The Marechal Chronicles: Volume V, The Tower of the Alchemist (2 page)

“Stop it, Jacq.  I need those roots and the plants are not easy to find.  Go find your own and leave me be.”

Only he stayed where he was, his back turned to her as he resolutely went about digging up the patch of soapwort.

She waited for him to say something … anything.  Instead he kept digging while she grew angrier and angrier.

“I said stop it …. “

But then cut herself short as she watched him bunch the plants tightly together into bundles then place all of them neatly into her basket.

He looked up at her, and she no longer saw his dirty hands or how the sweat ran along his jawline.

All that she saw was his calm face ever so serious as he studied her in return.

“You didn't have to do that,” she said uncertainly.  Catherine did not want to admit it, but the annoying young man named Jacq had surprised her.

He nodded ever so slightly then got to his feet.

Suddenly a thought dawned on her and she said, “Did something happen to you, Jacq?  While I was away at school, did you get hurt … or something?  Is that why you can't speak?”

She had tried to ignore him since her return, telling herself each time he looked her way that no one would take interest in a washerwoman.  A well schooled young woman, perhaps, but never a poor soul whose family had taken a wrong turn to the poor side of life and who would likely never be free of hard work to earn just enough to eat and little else the rest of her days.

His constant staring … so serious and unflinching … had bothered her ever more in the time since then. 

It was only now that Catherine realized she had not heard him speak a word since she came back.

She looked carefully at him and then he nodded, as solemn as ever.

“You
did
get hurt, then?”

He nodded again, then slowly lifted his hand to point directly at her.

Catherine did not understand.

Then, Jacq brought his hand to his chest and pointed to his heart.  Carefully, he lifted his other hand to join the first and together he made a pair of fists side by side then snapped them down and apart as if he had just broken an imaginary branch in his hands.

“What?”

Her question was soft as a whisper as she watched him point to her again.

You
….

Then point to his chest.

My heart ….

Then his fists snapping down hard, almost violently.

Broken ….

“What?” she said again, then took a step backward from him. 

His meaning could not have been any clearer, but Catherine refused to believe him.

Jacq bent down to pull up a tuft of soft, dried weeds and rubbed the dirt away from his hands.  When he was done, he closed the distance between them and Catherine felt herself trembling all over as he came so close to her, their bodies almost touching.

“But … “ she began, but Jacq shook his head then brought a finger to her lips the way a mother might to quiet her child.

I don't understand
, she wanted to say.  But the finger that silenced her was still there, then his hand reached down to find hers again and the warmth of his grasp took the last of her words away.

He led her away from the patch of soapwort and to the far side of the clearing.  There he stopped, then, as solemn as ever, he placed his hands upon her shoulders and turned her gently around to face away from him.

“I didn't know … “ she stammered, still unsure of what to do.

He still said nothing as his hands fell away from her shoulders.  Catherine could not have said why, but she remained where she was as she listened to the faint sounds he made as he moved away from her.

She strained her ears, wondering what he was doing, and had the impression that he was down on the ground again.  Her curiosity grew and just as she decided she would play this game no longer, he came back to her.

Catherine felt the heat of his chest as he leaned close to her, his body against her back. She felt his arms reach around her with one hand lifting to her eyes.

“Wait,” she said, “This is ridiculous … “

But she made no move to push his hand away.  Instead, she closed her eyes and his hand covered her vision more fully.

The touch of his palm against her face made her shiver.

The sensation she felt was so very strange.  He was so warm, as if he was fevered, yet his presence made her tremble as if she was chilled.

Then an aroma that could have been spring roses mingled with rich sugar came to her nose followed just as quickly by the touch of wild fruit at her lips.

Catherine could not help but oblige his unspoken offering and opened her mouth wide around her own bright smile.

Strawberries.

The rich flavor of early summer fruit, so rare in recent times, so jealously guarded by those lucky few who knew its secret whereabouts.

The berry Jacq had placed between her lips was large and succulent, with flavors that had fully developed in the way they only can when blessed with warm mornings and shining blue skies overhead.

“Oh,” she said, then grinned more widely as he turned her around then pointed behind himself.

There, just beyond a patch of ferns that grew tall enough to hide them from casual view, was a veritable treasure trove of fruit that shined like rubies with what remained of that morning's dew.

“Jacq, your mother is going to kill you for showing me this,” she whispered, then pushed past him to see better.

“I don't care if she does.”

Those few words hung in the air behind her as Catherine whirled to face the young man.

“You … you!  You
can
speak … !” Catherine felt all of the anger that had been dampened come raging back in all its force.  

“I can,” he replied, “But I was afraid of spoiling everything with a misspoken word from my poor farmer's mouth.  Not around you, an educated lady.”

“Don't call me that.  I'm a washerwoman and that's all … “ Her voice trailed away and what she said next was less than a whisper.  “That's all I'll ever be.”

“You're wrong.  What you are is perfection, Catherine, and it was only when you went away that I knew it for sure.

“That's why I've shown you this.”

“I don't … understand,” she stammered.

“Well, you're right.  My mother would kill me if she knew I'd shown you her strawberry patch.  She found it when she was younger than we are now and it's never failed to produce year after year.

“The problem, though, is that I am a poor man who would give you your every heart's desire.  Except that these are the only jewels I have to offer the woman I love.  The woman I have always loved, even if she is an educated … beautiful … washerwoman,” he finished.

Catherine wanted to turn away from him then.  She wanted more than anything to refuse him and all the rest of it.

But with each word that passed his lips, Jacq had moved closer to her until his nose nearly touched her own.

Then his mouth was on hers and Catherine let fall her anger over the life that fate imposed upon her rather than the one she had hoped for as much as her family had.

Lips glided across one another and their kiss tasted of strawberries and of a fresh young man and woman in the burgeoning of their adult lives.

The ferns were soft beneath them as they fell down together in a tangle of arms and legs.  Their breathing came heavy and rapid and they both trembled with what they meant to do, yet had never planned to do in their most wild dreams.

Neither of them spoke, yet their eyes said volumes as Jacq leaned back from the trembling woman beneath him and took her hand in his own.

Her fingers clasped his, then he untangled himself from her and pressed her palm to his chest and whispered, “Do you feel this, Catherine?  My heart is pounding like I just ran a hundred leagues, and it's because of you.”

She shook her head as she felt the hammer strokes of his young heart beating under her touch.

“Every beat,” he said as he leaned back down to her, “ … is for you.”

Catherine shook her head slowly, then said, “You lie.  Like you did when you pretended you couldn't speak, Jacq.”

“No, I would never lie about this,” was his response.

“Then promise me.  Never ever lie to me again, Jacq.  Promise that you will always be true.”

Without hesitating he said, “I promise, Catherine.  With all my heart and soul, I promise that no lie will ever find its way between us.  I promise that my love for you will always be true.”

She nodded, sagging back from him. Then, her voice suddenly urgent, she asked, “Is it true, Jacq?  Do you really love me?”

His serious eyes never flinched from her gaze as he looked steadily back at her.

“I do love you, Catherine.  I do.”

Then she nodded once again before whispering as if she was afraid the forest around them could hear. “Then love me, Jacq.  Right now.”

He did not hesitate as his hands went to her bodice to undo the laces that held her full bosom in check.

Then, they both laughed as he pulled one of the laces in the wrong direction and the nicely tied bow collapsed into a knot.

Jacq tugged at it, his grin lopsided and slightly hopeless, before Catherine shooed his fumbling fingers away and undid the mess he had made.

Then his large hands came back to hold hers very still, and all she saw in his eyes was honest kindness.

Catherine fell back and let her arms fall to her sides as Jacq pulled the laces wide, then forced herself not to giggle at his sudden intake of breath as he stared wide-eyed at her breasts.

She knew she was luckier than many young women and that for as full as her breasts were, they remained proud and high, each crowned with a delicately pink nipple.

Jacq touched her gently, and this time it was he who trembled as if in fear, or as if he was fevered.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, then his head was down between her breasts and he kissed her there, then continued kissing as he worked his way upward to her neck and, at last, found his way again to her welcoming lips.

Catherine felt him against her belly as they kissed.  He was hard as iron through the loose trousers he wore, and the thought of what he could do with that length brought a flood of warmth to her cheeks that washed like a summer storm through her body to anchor itself between her legs.

She ached there and knew that she was wet and swollen as his lips teased across her own.

Emboldened by the need blooming between her thighs, Catherine reached between their bodies and then she held him in her hand.

Jacq froze.

He simply trembled without moving as Catherine explored him through the fabric of his trousers.

She was no fool and knew what men and women did behind closed doors at night.  But she was still surprised by just how hard and rigid his member was.

Then it was her turn to fumble as she brought her other hand to bear while she undid the ties of his trousers as quickly as she could.

Catherine rocked from one side to the other, then had him cradled between her legs.  She drew her knees up and fought the urge to rub against him as she did, hooked her bare feet into the top of his trousers, then pushed them down and off him.

At last, Jacq grinned.  He leaned back and held himself on his knees between Catherine's legs, then stripped off his tunic to reveal a torso that rippled with a young man's muscles.

Catherine could not help herself from stealing a look at the iron hardness she had felt through his pants.

Jacq's member was long and stiff, and when she reached for him, she felt it jerk in her hands.

Then, urgent and desperate, Catherine rose up and pushed her unlaced bodice down before she wiggled it over her hips as she drew her legs free of the last of her clothing.

Jacq did not wait to find his way between her legs again and Catherine threw herself to utter abandon as the fire between her thighs roared to receive the young man.

She felt him press against her lips and her breath caught.  Catherine forced herself to relax, then felt Jacq slip inside her with a delicious sensation tempered by a tearing pain.

She cried out and Jacq froze again, then Catherine smiled at the concern in his eyes as she whispered, “Go slowly, my sweet Jacq.”

He nodded, then moved gently with an exquisite slowness that left her breathless.

Their mouths found one another again.  Their hands were clasped as they rocked against one another until Jacq began to tremble once again.

Suddenly he was outside of Catherine and she understood why.  She reached for him and felt her own juices that had rendered his cock slick upon her palm.

Jacq shuddered and arched his neck back, then Catherine felt the heat of him as he released to spill himself in powerful thrusts while still held in her grasp.

He sagged and took a deep breath, then lowered himself down upon her once more.

Then it was his hand that found its way between Catherine's legs to touch the tender kernel at her apex.

Her hips bucked as he did it.  Her breath caught, then a low moan escaped her.

Taking confidence in her reaction, Jacq continued to stroke her there, ever so gently, until Catherine was rising up to meet him with a rhythm that matched his own.

Catherine felt the approach of something that was at once agonizing and delicious.  She felt herself become like a wild animal under his hand and all shame washed away as she rose up and up and up, then cried out and clamped her legs together hard with his hand trapped between them.

Every muscle in her body answered the call of his fingers as she wrapped herself around him.  Every part of her trembled and clenched over and over and with a fleeting, wild thought, she had time to think that it was like being born into a bonfire only to die an instant death before being born to die again in the next moment.

And, it was lovely.

Together, they fell down in one another's arms and held each other for a long moment.  The sun shone down upon them and their lovemaking as if giving its blessing to the young couple lying among the ferns in the meadow.

And now they ran under dark skies.