Thirty-One

**And** she reacted to his kiss like a hungry woman.
She couldn’t stop kissing him, tasting him, especially as her kisses seemed to make his eyes more feverish with lust.
He growled at one point and pushed her on her back to the mattress, and she had to let the Baron have his way with her, reveling in every bit of kisses and nips and flicks of his wet tongue on every nook and cranny of her body.
He took her hands and held them over her head as his knees commanded her thighs to open wide for him.
When he drove inside of her, it was in one smooth motion.
She was already soaking in her own juices.
Ahh... so thick, she could feel all of him. Her inner muscles rejoiced at something to clutch.
She was so hot for him that a few hard thrusts threw her on the edge of her first climax.
She writhed violently under him, her velvety flesh powerfully vibrating around his cock until the giant waves of ecstasy passed. And her cries of passion filled the stone room.
After that, Fabian’s thrusts became more insistent, faster, harder.
Their groans and moans intensified the heat of their passion.
They both tried to catch their breaths as their lovemaking got messier and lustier. Her sweat mingled with his and they smelled of musk and lust.
And still, he went, harder, deeper, rougher... until she came again in a way that would leave her a breathless heap if he would stop stirring the embers.
But he would not. He would thrust in and out, slower while she rode her climax, and then would steadily quicken after she settled.
She did not know where he got his strength; he did not seem to tire while she trembled with exhaustion.
She cried out when she felt his hot mouth close over the tip of one breast to suckle hard at her nipple.
He licked, and his teeth closed over the rosy bud as his tongue flicked and teased her mercilessly.
Her back arched as sensations upon sensations traveled from the spot down where he continued to thrust into her.
She thought she could not take anymore, not anymore. It had become so much... too much.
“Fabian! Oh, Fabian! I can’t... given you all, I can’t... aahhhh!”
She came again, losing her breath in the process. Fabian let go of her nipple and kissed her open mouth before he bucked, and then groaned when he finally exploded inside her.
She was aware of the tiny spurts and convulsions of his cock.
She imagined she could feel the hotness of his seed as it spurted heavily into her womb.
She pushed away some thoughts she did not want to think of at the moment.
Not that moment.
Not right now.
They held each other as they trembled in exhaustion. He moaned, over and over.
“Adalene... ma bichette... mon amour...”

**The** Baron was right.
After the first day, he became so busy that she was not even able to eat dinner with him.
He had been very late coming in during the night, and so exhausted, that he was only able to take a short time in the lukewarm water in his bath to clean up before he collapsed beside her on her bed instead of on his own, saying he did not have time or the strength to carry her there.
He gathered her in his arms, sighed as if contented, and then he was fast asleep.
The next day, he was out at first light with the other lords and the duke, hunting in the woods.
They did not come back until after the next day and that night, the air carried the delicious smell of roasting meat on the fire while guests feasted in the great hall and chevaliers sang or recited poems that became bawdier and more rambunctious the more they got drunk.
And that was before dinner.
The last three days witnessed Adalene trying as hard as she could to follow her promise to Fabian not to make trouble.
But it was hard.
Even the presence of two of his men with her when she tried to venture out of their chamber to visit the beautiful gardens on the grounds could not deter gossip.
It had become known that she was not gentle-born but a peasant.
She did not know how they found out, but somebody talked.
She would hear them whisper (mostly because they let her hear them) about how the Baron would go to her bed at night and how sounds of their coupling could reach through the door if you stood close enough.
Which was absurd, since the first night, Fabian fell asleep and, on the second night, he was not even at the castle.
It seemed that she was now being touted as a... what they call a courtesan, someone a bit higher in stature than a common prostitute, only because they found out she knew how to read.
The Baron had gifted her with two books he thought she might like reading and she brought one of them to read in a secluded part of the garden one morning.
So now, there was gossip that she had been educated. In that case, she was not a normal, regular whore.
Instead, she was a courtesan and a mistress of Baron Fabian Deschamps.
Some of the stories being gossiped about came to her through Odette, the older of the two handmaidens that came with them to attend to her.
She had known Odette before they left for the Duke’s castle. The other one was Olivie, who was new and nearer her age.
Why Fabian had to appoint servants to serve her, she did not know, but the two women seemed to be doing their tasks without surprise or questions.
Or Odette was, since Olivie was always more curious about her. Odette, although the more talkative of the two, was careful about asking her anything or volunteering ideas.
But she admitted that she was tasked to observe and listen while the Baron was gone. Adalene liked talking with Odette more. She didn’t know Olivie that well yet.
“I think the good Baron was worried that your reputation may come to harm here. You may be born from a peasant family, but you certainly are not lowly. You are home-taught, for one, and you love doing things he also enjoys. The Baron knew this, that you could make him happy, so he paid for your bride token, my lady, and brought you dowry. Essentially, he married you without ceremony. One will say that a ceremony will just serve as a formality.”
She shook her head. “Oh no, Odette! The Baron would not think of marrying me! He only saved me from Louis because he is a good man.”
“Indeed, he is a good man. But he seemed to like you, too. I have never seen him with any other women but you. Some of the knights talk sometimes, too, and they all believe you have quite snagged the heart of the Baron. He was never gossiped about as a womanizer. They said he always chose his women well.”
“It can’t be possible. What you’re saying only happens in love stories that I have read about.”
Odette smiled. “But I have heard of other Lords who married learned women who are not of the aristocracy,” Odette protested. “I swear I did. Sir Bernard often talked of tales from other provinces.”
“But I am not formally taught. And I am not of royal blood, not like Lady Veronique Moranville,” she said, sadly. “The Baron has his options. I cannot imagine him marrying someone who will not benefit him well and will not endear him to the other aristocratic families.”
Both of them became quiet.
Lady Veronique was a young, lovely woman. She was one of the many cousins of the Duke and, according to Odette and the gossip-mongers, had been expecting to be betrothed to Fabian very shortly.
Adalene suspected this was the reason his great aunt was coming—to arrange his betrothal to Lady Veronique. She certainly understood,
]in her own way, the political gain this connection would bring Fabian and his family.
As for her, it could only mean that her time with Fabian was numbered much sooner than she expected.
Even Odette knew this, for she was now looking at her with pity on her face.
“The Baron cares for you. He is a good man, and he will do what is right by you,” Odette said. “Do not worry, my lady.”
“Why do you call me ‘my lady?’“ she asked, embarrassed. “We’re the same.”
The woman shook her head. “Oh no. The Baron has claimed you, so we know to call you my lady.”
She said it as if it was as simple as that, while to Adalene it was not.
But Odette had clearly dismissed it and had moved to lay out the gown she would wear for merriment on the grounds that night, something she was beginning to dread even as Fabian promised to be with her.
She wondered if he knew about the whispers and, if so, if he was bothered by them.
But Adalene was sure that when he married Lady Veronique, she would not tolerate Adalene’s presence in the Baron’s life.