There was so much Gabrielle wanted to say to her sister but she scarce knew where to begin. She was surprised Ariane hadn’t forced the issue between them before now. Her older sister had never been one to let matters simply rest, always wanting to fix everything, to heal what was sometimes not ready to be healed. Gabrielle had often resented Ariane’s probing, those discerning eyes of hers that could peel back layers of the heart too easily, leaving wounds one sought to protect raw and exposed.
But Ariane didn’t push, didn’t probe. She waited, her eyes downcast, her hands folded before her. Gabrielle suddenly realized this was just as hard for her sister, finding a way to bridge the gulf between them.
Gabrielle cleared her throat. “It was my fault.”
“I—I beg your pardon?” Ariane faltered.
“Our quarrel. The rift between us and what has happened to Remy.” She gestured miserably toward the bed. “I am to blame for all of it.”
“Oh, you are the one who shot the captain? Well, I am sure that is quite understandable. There have been many times I wanted to do the same to Renard, especially when I found out he really did have that cursed book.”
Her sister’s jest left Gabrielle reeling in astonishment. Ariane had always been so serious, almost painfully so. She saw what Ariane was trying to do, teasing to ease the situation. But her gentle humor had the unexpected effect of cracking Gabrielle’s reserve. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, Ari. I—I have made such a d-dreadful mess of everything.” Her voice broke on a mighty sob.
Ariane said nothing, just gathered Gabrielle into her arms. There had been so many times Gabrielle had resisted her older sister’s comfort. Now she melted willingly against the softness of Ariane’s shoulder, weeping out all the heartache, fear, and stress she had kept bottled up since her quarrel with Remy.
Ariane rocked her, stroking Gabrielle’s hair, her gentle, healing hands so like their late mother’s. “Hush, dearest. Nothing has happened that can’t be mended.”
“You—you don’t know. You have n-no idea some of the things I have done.” Gabrielle drew back, shuddering on a hiccup. She wiped furiously at her eyes until Ariane produced a handkerchief. Ariane always had a handkerchief.
She cupped Gabrielle’s chin, drying her cheeks. “I am afraid I do have some idea of what you’ve been up to. It was no accident that Bette followed you to Paris, seeking employment. I sent her.”
As Gabrielle’s eyes widened, Ariane went on hastily, “I couldn’t endure the thought of not knowing what happened to you. Not with all the dangers of the city, the court, the Dark Queen. I sent Bette, instructed her to dispatch regular reports. Those pigeons she raised in the pen behind your stables weren’t for your dinner table.”
“I should have suspected as much. I loathe pigeon pie and Bette knows it.”
“Please don’t be angry with her. It was my idea. I made her do it.”
“I am not angry with her or you either.” Gabrielle said. “Perhaps at one time I would have been foolish enough to have been furious. But I have been so afraid you no longer cared if you ever saw or heard of me again. That—that I’d so shamed and disappointed you by becoming a courtesan, by living in the house that belonged to Papa’s mistress. I thought you must hate me.”
“Oh, Gabrielle, how can you think such a thing? You and I have always had our differences—”
Gabrielle smiled. “That is a bit of an understatement.”
Ariane also smiled but it was a tremulous one. “I have often been worried by your choices, afraid for you, hurting for you. But you are my sister. I will always love you no matter what.” Ariane’s eyes filled with tears. “And I have missed you so.”
“I have missed you, too.”
Gabrielle drew her sister to her fiercely. They hugged, laughed, and cried over each other. Drawing apart, they peered guiltily in Remy’s direction, but he slumbered on undisturbed. They shared the handkerchief between them, drying damp eyes. Gabrielle had always hated what she thought of as the womanly weakness of tears. She had especially loathed ever breaking down in front of her composed older sister. But it was different somehow, sharing a good weep with Ariane. She felt curiously better for it.
Ariane composed herself with a final sniff. “Now, what is this I hear about you becoming betrothed to Remy?”
Gabrielle shook her head sadly. “Unfortunately, that is all over. I daresay you haven’t heard the rest of the story because Bette did not know.”
“I didn’t get the tale from Bette, my dear heart. I heard it from Remy.”
“Remy?” Gabrielle echoed in astonishment.
“When Miri sent word to the château about Simon Aristide’s demand, Renard and I headed for Paris at once. Our first thought was to contact Remy, but we found him only by chance. Your Scourge was tearing the city apart looking for that Lascelles woman.”
“For Cass? But why?”
“Remy had some notion of forcing her to come forward and tell the truth to clear you. He didn’t want you to end up a fugitive, forever on the run from witch-hunters.”
So that was what Remy had been doing when Gabrielle had begun to fear he had abandoned her. She was moved that he should have attempted such a desperate thing on her behalf and dismayed as well.
“I am glad Remy never found her,” she said. “Cass is the most dangerous person I’ve ever met and that includes the Dark Queen. You always warned me to steer clear of anyone who practiced dark magic, but of course I didn’t listen. You would have never been so tempted.”
A chagrined expression played across Ariane’s gentle features. “I am not a saint, Gabrielle. Although you have often implied that I thought I was.”
“I am sorry, Ari. I never meant—”
“No, you were quite right. I did try very hard to act the part of the all-wise, all-knowing Lady of Faire Isle. Mostly so no one would ever realize what a fraud I am. I must have been quite insufferable.” She fetched a deep sigh. “The truth is, I am not wise. Far from it. It was particularly difficult for me just after Maman died. With our father lost at sea, you and Miri to look after, all the debts Papa left, and then everyone on the island turning to me, expecting me to be as wise as Maman.”
Ariane swallowed hard before confessing. “I was so desperate. I turned to black magic myself to—to conjure Maman’s spirit.”
“You practiced necromancy? I didn’t even realize you knew how.”
“I am not as naturally skilled at it as Cassandra apparently is. But I did succeed in contacting our mother several times. Even though I promised her never to do it again, I have still been tempted. Especially this past year when—when—.” Ariane broke off, her eyes darkening with sorrow.
“Miri told me about your—your difficulties, about you losing the babe.” Gabrielle pressed her sister’s hand. “I am so sorry, Ariane.”
Ariane managed a wan smile. “Thank you, but I fear I have already dwelled too much upon my grief. I was furious with Justice when I realized he had acquired the Book of Shadows and didn’t tell me, that he was actually attempting to read it. Worse still, he finally admitted he has been taking some concoction his grandmother taught him to brew. To render his seed temporarily sterile. I was so angry, so devastated. But all he wanted to do was protect me until he found some way for me to be safely delivered of a healthy babe.”
Ariane wrapped her arms about herself and leaned wearily against the wall. “I was so consumed with what I wanted, I paid no heed to my husband’s feelings. Justice lost his own mother in childbirth and I know that has always been his greatest fear for me, but I chose to ignore that. In my quest to become a mother, I was forgetting to be a wife. I—I hope he will forgive me for it.”
“I am sure your ogre will tell you there is nothing to forgive. The man completely adores you, Ariane.”
Ariane smiled, arching her brows. “As your Scourge does you and even though you were foolish enough to declare your betrothal at an end, I don’t believe the man intends to let you ge
t away from him so easily.”
Gabrielle wished she were as certain of that. She cast a wistful look toward the man sleeping on the bed. “So what happens now, Ariane? What are we going to do? Do you think Aristide and his witch-hunters will pursue us all the way to Faire Isle?”
“I fear so.”
“I wish Renard had succeeded in blowing the wretched man up,” Gabrielle said bitterly.
“Uh . . . that wasn’t Justice. That was me.”
“What!” Gabrielle dragged her gaze from Remy to stare at her sister.
Ariane squirmed, looking guiltier than Gabrielle had ever seen her. “It was that cursed book,” she blurted out. “Even I couldn’t resist the temptation to peek inside the cover. Justice and Remy laid their plans for rescuing you, but there was so much that could go wrong. Just one little spell, I thought. Just in case.
“I found instructions for making an explosive device so small it could be launched like an arrow from a bow. So I made one, kept it in reserve, and when everything did go wrong and Justice’s retainers were ambushed, I decided to use it. I have always been so good at deciphering the ancient language. I thought I had followed the instructions carefully, that the device would explode in the air, go off like an enormous skyrocket and create a diversion. Instead it’s a miracle I didn’t destroy us all and set half of Paris on fire.”
Ariane hung her head, looking so horrified by what she’d done, Gabrielle should have sought to reassure her. Instead she had a hard time suppressing a smile. Noting her struggle, Ariane frowned at her. “There was nothing the least amusing about it, Gabrielle. I could have killed a lot of innocent people.”
“But you didn’t,” Gabrielle pointed out practically.
“But I could have. You see what a horrible person I really am. I daresay you will no longer have any respect at all for me.”
Gabrielle only grinned and gave her sister another hug. “I am more in awe of you than ever. The Lady of Faire Isle is indeed a force to be reckoned with. And there is one good thing to come of the fire you set. That evil book was bound to have been destroyed and none of us need ever worry about it again.”
When Ariane still looked far from comforted, Gabrielle added, “Your explosion did end up saving the day. It came at a very timely moment.”
She sobered as she told Ariane what had happened with Miri. “You know how our little sister has always been, so tenderhearted, so bewildered by violence. I swear she would shift a venomous snake off the road to keep it being run over by a cart. But when she had that pistol leveled at Aristide, I have never seen such a hard expression on her face. I—I think she really was prepared to kill him to save me and Renard.”
Gabrielle fretted her lower lip. “I’d like to shoot the bastard myself for what he has done to Miri, the most innocent and trusting soul that ever lived. He betrayed her yet again and then he turns around and saves her, even at the cost of letting Renard escape his vengeance. No wonder Miri ends up so confused. Why can’t the blasted man make up his mind to act like a proper villain and be done with it?”
“Because no one ever is a complete villain. We are all a blend of light and darkness. Some hearts much darker than others,” Ariane conceded ruefully. “I, too, am sorry for what has happened to Miri. But the world is full of evil and treachery. Miri couldn’t cling to her innocence and dreams forever. She had to grow up sometime, much as we both hate to see it.”
“I do hate it,” Gabrielle said. “No one was more frustrated than I by her belief in such things as fairies and unicorns and in that perfidious Aristide. But it hurts to see her disillusioned, her heart forced to grow tougher. I never really wanted her to change.”
“If it is any consolation to you, there is much about our little sister that is still the same.” Ariane motioned Gabrielle to the window, gesturing toward Miri and Wolf in the paddock with the pony, Martin’s dark head bent close to Miri’s blond one as they conferred in what Gabrielle could only describe as a decidedly conspiratorial manner.
“Miri still retains her fixed view on the rights of animals and her faith in her ability to communicate with them,” Ariane said. “Apparently that pony has been giving her some sad tale about how lonely he feels, how he would like to be on a farm where there were other horses and perhaps some children to play with him.”
“Oh, no,” Gabrielle groaned, guessing what was coming. Miri had been known to—what did her younger sister call it—liberate unhappy animals from their lawful owners.
“It would be very poor recompense for Madame Perrot’s hospitality if Miri were to make off with her pony,” Ariane said.
“And Martin Le Loup would be just the lad to help her do it,” Gabrielle agreed. “We’d best keep an eye on those two.”
Ariane started to nod, then she stiffened, an arrested expression coming over her face. She cocked her head as though she detected someone calling her name. Gabrielle heard nothing, but she noticed Renard staring intently up at the window. He touched his ring with the strange runic symbols and Gabrielle noticed her sister did likewise with the one encircling her finger.
Whatever silent communion passed between them, Ariane’s eyes grew softer, a hint of color stealing into her cheeks. “I think I—I need a breath of air.”
“Oh, yes, of course you do,” Gabrielle drawled.
Ariane blushed even more deeply before Gabrielle’s knowing look. She smiled sheepishly as she headed for the door. Before she slipped out of the room, she called, “Look after your Scourge. I am sure Remy will awaken soon and he’ll be wanting you.”
After Ariane had gone, Gabrielle lingered by the window until she saw her sister emerge into the barnyard below. As Ariane approached her husband, he set aside his axe. The two exchanged a long look, then with a single bound Ariane was in Renard’s arms. He lifted her off her feet as their lips met in a passionate kiss.
Gabrielle watched them wistfully, envying her sister that love she shared with her husband that went beyond the need for words, that could heal all misunderstanding and hurt, enable them to begin again. Would she and Remy ever arrive at that point with each other? Gabrielle crept back to the bedside where Remy lay so still, his eyes sealed closed, so completely oblivious to her presence.
“Remy will awaken soon and he’ll be wanting you.”
Gabrielle sank to her knees by the bed, buried her face in the coverlet and prayed that Ariane was right.
Gabrielle had no idea how long she knelt there. Perhaps exhaustion had overtaken her and she had fallen asleep. The feel of something brushing against her hair roused her. Her heart gave a mad leap when she realized what it was, the touch of Remy’s fingers. She jerked upright to find him gazing at her with a wan smile. He still looked very tired, but color had returned to his face and his eyes were remarkably clear.
“Remy!” She sprang to her feet. “You—you are awake. How are you feeling? Are you in pain? What can I get you? Some water or some brandy perhaps? Or—or do you need more of Ariane’s potion?”
In her eagerness, she would have darted from the room had Remy not sat up to stop her. He flinched, obviously paying the price for such a sudden movement. Gabrielle flew back to his side immediately.
“What are you doing?” she scolded, easing him back to the pillow. “Lie still.”
“I will. As long . . . as you don’t go,” he grated. “I don’t need anything just now except—”
“Yes?”
He exhaled a deep cleansing breath, then answered by patting the mattress beside him. Gabrielle settled herself gingerly next to him, longing to cover his face with kisses while she wept with joy and relief. But the woman who had once considered herself such a skilled seductress felt shy and awkward, afraid of aggravating his injury, of causing him any more harm than she’d already done.
Remy took hold of her hand, his grip surprisingly strong, as though he feared that if he let go of her she would vanish before his eyes. He studied her through half-lowered lashes until she felt miserably self-conscious of her
rumpled gown and tangled hair. Perhaps it was a foolish moment to be worrying about her looks, but for so long she had believed that her beauty was her one gift to offer.
She essayed a shaky laugh. “I must look like a positive hag.”
“No, only very tired,” Remy murmured. “You should have left me, gotten some rest last night. But I am a selfish bastard. I am glad you remained.”
“You realized it was me? I thought you might have mistaken me for Ariane.”
“I know your touch, Gabrielle.”
She warmed with pleasure at his assurance. “Oh. I—I wasn’t sure. You seemed so close to delirious. I was afraid you were going to drift into one of your nightmares.”
“I might have, but you were here. I saw your face, haloed by the candle. You have always been able to keep my nightmares at bay.”
“I rather thought that I had become the source of them,” she said. “Oh, Remy, please believe me. I am so sorry for every—”
“Hush,” he commanded, cutting her off with a gentle squeeze of her hand. “No more of that. I am as much to blame for the terrible way we parted as you. I have always known I possess the devil’s own temper when roused. But I never realized what a hard and unyielding ass I could be until Wolf kindly pointed it out to me.”
“Of all the impertinence,” Gabrielle said indignantly. “Martin had no business doing so.”
“Yes, he did. The lad has proved a good friend to me. Quite the greatest I have ever known, next to you.”
Gabrielle had received many compliments in her life, but never any that moved her as deeply as that one. Remy gathered her hand more tightly in his own. “I still didn’t fully appreciate how much of a bastard I had been to you until I burst into the inn and you wept with disbelief at the sight of me.”
“It was only the smoke, Remy. Stinging my eyes.”
“No, it wasn’t, not entirely. I’ll never forget the way you cried out you came for me as though you’d thought I wouldn’t. That I truly would abandon you for the sake of Navarre.”
The Courtesan Page 51