The Rose of Provence by Susanna Lehner Page B

passion
requiring souls and bodies, forced into marriages of
convenience.
    Her heart was heavy, since she left the castle in Arles,
surrounded by great lands. In her recurring dreams, she was still
cradled by the endless, purple lavender fields, and the bright,
colorful rose arbors, put her into slumber. At this time, she felt
in her nose the fragrance of thyme, nestling in the lawn, the honey
flavor of golden grapes on her tongue and in her soul, the same
caressing sunlight glittered, the beams of which were playing on
the azure frills of the sea at home. Sometimes when she was awake,
she daydreamed about walking among the snow-white and cyclamen
oleanders in a solitary bay, especially, when the atmosphere of the
royal court strangled her too much.
    Now, spiritually, she escaped again to the seashore from the
inebriated company, so she did not realize that she was not walking
down the corridor where her room was waiting for her. She turned
the corner and opened the third door. She was paralyzed at the
sight in front of her, and from the imaginary heaven, she quickly
fell down on the filthy ground.

Chapter 2
    Bloody Brocade
    Louvre, Paris – 31 March 1543

    A young woman was lying unconsciously on the sofa sitting
under the huge canvas portraying Louis XII. Her dark brown, wavy
curls spread on the drapery decorated with blue and golden stripes;
blood was leaking from her neck. The crimson moisture, like a
narrow brook, poured along her snow-white neck, then down her
shoulders, and finally, gathered in a palm-size patch on the
expensive fabric of the sofa.
    A man leant over the unconscious body, and to the noise of
steps he turned towards Amrita. His domed cheekbone, strong angular
jaw, and Grecian nose would have made his face statue-like, but his
blue eyes flashing under the dark eyebrows were very much alive.
Scarlet red blood leaked on his chin from his pointed canine teeth,
appearing among his nicely curved lips, and as he caught sight of
the newcomer, strange desire flashed in his eyes. He stood up, not
caring about the unconscious woman lying on the sofa anymore; he
focused all his attention on Amrita. His tall, erect figure,
towered above the girl, and his partly unbuttoned shirt showed his
domed, tanned chest. With his long fingers, he pulled out a white
kerchief from the pocket of his overcoat and wiped the blood off
his mouth. His glance eagerly ran along the red-haired beauty, and
then with a sudden motion, he reached for her, grabbed her arm and
pulled her close to himself. The girl didn’t even have time to
shriek before the man’s lips stuck to hers. However, as she felt
the metallic flavor of blood in her mouth, she gathered all her
strength and tore herself out of his embrace.
    “ Oh my God, Morgan! How dare you kiss me with blood on you!”
She grimaced.
    “ Oh, I’m sorry, I got carried away again! But you know what
kind of effect you have on me… Anyway, you don’t have to call me
God; I know that you’re hooked on me,” said the man, and his smile
softened his attractive but cool features.
    There was no sign of the needle-sharp eye-teeth in his
perfect denture.
    “ Don’t be so self-conceited, you haven't kissed me for years,”
Amrita stepped back. “You didn’t kill her, did you?”
    “ No way! I promised you not to do such things. She just
fainted a bit… These noble ladies are so bloodless nowadays,” he
hummed in his deep voice, and sank his look into the
girls.
    “ Don’t try your charm on me,” Amrita turned her head
away.
    “ I don’t have to try, it’s already worked.”
    “ Oh, really?” The girl raised her eyebrow. “We both know how
long you’ve been chasing me futilely.”
    “ Chasing you? Tut, tut, what a dirty word!” Morgan bantered.
“I’d rather call it a courtship, the expression of my eternal
homage. I haven’t told you yet, but recently, I’ve obtained the
name de la Roux as the sign of my admiration towards your wonderful
hair. And I wouldn’t say