Count Rochefort

The guards outside her room were young and more interested in gossiping over her than offering any sort of real protection. Rochefort was restless, angry, violently passioned. All of his useful swordfighting companions were deep in repose, and he had become swiftly bored with the idea of bedding one of his mistresses. He hadn't cared to be with any of them for several weeks now. Their brashness and continual false excitement was fast becoming monotonous. He arrived at the girl's bedchamber door as if by instinct. Following her for the fortnight she'd been in the castle suddenly seemed like enough of an introduction, and he knew by the glances he'd caught that she would not be entirely opposed to this meeting. He knew only of her shy demeanor and the troublesome curiosity that had permitted their meeting in the hallways that fifth night, but she seemed a reasonable alternative to remaining in this awful state of restlessness. Rochefort was so busy thinking about this that it didn't even register how quickly the guards opened her bedchamber door, allowing him total passage as if her possible opposition was of no importance.

Rochefort stood against the door with his arms crossed on his chest, examining the situation before him. She was soundly sleeping in her deep bed, mewing slightly with distaste at the draft that had been created with the closing of the door. He saw the girl's bare shoulder as her arm went over the bedspread. She was naked, he supposed, or at least had worn her nightdress down about her waist. Rochefort was suprised that he could see her at all, as there was no moonlight, but then realized that she had kept her oil lamp partially lit. She'd also had that lake of a bed pushed against the wall so that no one could sneak up on her while she slept. Rochefort was made gentler at the sight of the sleeping lady, cuddling the largest of the six pillows as if it were her lover. He suddenly wondered again if she was a virgin, and gone was his desire to bring her any pain by taking that virtue from her.

He crossed the room to her bed and stood beside the foot of it, still watching her for a while. He reached under the bedsheets and touched her feet, running his long fingernails over her instep. His cool touch on her skin and the tickling woke her up instantly, and she bolted straight up in her bed, reaching her arms out in front of her to make contact with the intruder.

"Who are you? " She whispered.

"You know me. " Rochefort was unfazed, calm as he climbed onto the bed and held her legs with both hands to keep her from escaping. He was right in thinking that she would try to.

Her voice was a mixture of confusion and regret. All she knew of Count Rochefort was his cruelty, his cold voice and stare and the ease with which he had displayed his brutishness. " Oh, God, please Count Rochefort, don't.... " She let out a frustrated whimper as any sense of what might be happening quickly left. " I promise you, whatever I did, I can- "

His hand went over her mouth, just firmly enough to keep her lips closed. She struggled once, but found her hands pushed together and swiftly pinned up above her head with his other hand. She blinked, and two tears rolled from her sparkling eyes to her cheeks.

She thought he was coming to here to punish her. There were stories within the castle that men and women were abducted from their beds and thrown into the dungeons. And now she was as frightened as a little rabbit. " Hush, " he breathed. It seemed to sedate her a little; at least the tears were stopped. She could not help but feel instantly assured of his good intentions towards her. There was something in that gesture, that he meant to calm her by keeping her quiet, rather than forbid her from fighting him. " I have no intention of causing you pain tonight, or any other night, little one. "

His hand left her mouth and trailed down, his index finger extended so he could trace the outline of her neck, and then the hand rested at the edge of the bedsheet.

"Please... Go away. " She tried very hard to sound angry, but just the sight of him was making her weak and so excited that she couldn't breathe evenly.

Rochefort just shook his head, and then leaned forward and kissed her. His hand released hers, but before she had any chance to shove him away he was easing the comforter down to her waist, and then he pulled it completly to the side. She broke away from his mouth, her hands immediately crossing over her breasts and her legs sliding together.

He grinned silently at her, almost as if he was approving the new challenge she'd created, and began to unbutton his shirt with his right hand. His chest was thin, beautifully outlined with muscle, and the flesh was so opaque and pale that he seemed to glow in the soft light of the oil lamp. She closed her eyes, afraid to look at him directly, and he took the opportunity to move her hands away from her breasts. His mouth was on her nipple, suckling gently, adoringly, before she even had time to protest what he was doing.

"Stop it! " She wailed, pulling his head away. He gave up the sweet gesture without a fight, and looked at her very seriously for a moment to judge her sincerity in the protest.

"Are you cold? " He asked, deciding that ignoring her anxiety was a good enough cure for it. Her nipples were hard now, and her fingers trembled slightly when she moved them up to her cheeks. " Let me warm you. "

She stopped him from advancing by placing her hands flat on his chest, " don't. You mustn't do this, please listen to me. "

"Tell me why I must not. "

Her face twisted with confusion as her bright eyes began to cloud up with tears, " I don't... " The other words would not come without sobs, so she stopped herself and let him kiss her chin.

Rochefort's eyes were tender and playful when she finally looked back up at him again, " I will tie you if I must, little one, " he chided.

She wriggled nervously when he threatened her with that and tried again to bring his head up from her breasts. " I.... I don't, " she stammered. Rochefort was patient with her, passively kissing her earlobes and her jawline until she was calm, " I don't know what I am to do. "

"Lie back. "

"No, " she moaned, " You'll hurt me. "

"I will never, " he promised. " It will be nothing but warmth and pleasure, " his tongue ran over a hard nipple and then caught her mouth again for a reassuring kiss, " just close your eyes now. "

"I don't want to. "

"Yes, you do. "

He was right. She didn't want him to be, but he was. Constance was overcome with a sense of familiarity, and a sense of trust, and she was certain that this man would protect her, no matter what he decided he wanted to take from her. She waited only another moment, and then Constance lay down, her fingers hugging his hand tight, and closed her eyes.

She felt his lips moving down between her legs. Her right leg lifted now, supported at the heel and ankle by his hands, and he kissed at her toes, working upward again to her calf, watching intently for any other signs of fear that needed to be removed. There were none.

Later, he slipped his shirt on, but left it unbuttoned, and draped the sheets and a thickly knitted comforter over her body. He lay down beside her, his head propped up on his hand.

"Why did you do that? " She asked quietly. Her initial fear of him was returning.

"To keep you from the cold. "

"I wasn't asking why you put a blanket over me, Sir. "

"I wanted to, " he answered simply. " Has a man never done that with you? "

She shook her head and he smiled, but then the frown that had been on her lips became one of intense dissatisfaction instead of mild embarrassment. " Of course not!"

"Did I hurt you? " Rochefort was not entirely sure how he meant that; his mouth had almost certainly not caused her any pain, and in no way near as much as other parts of him might have caused her.

"No... " That word satisfied his fears enough, but she was obviously not pacified yet. " But why? You had no right to come here... "

Rochefort ran his slender fingers into her hair. " I have been watching you for weeks, you must have known that. "

"I didn't! "

He moved closer to her, finally understanding how logical all her confusion was, and kissed her eyelids. " Stop fighting, " he begged. " I know it is difficult, but you mustn't let yourself get so upset. I hate it when you cry. "

She realized then that his intention that night had been, in his eyes, nothing more than a simple introduction. It was not a careless rape but an attempt at making known to her all the things that he could give her. Constance smiled softly, kissing his chest, and murmured, " then I promise I won't ever cry again."

They lay that way, cuddled together, breathing in sync, until Constance finally murmured: " I am so tired."

"Then you must rest. "

"Are you going to leave me? "

"No. " Rochefort reached out and tucked the edges of the blankets tighter all around her and then moved closer so that he could cuddle with her. "I want to watch you sleeping for a while. Then, perhaps, I shall go." He kissed her forehead again, watching her fevered lips curl into a smile that nearly showed the tips of her teeth. "And perhaps I shall not."