My Sweet Marquis

By Jayele Page

At her first masque ball, Catherine Dubois encounters a dark stranger whose touch sets her heart pounding and her skin ablaze. She returns home to the family plantation outside of New Orleans, her time in France a cherished memory, but she never forgets the man who gave her, her first taste of passion.

With the world changing around him, there is little Adrien de Poix, Marquis of Villmort can do. When the revolution sweeps through France, he escapes to the new world. He has no idea fate has brought him once again into contact with the petite fairy of a masquerade ball years ago. Will he be able to accept the gift that destiny has given him or will guilt keep him from his heart's desire?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deslisle Publications
• Release date: Jun 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781775349174

Jayele Page

Jayele has been writing since she was in middle school, having a captive audience of her schoolmates and teachers. Now, she hopes to bring those stories to a new group of readers. Jayele lives in rural Alberta.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Paris, France, 1788

Catherine was hot, miserable, and desperate enough to perform an unseemly act. Fanning alone offered no relief, so she pulled her bodice away and blew directly down her gown. She removed her mask and allowed the rain-scented breeze to cool her overheated face. She liked the way the mask disguised her identity. Not that she was daring or willing to do anything that would bring shame to her family, but it was fun to pretend to be someone else, if even for a short time. After all, she was only eighteen and had a lifetime ahead of her. Still, the sense of freedom provided by the mask allowed her to entertain all sorts of wicked thoughts.

Knowing she’d been away from the party long enough, she reluctantly replaced her mask and tied the velvet ribbons in place. She courted ruin by remaining outside any longer. It would not do to be found in a compromising position, no matter how innocent the circumstances.

As she turned from the terrace wall, she ran directly into a hard chest, a very broad, hard chest covered by formal eveningwear. Strong hands grasped her upper arms, steadying her and preventing her fall. Shock coursed through her body at the contact. She tipped her head back and met the dark gaze of the man holding her in his secure yet gentle grasp.

"Pardon me, monsieur," Catherine said, moving to step out of his hold only to come up against the cement wall. She looked into a face, partially covered by a demi-mask of black velvet. What little she could make of his features played hide and seek in the shadows cast by the flicking candlelight from the numerous candles in the ballroom.

"It is I who owe you an apology, mademoiselle. I should have made my presence known when you stepped outside."

Catherine closed her eyes as mortification washed over her in waves. Judging from his comment, he had seen her hoydenish behavior. Her papa scolded her frequently on her ability to find trouble.

"Fear not, ma petite fairy. I will not tell your secret."

Catherine forced herself to meet the stranger’s gaze and became instantly transfixed. A small grin played across his lips. Although she could not discern the color of his eyes in the shadows, she felt the intensity of his stare. "I thank you, monsieur."

Ah, so very formal and polite. Tell me, fairy, are you enjoying this evening?

His voice was deep and dark—decadent. The man in the shadow mesmerized her. In spite of, or maybe because of the risk of being caught with this man, she found herself wanting to answer his question and ask a few of her own.

"Yes, I am, a great deal. This is my first masque. Are you enjoying yourself, monsieur?"

"I am now. It took the arrival of an enchanting fairy to end my boredom. Tell me, are you a moon fairy or a flower fairy? What magic do you wield, ma petite?"

Magic? She was not the one wielding magic. No, if anyone was responsible for the enchantment that seemed to hover between them, it was he.

Who are you? Catherine immediately clapped her hand over her mouth. How rude. Proper ladies did not ask such things. They also did not escape ballrooms to blow down their bodices. Wonderful. Her mystery man likely thought her not only a hoyden but an ill-mannered one at that. "I’m sorry, monsieur. It was wrong of me to ask."

Catherine started to move around him when he gently ran the back of his fingers down her cheek. She stopped, inhaling a breath as the sensation of fire followed the path of his fingers.

"I am Adrien de Poix, Marquis of Villemont. And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

Good heavens, he was a lord and not just any lord, but the lord of Villemont. She had heard of this man and of his exploits or rather conquests. As a titled member of the aristocracy, many a matchmaking mama sought him for their daughters. He was completely out of reach to her, a daughter of a third son. More to the point, she lived in another place an ocean away. Still she could dream and now she could put a voice to her desire. A pleasure my lord, I am Catherine Dubois. When she moved to drop into a curtsy, he touched her shoulder, stopping her.

No curtsies, fairy. Formalities do not belong between us. Right now, I am not a lord. Tonight I am a man, and you are a beautiful young woman.

My lord—

"Please, ma petite. I would wish a moment free from the duties of my rank. I wish only to be Adrien with you. A stolen moment where I can be myself."

"V-very well, monsieur."

You are new to Paris, are you not? Adrien asked. I don’t remember seeing you before.

I am visiting my aunt and uncle, your hosts this evening. I live in the southern colonies in a place made of up of bayous, mists, and magic—Louisiana. It’s a wonderful place very different from here. She noticed her new companion seemed less inclined to speak, and this made her feel compelled to fill the silence. We will be leaving for Versailles in a day. This will be my first time at the royal residence. Will you travel there as well? I understand that most of society makes their way in that direction each summer.

Yes, I must make an appearance before I head home to Villemont.

I look forward to returning home myself, Catherine said. I find that I am quite homesick. It has been a long while since I’ve seen my family. I will be sailing within a fortnight.

Realizing she rambled on and on like a veritable goose, Catherine bit her tongue. After all, her cousin, Isabel had spoken at great length about the Marquis. He was used to refined ladies who knew how to flirt and be coy. Although

Catherine had many talents, those were skills she did not possess.

The moon escaped from behind the clouds while thunder rumbled in the distance. The light illuminated a handsome face comprised of angles and shadows. Without thought, she raised her gloved hand to trace the line of his lower lip when propriety reasserted itself and stilled the movement of her hand. She went to pull back, but Adrien arrested the action.

You wear your innocence like a cloak, yet I find I can’t walk away from you. You have bewitched me. I know your name, but I don’t know what you look like.

He traced the flesh of her cheek below her mask. Suddenly she wanted to remove the only barrier that protected her identity. She did not know Adrien de Poix; however, she wanted to be audacious. She wanted him to know her without any barriers. As she tucked this memory away like a treasure, she hoped he would remember this particular moment in the years to come.

Amazed at her own daring, she reached up and untied the velvet ribbon holding her mask in place. Gradually, she lowered her hands, never taking her eyes off Adrien. After she placed her mask on the railing of the balcony, she stood on tip-toe and reached up and untied the ribbon holding his mask in place. Slowly, his features were revealed, and the stunningly handsome face that looked down at her caused her heart to beat a little faster.

In a trance, she raised her hand and ran her fingers through his unbound hair. Adrien did not wear the powdered wigs so popular with the upper class. His dark hair was long, brushing his shoulders and as smooth as silk to the touch. Catherine understood why he was so popular with the ladies. He was as beautiful as a fallen angel.

She was unprepared when a small dimple showed itself in his left cheek as he smiled, transforming his face from beautiful to almost boyish. The dent in his cheek also made him seem a little more within reach. Catherine felt her own lips curve in an answering grin.

Catherine started when Adrien pulled her close to his body. She knew she needed to put a stop to this interlude before she disgraced herself by throwing caution to the wind and begging him to teach her the sensual ways between a man and a woman that would make them lovers. We need to stop, my lord. This is most improper. I am not what you think I am.

And what is that, fairy? I know that you are an innocent. I know that our attraction is new for you. I confess it’s new for me as well. I never allow myself to dally with someone such as you, a petite kitten just learning her way. I am a panther well versed in the games played by men and women.

The heat of his body penetrated her gown. She was lucky he was holding her because her bones had turned to liquid. Never before had she been in the arms of a man that was not a relation. Was this what arousal felt like? Was it the beginning of attraction, the sensation for which a person would risk all? The feeling was overwhelming and addictive, for she had no desire to leave his embrace.

Her internal musing ceased when one of his hands wrapped around her waist. The other hand caressed her neck. She all but purred at the sensation. His touch sent flames licking over her sensitive nerve endings. Catherine inhaled, smelling the rain and the musky, yet spicy, scent of the man who held her so tenderly. Everything else blurred in the background. The only thing that mattered was Adrien.

"Dance with me, ma petite."

Faintly Catherine was able to make out the sound of a waltz that had begun to play.

The waltz, she had learned, was highly popular with the French. The dance was a very intimate, sensual experience. This particular dance had not made its way to Louisiana, but when it did, she was certain it would become highly popular.

I would love to, Catherine whispered as Adrien took her one hand in his. Expecting him to lead her into the ballroom, she was surprised when he swept her into the dance there on the terrace.

I want our first waltz to be ours alone. I don’t want reality to intrude on what we are sharing.

Adrien whirled her around the terrace, expertly guiding them through the turns. Catherine fancied she was floating on air. She was able to believe they had stepped into their own magical world. Never before had she experienced such a sensual encounter. Catherine realized the waltz, as well as her time with Adrien, was coming to an end. She was surprised when he spoke her thoughts aloud.

I’m not ready to let go of you, fairy. You have bewitched me. Will you honor me with a kiss before we leave our fairy bower?

A kiss. He wanted to kiss her. Should she say yes? No. She should say no. It was an improper request. If anyone else chose that moment to get some air, she would be ruined. Catherine would do anything to prevent shame being brought to her beloved aunt and uncle. She had already risked too much, but could not bring herself to end this wonderful moment with this handsome man.

You are thinking too hard, Catherine. I promise I will steal nothing more from you this night.

You can’t steal what is freely given, my lord. Was that her voice? She had no idea where her boldness had come from. She would never dream of being so daring. Perhaps there was magic afoot this night.

She heard him groan low in his throat as he, at the same time, pulled her close and touched his mouth to hers. Her first kiss. It was like nothing she had ever imagined. The experience was better. And different. There was no comparison to her childish fantasies.

Adrien’s lips were soft and so very warm. He gently brushed them back and forth before the tip of his tongue followed the same path. This action startled her, causing her to open her mouth under his. The velvet feel of his tongue rubbing languidly against hers caused her to melt into his arms.

Kiss me back, fairy. His fingers rubbed her lower spine, pulling her closer.

Hesitantly she tangled her tongue with his, mimicking his actions. The velvety warmth of his mouth was indescribable. His taste caused her to moan. She had no idea how many senses were involved in a kiss. Taste, touch, and scent. A kiss was so much more than two mouths touching.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he lifted her so she lay flush against his hard body. The muscled length of him pressed against her belly. She had a brother back home and had eavesdropped on him and his friends, so she was not totally unfamiliar with a male’s anatomy.

Catherine tried to get closer to him. When he changed the angle of his head the action changed the pace of the kiss. Suddenly it was deeper, wetter, and more consuming. Her tummy felt like it was going to float away, like when she raced Zinfandel, her horse back home. Her heart floated and tingles splintered from the tip of her head down to the soles of her feet.

She moaned when his lips left hers. Instead of pulling away from her, he trailed nibbling kisses along her jaw-line and down the curve of her neck. Occasionally, he’d stop to a pay close attention to a particular area before returning, once again, to her mouth. The action made her shiver in his arms.

His moan resonated through her at the same time she sighed at the contact. The sudden ache at the apex of her thighs and dampness between her legs surprised her. There were so many new sensations they overwhelmed her.

Eventually, he set her away from him, and she tried to gather her wits. What he must think of her reacting the way she had? She did not even know him. At this point, what he thought did not matter, for she would never again find herself in his arms after they left the balcony. However, she needed him to remember her in a good light. She wanted to be a warm and pleasant memory. Was she being selfish? After all, if he married, his wife would not appreciate him remembering a kiss once shared in the moonlight with another woman. Catherine would not want to have to compete with a memory.

All reason has fled when it comes to you, fairy. I could kiss you forever, Adrien whispered.

Catherine noticed his shaking voice. Could it mean he was affected by the kiss?

"Monsieur—"

Please, say my name.

Adrien, I don’t know what to say. I’ve never kissed a man before you. Is it always like that between two people?

No. A kiss has never touched me like this before. In many ways, this is a first kiss for me as well.

Catherine smiled at his words. To think she had been

able to touch this man in a way that no one ever had. It was exciting, but the time had come to say farewell.

She traced his lips with her finger. Thank you for a beautiful first kiss, Adrien. I will remember it always.

With reluctance, she moved out of his arms and on shaky legs made her way to the balcony doors. With one final look over her shoulder, she entered the ballroom in search of her aunt. She was no longer in the mood for the party. Catherine needed the peace and quiet of her chamber in order to make sense of what had just happened. Was it possible to fall in love at first sight? Did it matter if one could fall in love with little more than the exchange of names and a kiss? She needed to return to her home in Louisiana. Because Adrien had a title, his life was here, but hers was an ocean away. Leave it to her to meet the man of her dreams and experience heartbreak all in one evening.

ADRIEN WATCHED CATHERINE until she disappeared from view. It took every ounce of his self-control not to barge into the ballroom and sweep her back into his arms. He was smitten with an innocent. If his friends could see him now, they would laugh their arses off.

Normally, Adrien went out of his way to avoid all young women who did not know the rules of a dalliance. Until recently he had reveled in his reputation, but lately his assignations left him unsatisfied. All the trappings of society had grown tiresome. Since his father’s death five years earlier, the pressure of his responsibility to his title was a mantle he wished he could shed. But for what? Until tonight he did not have an answer to that question. Now he did. Catherine.

He was familiar with her home. He’d visited Louisiana several years ago and found the place to be charming. The land had called to him so he’d purchased a large plantation and set about starting his own vineyard. Briefly, he wondered how close his Louisiana home was to Catherine’s family’s.

Adrien knew that it was imperative he return to the ballroom. He needed to see her, to test his reaction to his mysterious fairy. He was convinced that his first response was an aberration, certain that he would be able to look upon her and feel none of the stirring emotions that currently raced through his body. Fire for his tempting fairy coursed through his veins after sharing a few kisses.

Ready to test his resolve, Adrien made his way through the same doors Catherine had entered only minutes earlier. He had taken only two steps when his eyes were drawn to a corner of the over-crowded ballroom. Among the primped and perfumed members of the aristocracy stood Catherine. Their eyes met, and from across hundreds of heads, they communicated everything with a simple look. Catherine blew him a kiss before she gracefully picked up her skirt and made her way out of the ballroom without looking back.

Adrien’s fairy had unwittingly brought clarity to his life. As ridiculous as it sounded, the celebrated rake of Paris had lost his heart. The elusive emotion could probably be called love if they were given a chance to know each other. As it was she lived far from the gilded salons of Parisian society, and he had a feeling that life, as he knew it, would not be terribly comfortable in the future. Fate had a twisted sense of timing.

Chapter 2

Louisiana, May 1793

Catherine raced Zinfandel past the bloom laden myrtle trees lining the drive to the plantation. She did not demonstrate the caution she ordinarily employed when she rode around the grounds of her home, but instead she gave Zinfandel her head. Once they reached the road, she turned left toward the pond on the far corner of the property. She tried to outrun her destiny, although she knew it was a fruitless endeavor.

That morning over breakfast she learned she was to marry a man from a neighboring plantation, a man she had little in common with and disliked with a passion. And speaking of passion, that was one thing she knew would be missing entirely from her future marriage. She would be the dutiful daughter, but there were limits to what her parents or her husband could demand of her. Catherine knew that heirs would be expected, but that did not mean she had to enjoy the process.

Whenever she imagined what her life would be like as a married woman, she always, always pictured a handsome man as her husband, a man who made her laugh and fired her ardor. Those were not emotions or feelings Robert inspired. Not even close.

Although her father had not come out and named Robert as her future husband, Catherine was hard pressed to imagine anyone else who would please her father so. Her father had always promised she would be able to accept or reject any of the offers that would come her way. Apparently, that was a promise meant to be broken. This unprecedented behavior from her doting father left her feeling betrayed.

What was equally suspicious was his lack of information, such as the future groom’s name. She assumed it to be Robert. It made sense considering he was the only eligible man in the district. The very thought of having to marry him sent chills of revulsion racing down her spine. Robert was not the sort who sparked any kind of deep emotions. Well, that was not entirely correct; he did cause her to feel repulsed, and the thought of having to share a kiss with him made her want to faint dead away to escape the unpleasantness of the act.

Since childhood, Robert had been a fixture in their lives. He was her brother’s friend and that always confused Catherine. His pranks growing up had been mean, and there was always something in his demeanor that gave her the chills. His eyes were empty; she always felt it was as if he wasn’t there. When she dreamed of marrying, it wasn’t to a man like Robert.

Since her first kiss on that dark veranda in Paris, Catherine found herself reluctant to entertain the idea of ever sharing a kiss with anyone except Adrien. This line of thought led her directly to the one thing she did not want to think about: the very real possibility he may be dead as a direct result of the dangerous political climate in France. The vivid stories of the streets running red with the blood of the aristocracy were brought with the fleeing refugees. Nobility was being executed, and the weapon was a new and terrifying creation called the guillotine.

A lucky few had managed to escape the country by finding sanctuary with family or friends before the horror of the revolution had swept them up. No one was safe, not even the monarch. Louis XVI had been executed earlier in the year. His murder had shaken the world. Catherine’s concern for the family she left behind weighed heavily on her heart. Her parents tried to get word of the relatives still in France, but all attempts were met with failure.

Never far from her thoughts was Adrien de Poix, Marquis of Villemont. He was the man who introduced her to the wonders of a passionate kiss and awoke her dreams of desire and passion between a man and woman. Her overactive and romantic imagination had created various scenarios where her dashing Marquis came and whisked her away, taking her to magical places where nothing bad happened and where they would live happily ever after.

In a small corner of her heart, Catherine knew he was still alive. She could not explain their connection, but it was there, as tangible and as fragile as a spider’s silken thread. Until she heard otherwise, she would not give up hope that he was alive. As long as that was a possibility, no matter how slim, she would never entertain the idea of kissing or marrying another man. Never. A man did not kiss a person the way he had kissed her and not feel something. Catherine would continue to dream of a time when they would be reunited. Her romantic heart would not allow anything less to happen.

So, what was she to do this evening? Robert’s parents would be hosting a ball to introduce the newly arrived family members from France. She prayed they would not make the engagement announcement this night. Catherine had to come to terms with her reality first.

Catherine dismounted Zinfandel and led her to the oak tree that held the old wooden swing her father had hung years earlier. After making sure the horse had enough sweet grass to graze on, Catherine took a seat on the old swing. With a sigh she set the swing in motion and allowed her thoughts to drift to the last time she saw Adrien.

The day after the masque, Catherine and her family had departed for the country estate of Versailles.

THE PALACE STUNNED her with its beauty and grandeur, but it also intimidated her. She was not used to such splendor, and she was more than a bit nervous when she considered with whom she would be required to mingle. Isabel warned her that the other young, unmarried girls would see