed, resigned to going on the search with Apollonie. “We have.
I’ll send some men to escort Beaufort to the Queen.”
“One more thing,” Aramis said as his friend turned to leave. “Anne has
been…distant lately. I’ve tried to talk to her, but she always changes the
subject and acts cool toward me whenever we’re alone. And she makes sure we’re
rarely alone. I was wondering if she said anything to Constance, about what was
wrong.”
D’artagnan looked at Aramis. Constance had sworn him to secrecy, but this was
one of his closest friends, at a loss at how to handle things with the woman he
loved.
“Anne knows about Apollonie,” he told Aramis bluntly.
Aramis groaned. “I thought I was being discreet,” he said.
D’artagnan gave Aramis the slightly amused look Treville used to give them
whenever they got themselves into trouble. “You’re not discreet when you plow
her. Servants love to gossip,” he pointed out, “especially about the noises
coming from the First Minister’s bedchamber throughout the night. Add to that
the fact that no one sees her entering or leaving your rooms and you’ve got a
mystery that people can’t resist speculating over. It was bound to reach Anne’s
ears sooner or later.”
“I need to apologize to her,” Aramis said. The two of them walked through the
corridors to the Queen’s apartments. The sun shone bright through the freshly
cleaned windows, highlighting the parquet floor. They could hear the sound of
laughter coming through the door to the Queen’s sitting room. The guards opened
doors and announced them as they entered the royal presence.
The Queen, her ladies, and the young King were playing charades. The King was
pantomiming a bird flying through the air. The ladies giggled as he ran around
them, pretending to peck at them. When he reached the Queen, he placed a sweet
kiss on her cheek and hugged her. She hugged him back, kissing the top of his
head. She saw Aramis and D’artagnan approach the circle and bow low.
“Aramis, D’artagnan, it is good to see you both,” Anne said warmly.
“Your Majesty, if we may have a word with you in private?” Aramis asked.
“Of course,” Anne replied, nodding to dismiss her ladies. The women rose and
left the room, taking the King with them. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”
she asked when they were alone.
“We need you to grant an audience to the Duc de Beaufort, Your Majesty,”
D’artagnan said.
“To Beaufort? Why?”
“We need to get Beaufort out of his stronghold at Montgeron so that D’artagnan
and another agent can perform a search of his property,” Aramis said.
“But why would you need to search Beaufort’s property?” the Queen asked. “The
Duc has never shown himself to be anything other than a loyal subject.”
“We have information that Beaufort may be conspiring against the crown, Your
Majesty, “D’artagnan replied. “The search may yield nothing, but still, it is…”
“Better to be safe than sorry,” Anne finished. “I understand. Send the Duc an
invitation to dine with me this evening. I assume that will give you and your
agent enough time to conduct the search?” She looked to D’artagnan for
confirmation.
“Plenty, Your Majesty,” he agreed. “I’ll send my men to escort him to the
palace.” Then he bowed and left Aramis and Anne alone.
“I need to talk to you, Anne,” he said softly. “About Apollonie.”
“You know,” Anne said, rising from her seat to go to the window to watch the
scene of her son playing with her ladies in the garden, “when Louis took up
with Milady, I wondered if he would behave like my father, who kept his
mistress away from the court so my mother wouldn’t become an object of pity,
who wouldn’t allow any mention of her name. But Louis flaunted Milady like a
child with a new toy, and I saw that look of pity come into the eyes of the
courtiers and whispers behind my back whenever I walked by. But I held my head
up, because I had my son and the memory of a love that might have been. And now
I find that those whispers and looks are coming back, and now it’s worse
because I have nothing to fight against and no shield to protect myself with.”
“I do love you, Anne,” Aramis said behind her, reaching out to place a hand on
her shoulder.
“And yet you go to bed with another woman,” she retorted, keeping her eyes on
the figures in the garden.
“Apollonie is in my bed because you can’t be.” Aramis turned Anne around to
face him.
“Do you think I don’t want to be in your bed?” Anne asked, looking at him with
hurt eyes.
“Do you want it enough to risk your position as Regent or even your son’s
throne? Anne,” he said, gently taking her face in his hands, “there are those
who would love nothing more than to do you harm and will use whatever they can
to turn the people against you. You can’t give them anything. Your conduct must
be above reproach. We were fortunate to withstand Rochefort’s accusation and
Grimaud’s pamphlet, but next time our luck may run out.”
Anne had no choice but to admit that he was right. “I hate that I can never be
free from gossip and scandal, no matter what I do for the sake of France.”
Aramis took her in his arms. “Then hate me if it will make it easier to let me
go,” he said. “I mean it, Anne. If it you have to make a choice between keeping
me with you and protecting Louis, do not hesitate to sacrifice me.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Anne said, looking up at him. “We’ll protect him
together.”

                                                                                                                          
****

“They’ve taken the bait.” Apollonie watched through the spyglass as the party
escorting the Duc de Beaufort and his son Maxim to the palace to dine with the
Queen. She handed the spyglass to D’artagnan, who watched as his men rode
through the wood back to the Louvre. “How long to do you think we’ll have to
search?” she asked as they made their way to the tunnel.
“The ride will take an hour,” D’artagnan replied, “and from what I understand
the Queen planned a full menu for the Duc, so the meal will take at least
three. And, being a good hostess, she’ll no doubt have rooms prepared for the
Duc and his son to stay the night.”
“In other words, as much time as we need,” Apollonie said, clearing some brush
from the entrance.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather get this over with as quickly as
possible,” D’artagnan said shortly. “I’ll go in first.”
“After you, mon capitaine,” Apollonie said, waving him in with a smile.
Dartagnan lit the small lamp they’d brought with them. He moved it around to
shine light around the tunnel, examining the construction.
“The beams look solid,” he said as Apollonie joined him, securing the satchel
of supplies to her back.
“The tunnel was built during the religious wars. The owners were Huguenots who
needed a handy escape route in case angry Catholics came calling.” Apollonie
replaced the brush covering the entrance.
“Does the Duc know about this tunnel?” D’artagnan asked as they moved down the
passageway.
“Unlikely,” Apollonie replied. “After the Huguenots departed, Montgeron became
property of the crown. Beaufort only purchased it two years ago. He wouldn’t
have had time to locate it.”
“Let’s hope you’re right about that,” D’artagnan said. The two of them
travelled in silence for several minutes before Apollonie broke it.
“You don’t like me much, do you?” she commented drily.
“Not particularly,” D’artagnan replied, shining the lamp in front of them.
“Mind telling me why?”
“I remember when Louis flaunted Milady de Winter in front of the Queen, how he
humiliated her. I don’t like seeing my friend treating her the same way,”
D’artagnan told her.
“How has Aramis flaunted me?” Apollonie asked. “Have you seen us together
anywhere other than in his office? And do you see any jewels, or fancy dresses,
or any of the other things men give their mistresses? Aramis hasn’t given me
anything. We do everything we can to keep our affair secret precisely because
Aramis doesn’t want to treat the Queen the way Louis did.”
“He shouldn’t be sleeping with you when he’s in love with her,” D’artagnan
said.
“And would you rather he slept with the Queen instead?” Apollonie retorted.
“Because from what I understand, the last time that happened they very nearly
lost their lives.” She gave D’artagnan a sympathetic look. “As much as you hate
to admit it, you know I am the safer option for Aramis to get involved with.”
After a while, they came to the end of the tunnel. They found a ladder left by
the previous occupants during their escape. D’artagnan climbed up to move the
stone covering the entrance. He ascended the ladder, then turned and helped
Apollonie up. They looked up at the shaft of light coming through a hole in the
top of the ceiling of the cell they’d entered.
“It appears we’re in one of the oubliettes,” Apollonie said, taking the satchel
off her back and searching for something.
“Anything in there to help us get out?” D’artagnan asked. Apollonie handed him
a rope with hooks at the end.
“How’s your aim with these things?” she asked as he swung the rope up through
the hole, then pulled it tight. He tested the rope.
“Good enough,” he replied, climbing up the rope. When he reached the top, his
eyes scanned for anyone who could sound the alarm. Seeing nobody, he climbed
out of the oubliette. He spotted the ladder used to put prisoners into the cell
and lowered it so Apollonie could climb out. When she got to the top, she
gathered up the rope and put it back in the satchel. They moved to the stairs
leading up to the where the kitchens were.
Without making a sound, they crept up the stairs, stopping at the sound of
voices coming from the kitchen. The smells of the evening meal cooking reached
Apollonie’s nostrils, making her stomach roil. She closed her eyes and fought
the wave of nausea that hit her like a punch in the gut. Now is not the time to
be sick, she told herself. Vomiting would only give them away and she had
already thrown up every day for the past week. She took a deep breath and
willed the nausea away.
D’artagnan passed the entrance quickly and motioned for Apollonie to join him.
When she reached his side, he saw her face had gone pale. “Are you alright?” he
asked with a look of concern.
Apollonie nodded. “I’m fine. We need to get to his study. The older plans of
this place showed the study to be on the second floor. We can start our search
there.”
They moved up the stairs to the upper floors, pausing only to hide from a
couple of maids coming down the stairs. When the servants had passed, they
continued up the stairs, reaching the second floor. They went from door to
door, looking for the right room. They had been through almost all the rooms,
finding nothing, when D’artagnan came to a door that wouldn’t budge.
“This one’s locked,” he called to Apollonie, who came over to the door and
studied the lock. She took her set of picks out of her skirt pocket, selected
the one necessary for the door lock, and set to work opening the door. She
stopped when she felt D’artagnan watching her.
“What?” she asked.
“You know how to pick locks,” he said sardonically.
“Of course. Don’t you?” Apollonie turned her wrist and heard the familiar
click. “My father taught me how. I’m one of the fastest in the service.” She
pushed the door open and looked inside. “This appears to be it,” she said,
going in to the study. “Watch the door in case anyone comes. I’ll search the
desk.”
D’artagnan stood by the door as Apollonie went straight to the Duc’s desk.
Taking her pick set out of her pocket, she set to work on the lock box. She
opened it and started going through the correspondence kept there. There were
letters from Conti, Gondi, Chevreuse, Longueville, and others. They confirmed
what she had already found in the room searches at the palace, but they weren’t
the puzzle piece she was looking for. She moved on to the desk drawers. She
went through the papers carefully, but still couldn’t find what she wanted. She
felt around the empty drawer, checking for a false bottom, and smiled when she
found it. She removed the bottom and lifted out a packet of letters. She untied
the string holding them together and started to read the letters.
“I’ve found something,” she said to D’artagnan.
“What is it?” he asked, leaving the door to come to the desk.
“Letters,” Apollonie told him, handing him one. “From Cromwell. Telling
Beaufort how glad he is that France is going to throw off the yoke of tyranny
that England is throwing off as we speak.”
“This one is promising assistance in exchange for recognizing the new
government that Cromwell will set up in England after King Charles has been
deposed,” D’artagnan read. “But assistance doing what? Surely Beaufort’s not
going to try to overthrow Louis?”
Apollonie thought for a moment. “No,” she said, “it’s something else.” She
gathered up the letters to retie the bundle. “We have the information we need.
Let’s go.”
D’artagnan went back to the door while Apollonie tidied the desk, putting
everything back in exactly the same position it had been in. D’artagnan
motioned that the hallway was clear. They left the study, closing the door
behind them. Apollonie used the pick to relock the door and returned it to her
pocket. They hurried down the steps to the main floor and had just crossed to
the stairs leading back to the dungeon when they heard someone call them.
They turned to see two of Beaufort’s guards approaching them. The men were
dressed in Beaufort’s colors of blue and gold with red sashes. Fortunately,
Apollonie had procured a similar uniform for D’artagnan to wear while she was
dressed in a simple servant’s skirt and bodice. As the men came near, she
quickly readjusted her bodice to put her cleavage to better use, and took
D’artagnan’s as though to lead him down the steps.
“Oy, it’s your turn for the watch,” the taller of the two men told D’artagnan.
They were now two feet away. Up close, it was clear that D’artagnan’s disguise
wasn’t going to stand up to scrutiny.
“But, Jacques,” Apollonie chided, tugging on D’artagnan’s hand, “you promised
me.”
D’artagnan gave the men a conspiratorial smile. “Could you cover for me for a
little while? I wanted to take Marie down to the cells to, well,” he said with
a wink.
The men chuckled, giving Apollonie a lascivious look. “Don’t worry. We’ll cover
for you,” the shorter one said, “Just bring us some wine when you get back.”
D’artagnan nodded his thanks and he and Apollonie hurried down the stairs
before the guards could realize they weren’t supposed to be there. When they
reached the cells, Apollonie exhaled with relief.
“That was close,” she said as they ran to the oubliette. Apollonie went down
first, followed by D’artagnan. When he reached the oubliette floor, they moved
the ladder so it couldn’t be retrieved. They relit the lamp they had left there
and descended the ladder to the tunnel. D’artagnan replaced the stone cover and
took the lamp from Apollonie. They hurried through the tunnel.
“I arranged to have Blondeau meet us with our horses on the road,” D’artagnan
said. “We’ll go to the palace to tell Aramis what we’ve found,”
“No,” Apollonie said, “the palace is too dangerous. Beaufort may have spies
that can overhear us. Have Aramis meet us at the Musketeer garrison.”
When they finally reached the tunnel entrance, dusk had fallen. They replaced
the brush cover and hurried through the woods to the road. They found Blondeau
waiting with horses on the road back to Paris. The three of them rode swiftly
as darkness descended. They reached Paris within the hour. D’artagnan sent
Blondeau to the palace to give Aramis the message to meet them at the garrison
while he and Apollonie made their way there.
***** Chapter 5 *****
As they entered the garrison yard, the evening meal was being served. Constance
and the cook Remy brought bowls of food to the table for the men seated there.
Constance looked up to see the two riders come to a halt in front of the
stables. She went over to where D’artagnan dismounted and handed his horse over
to the stable boy. She gave her husband a welcoming kiss then looked over to
see Apollonie dismounting as well.
“What’s she doing here?” she asked, nodding toward Apollonie.
D’artagnan explained about the trip to Montgeron, the search of the Duc’s
study, and what they found there. “Aramis is on his way here to discuss what to
do next,” he told her.
“Then we’d better meet in your office,” Constance said. “I’ll bring you both a
plate.” She headed back to the kitchen, giving Apollonie a distrustful glance.
“It seems your wife doesn’t like me much either,” Apollonie commented as she
and D’artagnan climbed the stairs to his office.
“Constance is very loyal to her friends,” D’artagnan told her as they went
inside to the office. Apollonie sat down on the simply made bed as D’artagnan
brought another chair into the office. Constance came in carrying two plates of
food and a bottle of wine. She handed one to Apollonie and set the other on the
desk with the bottle of wine. D’artagnan got some glasses out of a cupboard and
poured wine for everyone. Apollonie’s earlier nausea had disappeared and now
she was ravenous. She tore into the roasted chicken and vegetables. She nodded
her thanks when D’artagnan handed her a glass of wine and took a sip. It was a
good vintage. She finished her meal and sipped on her wine while they waited
for Aramis to arrive. After a quarter of an hour, they heard riders enter the
yard. D’artagnan went to the window.
“Aramis and Blondeau are here,” he said.
Aramis entered the office a few minutes later. He was dressed formally in his
coat of office, but he smiled as he greeted Constance and D’artagnan. He and
Apollonie nodded to each other in greeting as he sat down on the chair in front
of D’artagnan desk.
“How did the search at Montgeron go?” he asked, accepting a glass of wine from
D’artagnan.
“We found out that Beaufort is in communication with Cromwell in England,”
D’artagnan told him, “that Cromwell is offering Beaufort assistance in his
plans for France in exchange for recognizing the new government Cromwell is
going to set up in England.”
“But the people love Louis,” Constance said. “Surely Beaufort knows that the
people would never support him in overthrowing the King.”
“That’s because he’s not going to overthrow the King,” Apollonie told her.
“What do you mean?” Aramis asked as all eyes went to her.
“In England, power is being concentrated in the Parliament,” she explained.
“Parliament controls the country’s finances and now they have forced Charles to
give them control over his ministers and passed laws that give them enough
power to hold the King in check. Beaufort’s not happy that you and the Queen
are consolidating power around Louis.”
“But this is France,” D’artagnan pointed out. “The King’s power comes from God,
not from the Parlement.”
“Is that right?” Apollonie asked with a hint of sarcasm. “Then who are people
going to with their grievances over the new taxes? Is it the King? No. They go
to the Parlement.”
“So Beaufort wants to make our Parlement as powerful as the English one to
limit the power of the King,” Aramis said. “How does he plan to accomplish
that?”
“That becomes a little more complicated,” Apollonie said. “I’ve identified the
roles of the main players in this game.” She went over to the desk, took a
piece of parchment and, dipping a quill in ink, began to draw an outline of the
people involved in the scheme. “First, there is Madame de Longueville. She has
many contacts with members of the Parlement, and can act as liaison between
them and Beaufort. De Gondi, as Archbishop of Paris, will be able to reassure
the clergy of the rightness of Beaufort’s plans and can gain the blessing of
the Pope in exchange for certain concessions that benefit the church.”
“So Beaufort will have the Parlement and the clergy behind him,” D’artagnan
said. “That leaves only the nobility to stop him.”
“Oh, we’re just getting to the nobility,” Apollonie assured him. “The Prince de
Conti, besides being a prince of the blood, is also one of France’s top
military commanders and would head Beaufort’s forces in the event of armed
conflict. Now we come to Madame de Chevreuse, who is currently the mistress of
the new Duc de Lorraine and who had fled to Spain when the late King exiled her
for conspiring against him one too many times. She has contacts at foreign
courts that would be useful in getting recognition for the new regime. And,”
she paused to give Aramis a pointed look, “since the Queen has welcomed her old
friend back with open arms, Chevreuse now has access to the Queen and the King
which she can pass on to Beaufort. Moving on, Mademoiselle de Montpensier is a
member of the House of Orleans, who can persuade her family to join Beaufort
and reach out to nobles in the provinces.”
“Where does the Duc de Bouillon come in?” Aramis asked.
“The Duchy of Bouillon would act as a buffer state against the Holy Roman
Emperor, who would defend his cousin’s divine right to rule.” Apollonie said.
“The Duc holds his fief from the Emperor, but Beaufort has offered to make it
an independent duchy under French protection, like Lorraine.”
“But the nobles have all sworn to serve the King. Why would they join
Beaufort?” D’artagnan asked.
“The Queen and the First Minister,” Apollonie paused to smile at Aramis, “have
been chipping away at the ancient privileges that the nobles have enjoyed for
generations. Restoring those privileges would be a strong motive to join
Beaufort.”
“Is the King in danger, then?” Constance asked.
Apollonie considered this. “I would say no,” she said. “Louis has some
advantages that Charles Stuart does not, the first being that it’s easier to
control a child than a grown man. If Beaufort can gain control of the King’s
person, he could make the case to the council to name him First Minister.”
“Which the nobles on the council would do in exchange for the returned
privileges,” Aramis said.
“Yes,” Apollonie confirmed. “And once Beaufort had become First Minister, the
council could start broadening the Parlement’s powers. And the Parlement could
then start granting more privileges to the nobles who supported Beaufort.”
“So the King would be nothing more than a figurehead,” D’artagnan said.
“Uh huh,” Apollonie said, nodding. “And if Louis starts to object to being a
puppet, there’s always his cousins, the Orleanais, to take his place.”
“What will happen to the Queen?” Constance asked. “She’ll object to Beaufort
trying to seize power on the council.”
“The Queen is unpopular,” Apollonie pointed out. “Beaufort will try to blacken
her name with help from Chevreuse. Another reason for Aramis to sleep with me
instead of her, by the way. The people will believe the worst and won’t lift a
finger to help the Queen if Beaufort decides to go after her.”
“Then she’ll need our help,” Constance said firmly.
“We need a plan to stop Beaufort,” D’artagnan said to Aramis, who nodded in
agreement.
“Well,” Apollonie yawned as she headed for the door, “while you come up with
the plan, I’m heading off for bed. I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll see you to your horse,” Aramis said, getting up and following her. They
descended the stairs to the yard. The stable boy brought out Apollonie’s horse.
Aramis helped her into the saddle, smiling up at her.
“Thank you,” he said softly, “for what you’ve done. With the information you’ve
given us, we can protect the King and Queen from Beaufort and his allies.”
Apollonie blushed. “You’re welcome,” she said, smiling shyly back at him.
“Well, good night.”
“Good night.” Aramis watched as she rode out of the yard and turned toward the
Louvre. Then he turned and went back up the stairs to Constance and D’artagnan
to plan how to protect Anne and Louis.

                                                                                                                     
****

Aramis walked through the darkened halls of the Louvre, heading back to his
chambers. The palace was silent except for the sound of his steps on the
polished floors. Moonlight shone through the windows, casting shadows on his
path. As he climbed the stairs, he thought about the meeting in D’artagnan’s
office. He wasn’t going to let Beaufort turn Louis into a pawn in his quest for
power. He was going to do everything he could to block any attempt to subvert
his son’s authority before he’d even have the chance to exercise it. He walked
through the corridor to his chambers. He opened the doors and entered the
antechamber. He set the lamp down on the table as he removed the pistol, sword
and knife that he took with him as a precaution. He smiled when he noticed the
statue of Apollo that he’d sent to her rooms earlier sitting on the table. He
moved to the bedchamber, closing the doors behind him. He set the lamp on the
nightstand next to the bed where Apollonie lay sleeping. He removed his
accoutrements, setting them next to the lamp, and stripped down to his drawers.
He stood next to the bed, looking down at Apollonie. In sleep she looked
sweetly childlike, with her hand softly curled on the pillow. The fine lawn of
her chemise left little to the imagination, clinging to her body in all the
right places and sheer enough to reveal the rosy peaks of her breasts. He
watched as her eyes fluttered open and she gave him a sleepy smile.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come,” She said huskily as she
came up on her knees in front of him.
“I wouldn’t leave you lonesome tonight,” he said, drawing her in for a kiss.
Her arms wound around his neck and her lips parted as he deepened the kiss. His
hands moved down her waist to her full hips, pressing them against his so she
could feel his shaft hardening. Her hips surged against him and she let out a
breathy moan.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his.
“I’ve missed you too,” he replied, his hands moving up to the neck of her
chemise. He pulled it off her shoulders to her waist, revealing her full, lusty
breasts, then over her lush hips. He looked down at the soft thatch of curls
hiding a silky smooth pussy. It had been five days since he’d been inside her,
feeling her wrapped tightly around him. He was ravenous for her. He reached up
to caress those luscious breasts, teasing the peaks until they were tightly
budded. His fingers sank into the soft flesh, and he heard her sharp intake of
breath.
“Gently,” she said, readjusting his hold on her. She unfastened his drawers and
pushed them off his hips. Her right hand glided over his whole length, stroking
his cock to fullness, while her left found his testes and caressed the smooth
underside. Aramis growled with desire and moved his hand between her thighs,
finding the dampness and using it to draw an intricate pattern around her
opening that had her moving against him to get more of the sensation. Her hand
moved faster, pumping him firmly. Aramis removed her hand from his cock.
“No,” he grated out. “I won’t last if you keep doing that.” He turned her
around and shoved her so she fell forward onto her hands and knees, her
buttocks turned up to greet him. He caressed the round globes, rubbing his
cockhead along the valley separating them. Spreading them, he brought his shaft
to the entrance of her pussy, letting her feel the pulsing tip. Apollonie
pressed her hips back, wetting him with her juices to lure him inside. Aramis
eased in, feeling her tighten around him, then withdrew. Apollonie’s hips
flexed, trying to regain what was lost. Aramis pushed back in, opening her more
thoroughly this time, then pulled out again. Apollonie whimpered at the sensual
teasing.
“I know what you want,” Aramis said thickly. “And I’m going to give it to you.
Now.” He thrust forward, driving deep into her sopping wet channel. Apollonie
moaned and answered his entry with a firm, fluid pump of her hips. Aramis moved
in slow strokes, his hand snaking around to rub the tiny pearl hidden between
her nether lips.
“Oh, yes. Aramis. You feel. So. Good. Please. Faster.” Apollonie panted as
Aramis plunged in and out, willing him to increase the pace that sent pleasure
coursing through her veins.
“No. This feels too good.” Aramis looked down to watch his cock sliding back
and forth into her pussy, the large shaft shiny with her juices. He stared at
the erotic picture they were painting with their bodies. Keeping the same slow
tempo, he changed the depth of his strokes, going in all the way to the hilt.
He smiled when Apollonie cried out and her pussy contracted around him.
“That’s it, “he said hotly. “Come for me. I want to feel you get all hot and
tight and wet around my cock.” His thrusts slammed her hard, but she took every
inch of him, her pussy stretching to accommodate his girth and close tightly
around him.
“I want to drain you,” she said breathily as she climaxed, squeezing him
tightly.
“You will,” he replied. Aramis thrust one final time, pressing his testes full
against her outer sex, and let loose a stream of hot seed. Apollonie’s pussy
moved around him to get the last drop from his cock. When he was completely
spent, she bent down, resting her head on the covers.
“Just when I think fucking you can’t get any better,” she gasped out as her
chest heaved to take in air, “You go and do something like this.”
Aramis laughed, the sound almost a pain in his chest. “Fucking a pussy as
demanding as yours, a man has to come up with new ways to satisfy it.” He
withdrew slowly, hearing her grumble at the absence of his cock. He lay down on
the bed and gathered her close, nestling her in the crook of his arm with her
head resting on his chest. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. They say
your mother took on a dozen men in the fountain of Neptune at the Tuileries
Gardens. You’ve definitely inherited her pussy.”
“My mother never had more than one lover at a time,” Apollonie protested. “That
story was completely made up. The confessional story, on the other hand, is
true.”
“Ah, yes,” Aramis smiled. “I heard about that. How she’d go to Sainte Chapelle
for her weekly confession. Then there would be noises coming from the
confessional booth. The brothers would go to investigate and find Giulietta
confessing her sins as she rode the priest’s cock.”
“That was simply a matter of practicality,” Apollonie defended her mother.
“Confessing about fucking made her think about fucking. And thinking about
fucking made her want to fuck. So it was easier to confess and fuck at the same
time. And the priest never complained about having his cock ridden.”
“I hope I don’t have to worry about you riding your confessor’s cock,” Aramis
whispered in her ear before planting a kiss in her hair.
Apollonie blushed. “I doubt there’s a priest alive who can do what you can with
your cock,” she told him, letting her fingers trail down his stomach to touch
the thick rod that had brought her to ecstasy minutes before. “Aramis,” she
said before she could lose her nerve.
“Hmm,” Aramis murmured, enjoying the feel of her fingers on his spent cock. He
could feel it start to respond again, and was considering the best way to get
her head down so he could fuck that soft mouth.
“I think I’m with child,” Apollonie raised her head to look at him, uncertain
of his reaction.
“Are you sure?” he asked, running his hand down her back. “You’ve always used
the sponge whenever we were together.”
“Not the first night,” she told him. “I forgot to put it in before we met.”
Aramis let her words sink in. A child. One that he could openly claim as his,
without risking execution. A child who would grow up calling him “Father”. A
boy he could guide and mold into a fine man or a girl he could swing in the air
and spoil to his heart’s content.
“Are you pleased?” Apollonie asked when he stayed silent, unsure what his
response would be.
Aramis’ hand whipped out to capture her neck to drag her down for a fiery kiss.
He moved to roll on top of her, his weight pressing her into the bed. He used
his knees to spread her thighs apart. When he heard her moan, he raised his
head.
“Oh, yes,” he said, placing a protective hand on her belly. “Very, very
pleased.” He took her hand to place it on his thickening shaft, letting her
pump him until he was fully distended. He lifted her hips and guided her onto
his length. As he moved between her thighs, Aramis gazed down at the exquisite
body that had given him so much pleasure, and now was going to give him a
child. He was filled with a deep gratitude, and used all his skills to bring
her to orgasm over and over again before he allowed himself his release. They
fell asleep in a tangle of limbs, Aramis’ hand resting on her stomach.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Apollonie smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, trying to calm her
nerves. After she had taken care of his morning erection, Aramis told her that
he, D’artagnan, and Constance were going to meet with the Queen and he wanted
her to join them. She had wanted to object, but he said that she needed to be
there, that it was her work that brought them vital information and she
deserved to be recognized for it. So she went back to her rooms, washed,
selected a simple blue dress, and did her best to pull her unruly curls into a
sensible twist. She looked at her reflection and hoped she would pass muster
for meeting the Queen.
The knock on her door brought her out of her thoughts. She opened it to see
Aramis smiling at her, dressed in his robes of state.
“Are you ready?” he asked as she stepped out, closing the door behind her.
She nodded and together they walked down the corridor toward the Queen’s
presence chamber. The page announced them as they entered. D’artagnan and
Constance were already there, talking with the Queen. Aramis and Apollonie
approached the throne, bowing and curtseying to show their respect.
“Your Majesty,” Aramis said, indicating Apollonie, “may I present Apollonie Le
Carre, daughter of Felix Le Carre, your head of intelligence.”
Anne smiled at her. “I understand I have you to thank for uncovering Beaufort’s
plans.”
Apollonie blushed. “No thanks are necessary, Your Majesty. I was just doing my
duty for the good of France.”
Anne came directly to business. “Beaufort wants to limit my son’s God given
authority to rule France. I cannot allow that to happen. What are your
recommendations for neutralizing this threat?” She turned to Aramis.
“The Prince de Conti is currently commanding your forces against the Spanish at
Retz,” he told her. “We need him where he is, but I’ll write to Porthos to keep
an eye on him should he try anything.”
“Good,” Anne nodded, satisfied. “What about the others?”
“De Gondi is a churchman and therefore under papal protection,” Aramis said,
“We’re unable to touch him. Your Majesty may want to make conciliatory gestures
toward the Duc de Bouillon to lure him away from Beaufort. Bouillon is angling
to become an independent duchy like Lorraine. That could be useful for us.”
“That just brings us to Madame de Longueville, Madame de Chevreuse, and
Mademoiselle de Montpensier,” Constance said.
“Mademoiselle is a Princess of the blood,” Anne told them, “so we must handle
her with care. But, being the King’s cousin, there’s no reason why she
shouldn’t make the Louvre her home from now on. Madame de Longueville is a
little harder to pin down.”
“She is the go between with members of the Parlement,” D’artagnan said. “Acting
against her could be unpopular. Better to keep her under surveillance for now.”
“You’re right,” Anne acknowledged. “It is better to proceed with caution.”
“That just leaves Chevreuse,” Aramis said. “I know that she’s your friend, Your
Majesty, but…”
“Just because she is my friend,” Anne interrupted him, “that doesn’t mean I’m
blind to her faults or stupid enough to take her into my confidence. Marie has
been scheming and plotting for as long as I’ve known her. So far her schemes
have come to nothing.”
“But this time she’s dangerous,” Constance said. “This time she’s threatening
the safety of your son.”
“Then it is a good thing I have my friends to help me protect him,” Anne said
with a smile. “I’ll need your help here at the palace, Constance, if the
garrison can spare you.”
“We’ll find a way to make things work,” Constance replied, looking at
D’artagnan, who nodded.
“What would you advise that we do about Beaufort?” Anne asked Aramis.
“Beaufort should be placed in the Bastille,” he told her bluntly. “We need to
have him under lock and key to prevent him from carrying out his plan.”
“But under what charges can we arrest him?” Anne asked. “So far he has done
nothing illegal.”
“He has been in communication with Cromwell in England,” Apollonie spoke up.
“If we could show him conspiring with a traitor who is trying to overthrow his
own King, that would be grounds to bring him under guard.”
“Can we actually prove that?” Anne asked.
“D’artagnan knows where the secret compartment holding the letters is,”
Apollonie told her. “He can bring them to you if you send him to arrest
Beaufort.”
“Give me the word, and I’ll bring you Beaufort and the letters without delay,”
D’artagnan said when the Queen turned to him.
“Thank you, D’artagnan,” she said graciously. She turned to Apollonie. “I’d
like you to be in charge of the surveillance, Apollonie. You’ve shown that you
can use your mind and skills of subterfuge for the sake of France. I trust that
you will continue to serve us faithfully.”
Apollonie’s face lit up with happiness. “I will, Your Majesty,” she said.
“Thank you."
Anne beamed at her friends. “If you will excuse me, it’s time for the King’s
breakfast.”
The others said their goodbyes and left the presence chamber, except for
Aramis.
“Anne,” he said as she turned to head to the King’s apartments.
“Yes?” she asked, turning back to face him.
“Thank you,” he said, “for what you did for Apollonie.”
“She’s a bright girl,” Anne said kindly. “I’m sure she will follow in her
father’s footsteps.”
“She’s with child,” he blurted out, searching her face for her reaction.
“Are you happy?” Anne asked.
Aramis nodded. “I’ll have a child that I can call my own. I won’t have to
pretend it’s someone else’s.”
Anne smiled. “Then I’m happy for you,” she told him. “You deserve to have a
family, Aramis. I wish you both happiness.”
“Thank you,” Aramis said, bowing low.
Anne smiled and continued on her way to her son while Aramis watched her leave,
thinking that he had never met a more generous and kind woman in his life.

                                                                                                                        
****

Felix Le Carre thrust hard and deep into the pussy of the pretty blue-eyed
blonde lying on his bed. Her sleek and slim body was folded up, her legs
crossed and her small feet resting lightly on his broad chest. Kneeling before
her, he used his grip on her thighs to work her on his shaft, angling her hips
so he hit that sweet spot with every stroke, sending waves of pure pleasure
through her body. The late morning sun shone through the window, lighting up
her golden curls and her expression of ecstasy.
“Harder, Felix. Fuck me harder. Yes. Make me feel it. Your huge cock. Fuck me
so I can’t think anymore.” She pumped her hips so he could touch all the
sensitive areas of her pussy.
“Your wish is my command,” He slammed into her, his testes swinging forward to
slap her bottom. The sound of his cock moving in her well lubricated pussy
filled the room as he pounded away between her thighs. She grabbed a pillow and
brought it to her face, biting and sucking on it as her orgasm rocked her body.
Felix smiled as he heard her muffled screams and thrust as her pussy clenched
around him, pouring himself inside her.
She removed the pillow from her face, tossing it back on the bed. “No one’s
ever fucked me the way you do, Felix,” she sighed breathlessly, smiling up at
him.
“I’m glad to hear that, Your Majesty.” Felix lifted her feet from his chest and
uncrossed her legs to drape them over his hips as he leaned forward to give her
a deep kiss. “Because I’d hate to think I’m just one of many in your harem.” He
inhaled the warm, spicy scent of Anne’s perspiration slick body, dropping a
trail of kisses down her swanlike neck.
“How about a drink?” he said, easing out of her. He rolled off the bed and
sauntered over to the side board, where he had arranged for refreshments. Anne
rolled to her side to admire her lover’s body. Even though Felix was in his
mid-fifties, his body was as strong as a man thirty years younger and he had
the sexual stamina to match. Anne was telling the truth when she said nobody
had fucked her like he did. She remembered their first encounter.
 
It had been the night of the Venetian masquerade. She had allowed both
ambassadors Sabatino and Voci to lead her out on the dance floor multiple times
and made sure they were introduced to every member of the council. She pointed
out all the different courtiers to take note of, as the social strata of Venice
was markedly different from that of France. She talked to them of all the
delightful things to do while they were in Paris and promised to take them out
for a hunt to the area around Versailles, her husband’s favorite hunting lodge.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Aramis return to the ballroom after
his long absence. She needed to get away from the crush of people. Events like
this always took a lot out of her, and she had come to rely on Aramis’ charm to
soothe prickly ambassadors when she couldn’t muster up the strength to do so
herself. As she saw him come over to where she and the ambassadors were, she
began to make her excuses. When he reached them, she whispered in his ear that
she was exhausted and needed to retire for the night. He nodded and took over
the conversation with the ambassadors as Anne turned and nodded to her ladies
in waiting, who would accompany her back to her apartment. She signaled to the
musicians to keep playing as she and her ladies exited the ballroom, nodding to
the courtiers who paid their respects as she passed.
She went to Louis’ room as was her custom to check on him before she retired
for the night. Seeing that everything was as it should be, she returned to her
apartments. Her ladies helped her out of her costume and into her nightshift,
leaving her for the night. As she turned to the bed, she saw part of the wall
by the fireplace open and saw the spymaster, Felix Le Carre, standing there
holding a candelabra. He crooked his finger, beckoning her to follow him. She
entered the hidden passage, hearing the door close behind her. She followed
Felix along the corridor and up a flight of stairs before coming to another
door. Felix opened it and led her into another bedchamber, one brightly lit and
tastefully decorated in shades of blue and white.
He set the candelabra down on the nightstand and gestured to the bed. When she
moved toward the bed, he shrugged out of the fur robe he wore, leaving him
wearing only his drawers. He unfastened the drawers and eased them off his
hips, presenting her with a massive cock that would stretch her pussy to its
limits. Anne felt her pussy start tingling with anticipation as she thought of
taking him between her thighs. She undid the ties of her nightshift and let it
fall to the floor. She sat down on the bed, opening her legs to show him the
honey colored curls covering her sex. Without taking her eyes off his, her hand
moved down to find the little pearl hiding in that golden thatch.
She slid two fingers into the channel that was wet but not yet ready for him,
while her thumb played with the tiny nubbin. She had often overheard ladies
talking about him and how he made women scream with delight when he bedded
them. She had dismissed their talk as idle gossip until she had spied him going
for a swim on the court’s last morning at Chenonceau. From her bedchamber
window, she saw him remove the last of his clothes to go into the river. As
though aware of being watched, he looked over his shoulder and saw her looking
at him. Smiling, he turned to face her, giving her a view of his well-muscled
body. He put his hands on his hips in a show of pride in his male form, which
had the effect of drawing her gaze to the largest cock she had ever seen.
Blushing, she turned away from window as he walked to the river to swim.
She didn’t see him again until they’d returned to the Louvre. The newly arrived
Venetian ambassadors had presented their credentials to her and Louis, and the
presence chamber was filled with courtiers. She spotted him in a secluded
alcove near a window and made her way over to him. He was dressed in a red
doublet and breeches, sword at his side, his hair tied back. He looked like a
privateer. He smiled as she came toward him. Going up on her toes, she
whispered in his ear that she wanted to fuck him. He whispered back that he
would make arrangements for them to be alone.
So he brought her to this room where she was now splayed out for him, fucking
her hand. She felt her juices running over her fingers as her hips jerked
against her palm. She could see his cock thickening as he stroked it to full
attention as he watched her ready herself for him. He moved in front of her and
gently removed her hand from her mound to place it on his hard shaft. She
smeared it with her juices as it throbbed in front of her. She moved back on
the bed, spreading her legs wider for him. To her surprise, he lifted her legs,
rolling her onto her shoulders so her legs were above her head. In this
position she felt his slow, unhurried penetration as he rocked his hips to
stretch her pussy to take his size. He felt even larger than she expected, and
she bit her lip against the sensation of delight spreading through her body at
what was happening. Felix placed his hands on either side of her head, bracing
himself on hands and knees, and began to move. It took only two strokes for her
to climax. She felt a cascade of joy run down her spine and her pussy squeezed
the iron rod buried inside it. She opened her mouth to cry out but a large hand
covered her mouth. She looked up at her lover, who nodded for her to let out
her cries. She screamed against his hand until she was out of breath. Felix
smiled down at her as he moved deeper inside her and she found herself moving
toward another orgasm. Without breaking rhythm, he reached for a pillow and
brought it to her hand. She put a corner in her mouth and bit down as ecstasy
exploded in her belly. Her pussy worked itself on Felix’s cock, tempting him to
release. But his self-control was stronger. He fought his own climax so he
could stay hard for her to take her own pleasure. After each climax she had, he
thrust deeper to start all over again. She had never experienced sex like this
before, and she wanted more of it. As she reached the crest of her next
release, she heard him groan and thrust as far as he could. Her body squeezed
him demandingly and, unable to refuse a royal command, Felix allowed himself to
climax, letting his seed gush forth into her well fucked pussy.
He slowly eased himself out and gently lowered her body back down on the bed.
She closed her eyes and listened to him move around the room as exhaustion
threatened to claim her. She allowed him to sit her up and redress her in her
nightshift. She offered no resistance as he gathered her up in his arms and
carried her through the hidden passage back to her bedchamber. She rested her
head on his chest as he carried her to her bed and laid her down on the soft
sheets. He drew the covers over her and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead,
then returned to his chambers. She fell asleep still feeling him inside her,
her body humming from the recent nocturnal activity.
 
“You look far away,” Felix said as he returned to the bed with two glasses of
chilled vin gris from the Champagne region.
“I was just remembering our first night together,” Anne replied, moving to sit
up against the pillows before accepting a glass as her lover joined her on the
bed. The chilled wine tasted refreshing and the bubbles danced across her
tongue. She found she liked this new wine that some said was like drinking
stars. Felix always knew how to treat women he took to bed.
He gave her a broad smile. “That was a night, wasn’t it, love?” he said,
clinking his glass with hers. “I’d never had a royal pussy before, but yours
was like being wrapped in the finest silk. And the way you kept coming, like
you’d never been fucked that deep before, I’m surprised I lasted as long as I
did.” He let his gaze move over her body, starting with her high, firm breasts
then her slim waist, then going her sleek thighs before stopping at the gold
curls between her legs. “You are a magnificent creature, Your Majesty.”
“And you are a magnificent lover,” she said, letting her own eyes move over his
muscular chest, down his flat stomach, to rest on the immense cock that had
recently satisfied her. It was true, she thought. Louis had always been more of
a friend than a husband, and she could never respond to him in bed. Aramis had
reached out to her in a time of loneliness, and given her kindness and romance
and a beautiful little boy that she loved more than anything. And while she
truly loved Aramis, she acknowledged that Felix was the superior lover, in size
and experience.
“And cunning as well,” she continued. “You were right. Beaufort is plotting
against us. He’s been writing to Cromwell. Apollonie found the letters.”
“What are you going to do?” Felix asked, taking a sip of wine and reaching out
to cup a breast that, while not large, had a pleasing fullness to it.
“D’artagnan has been sent to collect the letters and Beaufort,” Anne replied as
she swatted his hand away, “and will deliver him to Governor Broussel at the
Bastille. They’ve prepared the best room for him.”
“You don’t seem entirely satisfied with that decision,” Felix commented, blue
eyes giving her a hawk like stare.
“I can’t help thinking a more permanent solution is needed,” Anne admitted.
“You mean a visit from Milady,” he corrected her. The look she gave him told
him he hit the mark. He sighed. “Kill Beaufort now and you risk making him a
martyr to the people, who will hate you for it. Putting him in the Bastille
keeps him under your thumb, where you can watch him to see if he becomes a
useful bargaining chip or if he gives you a rope to hang him with. Save Milady
until she’s absolutely necessary in this case.” He set down his glass and went
back to the sideboard. “What about the others?” he asked.
“Porthos is going to keep an eye on Conti while he is on the front lines, de
Gondi is out of reach as a churchman, and I’ve made overtures toward Bouillon,”
she said as Felix returned to bed with a cluster of grapes. “Mademoiselle de
Montpensier may need new rooms as she won’t be returning to Orleans anytime
soon. And I’ve asked Apollonie to conduct surveillance on Madame de Longueville
and her contacts in the Parlement.” She opened her mouth for Felix to feed her
a perfectly ripe grape.
“Apollonie will bring you the information you need,” Felix told her
confidently. “I’ve trained her since she was a child. She’ll be a good
spymaster for you.”
“Why? Are you going somewhere?” Anne teased, running her fingers through his
steely hair.
“I’ve been serving France for most of my life,” he said. “I’d like to retire
while I’ve still got energy to devote to my family and,” he reached over to
caress her hip, “satisfying that demanding pussy of yours.”
“It looks like your family’s going to get bigger,” she said, causing his
eyebrows to shoot up. “Apollonie’s with child. Aramis told me.” Felix pulled
her close to kiss her passionately. She pulled back, breathless but laughing.
“What are you kissing me for?” she said. “I’m not the one who’s pregnant.”
Indeed, Felix’s seed had never been potent in his younger days, a single child
out of all those amours being proof of that, but as he got older it lost the
little that had been there. Not that Anne was complaining. Another child at
this time would be a disaster.
“How are you feeling about that?” he asked, still holding her in his arms.
Anne thought about it. “Sharing something that belongs to me isn’t something
that comes naturally,” she said honestly. “It will be an adjustment.”
“You know that you and he can’t be lovers,” he said gently. “I put Apollonie in
Aramis’ bed to keep out those who shouldn’t be there. Including you.” He paused
for a moment. “And La Chevreuse.”
Anne laughed. “Marie was furious when Aramis turned down her advances. She
couldn’t believe that he would prefer to fuck someone so beneath her in status
and not as pretty than the most beautiful woman in France. She had to content
herself with trying to seduce some of the other council members.”
“Be careful,” Felix said, stroking his hand up her thigh, “you may need to send
her packing again like your husband did if she causes trouble.” He moved his
hand to the silky curls between her thighs. “Now, how much time do we have
left?”
Anne parted her thighs to allow his hand better access and moved his fingers
into position in her pussy. “Louis is occupied with his lessons,” she told him,
her hips moving to get more of the delicious sensations his touch produced,
“and my ladies know never to disturb me while I’m at my devotions.” She moaned
when he pressed her pearl with his thumb. “We have time for this.”
She reached over to wrap her hand around his cock and pumped him in time with
her hips. Felix’s fingers were slick with her juices as they drove back and
forth between her legs. His hips jerked until his turgid cock dripped salty
fluid. He removed her hand from his erection.
“Come here,” he said thickly as he reclined back against the mound of pillows.
Anne moved to straddle him on her knees. She lowered herself onto his shaft,
feeling the broad cockhead open her pussy. She stayed still, letting gravity
pull her down, stretching her to fit around his wide girth. When he was
completely buried, she leaned forward to kiss his lips, bringing her body flush
with his. She lifted her head and looking into his eyes, began to move her hips
up and down on his shaft. She used her leverage to change the angle of his
entry, so his cock hit that spot in her pussy that sent chills down her spine
and his pelvic bone rubbed against her pearl. She moaned with pleasure as she
pumped her hips with increasing speed to bring them both closer to the peak.
She felt Felix’s hands come up to caress her breasts, plucking and teasing her
nipples. His facial hair tickled her as he kissed her throat, then whispered
encouragement in her ear. He told her how beautiful she looked when she fucked
him, how good her pussy felt around his cock, how much he loved to fuck her,
urging her on as she rode him. When she felt the familiar sensations come to
claim her, she pressed her lips to his, slipping her tongue into his mouth in
an exciting reversal of the penetration down lower. Together they rode out the
fabulous storm that tore through their bodies.
When Anne returned to her bedchamber from the hidden passage, the clock chimed
the hour, telling her that the time she set aside for her devotions was at an
end. She smiled as she picked up her rosary from her prie dieu and opened the
door to the antechamber where her ladies waited for her. As she entered the
room, her ladies took in her sparkling eyes and glowing skin, thinking how
pretty she always looked when she came out from her prayers, as though God
blessed her devotion by adding to her loveliness. With her ladies following
her, the Queen walked out to the garden where her son was riding his new pony.
***** Chapter 7 *****
The next month passed quietly but not idly. D’artagnan delivered Beaufort to
Governor Broussel at the Bastille and the incriminating letters to the council,
who upon reading them decided that the Duc needed to be closely guarded to
prevent any communication with Cromwell or worse, any attempt to escape.
Beaufort was outraged by his imprisonment and vowed to escape, but all his
attempts failed and, with limited access to the outside, he eventually settled
down to a life of idleness and being a thorn in Broussel’s side.
The Prince de Conti scored a major victory over the Spanish at Retz and
returned to Paris a hero. He was given full honors for his service to France
and was rewarded with marriage to an heiress handpicked by the Queen, from a
family with unquestionable loyalty to the crown. As part of the royal family,
Anne had determined bind Conti as closely as she could. Likewise, Mademoiselle
de Montpensier became her closest companion, moving into a new suite where the
young woman was under the watchful eyes of Anne and Constance.
Madame de Longueville continued in her role as a doyenne of Parisian society.
Her weekly salon attracted many who were interested in politics and included
many of her friends serving in the Parlement. She welcomed those who added
sparkling wit and intelligent conversation, and made sure to provide her
friends with a bevy of attractive ladies to speak with. Most were from
respectable backgrounds, but a few had more dubious reputations, like the one
with chestnut curls and cornflower blue eyes who was rumored to be the First
Minister’s mistress. Apollonie found the salon to be a rich source of
information on what was happening in Paris. It was a great aid in knowing where
to send spies to keep an eye on where the Parlement was going in reaction to
pronouncements from the regency council.
Madame de Chevreuse, having found herself unable to ingratiate herself with
Aramis and the other councilors and therefore with no intrigues with which to
entertain herself, decided to leave Paris for Nancy and an extended stay with
her lover, the Duc of Lorraine. The last news to reach Paris was that she had
also taken up with the Duc’s brother and was causing endless amounts of
trouble. Felix thought that he might need to offer higher pay to his agents in
the duchy for having to deal with the mess. But as long as she was scheming and
plotting over in Lorraine, she was too busy to plot against France. He hoped
her time there would be long and relatively uneventful.
****
“How does it feel to be France’s new spymaster?” Aramis asked Apollonie. Her
hand stilled on the base of his shaft. Slowly she withdrew the globular head
from her mouth and sat back on her heels.
“You know,” she said, giving him an exasperated look, “I wish you wouldn’t ask
me questions when I’m sucking your cock. It’s a little difficult to answer
them.”
“I’m sorry, my dear,” he apologized as she crawled up to where he lay, dropping
a light kiss on his lips. “I thought you might want to celebrate tonight.”
Apollonie moved to straddle his stomach. “I’m not the new spymaster yet,” she
told him, running her hands over his chest. “Father is still going to be in
charge of the intelligence network.”
“Yes, but the information you’ve gathered on the Parlement has proved
invaluable. The Queen is more than pleased with the work you’ve done,” he said,
reaching out to fondle her breast, noting that it had grown fuller over the
past weeks. “And your father has been commenting that he’s been wanting to
retire, spend time with the grandchild that’s on the way.”
Apollonie laughed. “The baby’s not even here yet,” she said, putting a hand on
her softly rounding belly, “and he’s already planning its education.”
“The next spymaster, then?” he said, smiling up at her. “You’ll be able to run
the intelligence network. I have faith in you.” He pulled her in for a deep
kiss. “You’ll be occupied with keeping France safe from harm, and your father
will be occupied with instructing our child to follow in your footsteps.”
When he’s not occupied with the Queen’s pussy, she thought. She could always
spot her father’s conquests by the way they looked at him, and when Anne had
walked over to the alcove where they were to thank her for her help with the
Parlement, Apollonie saw her give that same side glance, saw her make that same
moue with her lips, and knew that she had been in that blue and white room, on
her back with her father’s cock between her legs. What surprised her was the
look on her father’s face. He looked at the Queen like a man hit by a
thunderbolt. Apollonie was happy that her father had found someone to care for
and wished them well. But she wasn’t about to tell Aramis that. Instead, she
moved back to stroke the hard shaft that she had momentarily abandoned.
“I seem to recall that I had been occupied with something else before you
interrupted me,” she said, leaning back to brace her arms on his knees and
lifting her hips up off of him. With her legs wide open, she gave him a full
view as she lowered herself on his swollen cock. Sliding her feet up to his
underarms, she began to move, gliding up and down his shaft. Aramis drank in
the sight her, breasts bouncing up and down, hips pumping as his cock moved in
and out of her pussy. He thrust hard into her wet heat as the sound of skin
slapping filled the room. He shouted as he felt her getting hotter and tighter
and wetter around him.
“Yes, damn it, yes!”
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