“Sire,” said the valet, his voice tight with concern. “Your bodyguards must escort you to the guard room immediately.” He moved to the window and pulled the shutters back. The King’s royal dressers reached out to remove the King’s nightshirt, but Louis shoved them off. “On whose word?” he demanded. He clambered up and went to Bontemps.

“Away from the window!” shouted a guard.

“I do not know these men, Bontemps!” said Louis.

The guards surrounded the King and moved him forcefully from the window. Louis twisted in their grasp. “I’m going nowhere! And my second son will be born here, in Versailles. While I breathe I will show no fear. I will not leave!”

But the guards would not hear him, and the dressers did their duty. Then the guards hastened the King from the bedchamber and down the dark corridor. Wide-eyed courtiers bowed in pale candlelight as the King passed by. Louis managed to get free of the guards’ hands but was unable to fight the human current that carried him along.

“Where is Philippe?” he shouted. “Where is he? Where is my brother?”

The King’s younger brother Philippe, known also as Monsieur, drew his lips away and smiled up at the handsome, wavy-haired fellow in the velvet-upholstered chair. Chevalier, the handsome fellow, was dressed in a white shirt and nothing else. All the easier for Philippe to enjoy the delicious feast between the man’s legs. Philippe’s knack for obediently teasing and tasting had Chevalier gripping the chair’s arms and tipping his head back in pleasure.

“God,” said Chevalier through his teeth. “You are good at that.”

Philippe smiled. Of course he was.

There was a sudden hammering on the door. Philippe glanced over dismissively then looked back at the rock hard, glistening organ before him. He leaned toward it, ready to take it again, but the pounding continued.

A footman shouted through the door, “The King summons you! Monsieur?”

Chevalier scowled. “We heard you the first time!”

Philippe brushed a strand of dark hair behind his ear and gave Chevalier an apologetic grimace. He pushed himself to his feet and shuffled to the door. Chevalier casually pulled at his shirttail and covered himself partway.

Philippe opened the door. “Is the baby born, then?”

“You are to come at once, Monsieur,” said the footman.

Philippe rolled his eyes and yawned. He looked back at Chevalier.

With a wave of his heavily ringed hand, Chevalier said, “I’ll send a for a snack.”

“I couldn’t eat another thing,” replied Philippe. He stepped out into the corridor and pulled the door shut. Before he could complain about the interruption, the footman informed him of the planned attempt on Louis’ life.

Erotic pleasures were instantly forgotten. “Have they caught the men?”

The footman shook his head. “They are still searching, Monsieur.”