Sandhurst whispered as he raised his head.
Micheline couldn't speak. She stared up at him with huge blue eyes, her cheeks flushed, lips rosy. Finally, as his mouth scorched the base of her neck once more, she gasped, "Oh... what am I doing?"
"You're feeling, Michelle," Andrew murmured. "Relax."
Somehow she found herself on a stone bench farther into the garden. He was caressing her arms through the velvet of her gown, kissing her temples, her eyelids, her throat, her shoulders, and then the first curves of her breasts. They felt swollen, aching in the same way as her woman's place. Andrew was unlacing the front of her gown just a bit.
"You smell delicious," Micheline heard herself whisper as she buried her face in his gleaming hair. She wanted to tell him how much she loved his hands.
"So do you, fondling," he returned, looking up with an engaging smile that melted her heart. "And you taste even better."
"Sangdieu!" She uttered St. Briac's favorite epithet when Sandhurst's mouth touched her suddenly bare breast. Liquid fire seemed to course through her veins, leaving showers of sparks in its wake. First he tenderly kissed the taut nipple, then circled it with the warm, moist tip of his tongue. Micheline felt faint. His hand moved to cup her other breast while he kissed the first hard peak in the way he had kissed her mouth.
Micheline had never dreamed of such arousal. She could feel Andrew's heart beating against her midsection, and suddenly she realized that he, too, was aroused. The thought of his manhood made her tremble with excitement.
"Selkirk!" It was the voice of St. Briac, calling from the chateau. "Are you out there?"
Micheline plummeted back to reality as they abruptly separated.
"Help me, m'sieur!" she cried frantically, fumbling with the laces on her gown.
"We aren't obliged to answer, you know," he told her in a low voice, his brown eyes searching her face.
"Yes! We must go back!" Her cheeks were flaming. "I am so embarrassed! What shall we say?"
"We don't have to explain to anyone, Michelle. You and I are adults." Her obvious humiliation bothered him, but he brushed her hands aside nonetheless and laced her bodice neatly.
"It's cold. We shouldn't have come outside at night!" she exclaimed. Suddenly she was shivering all over.
Sandhurst blinked, but helped her up and put an arm around her. "I apologize, madame. It was thoughtless of me."
"No, no, I was foolish. I just didn't think!"
Glancing down at her, he saw the familiar distracted expression on her lovely face and knew that the barriers had gone up once again.
"You go inside. I'll explain to St. Briac."
She obeyed gratefully as they approached the chateau. Thomas made a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette against the windows, and Micheline was relieved to see that his expression was one of concern rather than anger.
"We began to walk, chatting about the portrait," Andrew was saying casually, "and forgot the time. Micheline finds that she's a bit chilled, so she's going in."
"Bonsoir, gentlemen," she called over a shoulder, then the door closed behind her.
St. Briac stared after her. "You do know that the lady is betrothed."
"I'm reminded of that fact hourly, it seems. Was it concern over Madame Tevoulere's honor that sent you in search of us?"
"No. I'm Micheline's friend, not her keeper. The king was speculating about your absence and I merely hoped to avert a problem. If Francois thought that you had designs on Madame, he'd banish you from court in an instant."
"Why? Because his own designs on her have been thwarted by the lady herself?"
St. Briac smiled ironically. "Perhaps. Micheline is a fascinating woman, and all the more fascinating to the king because she was a challenge. He only agreed to this betrothal with the Marquess of Sandhurst because he'd become resigned to the fact that Micheline wouldn't yield to him... or to any other man. He's quite fond of her, so when she insisted that this was what she wanted, he agreed to it. I've seen him watch you with her tonight, though, and I assure you the king isn't about to let someone else succeed where he's failed."
"For some reason I thought that this betrothal was the king's own idea."
Thomas shook his head. "My wife told me that the request came from King Henry—and that Micheline was mentioned specifically. It seems that Lord Sandhurst has a fetish for Frenchwomen."
"Really!" Andrew exclaimed in surprise, smothering an urge to laugh. "And how did he happen to choose Madame Tevoulere?"
"There were some visitors from England at the court