A Different Shade of Historical Romance

A Different Shade of Romantic History...

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Make You Feel My Love
Adele (19)
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Napoleon’s Gift 

Blurb;

Geneviève’s grandmother believed whites, no matter how nice they seemed could never be trusted. The Ward was full of white men seeking out trade girls, but Ginny was far from that. Why she would never in a million years sell herself as many of the colored girls did, just to survive.
However, when Mr. Jones died of Consumption, and Mr. Charles forced the city to give him a writ to Mr. Jones' properties and land holdings; what choice did she truly have? Mr. Jones had no fit living relatives the constable said, so what were they to do?

Therefore, when Madame Soleil solicited her to please just this one customer, she swallowed her pride, and said yes….

Excerpt: 

The French Quarter 1870...

Absinthe House… 


     “And shall we go now? I grow weary waiting for ye.” Bartholomew whined, and Benjamin frowned.

     “I swear, yer like a child waiting for sweets! Good lord above, come along then.” Benjamin snapped, then tugged Bartholomew from the house.

When they reached Madame Soleil’s, Benjamin shoved Bartholomew through the door, and they both paused upon entrance.

     “My word, I do believe I have died and gone to heaven.” Bartholomew whispered, and Benjamin gasped.

     “I too believe I have just followed suit.” Benjamin replied, as he watched the dark haired woman on the stairs steal her way down, hips swaying, amble bosom scarcely covered to entice him.

He grinned, then cuffed Bartholomew on the back.

However, before Gisela could reach him, Lord Fanning tugged her in the opposite direction; she gave Benjamin a small pout, then a shrug of her shoulders.

     “Bleeding old bastard.” Benjamin muttered, and Bartholomew howled with laughter.

     “If I may gentlemen?” Madame Soleil said, as she waved them her way.

Both men stepped down into the foyer, and she led them towards the specialized counter.

     “And what shall you gentlemen require in drink this evening?”

     “I shall have a scotch.” Bartholomew replied, then looked at Benjamin.

     “Tis fine as well.” Benjamin muttered, and the keep poured two glasses.

     “And other pleasures?” Madame Soleil purred, and Bartholomew grinned.

     “Whatever Madame pleases.” He returned, and she laughed.

     “Then perhaps, you’d like to retire as you sip your drinks.” She grinned, and motioned for them to follow her.

     “I should like that just fine, but do keep it simple.” Benjamin commented as he saw the woman in the feather getup.

     “That it shall be.” Madame grinned as she led them up the stairs.

She paused before a green door, then motioned Bartholomew forward. He grinned, winked at Benjamin, then went through the door.

Madame walked further down the hall, then paused in front of a brown door.

     “Here you are sir.” She said, Benjamin frowned, but moved forward anyway.

     “She will be with you momentarily. The bar is there.” She stated, pointing to the small counter in the corner, filled with bottles of liquor, liqueur, and such.

He nodded, and she closed the door.

Madame Soleil hurried down the hall, then frowned as she saw Monique.

     “Where is she?”

     “In the red room Madame.” Monique replied, Madame nodded and brushed past her towards the red door.

I looked up as the door opened, and surged off the bed.

     “You! Come, now.” She snapped clapping her hands; I nodded, then hurried from the room.

I ran to catch her, but she paused, my chest slamming into her outstretched arm.

     “Has no one taught you sexy chér, we don’t not run like a team of horses. We must be séduisant, agréable et plein de promesses.” Sexy, pleasureable, and full of promisses, she said frowning down on me, and I nodded.

She placed me in front of a brown door, then nodded.

“Remember, séduisant, agréable et plein de promesses.” She commanded, and I nodded.

As I pushed the door open, he looked up from the bar, and my quick intake of breath lodged itself in my throat.

My word, but he was a handsome devil!

The eyes were what caught my attention, and seemed so familiar.

He gave me a peculiar look, frowned studying me for several moments, and as the dressing gown slipped from my grasp, there was a slight grin as he looked at me now.

     “And ye are?” He asked, and I just started at him. “Can ye speak any English?” He inquired when I continued to just gawk at him.

It was as if my voice refused to obey my commands to work.

Then I remember Madame said to speak French only.

     “Parlez-vous français?” Do ye speak French? He tried again, and my cords spurred forward.

     “Oui.” I cried, he chuckled, then offered me the drink. “Mon seigneur, je ne participent pas à boisson.” My lord, I do not partake in spirits. I said, and he smiled.

     “It is fine, take it. I daresay it shall loosen ye up a bit.” He countered, and I just looked at him.

     “Excusez-moi?” I questioned.

     “Oooh bloody hell, il est très bien, prenez-la. J’ose dire qu'il vous détendre un peu.” He repeated, and I bit my lip to keep from smiling.

     “Je n’ai jamais pris part à l’alcool, je n’ai bu du vin.” I stated I only drink wine, never spirits. He smiled, and good lord above what a smile.

I honestly thought the man beautiful.

     “Ensuite, il ya une première fois pour tout.” Then there is a first time for everything, he said handing the glass my way.

I accepted it, took a timid taste, then commenced to choke.

He grinned, and I frowned.

     “S’asseoir.” Sit, he said and I nodded, perching myself on the edge of the armchair. He removed his top coat, then his waistcoat, and I swallowed hard.

     “Combien de temps avez-vous été employé par Madame Soleil?” How long have you been in Madame Soleil’s employment? He asked, and I looked at the long flowing yellow curtains, to remove my mind from the fact that he was undressing. He took off the cufflinks, placed them on the bureau, then removed his shirt.

My lord, what a very well built man.

The muscles in his chest area rippled with the slightest of motions, and the small downs of hair on his chest, traveled to the lower regions of his body. I felt flush with wanting.

What had Ms. Claudette done to me!

I swallowed hard again.

Should I have these peculiar feelings for him?

The deep baritone of his voice was very soothing, and as I watched his movements, he seemed completely confident with himself.

Good lord above, what was I to do?

     “Cocotte?” Love, he questioned, and my gaze went to his face. The slight grin caused my heart to skip a beat, however, not from fear.

     “Trois jours monsieur.” Three days sir, I replied, and his grin widened.

     “Le monsieur n'est pas nécessaire. Et avez-vous des notions de ce qui se passe entre un homme et une femme aimée?” The Sir…is not necessary. Moreover, do ye have any notions of what happens between a man and a woman? He asked, and I rolled my eyes at his grin, then frowned at him.

     “Comme condescendant que vous apparaissez, je ne suis pas naïf à ce point, j'ai eu des relations avec un homme. Et seulement aujourd'hui, je les ai eu avec une femme.” As condescending as you appear, I am not that naïve. I have had relations with a man before. In addition, just today I had them with a woman. I came back with, my frown deeper.

He threw his head back and laughed.

     “Une femme?” A woman, he asked with a look of surprise, then it was replaced by that confounded grin.

     “Oui.” Yes, I nodded curtly.

     “Hummm, Venir.” Come, he said, then motioned for me to sit on the bed, and I did with some trepidation.

He unbelted the dressing gown, then slipped it from my shoulders. The breath left his chest in a quite rush. He bent to his knees in front of me, then placed my leg on his knee, as he unfastened the first of the garters.

     “Et quel âge?” How old was he? He asked, but my eyes closed at the sensations his fingers were creating on the inside of my thigh, and the breath left me just as quickly.

     “Mon amour…ses années?” My Love…years? He questioned, and another gasp left me as his hand went to my other thigh, and released the garter.

     “19 années.” Nineteen years, I cried as his hand moved further up, gently caressing me, in regions I never once spoke about before, until Claudette and today.

I looked up at him wide-eyed.

     “C’est ma chérie, ce n'est pas un homme, mais un enfant.” That my darling…is not a man…but a child. He whispered, as his lips touched the inside of my thigh, and I nearly screamed.

My mind continued to reel, as his hands did the most tempting things to me.

I had been under the impression that I was to be the seducer.

     “Et quel âge êtes-vous?” Moreover, how many years are ye? He asked as his lips moved in a circular motion, and the moan left me before I could stifle it.

     “26 années vieux.” Twenty-six I gasped, as his right hand came up to caress my left breast.

     “Et votre âge à l’époque?” Your age at the time? He questioned, as he slowly moved me further onto the bed.

     “Dix-neuf, comme il était.” Nineteen, just as he was I moaned, as his lips began to caress me, my fingers twisting into the folds of the bed sheets.

     “Et combien de fois?” How often? He inquired lifting his head for the briefest of moments.

     “Juste une fois!” Just the once I screamed, as I felt my body tighten, and every thing Claudette said came rushing up from the pit of me as he caressed me with his mouth, the scream leaving me of it’s own accord.

     “That chér, is not lovemaking.” He said in English, pulled me up from the bed, then sat me in his lap.

I looked down on him, completely taken aback.

He took the ribbon from my hair, shook it, then kissed my neck.

     “I shall teach ye to love a man.” He stated, as his hand came up to caress my breast.