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She isn’t stupid, she knows she isn’t the only one of his creatures. She doubts she’s the only one with her board paid for, they only one he comes to at the end of the day. He probably has a selection of mistresses he can turn to depending on mood and desires. She knows she isn’t special, no one’s special to him, she’s a means to an end but the alternative isn’t really worth contemplating - a life on the streets, walking them or begging on them, or perhaps a marriage to some trader or other which sometimes feels worse than the first two alternatives.
This is better. She has a view of Paris, a house to herself because renting rooms would be too much of a risk to him, and it doesn’t matter how many men have mistresses - the Cardinal has to be seen to be above that. Better than that though she has him, in her bed, for whole nights at a time sometimes, but even an hour with him is something - the most powerful man in the whole of France, and perhaps he isn’t all hers but he’s hers nonetheless.
She spends much of her time in her bedchamber, looking out of the window for any sign of him, it would not do to be out when he visits. He won’t wait around for her, he doesn’t have time, and she knows he has other options. When she sees him she moves to the door, heart pounding at the sound of his boots as they ascend the stairs and he throws open the door, waiting to be doted on.
She’s only too happy to oblige.
“My love,” she breathes as she closes the door behind him, undoing the clasp of his cloak at his neck, fingers brushing lightly against his skin as she removes it, hanging the heavy fabric over the chair by her desk.
He holds out his hand for her and when she takes it he pulls her against him, against the scent of leather and the feel of his body, thin and fragile and a surge of protectiveness causes her to wrap her arm around his neck, hand moving into soft grey curls.
“Are you expecting the gallows?” he asks, turning his head, trying to get a look at her. If she’s been caught, exposed herself, well there’s only so much he can do.
“My apologies,” she says, pulling her arm away, suddenly feeling very small and foolish.
“It wasn’t a complaint,” he says carefully, “you’re just normally less…wanton.” He likes it, but he isn’t about to admit to such a thing.
She dips her head and feels his fingers firm beneath her chin forcing her to look at him, and he smiles ever so slightly. “Let us sit,” he says, moving away from her, pulling her towards the foot of her bed as they sit face to face, still holding hands.
“You’re loyal to me, yes?”
She almost laughs the question is so preposterous. “Why would I not be, my love?”
“Another man could have turned your head, someone younger perhaps?”
She scoffs at that. “My head isn’t so easily turned.”
“Good, because you know you belong to me, don’t you? You know I‘m unwilling and unable to just let you go if you ever betray me?”
“Of course. And I never would,” she squeezes his hand. “You know I love and serve you faithfully, don’t you, Armand?”
“That’s what they all say.” He turns his head, looks away from her, jaw tensing and setting. “I’m starting to think it’s only fear. I can get fear from anyone. I do not want it from you.”
“You have only my love and loyalty,” She shuffles closer so her leg touches his, leans in to kiss his cheek and moves her mouth to his ear. “Take me to bed, my love. Let me show you,” she whispers.
“Fetch your dagger,” he says, ignoring her offer. He knows women can lie with their bodies, taking her to bed would prove nothing.
She doesn’t question him, she knows better than to do that, he’s trained her well. He’s trained them all well. She’s bumped into his other creatures before, had to work with them. They’re all beautiful, all ruthless, all deadly just as he wants them, She pulls up her skirt, glances sideways to catch him licking his lips, eyes narrowed and watchful as she unsheathes the weapon strapped to her leg. When she looks at him properly he’s smiling, even as she pulls her dress back down, covers her leg.
“That’s my girl, keeping yourself armed at all times.”
“You taught me well, my love. Trust no one,” a kiss on the cheek punctuates her words. “Except for you.”
He holds out his hand for her dagger and she places it in his open palm, handle first. “Undress.”
She does as he asks, unbuttoning her dress swiftly, shrugging out of it and pushing it down to the floor, stepping out of the pool of rich fabric and standing there in only her underskirt and corset, feet bare.
“All the way.”
She turns round, pushing her hair out of the way over her shoulder. “Could you help me? It’s so difficult to get out of a corset without help.”
“Very well.”
She can feel his hands pulling at the lace of her corset, fingers touching her exposed back every so often, sending shivers down her spine. He’s gentle, careful, tender ever as he undoes the knot and loosens then removes the lacing from each eyelet, until he can pull it away from her body and remove it.
With her corset removed she feels something sharp against her back, feels his breath hot against her ear. “Still trust me, my love?” he asks, voice low and calm.
“Always.” There’s a few moments silence, her dagger still pressed into her flesh, his breath slow and calm. “A dagger isn’t your style, Armand,” she says finally. “Isn’t that what we’re for? So you can keep your hands clean?” She turns, looks at him over her shoulder and smiles. “You’re too smart to kill me like this, my love, even if I had done anything to warrant it. Which I haven’t, as I’m sure you’re aware. I’m yours, in all possible ways. I would never betray you, as I’d never betray our country. This is why I love you, Armand, because you do what you have to for France. However terrible. I respect that, your devotion to the cause.”
His free hand moves to her shoulder, pulls her round to face him, dagger now pointed between her breasts. “You understand,” he whispers.
“Of course. I always had options, you were merely my favourite, a powerful, intelligent, handsome lover, independence and the skills to hunt and kill a man? I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
Handsome. The word rings in his ears. He isn’t a vain man, and he’s well aware that he’s old, while she’s so very, young, but he’s heard all those other assessments of himself before, all but that one and he’s surprised, mostly because he believes she means it. Believes her full stop, which is a very dangerous position to be in. The Cardinal does not trust anyone and he has no intention of starting now.
“Are you staying tonight? Or shall I dress?”
“Stay as you are. I wish to take you to bed. Then we can talk some more of my plans..”