Jamie nodded, "Aye. No man ever loved a woman more." No man ever loved a woman more. The words rang in his mind. That’s what they said of his father, yet he would not make the same mistake. I will not let Nicolette go. No man ever loved a woman more, and I pray to God that she will love me. Then he remembered her words, trust me, and believe in me. If his father had done that perhaps things would have been different.
"Murtagh, I must leave for Paris immediately. I cannot waste any more time."
"Nay, Jamie, you’ll have to wait ‘til mornin’, it’s pitch black outside. You’ll never find the way. Better that we make plans since we have much to do. We promised to take the Marquis people with us too, remember. It’s time you meet Marie’s brother, Rauol, he’s one of Laurent’s runners between here and Paris. He can lead the way tomorrow. You’ll arrive sooner that way. Trust me, lad."
~ * ~
Brilliant streaks of light burst into the library window with the early morning dawn. Like a living creature, it inched slowly across the floor, climbing until it finally came to rest on his face. The warmth caused him to stir. Annoyed, he swatted at the air, then moved his head away only to have the sun find him again as a new day glimmered with life.
Jamie struggled to open his eyes. A glistening white stream of sunlight sparkled directly into his gaze, jolting him into sudden agonizing awareness. He shook his head, then his eyes fluttered closed again as he tried to push away the dawn, the waking and the remembrance. He had dreamed of his mother again, and then of Nicolette. He couldn’t keep his fear of losing her from creeping into his thoughts. She had gone. Had she left him for Philippe? He groaned. His head ached relentlessly from the brandy he consumed last night while waiting for the light. Pain like an ocean serf, came rushing in, ebbing, only to serge forth again. He leaned over placing his elbows on his knees with his head in his hands, then stood and walked across the room.
Yanking the glass doors wide, he rushed to the edge of the verandah, hanging onto the edge until his knuckles turned white. The crisp, clean, morning air, fresh with dew seemed to help.
Sudden pain racked him, the insecurity overwhelming his better judgment, "She has left me. God’s teeth!" The explosion of sound caused pain to rip through his head, and his muscles tightened in his shoulders. Then, his mind began to clear, and he heard her soft, sweet voice in his mind’s eye, begging him to trust her. He forced the fear away, shaking his head, remembering her words, her sweet beloved voice, and the cobwebs ripped away one by one.
"I will have you back, Nicolette. I will find you. And then, if you swear you do not love me, only then will I let you go."
It was already light, there was no time for foolishness so Jamie ran upstairs to pack. He took an extra plaid, placed his dirk in his boot, then marched downstairs to Laurent’s practice room, threw open the doors, and walked to a cabinet. He took two pistols, tucking them into his waistband, then strapped a rapier and his broadsword around his waist, and tucked a dagger into his boot.
White stones crunched loudly beneath his feet as he marched and with the rhythm plans began to formulate in his mind. Suddenly, he heard the thunder of horse hooves then heard shouting. He rushed to the stable-yard. Murtagh and several others were gathered in a circle. Jamie burst through the crowd and found Ian on the ground.
"My God, what happened?" Jamie looked around ‘til he saw a familiar face, "Bring some brandy."
Ian finally spoke, "I went after Alec and the Marquis and came upon them last eve. They were ambushed." He coughed, "and both were wounded. Alec looks pretty bad, holding his side, and the Marquis’ head was bleeding."
His eyes closed and his head rolled back. Someone put a cup of water in Jamie’s hand. He lifted Ian’s head and gave him a taste of the liquid.
Ian’s eyes fluttered, "They were headed toward Paris. I had almost caught up to them when I saw the soldiers, I realized they had been captured. I heard them tell the Marquis that they were arresting him by order of the King. They saw me then, and shot, but I got away. I’m sorry Jamie, it’s taken me so long to get back."
Jamie gave him another sip.
"They took them, I could not stop it," Iain’s eyes closed again and he drifted away.
Jamie stood, "See that he’s well tended." Guilt rushed through him like an ice-cold waterfall. "I should have been with them," he whispered.
Murtagh stood behind him and placed his hand on his shoulder, "Aye, and if ye had been, all would be lost."
Jamie’s voice shook with anger, "Rauol, we ride."
~ * ~
Lost in a haze, Nicolette drifted in and out of consciousness. As the moments of lucidity lengthened she forced herself to remain awake by biting her bottom lip until she felt the warmth of blood in her mouth. How long had they been there, a day or two? Time seemed as elusive as she desperately tried to remember.
The clatter of the horse’s hooves made her realize they were on cobblestones. The coach halted. She heard the creak of the door, and then a jostling of the coach as someone stepped to the ground.
"Philippe, we must rest. I realize you do not wish it, yet we have been traveling for two full days."
"But Laurent will follow."
"Philippe, you are an idiot. Do you think I have not made provision for that as well. Think of it, I have had fresh horses and meals waiting for us at every stop. Do you believe that I am so foolish that I did not take that into consideration?"
"So then, tell me of your genius," Philippe’s high-pitched voice sounded excited, "I wish to hear Laurent’s fate once more."
"You are like a child in need of constant reassurance," John Pierre sighed. "Very well I shall tell you once more. I have paid the King’s own guard to wait for my nephew on the road to Paris. They are a bloodthirsty lot and well prepared, I assure you. They hold a Lettre de Cachet from the King for Laurent’s arrest. I do not expect him to survive, but if so, he will be taken to the Bastille." John Pierre laughed, "Brilliant, positively brilliant."
The Bastille! Tears filled her eyes.
"And what of that giant Scotsman, what will become of him? How do we know he will not follow?"
John Pierre laughed, "That bumbling peasant? I have anticipated that as well. The same men have been paid to arrest anyone traveling with Laurent. MacQueen is not to be killed. I have other plans for him."
Nicolette’s heart began to pound painfully against her ribs. Jamie, not Jamie! Please God, protect my Jamie.
"Paris? Why take him there?" Philippe asked.
"Forester has a score to settle with the lout. He wanted my nephew as well, yet, I told him your claim came first. His desire for revenge far surpasses your desire to ruin Laurent. In fact, our plans pale in comparison. Forester was extremely interested at the first mention of MacQueen’s name. In fact, he is paying quite well for the satisfaction of seeing the man once more. Evidently, he had difficulties in America, not just with MacQueen, but with Laurent as well. The Scot is some sort of brigand. Indeed, Forester is insane. He wants the man dead, but only at his hand. What he does not yet understand is how well he will pay me for this bargain. He will give me whatever information I seek later. You see he will be responsible for taking MacQueen from the King’s guard, without permission of course. This is proving not only entertaining, but profitable as well. I expect the information I receive from him about England to be of great help with the King in the future."
"I am relieved. MacQueen can be intimidating to say the least, but then so can Forester. Did you know Forester is a bastard, and believes that one-day he will actually inherit the title? Quite bizarre to fall heir under that circumstance, but then the English have always been strange."
"Inherit the title?" John Pierre laughed, "A bastard?"
"Proprietor, come here man. We have been waiting quite long enough. My niece and her maid are both quite ill. We will need a room for them for the night."
A bang against the coach door startled her, "Gourville, bring her upstairs, then send someone for the maid."
Nicolette feigned unconsciousness while she was carried. It wasn’t difficult since she was drifting away again, yet, when she heard her uncle’s voice she became suddenly alert.
John Pierre sounded tired, almost like an old man. "I must rest, but remember Philippe it will be only a short reprieve. We will leave in a few hours. Place guards at Nicolette’s door and the window below. Pay the stable boys if you must. We cannot take the chance that she might escape. No one at court must ever know what we have done. The King would find treatment such as this to a noble abominable. Perhaps we should drug her again. I leave it to you."
She drifted back to sleep. Some time later she awoke when she felt a hand on her bare breast. The shock of the cold, bony fingers, shocked her back to consciousness as her own will could not. She shrieked, and moved away, then opened her eyes to see the leering face of her uncle.
"Mon Dieu, what are you doing?" She looked down to find her blouse unfastened, and her chemise untied, and her breasts were exposed to his sight.
"Niece." His gaze never left her bosom. "I was just sampling your delicious favors. You are so much like Genevieve, and she allowed me small delights. I did not think you would mind. She had a full lush figure like yours, my dear. I was curious as to what response I might experience at such a delightful sight."
Nicolette struggled to cover herself as she inched backward on the bed. She glanced at Marie. She remained unconscious. Nicolette’s eyes widened, and her anger burned intensely within, "What have you done?"
John Pierre laughed, "Nothing my dear, just a simple peek. After all, I might as well use you for my pleasure, as well as my revenge."
Nicolette suddenly realized the full extent of her predicament, "Yet what of Philippe? I thought I was taken because you wished me to marry him."
John Pierre walked to the door, "That fop?" His wicked laughter rang out. "Oh, do not misunderstand. He wishes to marry, but for less than pleasant reasons."
He smirked, "Do not concern yourself overmuch. He does not truly love anyone but himself. He is nothing more than a sniveling coward." John Pierre sighed, "No, ma petite, I have always intended that you shall be mine. Always, just as your mother should have been. Now ready yourself, we will leave shortly."
Philippe sauntered into the room then, with a cheroot resting on his thin lips. His eyes grew large with surprise as he noted Nicolette’s condition, "Explain this immediately!"
John Pierre walked from the room without a word.
Philippe’s shock and disgust was clearly written on his visage, "Cover yourself!" he ordered, then followed John Pierre from the room. She could hear their loud voices in the hallway.
Nicolette restored her clothing, then looked for something to bathe herself. She had to wash away the disgusting touch. There was a screen at the far end of the room, and behind it a mirror with a water basin and towels. She splashed water on her face and fought to clear the cobwebs from her mind. She finger combed her tangled hair, and took care of her basic needs.
Then she took the basin to the bed and carefully bathed Marie’s face. "You must wake up." She patted her gently on the cheeks, then bathed her face in cool water again.
"Marie, Marie wake up."
"Stop, Nikki! Quit hitting me. I am awake, now. What is it you want? Do you need me to help you dress."
"No, but I need you to wake. Do you not remember what has happened?"
Marie groaned, "My head hurts."
Nicolette slapped her gently again, "We were taken by my uncle, kidnapped, and are on our way to Paris."
Marie’s eyes opened wide, "Mon Dieu, what are we to do? Where are we?"
"We are locked in a room at an Inn. You must rouse. My uncle was just in here. When I awoke his hand was on my breast."
Marie sat up with a start, and wrapped her arms around her knees. A lone tear inched slowly down her cheek, "I will kill him, Mademoiselle. What did he do to you?"
"Nothing, trust me," Nicolette put her hand on Marie’s cheek. "We have been in and out of consciousness, yet he startled me awake with his touch. He is frightening."
"What a sick bastard the man is!" Marie stood.
"We need to make plans."
Marie walked to the door and listened, "I do not think anyone is out there, Mademoiselle.
"At least now we understand their intentions." Nicolette walked to the window, "The coach is waiting downstairs, there’s probably not much time. We have been drugged."
"Drugged? But we have neither eaten nor had drink." Marie sounded confused.
"They held us down and used laudanum, it is that nasty, brown liquid they pour down our throat."
"How can we escape, Mademoiselle?"
Nicolette smiled, "Jamie says you must fight the enemy with any means possible and our only means is deception, so when they come in and pour the drug in our mouths we will pretend to swallow, but we will not! Then we will rinse our mouths, and we will feign unconsciousness. It’s our only chance." She put her hands to her temples and rubbed, "I hear them! It is only a matter of a few seconds. Now lay back down, and pretend you are still asleep."
"How long have we been gone, do you know?"
Tears came to her eyes, "Two days...I do not think that help will arrive. We will have to escape on our own."
"Mademoiselle what is wrong?"
Nicolette took several gulps of air, "I heard them talking. Laurent has been taken to the Bastille. That’s what I was trying to prevent when I met Philippe. He promised to protect them if I came." Tears began to flow in earnest, "Jamie is probably dead. He said they gave orders to a man who wants Jamie dead."
"Mademoiselle, cease your weeping! They mustn’t know that you have overheard them or it will be our lives as well." She sighed, "Did they mention Alec?"
Nicolette wiped her face on the sleeve of her riding jacket, "No, they said nothing about him."
"Then, Chere, he will follow. He will find us, and they will not kill the Laird. Alec says that Jamie is the most courageous man he has ever known. Do not worry. Alec will come and will find a way to help us all. Now, you must look as though you are asleep."
Nicolette joined her on the bed. Somehow she felt strangely comforted by Marie’s words. If anyone could survive it would be Jamie, and if anyone could find them, it would be he and Alec.
She became groggy again but forced herself to remain awake. Dreamily, she thought of Jamie, of his beautiful face, and hoped that he would live. She shuddered when she thought of her uncle. She would rather die than endure his touch.
"Please Jamie, come for me," her desperate whisper echoed across the room. Then she remembered, and a lone tear moved down her cheek, "Jamie."
Fifteen
"Marie wake up, we are in Paris." There was no response, "Marie!" Nicolette gently slapped her cheek.
Marie opened one eye then the other. Nicolette pulled her up, "Wake up! As soon as the coach stops, we will run in different directions, then we will go to the house of Lafayette, and ask for protection. I do not know where he lives, but surely those in Paris can direct us. He is a famous man. And perhaps he can find a way to help Jamie and Laurent."
Marie yawned then clutched her hand, "Have faith, Mademoiselle, I have done nothing but pray since we left the Inn and my prayers are always answered!"
A few moments later the coach slowed to a stop. There was a flurry of activity, and Nicolette peeked out, "Marie, quickly, we must go now, while everyone is busy. Oh dear, the drive is quite long, and the other houses seem so very far away, please be careful."
Marie moved to the door of the coach, opened it slightly then stepped down. She pulled the door closed and crouched low. Then crept by the horses, crossed the drive, and disappeared. As Nicolette stepped down, Philippe opened the opposite door, cursed, and then came after her. She shrieked and ran. He raced around the coach, grabbing her, and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"If you so much as say another word, I will beat you right here."
Nicolette wei
ghed the threat as she looked at the people passing at the far end of the drive. The women looked away and the men only smiled. Her heart sank to her feet as she realized that they would offer no assistance.
"Just a lover’s quarrel," he shouted.
He kissed her in a hard and punishing touch, and her stomach lurched. He was revolting!
"Come my dear," Philippe took her upper arm and pulled her toward the house.
Nicolette continued to struggle, but it did little good. Soon the doors closed behind them and he pushed her away with such force that she stumbled against a wall, striking the side of her face violently. Warm blood oozed from a cut inside her mouth as she fell to the floor.
Philippe grabbed her wrist and yanked her up, his face only inches from hers, "Attempting to run from me? Well, here is the first lesson from your future husband. It is unwise to provoke me. Let me warn you to stop this futile resistance, John Pierre is not to be trifled with."
His whispered words sent a shiver through her. Nicolette closed her eyes preparing herself for a blow that did not come. Her uncle stood at the bottom of the staircase.
"Philippe, I will not be pleased if she is marked."
The words were barely more than an ominous whisper, yet, she sensed the younger man’s trepidation.
"Do you wish a wife with a broken jaw? Come now, I will not allow you to maim her." John Pierre laughed, "We really do have different tastes. I prefer a lovely woman, dressed beautifully, without bruises all over her body. At least, at the beginning of the evening. Whereas you prefer to begin with blood."
Philippe released her, then turned and walked down the hall.
The menace in John Pierre’s voice was unmistakable, "Nicolette, it would be unwise to provoke either of us. Do you understand."
"I will not stay here! I will not! I will find a way to escape!"
He grabbed her arm, "Do not provoke me further!" He shook her violently then nodded to a footman, "Have Gourville come in."
Nicolette recognized him as the man who had accompanied them. Shivers rushed down her arms from a feeling of dread.
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