Versailles E-Book

Elizabeth Massie

• Herausgeber: Corvus
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

You've seen the BBC 2 series, now read the novel based on the TV show. Don't miss VERSAILLES the most sexy and shocking drama ever written about the king who built the world's most famous palace. Packed with sex, scandal and intrigue, VERSAILLES will keep you up all night. 1667. The civil wars are over and King Louis XIV is on the French throne. To keep the nobles from their plots to overthrow his crown, the King gathers the court at Versailles. He plans to keep them there under his scrutiny by building the greatest palace the world has ever seen. The Palace of Versailles will be an opulent prison where Louis' power is absolute. The nobles have no choice but to play Louis' game of manipulation and treachery. As tensions rise the court becomes a battlefield of tactical liaisons and salacious passions. Versailles is not the paradise it appears to be; instead, it is a labyrinth of treason and secrets, of political schemes and deadly conspiracies. It is a place of passion and death, love and vengeance. The King will take what is rightfully his.

Leseprobe

British screenwriter David Wolstencroft is best known for his work on the TV series Spooks. He is the celebrated author of two spy novels. Simon Mirren has gained global acclaim for his work on the hit TV series Criminal Minds. Together, they sweep the reader away to the realm of the Sun King and the construction of the world’s most beautiful palace. Elizabeth Massie has written several historical novels as well as the novelization of The Tudors TV series.

Contents

1

Spring, 1667

2

Late Spring – Early Summer, 1667

3

Summer, 1667

4

Late Summer 1667–Early 1668

5

Early 1668

6

Autumn 1670

7

Autumn 1670

8

Autumn 1670–Winter 1670

9

Winter 1670

10

1

SPRING, 1667

She was exquisitely beautiful, young and small in stature yet fully a woman with bountiful curves visible through her sheer white chemise. She skipped ahead across the grass, glancing back over her shoulder, giggling, winking. Louis laughed and followed, trying his best to reach her but remaining several steps behind.

Into a labyrinth of hedge-lined pathways she hurried, out of view for a moment then back in again, patches of sunlight kissing her body. He ached with desire for her, every fiber of his body on edge, needing to have this woman. To hold her, to caress her, to take her and have her.

Through a shady grove of orange trees she danced, plucking ripe fruit from a tree as she passed beneath it. She turned and smiled. It was clear she wanted him, too.

Beyond the orange grove was a rise upon which sat a colossal, sun-bright palace, ornate and brilliant beyond imagination, looking as if the Mansion of God Himself had come down to Earth. Louis’ heart swelled. Though he had never seen this palace before, it was part of him. It was home.

The girl reached the palace and disappeared through an arched doorway. Louis followed and found himself in total, silent darkness.

He stopped.

He waited.

“Kings do not cry, no matter what they face,” came a familiar voice. “No matter what they face.”

He knew the voice. His mother. He turned slowly and she was there in a spear of light, a vision of pride and power, her body spattered with blood. Louis’ younger brother knelt beside her, weeping and clutching her hand.

“Fear is a weakness,” she said evenly. “It can crush a man, destroy him. Even you, my son.”

Louis stood, frozen in dread.

His mother continued, her voice reaching out from the past. “You were anointed by God, blessed by the Sun. But you do not yet possess what really matters. The power. Without it, you will perish, and all of France with you. Of course you are scared. Your mother is dying. The world is on fire. Enemies wait around every corner. If history teaches us one thing it is this – terrible things happen to kings. Which is why you will need the strength of a hundred men. To do whatever it takes. To drag us from the darkness and into the light.”

Louis and his mother locked gazes. He felt he could not breathe.

Then the beautiful girl appeared again, laughing, standing beside Louis’ mother. Both women held out their hands, fingers beckoning. Louis hesitated then reached for the girl. She pulled away and fled. Again he followed.

Out of the darkness and through bright, lavishly decorated rooms they raced, past marble statues, great portraits, and gilded moldings into a dazzling hallway where countless mirrors clung to the walls. Louis saw fragments of the girl’s reflection repeated over and over – a bare breast, a porcelain-white shoulder, the small of her delicate back. She shrugged the chemise from her body and kicked it free. Naked, she ran into the room at the end of the hall.

“I can see Paradise,” warned his mother from behind. “But you must build it for yourself. And let all the world know. Louis the Great has arrived.”

Louis reached the room to find the girl lying on his four-poster bed, a teasing smile on her full lips. Slowly, she parted her shapely legs.

Louis tore his clothes off, flung himself onto the bed, and mounted the girl. With unstoppable and glorious urgency he forced himself into her. Again. Again.

Again.

He awoke as he came, his jaw tight, fists clutching the linen sheets, rising up into consciousness and the shadows of the bedchamber. His semen pooled on his bare belly, hot then cooling instantly. Sweat bathed his chest; his dark hair made a damp frame for his noble face. His eyes burned. He rubbed them, knowing he was awake yet not wanting to be.

A pre-dawn storm thundered outside the royal hunting lodge, the wind and rain battering the shuttered window. Louis’ loyal valet, Bontemps, sat quietly at the foot of the royal four-poster bed. A man in his middle years, his face was patient and kind.

The dream was fading, but Louis held on to one particular image. “Tell the architect Le Vau that I want to talk to him,” he said. “About mirrors.”

Bontemps nodded.

Thunder rolled beyond the walls. Wind caught its breath then hurled another wave of rain at the window.

More awake now, Louis drew his nightshirt down over his abdomen. “How is my Queen, Bontemps? Everyone tells me it’s going to be a boy –”

There was a sudden crashing of glass from outside. Over the noise of the storm Louis heard horses whinnying and men shouting. Then there were heavy footsteps and urgent, angry voices approaching the King’s bedchamber. A moment later, a pounding on the door. Bontemps hurried to open it; Swiss guards poured into the chamber, followed by anxious courtiers. The guards flanked the royal bed, their faces hard. Louis shrunk back, his heartbeat quickening.

“Guard!” Bontemps demanded. “What business here?”

“An attempt on the King’s life,” said one guard.

“By whom? The Spanish? The Dutch?”

“We do not yet know. Fabien is moving to quell the threat.”

“Bontemps,” managed Louis. “Explain!”