Andria Cardarelle - To sleep with Evil

"I seem changed?" echoed Jacqueline coyly. "How so? All for the better, I hope."

"Actually-yes."

"My goodness, you seem disappointed."

"No, I mean-well, I do believe you look younger. Yes, younger. If I didn't know better, I'd say I was looking upon the younger sister of the woman I met last month.11

"How utterly sweet of you, Marguerite. And astonishingly keen, I might add, How could you know that I have enjoyed weeks of pampering and relaxation? I do indeed feel like a new woman, but it's pleasing to hear my good fortune is reflected in my appearance, how I am thoroughly refreshed and ready for a new endeavor."

"A new endeavor?"

"A little excitement. A little business, as I said. But…" She looked toward Donskoy. "Such affairs are nothing for the likes of your pretty little head. Is that not correct, Milos?"

Donskoy shot her a curious glance. "You needn't concern yourself with Marguerite's pretty head, if that's what you mean."

"Of course not. I have no concerns, really-merely the greatest admiration. What a lovely head she has, indeed. You know, I had almost forgotten just how lovely she is, Milos, just how great your catch. Have you ever pondered the aesthetic possibilities, Milos, the combination-

"Jacqueline!" growled Donskoy. "Remember yourself, my dear."

Marguerite shifted uncomfortably at Donskoy's "My dear." The sound of it left a bitter taste on her tongue. Lords might have their mistresses, but must they flaunt them? Was this insult to be her punishment for failing to conceive? Or something worse? By the gods, she thought. Could it be? Was Jacqueline a merchant who dealt in discarded wives?

"What kind of endeavors are you planning to undertake?" pressed Marguerite. "And does it involve me?"

Donskoy and Jacqueline were consumed with mirth. "Certainly not," said Donskoy.

"Then what kind of endeavors?"

"Oh," Jacqueline replied, "just an excursion with Lord Donskoy's associates, if I can persuade him." She shifted in the chair; the slit of her green gown parted, revealing a length of smooth thigh.

Donskoy chortled. He rose and walked toward the fire, turning his back to them both. Marguerite caught a glimpse of his upturned lips. This gathering amused him somehow. And why not? Here sat two women whose only apparent role was to entertain him. He was indeed lord and master, his harem complete. Only the swelling of his wife's belly might improve the scene. But that did not appear to be troubling him at the moment. He rubbed his gloved hands before the fire-a habit, perhaps, for they could not be cold. Marguerite wondered what kind of thoughts were at play in his mind.

"Perhaps you can persuade him, Marguerite," said Jacqueline. "You see, Milos has largely retired from the life we knew, ever since he came to this castle. But his associates, whose unique talents are utterly wasted of iate, they still long for the road. I know it, for i feel the same urge. Until recently, I could offer little to change things myself, but fortune has turned. And now I could indeed lead them, in Lord Donskoy's name, of course."

"Lead them into what?" Marguerite asked.

"Why, greatness, danger, the fields of wealth beyond these lands."

"That's rather vague, don't you think?"

"Perhaps not knowing every detail is part of the thrill," said Jacqueline.

"We can discuss this later, Jacqueline," Donskoy said, turning away from the fire. "Assuming we discuss it at all. At any rate, such things need never concern my wife. Do I make myself clear?"

"Of course," replied Jacqueline demurely, "my lord." She licked her glass and stared directly at Marguerite, taunting. "Whatever you desire."

Marguerite's face burned red.

Donskoy did not even look at Marguerite; instead his eyes were sliding up Jacqueline's long white leg.

"Miss Montarri and I have personal matters to discuss, matters with which I do not wish to burden you, Marguerite. I won't be needing your company anymore today. You may go to your room."

"You don't wish me to come to the salon?" said Marguerite. It astonished her that she wanted it-that she did not relish being replaced. But she feared any rejection might last for more than just one afternoon.

"No," Donskoy replied. "I may not require your company tomorrow, either."

Marguerite rose reluctantly, catching Jacqueline's sly smile.

"Good day, Marguerite," said Jacqueline.

"Good day, Jacqueline," she replied, struggling not to sound too sour.

Marguerite turned and left. As she crossed the foyer beyond the sitting room, she heard Donskoy turning the key in the door of his red salon.

Jacqueline's laughter trailed away behind the salon's closed door. So, I've been dismissed, Marguerite thought, seething with resentment.

As Donskoy had instructed, she started back toward her chamber. Jacqueline brought out the worst in her; with each step, the prickle of anger at the nape of Marguerite's neck grew hotter. When she reached the door to her chamber, she stopped abruptly. Then she hoisted her skirts and spun on her heet, striding back down the hall to the stairs. She descended quickly, then padded across the foyer toward the drawing room. Trying not to be seen, she peered around the edge of the open door frame. The room beyond remained empty, as she had expected. And the door in the corner, which led to Donskoy's red salon, was still closed.

Marguerite entered the drawing room and crept toward the small arched door. When she reached it, she crouched and peered through the keyhole. Only the end of the red divan was visible. A green dress lay upon it, emptied of its bearer. Marguerite pressed her ear to the hole. She felt a cool stream of air-along with a rush of excitement. She could overhear the conversation almost perfectly. Donskoy was speaking.

"Marguerite will conceive soon," he said. "Mark my words. Zosia has seen it."

"Zosia?" replied Jacqueline contemptuously. "Bah! I've never understood why you trust that crone."

"What does trust have do with anything? I find her useful. But Zosia is really quite harmless, Jacqueline. I do not understand your irrational Fear of her."

"It is not fear, Milos. I am wary. I have not lived so long or so well without my share of wit."

"Indeed, my dear. You possess more than your share. After all, you command the intellect of many scores of women, as well as infinite charm."

"Quite true. So you might indulge a clever friend when she tells you to remain on guard, even in the midst of your delirium-a delirium, I might add, that your darling Zosia is all too eager to promote."

"Dear Jacqueline. Fretting makes you, too, an old crone, and all for no cause. Zosia serves me well; that is why I endure her. Her potions merely offer a means to entertain myself between your anxiously awaited visits. I remain fully in control."

"I do not require your idle flattery, Milos. Listen to what I say. You are too dependent upon Zosia and her brews."

"You are mistaken, my dear. I am dependent on no one, not even you."

"No? You live your life wallowing in the throes in some alleged curse, when half of the hex is just a dark fantasy fabricated by a conniving old Vistana."

"Ah, the crux of it surfaces again. Your own abnormal fears, your own hatred toward the dark-eyed dregs of this world. Do not attempt to settle your old scores through me, Jacqueline."

"If the subject weren't so painful to you, I might remind you of your own grudge against their kind. But that shouldn't be necessary-you can never forget, can you, Milos?"

"Enough, Jacqueline!" He paused, but the recovery was smooth. "Why must you pick at every scab till it bleeds? This is an old conversation, and my patience does know a limit. I shail tel! you again: Zosia is not a threat. Vistani witches lose their powers when they do not wander. She is like a tiger without teeth and claws, completely tame. We shall end this topic now, Jacqueline, before you sour my temperament completely. I enslave Zosia; the reverse is a fantasy. The old hag serves a useful purpose. Marguerite serves a useful purpose. And you, my dear, might also serve a purpose, if you could remember it. You did not come all this way to quarrel, did you?"