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Post by Jeanne Bonaparte on May 10, 2010 19:51:21 GMT
 how can you jubilate sitting in cages,[/i][/color][/font] ---------------- never taking wing? -------------------------------------- [/color][/font][/center] After the Greek prince had -- finally -- left her alone, Jeanne had continued inside the palace. She didn't know where she was going.. she had yet to learn her way around the winding maze-like corridors. She passed a few faces she knew and exchanged polite conversations and curtseys, and she smiled sweetly at the faces she didn't know, even at the few servants she passed. Despite the fact that Niklaus had vexed her a little, she would not take it out on those in stations below her. She had many friends who worked as servants for her back in France, and she didn't discriminate by social status.
She had stumbled upon the music room quite by chance, but when she had looked through the doorway, she could not help but slip inside. In the silence, the soft rustle of her dress on the marble floor seemed loud, but there was a serenity within the walls. Instantly, her eyes were drawn the grand piano positioned by the full height window. The panes stretched from floor to ceiling and the soft May sunlight filtered in. She crossed to it, running her fingertips over the lid that kept the keys protected from dust before lifting it carefully. It gave a gentle creak, signalling it had not been used for some time, and Jeanne couldn't help but feel a slight pang of sorrow. How could something so beautiful be so seemingly forgotten about?
She seated herself on the stool, letting her fingertips rest on the ivory keys for a moment, in the correct position. She had been taught to play the piano from a very young age, perhaps six or seven, and she could play it well. Her mother and father had deemed it a ladylike thing, to be able to play sweet sonata's on a piano, and she had even played for great crowds at a few of the balls held by the French Royals.. and had recieved rapturous applause for it.
After her mother's death, she had given up playing and for four long years she had never let her fingers dance over the off-white and deep black keys. Now, though, she could not resist, and she began to play a soft melody. It was slow, soft, like a waltz but much more gentle. The soft tinkle of the notes were played in perfect harmony, and as she continued, she closed her eyes.. The young French princess could play by ear, and even with her lids obscuring her ice blue eyes from seeing where her fingers went, she played perfectly.
The soft melody filled the music room, and she couldn't help but smile as she played. It felt good to run her fingers over the keys again. Yes, deep down it made her a little sad.. reminded her of her mother, the deceased Queen of France.. but after such a long absense, it seemed she had forgotten nothing of how to manipulate the keys to play the right notes to form a beautiful tune. In that moment, she was lost in the music.
"Your Highness, I apologise for disturbing you" came a meek voice. The accent was one she recognised -- Greek -- and immediately stopped playing, eyes opening to look at who had indeed disturbed her. It was a young boy, perhaps not even Jeanne's age, and she offered him a soft, if not perplexed smile. "I have been searching for you. My master has sent me to give you this." With that, the boy approached, and held out a small wooden box. It was a dark wood, a rich red tint.. obviously mahogany, and inlaid with gold filigree. Jeanne took it slowly, and with a respectful bow, the servant backed out of the music room as quickly as he had came, not giving Jeanne time to ask the reason behind the gift, or any question whatsoever.
Her angelic features were creased into a light frown as she opened the box, and as its contents were revealed, her breath hitched in her throat. Within, laid on a bed of black silk was a gold necklace, a solid gold pendant dangling from it. It was the shape of a swan, it's eye and beak set with a tourmaline gem. She knew the meaning of the stone, recognised it instantly. It was said to be the stone of true love.
A soft scoff left her lips, but she continued to survey it. The hand not holding the box came up, and she ran her index finger over the pendant softly. What in the world was the Greek casanova playing at, sending her such a gift?
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Post by Niklaus Constantinides on May 10, 2010 20:47:07 GMT
“You are not to step foot back into my chambers until you have found Jeanne and given her this gift.” the Greek prince instructed as he handed the small box to the younger servant boy. “Once you have found her, come back here and tell me where I can find her, understood?
[/color]” Without a word the servant boy nodded and bowed before ducking out of the large room to search for the French princess. Quietly, Niklaus listened to the loud footfalls as the boy ran down the long corridor wondering to himself how long it would be before he returned. He hoped it wouldn’t be too long. Just like his father, he was impatient and couldn’t bear waiting for anything for too long, especially when he was required to wait locked away in his room. Almost instantly his unwillingness to wait was beginning to get the best of him and he regretted not taking the gift to Jeanne himself. If she had not turned down his offer to accompany her in the gardens earlier that afternoon then he may have done so but he knew it would be a poor decision. It was certain she’d wish him away the moment he stepped in her presence again, not giving him a chance to explain himself. Now he hoped that the trinket would show her that he was being serious; that he had no ill intentions towards the princess. He prayed that she would see past the ‘rumors’ and give him a chance. While he waited, he paced at the foot of his bed which only made his patience grow thinner and thinner with each passing moment. Head hung, he stared at the fine rug beneath his feet, tracing the intricate patterns with his eyes. Pursing his lips, he wondered thoughtfully where Jeanne could have been at this very moment and what she could be up to. The thought of her conversing and perhaps flirting with another Prince twisted a knot in his stomach. “ Hmph, that’s odd.[/color]” he mumbled as he absently placed a hand over gut. He’d never felt this way before and unbeknownst to him he was feeling the first subtle stabs of jealousy. After what felt like endless hours, the servant boy returned, throwing the door open unexpectedly and startling the prince slightly. He came to a halt, lifting his head towards the direction of the door with an arched brow. The younger Greek boy leaned forward, his shoulder pressed against the door as he made an attempt to catch his breath. Gritting his teeth, Niklaus stared at the boy intently awaiting the news. It was clear the gift made its way to its receiver seeing that it was no longer in the servant’s hand. “ Well?[/color]” the prince finally spat, breaking the silence between the two of them. The servant boy all but lifted a hand to point in one direction to indicate where he had come from. “ She’s… in the music room.” That was all that was needed to send the prince into motion. He swiftly moved past the exhausted servant boy and started down the seemingly endless corridor. He kept at his quick pace, not giving a small group of princesses and duchesses even a quick glance. He was in a rush. He needed to get to the music room before Jeanne had a chance to disappear from it. Niklaus was in no mood to play cat and mouse especially in such a large palace. The search guaranteed to be frustrating. Once the entrance to the music room came into view, he slowed his pace and patted his hands down the front of his shirt to press of any hints to the fact that he’d been dashing down the halls. Reaching the door, he paused for a moment to check himself over, his eyes scrutinizing his outfit carefully. Satisfied with his appearance he casually walked from around the door and into the room, a soft smile crossing his pouty lips. Like before, he placed his hands behind his back out of politeness and kept the distance between the two of them, staying near the door as he looked her over intently seated beside the grand piano. “ I hope it wasn’t too bold of me to give you such a gift.[/color]” Slowly his eyes traveled from her face and down to the box which was set in her dainty hand. He couldn’t judge by the look on her face if she was happy with it or if she wanted nothing to do with it. “ I would have given it to you myself but I’m honestly not used to offering gifts to anyone.[/color]” After he spoke be bit the inside of his lip, annoyed with himself at the fact that he just admitted to that. It was the truth though. It had been the first time he’d offered anything to anyone besides sweet, mostly meaningless compliments. “ It reminds me a lot of you.[/color]” He began crossing the room then, slowly closing the gap between them both. His blue eyes wandered over her small hands, up her arms, and along her neck before they stopped and returned to her face. “ Your neck is elegant like a swans.[/i][/color]” he cooed in Latin as he came to a stop at the side of the piano just a few paces from her now. A hand was gently placed over the top of the large instrument, his eyes now locked with Jeanne’s icy ones. He debated whether to offer putting it on her but instead he decided to wait until after she spoke to decipher whether it would be a good move or not. [/blockquote][/blockquote] JEANNE | COMPLETE [/b] [/size][/font][/color] |
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Post by Jeanne Bonaparte on May 10, 2010 21:26:22 GMT
how can you jubilate sitting in cages, [/i][/color][/font] ---------------- never taking wing? -------------------------------------- [/color][/font][/center] As Niklaus entered the room, Jeanne looked up, her eyes finding his. She could find no words, rendered speechless by his gift. Did he do this for all the girls he wanted to bed? Yet more poison to make them part their legs? But why tourmaline? Surely he knew what the stone meant, else why pick a pendant with that specific stone? And why the swan?
He explained, and she couldn't help but furrow her brows in a soft frown. He approached her now, stopping just a few paces away from her, and she looked back down at the necklace. Her tongue darted out cautiously to whet her drying lips, and she swallowed softly as the tried to figure out what to say.
"Your Highness, I have done nothing to warrant such a beautiful gift," she said quietly, and she tilted her chin again to bring her gaze back to find his. Her icy-blue eyes angel eyes captured his, and she noted the intense blue color of his irises. Clear like the sea's on the French coast, just after a storm had passed. Intense and yet almost dark. She couldn't deny he was handsome, and she could see why the ladies all fell for him so easily. She wondered how many he had hurt, how many he had led to believe they would be more than an hour or two spent with the crashing of hips and heavy breathing.. a carnal symphony played out on silken bedsheets.
She struggled to find something else to say. To accept it willingly would perhaps show that she was interested in being his next conquest which she undoubtably was not, but to refuse it would be downright rude. Jeanne knew well enough that losing the favour of a prince could quickly lose the favour of an entire country. Greece was not a close friend of France, but they were not enemies, and in a time when a lot of countries were at each other's throats, it was ill advised to upset potential allies if war broke out.
"What exactly is it that you want from me, Prince Constantinides?" she asked quietly, though she already knew the answer.. He wanted to hear her angelic voice panting his name as they writhed upon one of the large beds in the Peterhof Palace.. And as much as such a thought made her inwardly cringe, she couldn't deny that visions of it filled her own mind. It was curiousity, nothing more, but she knew, had promised herself long ago, she would not give up her maidenhood until she was wed.. And especially not to simply become another woman the Greek prince used for his own release and then forgot about.
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Post by Niklaus Constantinides on May 11, 2010 2:09:15 GMT
At her response he shook his head in disagreement, the soft smile on his face slowly creeping into a smug grin. Of course to her it would appear as if she’d done nothing to deserve the gift when in fact she had. She had rendered the prince speechless; something not even his mother was capable of doing and he wanted to reward her for it. Not only that, but he wanted to grasp her undivided attention and in turn, twist the negative opinion she had on him and turn it into a better one. It was unfair on his part that she had drawn her conclusions and refused to give him even the smallest of chances.
“As if one as beautiful as you has to do anything to deserve a gift.” Still unable to read her expression, he decided to take the risk and make a move on his own with or without her permission. The worst thing that could happen was for her to move away from his touch and he could deal with that as long as she didn’t send him away. Hand tracing the top of the piano, he moved around it until he was behind her, his hands carefully moving over her shoulders. He gently took the fine necklace from the box by each ends and carefully brought it forward, letting the main piece of it which had been the swan drape over her delicate throat. Watching his own hands, he brought the two ends together, clasping the necklace securely in place.
It was a shame there were no mirrors present so that he could get a glimpse of her expression as the necklace fell into place. There was no doubt that the small swan pendant did nothing but amplify Jeanne's beauty but not to the point where it stole the spotlight. Releasing the tiny clasps Niklaus stepped around the stool she was perched on to get a better look of the gift he'd given here. Flashing a brilliant grin, he nodded playfully in approval. "It looks absolutely stunning on you.
[/color]" His heart skipped a beat as his eyes moved from the swan pendant and along her delicate neck. He couldn't help but wonder how sweet her skin tasted and how soft it would feel pressed against his full lips. The thoughts sent him into a bit of a daze. Now that he had put the necklace on he had the sudden urge to tear it from her along with her clothes. He wanted her right there and then. If only she would just give in... " Hmm?[/color]" he said absently to her question but quickly recovered as he realized what she had asked after coming to his senses. Clearing his throat his eyes drifted downward awkwardly then look back up at her face again. What was it that he wanted from her? He couldn't exactly say. Other than the fact that he wanted her straddled over his lap in his bed, he really couldn't think of anything else. He silently sorted through the various lies in his mind, quickly nitpicking at each of them. He was aware that lying to her could possibly do no good and only ruin his chances of developing any type of relationship with Jeanne but there was nothing better he could think of doing. " Honestly...[/color]" He took a careful step back to return the polite distance between the two of them to keep the French princess from feeling any sort of discomfort. " I simply wish for a chance.[/color]" The smug grin faded, his lips now pressed in a hard line. His expression was now stern; more serious. " A chance to prove to you that I am not what others put me out to be. I want to show you that I am not a philanderer... That I'm more than that.[/color]" [/blockquote][/blockquote] JEANNE | COMPLETE [/b] [/size][/font][/color] |
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Post by Jeanne Bonaparte on May 11, 2010 20:48:22 GMT
how can you jubilate sitting in cages, [/i][/color][/font] ---------------- never taking wing? -------------------------------------- [/color][/font][/center] Jeanne could not help but stiffen slightly as he approached and moved behind her. Her head was turned slightly to watch him, but she remained still to allow him to fasten the necklace about her throat. His fingertips brushed her skin and she fought back a shudder. What new devilry was this? Once he had clasped the gold chain, she looked down to survey it. The pendant rested on her creamy skin, just above the top of her cleavage and she couldn't deny it did look nice where it lay.
He moved back away to where he had been, and she watched him. Her expression was one of soft confusion, even as he gave her his reasons. How could he want to show her he was not something which he clearly was? It perplexed her greatly. Why would he not simply admit what he was?
"But why are you so keen to prove yourself to me? Surely your affections would be better spent on a girl who will fall at your feet with minimal effort?" she said, but her voice was no longer cold. It was genuine, honest.. She wanted to know why he seemed so determined to make her think better of him. Surely the Greek prince didnt care about the opinions of others?
Jeanne wasn't sure why, but she stood and stepped towards him. She could smell the sweet cologne he wore, this time untainted with the stench of a woman's perfume. She admired the soft golden tone of his naturally tan skin, the masculine shape of his jawline, his full lips, his intense eyes... It was then that she realised she'd allowed her eyes to wander his face a little too long, been stood in silence for a little too long.. Not an excessive amount of time, but time enough.. She felt the blush rise to her cheeks, coloring her porcelain skin a rosy pink and looked down awkwardly.
"I.. I should go, Your Highness.." she said quietly, rushing a polite curtsey, and brushing lightly past him, making her way to the door. What was she doing? She scolded herself silently. Surely the Prince was not getting into her head already? She dreaded to think of his own thoughts on her behaviour, and his possible smugness made the blush rise to her cheeks more as she hurried to exit the music room as elegantly as she could.
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Post by Niklaus Constantinides on May 11, 2010 22:26:41 GMT
Questions; she was asking too many of them. Why couldn’t she simply accept the offer he had thrown out onto the table for her? Was it too much of a risk for her to give him just that simple chance he was asking of her? Her inquiries only sent more swirling about NIklaus’s head making him dizzy. The French it seemed were far too stubborn for their own good. At least Jeanne was.
“Because you’re different.” he explained simply, a hint of annoyance laced in his tone. He took notice to the way her own voice softened, no longer tinged with animosity. As if she had reason to have anything against him in the first place. He had done nothing to her. Not anything negatively for that matter, nor did he plan to. Yes, his intentions may not have been the best but now his main focus was to get her to just talk to him; get to know him and make her own opinions rather than basing them on what the other, mindless royalties said even if the stories they told were true.
Typically, the Greek prince cared little to nothing of what his peers thought of him. He saw it as jealousy seeing that most of those that were spreading the gossip were other princes his age. He couldn’t blame them though. If he’d been in their position, he would have done the same. Thankfully he wasn’t though. He’d been blessed.
There was no answer to her second question though. Well there was, he just did not wish to share it with her for fear he'd get a slap to the face or worse if it were at all possible. Not wanting to bother with it, the inquiry was merely shrugged off and ignored. To appear distracted he glanced at the necklace and smiled softly to himself. He'd been meaning to keep the trinket for someone who he saw fit to marry but giving it to Jeanne felt more appropriate and it was evident now that it was a good decision.
Unexpectedly she stood from her perch and moved towards him freezing him in place. His breathe caught in his throat as his eyes locked themselves on her face. She was just inches from him yet Niklaus kept his hands to himself. Once again he was rendered speechless and the silence between them was somewhat unnerving. Was she waiting for the prince to make a move or was she silently debating on doing it herself? Curiously and silently Nik watched and waited for her to make a move or speak. To his dismay she spoke, suggesting that it would be best she left. There was no time to disagree nor think. Instead he reacted instinctively and swiftly reached out, his digits wrapping around the first thing it caught which was thankfully her wrist. Without a word he pulled her back but without much effort. He was careful not to be too rough with her seeing how petite and seemingly fragile she was.
"Wait.
[/color]" he breathed moving her around gently to face him, his free hand now placed on the small of her back while the other remained clasped around her wrist. He looked over Jeanne's face apologetically and frowned. " Are you not going to give me a chance? If not, say so now. Please don't leave me in the dark. " Niklaus released her wrist and gently stroked the back of his fingers down her cheek. " A simple yes or no is all that I ask. If it is no then I shall leave you be.[/color]" Tthe same feeling that had caused his heart to skip a beat before as he waited for his servant in his room returned but this time it had hit him much harder. Silently he prayed her answer would be yes; that she would allow him to spend more time around her so that she could see he was not at all what she thought him to be. If her answer was no, Nik was unsure what he would do. Yes, he would do as she asked and leave the princess alone but he would unadmittedly be heartbroken. [/blockquote][/blockquote] JEANNE | COMPLETE [/b][/size][/font][/color] |
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Post by Jeanne Bonaparte on May 16, 2010 17:24:35 GMT
how can you jubilate sitting in cages, [/i][/color][/font] ---------------- never taking wing? -------------------------------------- [/color][/font][/center] Jeanne was unsure whether she had expected him to simply let her walk away, or whether she had known he would stop her. Either way, as she felt his fingers clasp around her wrist and tug her back towards him, she could only gasp lightly at his forwardness. He moved her around to face him, his other hand moving to rest at the small of her back, and even through the numerous layers of clothing -- corset, corset cover, shift -- she could feel the light warmth of his hand. She was close to him, the front of her corset pressed lightly against his chest, and it was quite unnerving for the young French Princess. Yes, she had been close to men before, numerous times whilst dancing.. but this was decidedly different.
He asked for a chance, and she remained silent as her breath finally released itself from where it had hitched in the back of her throat. Her icy-blue eyes, widened only the slightest bit, were fixed on his, her chin tilted upward to catch his gaze. He was far taller than she, and Jeanne seemed so petite next to him. Her breathing was shallow, her respiration slightly quicker than it would be, and matter how she tried to calm herself, the manner in which her heart fluttered in her chest would not cease. This was different, it was deep, it was dangerous..
He released her wrist now, and the back of his fingers were brought over her cheek. Her eyes slipped closed for a short moment, and she inhaled deeply.. not quite a gasp, but shuddered intake of breath. He asked her for an answer and for a short few seconds she could give him no response, could not even open her eyes as she replayed the touch in her mind. What was this new devilry?
"Monsieur, please," she finally breathed, eyes fluttering open to capture his gaze again, and now, despite their icy-blue color, they seemed less cold, softer, sweeter. "I have to go..." She added. She had no idea why she hadn't sent him on his way coldly, nastily.. nor why deep down she wanted to give him a chance.. But she couldn't give in, not this easily. She would not be another notch on his bedpost, another name he would forget when the next pretty girl came along and allowed him to lift her petticoats.
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Post by Niklaus Constantinides on May 16, 2010 20:27:34 GMT
Niklaus could feel the ends of the thick cord which held the corset tightly to Jeanne’s body brushing against the back of his hand and knuckles, tickling it softly. He was almost tempted to reach up and tug at the twine until her corset came undone but even he knew It would be inappropriate especially since they were standing in the middle of the music room. Not only would his reputation be tarnished beyond repair but so would Jeanne’s. It was certain that if that were to happen, there would be no way to gain her forgiveness. As hard as it was, he fought against the temptation and kept his hand where it was, his digits pressed against the fabric of the bodice hard to keep his hand in place. It was much difficult than expected though. Through the layers of fabric, he could feel the heat radiating from her body. Oh how he wanted to tear the cotton from her and trail his feather soft touches over her warm skin.
His breathe caught in his throat, the idea now clouding his mind causing him to lose focus slightly. The hand that trailed over her delicate face moved down the side of her throat and onto her shoulder where he stopped for a moment. His blue eyes narrowed moving from her face down to where his hand now rested. He eyed the small piece of fabric that was draped just below her shoulder and began going with it, tracing his fingers over the soft material before tugging it downward softly. This was almost too much to bare for the Greek prince. No matter where his hands rested, he could feel Jeanne’s warmth only making her more enticing.
Again, his eyes traced her petite figure, moving along her exposed shoulders back up to her face where they locked with the soft, blue eyes that gazed back at him. Beneath his chest, his heart fluttered beating slowly only to pick up pace before it slowed once more. He let out a shaky breathe as he gently pulled her closer to him, her chest pressing against his own. He was careful not to hold her too tightly. If he had a choice in the matter he would have kept them as they were, never letting the French princess go. He knew eventually he would have to though and the thought saddened him.
She spoke softly, almost in a whisper. Niklaus looked at the princess intently awaiting for the answer he sought. Silently, he prayed for the best; prayed that the wall she had built all around her would crumble down and she’d fall at his feet. Lips pressed tightly together in a hard line, he looked on, his eyes never leaving hers. She finally continued, again suggesting that she needed to depart. He could feel his temper raising slightly but was too distracted by the lack of space between them; distracted by the inviting warmth her petite body gave off. The anger was easily shoved aside, his instincts kicking in instead.
Without a word he leant forward first brushing his full lips against the top of her left shoulder and making his way up towards her face, placing soft butterfly kisses near the hollow of her neck then against her cheek. He then moved so that his lips barely brushed against her own. His eyes began half lidded, his breathe picking up softly. “Why…” he whispered bringing the hand that had been resting on her shoulder up to rest against her cheek. “Please…
[/color]” he breathed, allowing his lips to flutter gently against her own. “ Give me the answer I seek.[/color]” The tip of his nose lightly nudged hers as he took a moment to look into her eyes before his own became half lidded once more. “ I promise you that I won’t be a disappointment; that you will not regret your decision if it is to give me all but one chance.[/color]” Slowly his hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, his digits combing through her hair tenderly. “ I’m begging you.[/color]” [/blockquote][/blockquote] JEANNE | COMPLETE [/b][/size][/font][/color] |
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Post by Jeanne Bonaparte on May 18, 2010 15:07:06 GMT
   how can you jubilate sitting in cages,[/i][/color][/font] ---------------- never taking wing? -------------------------------------- [/color][/font][/center] There was no chill in the air of the music room. The sun's rays had filtered through the large window throughout the morning and afternoon, and had warmed it to a pleasant temperature.. but that did not mean Jeanne would not blame a cool surrounding for the gooseflesh that appeared where Niklaus' skin came into contact with her own. His fingertips trailled down her neck, grazing her throat and then over her exposed shoulders. She could not fight the way her eyes became half-lidded, lips parted softly as his touch travelled over her flesh.
As he leant in, her breath caught in her throat, a tiny gasping sound escaping those full lips, now parted a little wider. Not so much that her mouth was hanging agape, but enough for the soft sound to escape into the air around them and to travel to her ears and, presumably, his. His own lips placed the lightest of kisses where his fingertips had left scarce moments ago.. her shoulder, her swan-like neck, her jawline and finally her cheek. Pleading whispers left his lips before they regained their former purposes, brushing against her own mouth in a way that was both delicious and testing. A promise fell from his lips as his hand moved to tangle itself in her mass of luscious yellow curls, and then words that both shocked her and enamoured her. "I'm begging you."
Was the great Greek Casanova truly begging Jeanne to give him a chance to prove himself? Surely it was a rare occurance for him to plead, and only then excercised in a masculine way to charm whichever girl he desired to bend forward and lift her petticoats.. lie down and spread her creamy thighs.. And through her mind, she watched images of herself and Nik as he laid her down upon a large bed, showering her exposed flesh with kisses as his hands roamed places where none save her own had ever touched.. her thighs, her hips, her behind, and deeper still, her very core..
With a soft clearing of her throat, she rid her mind of the thoughts. So impure, so improper, and the blush that rose to her cheeks was unmistakable. She knew it, and so would he. Surely he was Anchises and she was Aphrodite from the way she had imagined their bodies entwining, defenceless and silent.. But she could not allow it to happen, she would not. She had come to Russia to sample it's culture, to savour the experiences it had to offer.. not to turn herself in a whore. So many of the beautiful women around her had so few morals despite their titles and wealth, and Jeanne felt very much like a dying breed. Her chastity and honour was something she prided herself on, and carefully excecuted touches and kisses would not bring her walls tumbling down around her. They would, and were beginning to, crack the mortar, but the foundations were strong, a mix of pure lineage and sense of duty, not only moral but political.
"Please, let me go," she whispered, her voice breathless as the silken words dripped like honey, rich with her delicious French accent. "Your honour may be tainted, but I beg of you, do not tarnish mine." She pulled away now, pushing against the hand that rested at the base of her back, and trying to tilt her head free of the fingers that were lost in her ringlets. Her own free hand came to rest against his chest, using it as gentle leverage to force herself back, away from him. "I shall give you one chance to prove yourself, Your Highness, but I can assure you your place will not be between my loins, just as mine will not be in your bed. I shall never be another of your conquests." Her icy-blue eyes fixed his, and though they were not harsh, they were not soft either. "Do you understand?"
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