pressing purpose of her visit.
“Madame La Marquise,” Honey began with her trademark smile, “forgive me for leading you on. I am not here to write about your
superb winery—although someday soon I would love to do just that. What brought me here was something most urgent, and I would
be extremely grateful for any help you might be able to give.”
A look of concern spread over the regal visage of the older woman. “I am at your service,” she intoned. “Pray, do tell me
how I might help.”
Honey took a deep breath and plunged in. “I have recently come from Bon Coeur in Klosters. I understand you are acquainted
with the recipient of last year’s school poetry prize, Kolina Svensen.”
“Oh, my, yes,” the Marquise replied with a broad smile. “Lovely child, and quite talented. She was our guest here at the chateau
on several occasions.”
“When was the last time you saw Kolina?”
“My, let me recall… I believe it was over the Christmas holidays. Yes, I’m sure of it now. The Baron de Rothschild was also
a guest for New Year’s, and he was quite taken with her. Kolina is a true delight. Everyone who meets her is enchanted at
once.”
Thoughtfully, Honey studied the beautiful, unlined face before her. “Have you been in touch with her since then?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Because she has been missing for over a month.”
A bejewelled hand flew to the Marquise’s face like a dove. “Oh, no! How tragic. How unfortunate. Do tell me the circumstances.”
The Marquise’s alarm was so genuine that Honey knew at once she was not fabricating her reaction, and Honey rapidly filled
her in on the scant details of Kolina’s disappearance. She downplayed her own fears about the girl’s being in serious danger,
but hinted that she suspected foul play. Upon the conclusion of the brief summary of events, the Marquise’s intense blue eyes
filled with tears and she was speechless for several moments. Finally she rose, gathering her long skirts in one hand to leave.
“You must excuse me, Honey, this news has upset me greatly. Please, I insist you be our guest for the evening. The maid will
show you to a room. Dinner will be promptly at eight. My son, Yves, will be back from Marseilles by then, and we can enlist
his aid in finding the poor child. Until then, my dear.” She swept out of the room, wiping her eyes.
The guest room to which Honey was led by the docile-eyed maid was on the second floor of one of the round turrets. The gilded
woodwork glowed in the sunlight from casement windows that overlooked the sweeping drive and the sea of vines beyond. A huge
canopy bed stood in the exact center of the round room, surrounded by sheer curtains of peach-colored silk. Her suitcases
had already been fetched from her car and unpacked; her clothes were hung in the walk-in closet and folded neatly in the drawers
of the large rosewood armoire. Looking forward to meeting the Marquise’s son, Honey took a leisurely bath in a large, claw-footed
tub in the adjoining bathroom. The fixtures were of solid gold, and the array of oils and bath salts on the dressing table
offered a wide variety of delectable aromas. Upon rising from the mountains of rose-scented bubbles, Honey was pleasantly
intrigued to seethe young maid enter to dry her off with a luxuriously large bath sheet.
Not used to such amenities, but definitely enjoying the experience, Honey stood watching the young woman, who ever so gently
rubbed her dry. As if polishing a marble statue, the maid caressed Honey’s bounteous curves, paying special attention to her
large, full breasts. Honey could not help herself; the soft touch on her alabaster skin, conmbined with the serious, intent
gaze of the pretty young maid, stimulated Honey’s nipples and they jutted up, hardening to an obvious state of arousal. As
if used to such occurrences, the maid stoically continued her duties and knelt to deal with the
“Madame La Marquise,” Honey began with her trademark smile, “forgive me for leading you on. I am not here to write about your
superb winery—although someday soon I would love to do just that. What brought me here was something most urgent, and I would
be extremely grateful for any help you might be able to give.”
A look of concern spread over the regal visage of the older woman. “I am at your service,” she intoned. “Pray, do tell me
how I might help.”
Honey took a deep breath and plunged in. “I have recently come from Bon Coeur in Klosters. I understand you are acquainted
with the recipient of last year’s school poetry prize, Kolina Svensen.”
“Oh, my, yes,” the Marquise replied with a broad smile. “Lovely child, and quite talented. She was our guest here at the chateau
on several occasions.”
“When was the last time you saw Kolina?”
“My, let me recall… I believe it was over the Christmas holidays. Yes, I’m sure of it now. The Baron de Rothschild was also
a guest for New Year’s, and he was quite taken with her. Kolina is a true delight. Everyone who meets her is enchanted at
once.”
Thoughtfully, Honey studied the beautiful, unlined face before her. “Have you been in touch with her since then?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Because she has been missing for over a month.”
A bejewelled hand flew to the Marquise’s face like a dove. “Oh, no! How tragic. How unfortunate. Do tell me the circumstances.”
The Marquise’s alarm was so genuine that Honey knew at once she was not fabricating her reaction, and Honey rapidly filled
her in on the scant details of Kolina’s disappearance. She downplayed her own fears about the girl’s being in serious danger,
but hinted that she suspected foul play. Upon the conclusion of the brief summary of events, the Marquise’s intense blue eyes
filled with tears and she was speechless for several moments. Finally she rose, gathering her long skirts in one hand to leave.
“You must excuse me, Honey, this news has upset me greatly. Please, I insist you be our guest for the evening. The maid will
show you to a room. Dinner will be promptly at eight. My son, Yves, will be back from Marseilles by then, and we can enlist
his aid in finding the poor child. Until then, my dear.” She swept out of the room, wiping her eyes.
The guest room to which Honey was led by the docile-eyed maid was on the second floor of one of the round turrets. The gilded
woodwork glowed in the sunlight from casement windows that overlooked the sweeping drive and the sea of vines beyond. A huge
canopy bed stood in the exact center of the round room, surrounded by sheer curtains of peach-colored silk. Her suitcases
had already been fetched from her car and unpacked; her clothes were hung in the walk-in closet and folded neatly in the drawers
of the large rosewood armoire. Looking forward to meeting the Marquise’s son, Honey took a leisurely bath in a large, claw-footed
tub in the adjoining bathroom. The fixtures were of solid gold, and the array of oils and bath salts on the dressing table
offered a wide variety of delectable aromas. Upon rising from the mountains of rose-scented bubbles, Honey was pleasantly
intrigued to seethe young maid enter to dry her off with a luxuriously large bath sheet.
Not used to such amenities, but definitely enjoying the experience, Honey stood watching the young woman, who ever so gently
rubbed her dry. As if polishing a marble statue, the maid caressed Honey’s bounteous curves, paying special attention to her
large, full breasts. Honey could not help herself; the soft touch on her alabaster skin, conmbined with the serious, intent
gaze of the pretty young maid, stimulated Honey’s nipples and they jutted up, hardening to an obvious state of arousal. As
if used to such occurrences, the maid stoically continued her duties and knelt to deal with the
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