Le Chevalier

by Mary Jean Adams

  She didn’t suppose many highborn Frenchmen would perform the duties of a maid without complaint. Despite his elegant appearance, he was not what the English referred to as a dandy.

  “Are you awake?” he whispered, after he had completed his final trip to the kitchen.

  “Yes,” Alex said, sitting up. How could she sleep with his every move reminding her she would be alone with him tonight?

  “Will you bathe first? I will be down in the kitchen.”

  “In the kitchen?” Alex asked, only because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. She hadn’t meant to sound disappointed.

  “Yes, I think I might see if there is any more of that delicious tea left,” he said, with an uneven grin.

  Alex chuckled, and her shoulders relaxed.

  After he closed the door behind him, she stripped off her mold and dust covered gown and undergarments. She considered tossing them into the fire but thought better of it. Sadie probably had something she could borrow, but given the state of the woman’s appearance, she might soon wish for her own things.

  Stepping into the tub, she sighed as the water, warmed to perfection, hugged her calves. Then she sat down, crossing her legs in front of her. The oak tub looked to be a water barrel cut in half. Even though too small to allow her to stretch out, the walls were high enough for the water to reach her chest. Her nipples puckered as the warm water lapped at them, reminding her of the delicious sensation of his palms on her breast.

  Alex closed her eyes, enjoying the ripples of pleasure that started in her breasts and ran down making her most private parts ache. She reached down to part folds of skin and touch the nub of flesh with her fingertips, gasping as a wave of pleasure overtook her.

  She sat up, awareness of her surroundings drowning out the throbbing running through her. Mont Trignon could return any moment, and she did not need him to find her in the bath pleasuring herself.

  She grabbed the small towel draped over the side of the tub and scrubbed her skin clean. It took some maneuvering, but she also managed to rinse her hair by bending forward and submersing her head under water.

  Finished, she sat back against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the water seep into her aching muscles. She would only rest a moment before she climbed out and let him have his turn.

  Her eyes flew open a moment later when the bedroom door creaked open.

  Sadie bustled in carrying a bundle of white clothes. Alex tucked her knees against her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

  “My word, you really are newlyweds,” Sadie said, clucking her tongue. “You’re in here by yourself, as God intended, and he’s down in my kitchen wearing a path in front of my hearth.”

  She set the bundle down on the dresser. “He’s keeping Rufus entertained though. The old boy is following him back and forth. It’s more exercise than he’s had in years!” She cackled in delight as she set her withered hand on the stack. “I brought you a nightgown and a wrap.”

  “Thank you,” Alex said. She hoped Sadie would leave soon, so she could get out of the bath, but the old woman seemed intent on a having a chat.

  She ran a wistful hand over the pile. “These were the things I wore on my weddin’ night to Charlie. ‘Course, I saved ‘em after Charlie was gone and wore ‘em with Joe and Herbert too.” She grinned and winked at Alex. “I guess you might say I got good use out of them. I hope they work as well for you as they did for me.”

  “Thank you,” Alex said again, ducking her head to hide her embarrassment at the special nature of the loan. Sadie must have seen the flush on her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, girl. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Sometimes I forget what it was like to be as young as you.” She drew closer, knelt down, and patted Alex on the knee. “Do you know what to do tonight?” she asked.

  “I…I” Alex stammered.

  Her dear mother, before she died, had done an adequate job of explaining the physical relationship between men and women. That conversation, when she had been all of thirteen, had been embarrassing enough. She shuddered. She did not need the old crone to take her through it all again.

  Besides, she owned a tavern, for heaven’s sake. She had broken up enough illicit activity in the past year to qualify her as an expert. Well, perhaps not an expert but at least well educated.

  “I’ll be fine,” she croaked.

  “I ‘spose ya will,” she said, rising to her feet. “He’s a good man, and I’ll bet he loves you a great deal.”

  Alex breathed a sigh of relief as Sadie turned to go.

  Reaching the door, the old woman turned. “Oh, and don’t you be worryin’ none if ‘ya get a spot of blood or two on them sheets. They’ll wash.”

  Once Sadie shut the door behind her, Alex groaned, burying her face in her knees.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sadie’s shuffling tread receded down the stairs while Alex stepped out of the tub, dried off and donned the night gown and wrap that had been left for her.

  She surveyed herself in the bedroom mirror. The garment buttoned up the front, and on a woman with more ample proportions, might have outlined her bosom to great advantage. The gentle mounds of Alex’s breasts matched her lithe figure, and the darts in the bodice made to accommodate Sadie’s chest made her look like she had two empty sacks hanging from her shoulders.

  Alex fingered the limp fringe of yellowed lace lining the top of the high neck and frowned. It didn’t look like the nightdress would serve her as well as it had its former owner.

  “Now that is a sight to behold,” Mont Trignon said from the doorway.

  He leaned against the door jam, his long legs crossed at the ankles and his arms folded over his chest. He had removed his jacket and waistcoat so he wore only his white linen shirt, still open at the neck, his buff-colored breeches, stockings speckled with muddy flecks and his expensive, but badly scuffed, silver-buckled shoes. He looked so masculine without all the trappings of fashion that Alex wondered how he could ever have transformed himself into Marie.

  His hair, which he had released from the leather tie, flowed over his shoulders in a wave of silver and gold. Alex had a brief flash of him standing in the uniform of an ancient Greek warrior, bared to the waist, shield in hand. He would have made a better Alexander than she ever could.

  Realizing his attention had settled on her bare ankles, she snatched the wrap from the table and threw it on. It swallowed her in a sea of lace ruffles even more shapeless than the garment underneath.

  “Oh, that is better,” Mont Trignon said, his eyes sparkling with merriment.

  Alex burst into laughter as she turned to examine her appearance in the mirror. If anything, she looked like a tree stump covered in layers of white fungus.

  “It gets better,” she said, snatching a tattered cap from the nightstand and placing it over her damp hair. She tied it underneath her chin and turned back to him. Limp lace ruffles hung over her eyes, forcing her to tilt her head up to see him.

  Mont Trignon pushed away from the wall and came to stand before her. His body just inches from hers, he set his hand on her hip and drew her closer. Alex’s breath caught in her throat.

  “I think it would be better without this,” he said, lifting the fringe with his index finger and looking into her eyes.

  His hazel eyes still sparkled, but the merriment dissolved.

  “Sadie said it helped her with her first husband,” Alex said, in a rush of words.

  “Hmm, is that so?” He gave her a lopsided grin.

  Alex’s face flamed when she realized the implication of her statement. Pulling away, she seized a comb from the dresser, tugged the cap from her head and set about untangling her damp curls.

  “Yes, and her second and third,” she added, thinking it might ease the tension to mention Sadie’s string of husbands.

  Mont Trignon moved toward the tub. “That old girl is something else,” he said, chuckling.

  She stopped brushing and fingered
one of the lace ruffles at her waist. “I’m grateful to her for it. It may not be much to look at, but at least it’s clean. The dress I wore was only a work dress, and after a night on your horse and a few hours in the moldy straw, I don’t think I can bear to go near it again.”

  He laughed and undid the buttons of his shirt. “I considered tossing my jacket and waistcoat into the fire, but alas,” he said, pulling his shirt from his breeches, “they are the only ones I have in my possession. Right now, they are airing on Sadie’s clothesline.”

  “Maybe one of Sadie’s husbands has some clothes you can wear tomorrow while I clean your things,” Alex suggested.

  “It would be a welcome change,” he said, shrugging his shirt from his shoulders and tossing it to the floor.

  Averting her eyes, Alex scurried toward the door. “I’m afraid I let the water grow cold, but I can still give you your privacy.”

  “Do not go,” he said, stopping Alex in her tracks, one hand on the handle of the door. “Do not go, Alexandra,” he said again, his words caressing her back.

  Alex turned to him. Her vision of him bare-chested hadn’t been too far wrong. He had not the bronze skin of a Greek warrior, but he was well-proportioned. Every muscle around his rib cage stood out in full relief, and the planes of his belly rippled past his stomach and out of site below the waistline of his breeches.

  “Please,” he said, his eyes pleading with her. “I really wish you would stay and talk to me.”

  “Very well,” she whispered, turning back to the bed.

  She settled herself on the coverlet, her back to him, and went back to untangling her stubborn tresses.

  His shoes hit the floor with a thud, first one and then the other. She smiled at his groan of disgust as he peeled off his dirty stockings. His breeches swished as he slid them over his hips and down his legs. Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered the outline of his long lean thighs in a pale sliver of moonlight. She shivered. If she turned now, he would not have the cover of darkness hiding him.

  She laughed when he stepped into the tub, sucking air through his teeth. She hadn’t taken that long, and the water had to be at least lukewarm.

  “If the water is too cold for such a gentleman as yourself, I could fetch some warmer water,” she said, imitating Nell’s fawning tone.

  Her heart skipped a beat when she swung around even though his broad shoulders and the back of his golden head were all she could see. That, and his two knees poking above the surface of the water in the small tub.

  “No, this may be just what I need,” he said between chattering teeth, making Alex laugh again.

  Mont Trignon leaned against the back of the tub and propped his muscled forearms along the rounded edges.

  “What would you like to talk about?” Alex asked, as she worked on a stubborn tangle with her fingers.

  “I thought perhaps you might like to discuss our plans for the future,” he said. “We just left behind everything you knew.”

  Alex ceased working the knots from her hair and settled her hands in her lap, the comb resting in an open palm. “I think,” she said with a sigh, “that is, I know we will have to talk about the future soon, but I should very much like to not think about it for today.”

  “Whatever pleases you,” he said. “Perhaps there is more you wish to know about me?”

  Her fist tightened around the comb until the tines dug into her palm, making it throb.

  She wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to know where he had come from and who he had been before. How could he have a direct line to the King of France? She had pressed Reid for information the night the four of them disappeared and returned without Josh and Beau, but he had nothing to share other than Mont Trignon’s association with Lafayette. And that she already knew about.

  Molly had been heartbroken when they returned without Josh, and Alex wanted to understand how a man could leave behind a woman he cared for. Had he done the same when he left France? Was he capable of abandoning love so easily? Were all men?

  Of course, she couldn’t ask him that.

  “Do you miss France?” she asked.

  On the surface, it seemed like a safe enough question, but Alex hoped it would give her the insight she sought. He too had left behind everything he knew: his country, his family, and his home, in addition to at least one beautiful woman she added, recalling Christiana’s adoring eyes.

  “I miss it very much.” He raised a cupped hand full of water and let it trickle back into the tub. In the mirror over the dresser, she glimpsed a flicker of memory distort his features. “But not all of it. For all its simplicity, this country has a lot to offer a man of my tastes.”

  “How so?” she asked. What could a rustic country like hers offer a man of his sophistication?

  He leaned back so the mirror no longer reflected his face. “I have not had a dull moment since I arrived.”

  Alex tucked her feet next to her bottom, hiding her legs under the lace flounces of her wrap.

  “What do you miss most?” She fidgeted with the comb in her hands, pressing her middle finger hard against a single tine until its prick stung her skin. Then she sucked at the tiny bead of bright red blood forming at the tip.

  “My family,” he replied.

  She pulled her injured finger from her mouth. “Your family?” He had said he had been married, but his wife had died. “Did you have children from your marriage to Nicole?”

  “Sadly, no. That would have been impossible. I was referring to my parents and my sisters.”

  “You have sisters?” she asked.

  “Four to be precise, and I believe you have met them.”

  “I have?” Surely, she would have recalled that.

  “Yes, their names are Marguerite, Melanie, Isabelle and…” he paused and turned to her, “…Christiana. Madeleine is my mother who insists on using her Christian name, even with her children.”

  “Christiana’s your sister?” Alex asked, ignoring the rest as her heart set a wild pace in her chest. She had a sudden urge to throw her comb at him.

  “Oui, she is,” he said, before dunking his head in the water. He remerged and flicked his head so his blond hair hit his neck with a thwack. Then he brushed the water from his face with the palm of his hand. “My youngest.”

  Alex’s mind whirled as she digested this.

  He stood up, and she averted her eyes to the comb she held. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she said, in a harsh whisper.

  “Because you never asked.” His bare foot hit the wooden floor with a sodden thump. “ “ “But come to think of it, you weren’t much for asking questions back then, were you?”

  Her face heated as she recalled her thwarted attempt to spy on him.

  “Where did you think I learned to sew and to cook?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I suppose I thought it was something they taught at the chevalier academy in France,” she said, with a shrug.

  He laughed. “You will like Christiana. You have much in common, and I know you will understand each other.”

  “It’s as if I know her already,” Alex mumbled, recalling the expressions she had imagined on the face of the portrait and the woman’s words in her head.

  Had Christiana’s likeness been encouraging her to fall in love with her brother, even to share his bed? Alex shook her head, staring at the comb in her hands. Luckily, there were no portraits in Sadie’s simple home to encourage such madness tonight.

  She gasped as the chevalier scooped her up into his arms. Her attention had been on the memory of Christiana, and she hadn’t heard him approach.

  “How is the bed?” he asked, twirling her around and then depositing her on her back in the middle of the crocheted coverlet.

  “You’re nude!” she exclaimed.

  “Oui, apparently Sadie’s husbands did not wear night clothes, so she had nothing to loan me. Of course, I also got the feeling she did not think I would need them.”

  “But�
�”

  “You Americans!” he said, with mock remonstration. “You have seen me naked before.”

  “But it was dark. And…and…I didn’t look.” She rose on her elbows, averting her gaze from the glistening length of his lower body pressed against her. Droplets of bath water still clung to him, and they seeped through the ample fabric of her nightdress, pasting it to her legs.

  He rolled and stretched out alongside her, bending one arm and propping his head on his hand. “I have a confession to make,” he said, fidgeting with a damp ruffle.

  His eyes twinkled when she turned to look at him. “Yes. What is it?” she asked, doubt in her voice.

  In the few short weeks she had known him, he had confessed to being Marie and then to being a spy. What more hadn’t he told her?

  He set his hand on her stomach and idly fingered the lace flounces. Then he drew his chin up and melted her doubts with eyes darkened to a mossy green.

  “I will leave the room if you wish it. I will find some excuse to sleep in front of the hearth, or I can sleep in here on the floor. But I will not, nay, I absolutely cannot sleep next to you on this bed and keep my hands off of you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  There. He had expressed the depth of his desire for her. No, he corrected himself, not all of it. He had only spoken of his body’s need for her, not that of his heart.

  “Alexandra, I love you,” he said, not daring to touch her while he watched her reaction to the entirety of his confession.

  Tears pooled in the corners of Alex’s eyes, but she blinked them back. Then she smiled, and one spilled out and clung to the tip of her dark lower lashes like a drop of dew. It lingered there before dropping onto her cheek.

  “Say something, chérie,” he said, brushing it away with his thumb.

  When her smile broadened, and she tugged at the bow fastening her wrap, his lower body tightened as though she had physically touched him.