The Mediary; 24th December, late Morning- Xmas 1677

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

As he replied playfully, encouraging even, a trill of happiness sparkled Nicolette's eyes. "Hmm... willing preferably, but if I must, I could use silk cords." she leaned a little closer. Wondering, anticipating, what it might be like to be even closer to Francis?

 

Quite likely the gentleman reserved-mode with the lady was precisely what a nervous Nicci actually needed. For right now she felt provoked to daring in a reply, even though she imagined him to be entirely versed in quite anything she'd read about.

 

"This daring feather, she is an adventurer dangerous..." Her eyes slid to his throat. There? No, that is too fast. Instead she trailed the feather further along his jaw towards his earlobe, her fingers pressing into the small warm cavern about which his golden locks flowed, "she must tread very softly." the feather tickled there, "creeping, creeping, in case she wakes up the beast?" Nicci's eyes widened further upon her questioning tone. Oh this was fun!

[Francis Kirke]

Upon her mention of waking up the beast, Francis gave a little fake snarl and leaned into to kiss her neck, fully committing to the fun of the game as well. Who knew how much further he might go, but it did seem as if her feather might get to yet do some exploring before he had to rendezvous with his opera-writing friend.

 

The sweetness of her skin and hair mixed well with the lingering wafting of the Duke's doings.

 

While she was already pliant, he might as well continue in the same vein after all!

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

She gave a muffled chuckle, eyes delighting at his addition of snarl. "But the intrepid feather laughs at danger..."

 

Nicolette had hardly expected a kiss, it's placement sent a shiver of pleasure down her arm and even up into her scalp! Biting her lip she progressed the feather down the nape of his neck and towards the front. Pity he'd been at court, and not thrown together like Buckingham had been, for Francis' carefully tied cravat and fastened shirt were obstacles.

 

"The feather comes upon a city of silk and cotton, and gemstones too, these many material things try to make her forget her cause. But she is not distracted." Nicolette slid her fingers under his cravat as she leaned a little closer, the place where he'd kissed wanted another, unaware of herself she angled her neck hopefully.

[Francis Kirke]

Francis was surely not one who would make things difficult. His shrugged off his jacket and leaned down to kiss her neck again, drawn to her subtle cues. He started on the bottom buttons of his waistcoat as her fingers went under his cravat. His blond hair would probably prove an obstacle for her fingers with his head tilted forward so.

 

"Mmm, indeed, meddlesome it is," he murmured of the clothing, in between kisses. "I prefer far simpler and looser garments...if any at all."

 

He grinned against her skin.

 

"Have you ever touched a man without clothes?" he asked, his lips moving over her shoulder and collarbone.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

He advanced things dramatically then, discarding his jacket. Nicolette's eyes widened with the surprise, surprise she tried to govern, despite a sudden acceleration of heart rate. Cheeks pinked.

 

"Oh yes, 'if any at all'." She repeated, trying to sound all blazee. What had she started here?!

 

His lips kissed along her neck, it felt ever so lovely, despite, or perhaps even because, of her racing heart. Meanwhile her own venturing feather and fingers had stopped. "Yes, I saw Captain Dundarg after he had been swimming." she replied, though she was not thinking about Dougs body at that moment, but of Francis. What was he suggesting? They were in a reception room, just anyone could walk in, like he'd just walked in earlier.

 

Looking to his eyes she slid her feather holding fingers upwards again to his cheek. "He looked cold of the water, but you, you are very warm. My Lord Francis, I would like to see you quite bare one day, but not here of course. You accept this token, this feather, as a promissory from me yes? When it is the right time."

[Francis Kirke]

Francis did not much give a reply to her revelation about Dundarg. It would have been easy enough to see any number of gentlemen naked at Brighton or even certain spots on the Thames, he imagined.

 

He was surprised, though, that she seemed to cool off some. Did she think he was going to have her right then and there? He did not think of the potential for interruptions. Buckingham would not come back in, and no servant would interrupt him with a woman, and there was no one else in the house.

 

"We can do whatever you please," he replied, "When you please," he added. His eyes went down to the feather.

 

"Are you...hesitant?" He raised a soft brow. One could not be timid with the King, but that was why there was time to make sure she was fully prepared.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

"I am a little nervous, yes." she admitted, there was no point fibbing about it. Though she did feel ashamed to say it, was scared that such an admission might put her out of the running. It was not as if she had any foundation for anything, had no right, no credential, there had just been a little flirtation at a walk in the park however many months ago.

 

Since then her life was daydreams of possibilities, and sometimes the fantasy seemed very thin.

 

"I have read many things now." she spoke quietly, "to read, it seems very exciting, and the people who live lives so free... it seems so wonderful to be like that. I want to be one of those people too. I am just nervous of the beginning. What if after all of that it might be for nothing, if He does not want me, no one will want me." she swallowed then, and looked up at Francis. He probably thought her weak and, just wrong in every way.

 

She was quiet a moment then asked, "Lord Kingston? If he does not want me, what will happen to me?"

[Francis Kirke]

Francis smiled at her in only the way a delicate sort of man could. He put a hand up to her jaw and ran a thumb over her cheek.

 

"It is for you to decide to jump, mademoiselle. Freedom is frightening," he said. "I shall surely not force you."

 

He looked over her face for a moment. "What have you to be afraid of? You came here with little but your cousin, Lord Basildon. He obviously supports you in this endeavor... that is more cushion than most have before such a jump. And I have no wish but to please His Majesty. The Duke knows more than any about that and surely learned long ago ladies are strong allies. As he has told me many times when I have doubted myself, if I was not worth the trouble, if he was not already sure of my success, he would not bother with me. He surely would not give a stranger the time of day unless somewhat assured of their success."

 

Planting a kiss on her forehead he said, "Besides, the King already likes the idea of you and clearly liked the real you enough to sneak off for a kiss. All that need be done is assure that it will all prove to be more than a passing dalliance." After all, the King randomly slept with many women, some gentlewomen. Nicolette could easily become such a statistic if she was not fully ready to entertain a man that was not always the easiest to entertain, merry though he always seemed to be.

 

That was in nobody's interest, let alone hers.

 

"Trust that I know enough of His Majesty's proclivities and desires as one ofhis gentlemen of the bedchamber, mademoiselle, and I shall be sure you are an envy. What I do not know of the King, the Duke can supply. Clearly, you have given him a strong interest." He gave a light chuckle.

 

Buckingham, indeed, had all the fun! Francis, instead, made her nervous!

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

She'd never imagined of Buckingham, the sort of things she'd imagined of Francis - though the gentleman in question hardly knew that. With cheeks pink she gave a small nod, and leaned a little closer. "I want to jump... and, I pray for you to hold my hand." he'd already made that gesture in fact, so perhaps her words were more of an acknowledgement of that fact.

 

It was true what he said, she truly had little to loose. It was last minute nerves perhaps. Francis swiftness to discard his jacket had surprised her, had her see how quickly things could escalate. "It is not a situation of anything I have heard of." she said as his words sunk in. The Duke was too important a man to waste his time, Francis too, the niggly doubts eased, her trust in them both reaffirmed.

 

She met his eyes again. "You have so much confidence, it is not mere show, but truly runs deep. It is a very reassuring thing to see such belief. My cousin has deep belief too... me, I have moments of belief, but it is like waves. I hate when the waves recede." Nicolette tangled her fingers into his, grateful for the conversation, the things he said that she so needed to hear. It was reasuring to to see that this was the sort of man he was, considerate and with an understanding of the overview. Her sense of confidence in him thus grew.

 

With a lopsided smile to his tease she agreed, "I told the Duke about Lady O'Rourkes book, I think it put him in an amorous mood." The girl paused again,she was not thinking about the book or Duke, instead of the man before her. "... shall we rendezvous, Lord Kingston? A secret tryst, it shall be good practice yes? We could meet somewhere warm and quiet, and..." She looked up into his face again, absorbing his gentle eyes, feeling braver again she sought to kiss his lips.

[Francis Kirke]

Of course he was volunteered to be the one to hold her hand, so to speak, and it was simply his personality to be so. Nor was it hard for him to find a willing partner, so he had no natural desire to be hasty for his own needs.

 

"Confidence?" He smiled and ducked his chin for a moment, perhaps in a bit of embarrassed disbelief. He felt so very far behind most times; court was not his game. Then, he recovered. "In some areas, perhaps. In others, not. THere are times I do not feel as confident, believe me, but it is not always what one is, but what one seems."

 

Francis was very concerned with seeming, for at least in his circumstances seeming was being, because such things were inborn, it supposedly could not be faked. It was the largest dogma of the nobility, or perhaps it was truth, who knew. If one believed Kingship was divinely ordained, it was quite easy to believe the same true of nobility.

 

"I feel confident with a lady, because..." he paused to run the back of his fingertips down her jawline. "One learns to appreciate a woman away at sea."

 

His blond brow went up as she suggested a rendezvous...somewhere warm and quiet. In an apropos fashion, he was easily quiet

 

"Perhaps tomorrow night? After the ball? There is the house His Grace let Lady Gwendolyn live in with her son. I am certain I can get the staff to make it ready, and you can have whatever cozy space you find for a tryst," he said, hiding his amusement at her desires. So very like a woman. "Or I assure you my rooms are quite private."

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

This whisper of diffidence in his manner, a duck of head and modest reply, was a prompt, a reminder. The Frenchwoman recalled another time he'd briefly discarded the courtiers screen, that time last season in the hallway, when he'd surprised her by asking her opinion of a playfellow for his ward Tom. There is something quite moving in witnessing another's fallibility, in seeing (in being allowed to see) past their usual mask. Nicolette's head tipped, her smile softened, "None of the Lords creatures were made to stand alone, we need each other. That said, Lord Kingston, there has never been a time I have seen you looking anything but exemplary, for even your moment of honest-uncertain deepens your charm."

 

Nicolette and Francis would never have been a natural pairing, there had been some unexplainable film between them, that left entirely to their own devices would have kept them apart. Yet fates threw them together after 'the walk in the park', and since that date Nicolette had paid him far greater attention. A beauty like she, might have given herself to any of a number of willing recipients, but she had chosen Francis in particular, for more academic reasons. A part of her wondered, tentatively hoped, that the relationship between them might deepen. It wouldnt be the first time an arrangement spawned something more.

 

Perhaps it was his easy confidence with a female that made her feel it might indeed be becoming something more, his touch along her jaw brought her eyes to closing to enjoy, "Was that abstinence then, or the hours imagining?" she murmured to his repy, "or a little of both. La, Lord Kingston, I think it an education to be recommended." opening her eyes again she met his eyes.

 

To a rendezvous, a tryst; her shoulders rose with sense of excitement. "Tomorrow night." she bit her lip as he gave her options. "Mmm..." lashes fluttered, not certain which to choose! "Lady Gwendolyn's house sounds very nice... but." her smile became shier as she added, "but I would like to see your room, and, well, perhaps mine is not the secret that ladies proper circles would need plan. But a celebration. Maybe it was the proper in me that saw the romance of a tryst. I, we do not need to skulk about, yes?" she met his eyes again, did he approve, was she finally learning?

[Francis Kirke]

"Yes, a bit of both," he whispered to her. "As well as savoring what one does not habitually get and may ne'er be guaranteed again."

 

The sea was a very dangerous mistress. There was little fighting her if she wished to claim you and death was possible on any given day from any number of various means.

 

Some things in life became all the more savored, and Francis always had things to be thankful for.

 

"Then here, but not here," he said quietly, still having not moved from their closeness. The attention of his eyes and smile conveyed his appreciation of her.

 

"And no, I do not much think, mademoiselle; after all, you came here today alone and could have done any number of things within, so it is no more the scandalous for more direct intentions." His attitude was light and easy, flirty and gentle. "I shall not forget our feather," he added.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

His breath was warm, and his sentiment even more so, while she absorbed his words like a sponge. It seemed very important. "The end, it could come at any time." she replied, imagining a ship bound Francis, she couldn't help herself but to be curious. "Had you, lovers letters to tide you over?" perhaps that had been behind his suggestion to her to write the letters to the king, perhaps he understood the power of them better than anyone? It was lovely to talk like this, stood so close, like lovers.

Here, but not here. "M-hmm." she nodded, feeling pleased, not even nervous, perhaps that would come again. For at the moment she understood that he was pleased with her, which was a lovely feeling. "We can save exploits of the floor for some other time." she whispered a tease, with a further blush that she'd spoken the words out loud.

 

"And, I am not ashamed." her chin lifted with show of defiance, her heart was beating quickly. "Yes, the intrepid feather." her eyes slid back to his shirt, with a thought that she might come to see beneath it, even with regret that she'd startled earlier on. If she had not, perhaps held have discarded it, and would be bare chested right now? Her hand lifted, and pressed to the fine fabric, covertly feeling his form beneath. "Your room, it is up many stairs?" she asked quietly.

[Francis Kirke]

He blushed softly. It was one way that his face was quite expressive. The feminine delicacy of it never seemed to bother ladies. "No, not truly, not as I believe you mean it," he explained.

 

Being male, he was not quite sure how to further explain it. A part of him knew it was dangerous grounds to speak of women with other women.

 

As she confessed what must have given her pause earlier, Francis let out a light chuckle and said in a teasingly conspiratorial whisper, "I would not have done that here and now anyway."

 

He had no fantasies of taking her on any floors.

 

Not for the first time at least... There was a mental snort, honestly. She was so naively cute in many ways. She had little idea what to anticipate, and he tried to remember that she did not know him very well.

 

Blue eyes followed her hand as she touched his shirt, returning to discoveries of her own. The warmth of her hands pressed through his shirt. All he had intended originally was for her to be able to see what she wished to see, perhaps touch what she wished to touch. Shucking a coat did not instantly lead to coitus in his mind after all!

 

"Come, if you wish to see my more private areas," he offered, in true double entendre fashion, holding out his hand to her. His overt words were to his room, but the move covert meaning, other private things indeed.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

No he was not one of those gruff gents that blustered under calloused layers, he was in fact a rather sensitive sort, though feminine was not a word she'd never use to describe him. His cheeks pinked, and he was cryptic of reply. "Ah, perhaps literature then?" she suspected with soft tease. She'd not laid hands upon one of these steamy novels that were rumored to exist, but they might be just the thing for a man at sea.

 

"Oh, of course not." it was her turn to blush again as he dismissed floor options, and she realized her earlier fright had truly been utterly unnecessary. There was possibly more to say of it, but she bit her tongue instead - distracting herself with a hand that pressed, and little finger that seemed placed over his man nipple, thumb at the bottom of pec, palm full of warm strength. Looking back to his eyes she noticed him noticing... and gave a small smile to him.

 

"Yes please." she stepped apart, her hand sliding down to take his, looking for his lead for the tour. She became aware of their surroundings once more as she did so, the light had shifted some, Buckingham's manor as rather quiet in the morning she noticed. An excitement grew in her, with a flying thought that perhaps they would not wait at all? But, that was probably just her impatience! It was lovely to get to know him first.

[Francis Kirke]

The hallway was littered with paintings, mostly of what seemed like family. He did not seem to pay much mind to the finery, for he did not point anything in particular out. His more private rooms were generous.

 

There was little reason not to be when it did not seem as if more than 2 people lived in the house! There was a room with a large desk, a chaise, and a few chairs, that housed the ship models he had made and his books. The ones from the auction were there, as well as ones on rapier, and the bulk were more classical sorts of works, left over from his time at Cambridge and product of many years on ships with few passtimes.

 

He paused in this room and said, "The bedchamber in through here..."

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

Nicolete however paid the furnishings great heed, peering here and there as they progressed. There was not one aspect of Buckingham's mansion she could fault, it was utterly gorgeous, but then she'd expected as much of the fashionable Duke.

 

Still it was a hurried viewing, Francis long legs delivered them promptely to his room. No, apartment! An entire collection of rooms (which made the French lass think she ought to talk to her Cousin of something similar for herself. Well. Perhaps.)

 

"Oh.. my." she moved towards the models and collection of interesting things, peering at the spines of the books to read them, and bending to take a closer look at the models of ships. It was quite fascinating.

 

"The bedchamber in through here..."

 

Nicolette looked to Francis. It was a bit like leaving a playground to go to a playground, although one was now known and one was not. She moved closer to him, and murmured, " One day maybe, you shall tell me of your models? You are diversity, Lord Kingston." and giving him a small smile she moved through the door into his most private chamber. It had been an invitation he'd given her, hadn't it? Her eyes slid around the room, absorbing all, though naturally the bed took greatest significance.

[Francis Kirke]

"Surely," he replied, in his soft tenor. He was a man with not much to hide; well, with but one thing to hide. The rest was rather transparent. "It is no fascinating story, although I have many stories that could be rather fascinating."

 

They were the product, somewhat, of boredom, a particularly painful state to a man with both a rather active nature and restless mind. He had many random hobbies bred for boredom at sea.

 

He was anything but bored now, though, as they passed through to his bedchamber, lit by the flickering flames of a rather active hearth. One of the servants must have seen to it the moment he had arrived home. The decor was done mostly in blue and a deep colour of wine.

 

As she took everything in, he took off his shirt whilst her eyes were away.

 

"There is no hurry," he said to draw her attention back to him. "We have tomorrow, and both of us must ready for the opera, but your fingers told me that I must deprive myself of my shirt, at least, for your curiosity." He gave her a small half smile. He remembered his own curiosity, but he had been far, far younger, as in twelve, younger. Perhaps it would be more than a shirt for her explorations, but he would start with that.

 

He was not bulky with muscles. Instead, he was lithe and mostly lean, with the softness of having been at court for some months. Kingston was of a fit form for one of the nobility, strong surely, but no cut muscles of the more common class.

 

On closer inspection, a certain hardness was given to his light skin by raised scars which littered his torso here and there, and also both his forearms.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

"Are the models for Tom?" she asked, for to her mind the models seemed to lovely to not be admired by more. She knew of Francis nautical past, and yet the little models were a pleasant surprise about him. Nicolette was one to appreciate fine craftsmanship.

 

The fireside drew her, fingers sliding over the gilt scrollwork there. While the colours of the room were utterly masculine, they were also snug, like a retreat, a cave. In a quiet voice she mused, "...this is your Alladins cave, your one thousand and one nights..." reference to the exotic book of tales seemed apt for the well traveled Francis, and she was quietly pleased with herself to strike upon it, she turned, and there he was.

 

Torso gleaming.

 

Her breath caught.

 

And he said the right things, there was no pressure, no rush, but rather the patient gentleman offered himself like a study, a warm and breathing statue that might be explored. She gave a shy smile and approached. "You are not cold?" she asked with care, absorbing the sight of him, so lean, so alive. A part of her was uncertain of what to do with this freedom he offered her, but another part tugged her like a magnet that she had no desire to resist.

 

So it was that the not-really-so-young lady came to press her cheek against his chest, and her hand moved along his side. "You are quite beautiful Lord Kingston." her eyes slid closed and she listened to his heart, felt his body warmth, smelt his scent. Fingertip came to pause at an old raised scar, and traced softly along it.

 

Opening her eyes again she looked up at his face and smiled with an uncomplicated happiness.

[Francis Kirke]

He answered her negatively about the models at they came into his room. She seemed to marvel over her new discoveries of him, both of the flesh and spirit. There were many things about Francis which he kept a little more guarded. He had never had many friends and thus was very difficult to open up.

 

"Not at all," he answered. "The sea steels you to weather extremes, and you are keeping me warm."

 

The curve of his peach lips was pleasant as she touched his skin.

 

"Beautiful?" he asked, a soft huff of a chuckle escaping him. "Hmm, not oft a man hears such a thing." His thanks was evident in his tone and soft touch of her hair as she laid her cheek against his chest.

 

"Do you wish to see more?" he asked, with a arch of his brow.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

In this secluded setting Nicolette did not stop herself from expressions, did not see any reason for reserve. "Then they are for your own pleasure?" although the models were out of sight now, she was still intrigued of his quiet occupation. Learning these things about him crumpled and reshaped her impressions of Francis. She understood early on that he was a thinker, his artistry too did fit with that well, so that the daredevil-adventurer aspect of his persona seemed to reduce. Her fingers traced along his ribline, "Do you miss her? Miss the sea... men call the sea a mistress yes? Does she still call you Lord Kingston?"

 

She smiled of his saying she kept him warm. "But not as warm as you might be." she supposed, and pressed a kiss to his chest.

 

He sounded almost embarrassed that she called him beautiful. "Perhaps Ladies are too cautious with such thoughts." she drew apart and looked at him, his halo of hair was definitely beautiful, "but I think you look like an angel of protection. Your spirit, your flesh, your radiance. These things the lord above must smile to see. These things I smile to see." her words were spoken softly.

 

Did she want to see more? He arched his brow, skeptical, did he know her so well? Sliding her arms around him again she hid her eyes, "Non... not yet." a tad embarrassed of her reply, though honestly said. "Tomorrow night, after the ball. With wine and laughter, Lord Kingston, I... yes?" she looked at him once more, not knowing if she made any sense.

[Francis Kirke]

"Always," he replied, almost in a romantic way. He sighed. He did miss the sea, sometimes, oftentimes these days, he was distracted from it; the call of wind and waves always came back to him, though.

 

The sea had taught him much and not all of it about sailing or the stars or even ships.

 

"You are very poetic, mademoiselle." A fond smile accompanied the statement, along with his caresses. "Even a compliment my lady mother would approve of, I think." His smile curved more. Francis had a softness when speaking of the fairer sex.

 

"As you wish," he replied, not breaking his blue gaze from her own eyes. "Tomorrow then, for if you wish not to see more ere then, I had best escort you on your way, or you risk seeing me get dressed for the opera," he joked, with a cheeky grin, before he released her. He pulled on a clean shirt which had been left on his bed for dressing later, but he found he at least needed that undergarment expressly. He left the rest of his clothes there.

 

It was not that he had never walked around his own hallways shirtless, he felt...odd doing so in the public parts of the Duke's house, strangely enough. Although perhaps there was some semiconscious sense to it, because one never knew who the Duke might be receiving. It could surely be a personage around whom one would not wish to be caught half naked.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

Nicolette's mother had a full blown phobia of the sea. Nicolette therefore had thought herself brave to merely cross the little Chanel. It was hard to understand why some men loved the sea so much then, men like Francis, and her father. But Francis was a bit distracted, she realised now was not the time to ask more. Probably she was seducing him at the moment, it was probably a good sign that he was loosing the inclination to talk so much.

 

"She would approve of me! La, gentlemen don't usually tell me of their mothers," Nicci chuckled, "I must be being too... mmm... sweet. We, I, should put good ladies to the blush. I cannot be the seductress, if I make gentlemen think of their mothers." in good humor she scolding herself, finger prodded him, and lips that had kissed tenderly then dared a nip.

 

He accepted, which made her pleased. So she nodded, and stepped apart as he pulled on a fresh shirt. "It is now, a schedule." for some reason knowing her plan ahead soothed her, readied her. "something very exciting to look forward to. Mmm... is there anything I should. Do? To prepare?" she asked, while finding it rather enjoyable watching his muscles moved as he pulled on his shirt.