This Burning Desire, Joslinne Morgan [essential reading .TXT] 📗

everything in, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him fiercely.

"Jean!" she exclaimed happily, running her hand through his hair and knocking off his hat. "I didn't expect you would be back! You haven't written to me in so long." She pulled her rosebud lips into a pout.

"Ah, but I have missed you, cherie!" he laughed, kissing her again. "You must forgive me, but I simply haven't had the time!"

"Adventures?" her eyes shown.

"Many," he nodded.

"Oh!" she sighed. "Will you tell me all about them, Jean?" she twisted a short springy curl around her index finger, rubbing against him and running her ankle over the back of his calf.

"Everything," he promised. "But I must see Jolie first. Do you know where she is?"

"She's in the back, with a client." The blonde twisted the curl even tighter. "Besides, I'm more suited for warming that cold skin of yours."

"You are everything a man could ever desire, Marie." He assured her. "But it is Jolie I need to speak with, at present."

"Oh, fiiiiine." She sighed. "I'll go get her, she shouldn't be much longer, anyhow."

"You're an angel, ma cherie."

"I know," she beamed at him, kissing him again and bouncing off.

Jean-Francis settled down into a nearby chair to wait, and was immediately drowning in a sea of young women. Some he recognized, some were new, but all were welcome company. A slender brunette plopped into his lap and graced his lips with yet another kiss.

"Where have you been?" she demanded. "I've missed you! I cried for days and days but you didn't come back, Madame was about to throw me out if I didn't 'shut my trap and suck it up'…!"

"Indeed," Jean-Francis replied, properly chagrined. "I should not have left you to such a fate. I should be whipped!"

"I'll whip you," she volunteered, all too cheerfully, tracing a finger down his nose.

"As splendid a punishment as I deserve," he laughed.

The curtain of beads that sectioned the main room off from a series of smaller rooms parted right down the middle, and a woman stepped into the room, wearing absolutely nothing. She was about as tall as Jean-Francis, with jet black hair that cascaded down to her waist and large azure eyes. Her skin was as white as whalebone, and her figure well-rounded with a generous bosom that Jean-Francis was having a very hard time tearing his eyes away from.

"Jolie," he spoke, his eyes finally climbing back up to her face. "It's good to see you again."

"Indeed, my lord." She beckoned him with one hand, and held the beaded curtain open enough for him to enter. He removed his hat and handed it to the brunette for safekeeping, whispering something into her ear before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. She giggled, and he ducked through the entrance. Allowing the beads to slide back into place, Jolie followed him.

"Well, my lord." She addressed him once they were out of ear-shot. "What is it you wish of me, now that you have deigned to grace me with your presence once more? Is it business or pleasure tonight?"

"Business," he winced. "Jolie, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you here so long on your own…"

She cut him off with a gesture.

"Business," she reminded him. "You can apologize later. What is it you need?"

He fidgeted, unsure of how to ask. "It's a bit different this time, it's not information I need."

One dark eyebrow shot up, and she willed him to go on.

"I need you to distract Clopin,"

"Why?" she prompted.

"He's been miserable these past few days, he needs something to cheer him up. Also, he's been drinking far too much as a result of Esmeralda's betrayal. I'm sure you heard."

"Oui," she nodded. "It's common knowledge down this way."

"And you know how he deals with his problems. He sent me out to make short work of her, which I fully intend to do, but I made an unforgiveable blunder tonight that could prove fatal. If it does, then I don't need him a raving drunk to make any… rash decisions."

"Ah," she tossed her head, jet black locks rippling over her pale skin. Jean-Francis swallowed hard and fought to keep his gaze from wandering. "So it's not his happiness you're concerned over, it's your own neck."

"As always, it is a top priority."

She sighed. "What is it you've done now?"

Briefly, he filled her in. When he had finished, she laughed at him.

"Oh, my! Is this what has becoming of the famous Jean-Francis since we last spoke?"

"I admit, I'm a bit rusty on the whole business." He admitted. "I have been away for ten years, after all."

"Either that," she teased. "Or you are getting old."

"Decrepit," he insisted. "But I still have it in me."

"I'm throwing you out of my brothel, now." She teased. "Don't drop any limbs on your way out."

"Ah, madame!" he clenched a fist over his heart. "You wouldn't do such a thing to a poor, wretched soul, would you?"

"Gladly. You abandoned me for a decade, it is only fair."

"And you don't look a day over the seventeen you were when I left you…"

"You are a liar," she replied, clucking her tongue chidingly.

"A shameless one, at that." He agreed.

"I don't know what to do with you!" she cried in exasperation.

"Love me?" he suggested. "After all, you know how I adore you."

"You think me still a young slip of a girl, barely seventeen and still madly in love with you."

"Have you moved on, then?" he cocked his head to the side, curiously.

"I have, if you must know." She said imperiously. "Oh, I clung to your memory for as long as I was able, but then, I realized what animbecile I was being. How dare I should think that you would come back for me! I had nothing to offer you, after all."

"Not true," he broke in. "I would have come back earlier, but I got … caught up."

"With another woman, no doubt." She glared.

"Nothing of the kind. In fact, that only thing I had to look forward to up until recently was getting my neck stretched." To add proof to his claim, he unfastened his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbow. He presented to her his wrists, which were scarred as if they had been chained for a great period of time. "They're on my ankles, too. And my back is even worse."

There was silence for a moment. Jolie reached forward and took his hands, rubbing the wide pale scar with her thumb. "Oh, my poor Jean." She murmured under her breath, bringing both his hands to her lips and kissing them, again and again. "My poor, poor Jean – how could they have done this to you?"

"I asked for it, I suppose. After all, not everyone likes to hear how lousy their security is. I would have been able to slip out as easily as I slipped in, but he had an enormous dog. Thus, I have been out of practice for some time."

"Forgive me," she whispered. "For ever doubting you."

He shook his head vigorously. "Forgive me, for ever leaving."

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she pulled him gently towards one of the rooms that had an open door.

"And just what are we doing?" he asked, amused.

"Making up," she replied coyly, slipping into the room. "You said you had more scars, I want to see them all."

"That would require the removal of my shirt," he pointed out.

"That is the general idea, off." She slipped her hands under his tunic, and off it came, dragging the caplet down with it. A wide smile split across his face and he shut the door with his foot. Anyone with good sense would not disturb them for the next few hours.

Chapter Ten: An Unexpected Visitor

Steaming hot flesh writhed beneath his touch. Sweat beaded his brow as Frollo rose in and out of the gypsy girl almost in time with the rapid rise and fall of her chest. He leaned forward and tasted her moist lips, sucking on them, as her hot tongue slipped into his mouth and made his throat burn. He watched as her fingers grasped the white sheets of the bed, which were white no longer, stained with bright virginal blood like the great dark stain that was slowly beginning to overshadow his own immortal soul…

"My lord," she whispered into his ear. He didn't hear her, his mind was caught up in a haze. "My lord," she repeated, a bit louder. He plunged straight down into her, and his mouth closed over her neck. "MY LORD!" she screamed.

Frollo bolted upright, his breathing erratic, drenched in what he could only assume was his own perspiration. The dream had been … far too real, for his tastes. Yet it was just another in a long stream of not altogether unpleasant nightmares that he had been having for a number of weeks now. He mopped his brow with the sleeve of his linen shirt and glanced towards the doorway, where a servant stood, rigid and waiting.

"What is it?" Frollo asked, after a moment to gather his composure.

"Forgive me for waking you, my lord." The servant replied, no trace of emotion in his voice. "But you have a guest waiting for you downstairs."

"What does he want?" Frollo hated to snap, but he had no patience for idiots who just flounced in expecting an audience with the Minister of Justice. He was, after all, a busy man.

"Well, my lord, he claims that he's your brother."

Frollo collapsed against the multitude of pillows, rolling his eyes towards the Heavens in a silent plea to the Madonna. It had been a while since he and Jehan had last spoken, and he supposed that it was only too good to last. "I suppose there's no getting rid of him, then. What time is it?"

"It's nearly noon, my lord."

What? How could he have slept that long? How could they have let him sleep that long?

"You would not arouse, my lord. You slept as soundly as a dead man, in fact we would have thought of you as such, if you hadn't been breathing so hard, and sweating. We were truly worried about you, my lord."

"Well, I am glad to know that my life is in caring hands." Frollo's words were laced with sarcasm. Were he to have a seizure, the morons would have watched him die.

The sarcasm was lost on the servant, who merely bowed. Thoroughly exasperated, Frollo slid his legs over the side of the bed and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Well, if you are just going to stand there, make use of yourself and get me my robe. I'll need a bath, of course, before I go down."

"Very good, Minister." The servant bowed again. "And what shall I tell the young Master?"

"Tell him I shall be down soon, and not to touch anything, if he can help it."

~*~*~*~*~

Jehan wandered idly about the small and decidedly dull room as he waited on his brother to receive him. The servant said that Claude would be down there 'momentarily' which of course, translated into one to