You and No Other

by Cynthia Wright

  "In early to mid-April, I would guess. Thomas, you are pleased, aren't you?"

  "Of course I'm pleased! I'm just astonished! A baby!"

  "You keep saying that."

  "Our baby." He smiled at her now, and then he kissed her to communicate all the emotions he could not yet put into words. Aimée responded ardently, but St. Briac found his thoughts wandering from her news and warm body to the very subject Aimée had hoped would not occur to him.

  "Wait a minute," he said suddenly, holding her away from him so that he could stare into her eyes. "What the devil is going on? If you are with child, why are you here in Paris? How could you have ridden so hard to catch me at Illiers in that condition? And today! When I think of the danger you were in today! I would never have allowed you to come to Paris, let alone—"

  "I don't suppose you would believe me if I told you that I just learned about the child a few moments ago?"

  "Absolutely not. I've heard you spin that tale about having visions before. Aimée, how could you do this? Why didn't you tell me? I could strangle you." Tendons stood out in his neck, but even as he raged at her, there was love in his voice.

  "If I'd told you, I wouldn't be here now, and Georges Teverant might be on the block in the Place de la Greve even as we speak. I couldn't tell you until I knew for certain what all the subterfuge between you and Gaspard was about. I love you too much to stand by, stupidly obedient, if there's even a slight chance I can help."

  "But what about the baby?"

  "The baby is fine. I'll wager that he or she has been highly enjoying this entire escapade."

  St. Briac put a hand to his head and shook it hopelessly. "I can't stand it. A man ought to at least be able to win arguments with his own wife."

  Aimée burst out laughing and wrapped her arms about his broad shoulders. "How silly you are. Don't you know that I am so devoted to you that I would even act docile if I thought it would make you happy?"

  "I highly doubt that."

  A knock sounded at the door. "Thomas? Aimée? It's Nicole. The chevalier de Chauverge has come and gone. He is so frustrated that I thought he would have an attack of apoplexy!" Her laughter carried through the panel. "You two must be ravenous. Come down for a hot meal."

  St. Briac's turquoise eyes never left his wife's face as he replied, "Merci, my dear sister. We are ravenous, but it might be a few minutes before we join you downstairs."

  Nicole's laughter was knowing. "Eh bien. Don't hurry."

  Chapter 35

  September 26, 1526

  Stars still shone in a velvety black sky as St. Briac and Aimée prepared to leave Paris. They were finishing plates of eggs and apricot tarts in Nicole's candlelit kitchen, when Gaspard came in from the stables.

  "The horses are ready, monseigneur," the manservant announced.

  "And you?"

  "I am always ready, as well you know. However, I do not like the idea of riding on without you and madame. I really do think—"

  "Don't think."

  "But, don't you worry that—"

  "No. I'm not worried about a thing." St. Briac laughed. "Just once, I would be grateful if you would obey my orders without an argument. Between you and my incorrigible wife, I shall lose my mind."

  Aimée laughed and winked at Gaspard. "He'd be desolate without us!"

  The little man had to return her smile; it was irresistible. "I'm sure you're right, madame."

  "Stop plotting against me, both of you," exclaimed St. Briac in mock horror. "I can see that I shall have to contrive to keep you apart in the future if I am ever to know any peace."

  Leaning up to wrap an arm around her husband's neck, Aimée said teasingly, "Obviously you don't really want any peace, Thomas, since you chose Gaspard and me."

  "Did I? Strangely enough, I've been under the impression that it was the other way around."

  Everyone, including Nicole and her husband, laughed at this. Gaspard said his good-byes and went to fetch the Joubert carriage, which he would use to convey Honorine to Fontainebleau. For all his outspokenness, the little manservant never would have dreamed of disobeying any order given by St. Briac. For years he had trusted the younger man implicitly, even with his life, and had yet to fault his judgment.

  "Finish your eggs, miette. We must be away soon as well." Thomas could not stop thinking about the fact that she was with child. Would it be safe for her to ride? During the night, he'd made her vow that she would tell him instantly if she experienced even a moment's discomfort. As it was, he was determined to keep their pace slow. Fontainebleau was not far. They would rest there with the court for a few days and then continue on to Chateau du Soleil by carriage.

  "I wonder what's keeping Honorine?" Aimée said. "She won't have time to eat a bite."

  At that moment her sister appeared, crisply immaculate as usual except for a soft lilac bruise on one side of her face. Only a step behind was Georges Teverant. He wore an expression that St. Briac and Aimée recognized instantly. The couple sat down on the long bench and smiled at each other.

  "Georges has almost succeeded in persuading me to return to Brittany with him," Honorine announced.

  "Oh, really?" Aimée replied carefully.

  "I love your sister," Teverant exclaimed. "Since she has dreamed of visiting the royal court for so long, I agree that she should go, but I will find a way to come to her. I'll clear my name with the king somehow."

  "Isn't this a little sudden?" Aimée murmured.

  Honorine and Georges merely beamed in response; Aimée noticed how such ardent male attention made her sister glow. She would be showered with it at court, but it was always possible that Teverant, in his sincerity, might win out in the end.

  St. Briac chuckled softly beside her. "This is not the time for romance. The sun will be rising soon and we must all be on our way before then. Come on. Time for adieux."

  He and Aimée were to ride away before Teverant made his final escape. Pierre had served as a decoy in case Chauverge might still be lurking about, and it was St. Briac's hope that by the time Teverant emerged from the stables, Chauverge would be gone.

  Kisses and hugs were exchanged all around. Tears flicked from Aimée's lashes as she embraced her lovely sister-in-law. Just a few weeks ago she had felt like an only child, and now it was as if she had two sisters. Everyone was very excited about the news that there would be a new St. Briac baby in the spring. Nicole, Michel, and their children already were making plans to travel west for the occasion.

  Georges Teverant kissed Aimée and then turned to Thomas and unashamedly embraced his friend for a long moment. His voice full of emotion, he murmured, "I owe you my life, mon ami. If not for your courage, I would be dead."

  "There was nothing else to be done." St. Briac smiled. "You are my friend."

  Teverant took Honorine outside for their farewell. In minutes she and Gaspard started off toward Fontainebleau, and Georges waited astride his horse, also borrowed from the Jouberts. Finally, St. Briac was giving his wife a leg up onto Mignonne in the dark, chilly stables. Aimée shivered in her velvet doublet and then leaned forward to wrap her arms around her horse's neck and give her a good morning kiss. Sebastien, with St. Briac astride his powerful back, did a brief caracole to show off and then nudged at Aimée with his wet muzzle.

  "Oh, for God's sake, grow up, Sebastien!" His master laughed softly. "You're as bad as Christophe."

  The stallion whinnied and nodded in agreement and then nudged Aimée again until she giggled and reached out to stroke him. "Bonjour, mon ange," she crooned.

  "This is too much!" Shaking his head, St. Briac led the way into the courtyard. After a last wave to the waiting Teverant, they gained the street. Most of Paris was asleep at this hour; all was quiet. He'd hoped that Chauverge would not have the patience to wait outside all day and night, and that appeared to be the case. They were alone as they cantered through the narrow lanes, across the Seine, and followed the twisting maze of passages that took them through the Left Ban
k to the gates of Paris.

  Once they were outside the city's walls, Aimée's mood soared. The autumn air, though cold, was fresh and dewy as dawn approached. A sprinkling of stars like tiny diamonds still glittered overhead, but in the east the sky had begun to soften. It gradually changed from violet to mauve and then flushed hot pink and apricot as they galloped easily southward toward Fontainebleau. The road they traveled was the only paved thoroughfare in France. Known as the King's Highway, it connected Paris with Orleans via the hunting lodge at Fontainebleau. For a long time the land was flat, but still St. Briac brought Sebastien more than once near enough to reach out for Mignonne's bridle and slow her pace. Aimée would wrinkle her nose at him, but his eyes told her that he would brook no rebellion. The baby was ever on St. Briac's mind. Too many chances had been taken already.

  It was still early morning when they drew up outside a tidy-looking auberge in the hamlet of Barbizon, on the edge of the forest of Fontainebleau. Aimée protested that she was neither tired nor hungry, but St. Briac insisted on stopping. He lifted her down, turned the horses over to a groom to be watered, and joined Aimée at the entrance to the half-timbered auberge, looking exceptionally pleased in a wicked sort of way.

  "I'm certain that Chauverge stopped here for the night," he whispered, devils dancing in his eyes. "I recognized his horse."

  "We shouldn't go in, then."

  "There's nothing he can do to us. I've a suspicion that he's bound for Fontainebleau to whine to the king about my part in Teverant's escape."

  "Thomas!"

  "Never fear, miette. I can deal with Chauverge." He walked away in search of the innkeeper but threw her a rakish smile over one broad shoulder and added, "Starting now."

  Aimée listened as her husband inquired about the chevalier. Yes, the man was here. He'd arrived late last night, past midnight, and was still asleep. St. Briac nodded at this news and then casually made arrangements with the innkeeper to make certain that Chauverge was detained for an hour or two in some way that would cause him as much irritation as possible. He then led Aimée to a table near the fireplace and insisted that she drink a mug of hot mulled cider and eat some cheese and apple. All the while she glanced toward the stairway, panicked at the thought that Chauverge might appear. When they left, St. Briac gave the innkeeper five livres more than he owed along with a knowing wink.

  The sun was dazzling and golden overhead as they rode into the forest of Fontainebleau. Luminous beams of light slanted through the canopies of crimson, yellow, and orange leaves that fluttered in the breeze. It was a glorious day, cool and clear. To Aimée, the sky had never seemed bluer. She glanced over at St. Briac, who sat easily erect astride Sebastien as the horse trotted almost soundlessly over the carpet of leaves. Her heart skipped happily. How splendid a man was her husband! His chiseled profile was one that would warm the breast of any maiden, yet there was so much more to St. Briac's appeal than his handsome face and form. He exuded strength, wit, and a confidence that did not embrace vanity. All these were his effortlessly, as well as a seemingly charmed ability to make the best of any situation and emerge not only unscathed but smiling. No wonder Chauverge hates him so, Aimée reflected.

  "I am so very happy," she said aloud.

  St. Briac glanced at her and smiled. "As am I, miette. I'm the most fortunate man alive."

  When he nudged Sebastien with his knees and came alongside to reach for her hand and press it to his mouth, a wave of almost unbearable joy rushed through Aimée's body.

  They rode on in contented silence. The forest was more beautiful than any Aimée had ever seen. Red stags that would soon turn gray for winter could be seen vaulting away from them, and a variety of birds sang and fluttered in the treetops.

  When St. Briac spied the towers of Fontainebleau in the distance, he led the horses into a grove of yellow-leaved birch where Aimée could change from her boy's garb into a more appropriate gown. This was accomplished amid much laughter. Finally St. Briac made love to her tenderly in a soft bed of leaves. Aimée clung to him afterward, almost frightened by the force of her happiness.

  "How can we go on this way forever?" she whispered, blinking back tears. "It's not possible!"

  "Ah, miette, why indulge in such foolish worries when there is no reason?" Thomas bent to kiss her belly, now aware of its slight hardness, then her breasts, throat, and finally her eyes. "No doubt we will have moments that are less perfect than this, but one thing will never change as long as I live: my devotion to you. Never doubt that."

  Aimée pulled him down and kissed him fervently, hungrily. They rolled to one side, and when she felt St. Briac hardening again, she pressed herself against him eagerly. His thigh hooked over Aimée's legs, holding her fast even as he drew his head away and smiled at her.

  "We're both much too greedy. Let's finish this matter with Francois and Chauverge and then indulge ourselves."

  She made a moue and reached down toward his manhood, but St. Briac dodged gracefully. In the next instant he was pulling her to her feet, laughing. "Get dressed, Aimée. You would use me without mercy if I allowed it."

  Pausing in the middle of donning her chemise, Aimée giggled. "You're a rogue."

  "And you are a vixen. That's why we deal so well together."

  St. Briac, helpless to resist her charm, took her in his arms and kissed her, but moments later he was helping her into her gown of soft plum velvet. He took the pins from Aimée's hair and combed it down into lustrous, swirling curls and then lifted her onto Mignonne's back before she could touch him again.

  It was past eleven o'clock when they finally rode into the cobbled courtyard of Fontainebleau. The oval castle, with flanking towers and a square keep, had been constructed during the twelfth century. Aimée was struck immediately by its modest appearance, particularly compared with Chambord.

  Pierre ran from the stables to meet them, informing them that Gaspard and Honorine had arrived safely more than an hour before. St. Briac was lifting Aimée down and turning over the horses to the boy when the king called out to them.

  "Thomas, Aimée! How wonderful it is to see you." Garbed in dark red velvet and a jewel-encrusted jerkin of blue satin and fur, Francois strode toward them with an unidentified companion trailing behind. "Aimée, your beautiful sister is here. How thoughtful of you to bestow Honorine on the court since you have removed yourself from our touch." His eyes twinkled merrily. "Now tell me, my friends, how is married life?"

  "Blissful," St. Briac informed him succinctly. He arched a thick, curving brow and smiled in a way that made Aimée blush.

  "We're going to have a baby," she announced as she and the king embraced. "Sire, you are looking very well. We've missed you."

  "Well, I'm glad to learn that you've found ways to pass the time in my absence," he said. After hugging his old friend, Francois gestured toward his guest. "Allow me to present Gilles le Breton, a master mason from Paris. We were just discussing the alterations and additions I have in mind for Fontainebleau. Picture this if you will." He swept out an arm. "Within a few short years, we will have a new entrance to the courtyard and a magnificent gallery that will run behind the keep. I'd like a grand new courtyard as well and a huge appartement des bains where we will be able to bathe and sweat after a long day's hunting. Eventually there will be a ballroom, and I'm determined that the very best painters will be searched out and employed to create frescoes in the newest styles. I'll raid Italy of its finest talents."

  "I'm speechless." St. Briac's tone was more than a little wry.

  The king looked sharply at his friend, whose trim doublet of dull gold velvet reminded Francois of the restraint St. Briac tended to exercise in all material matters. "Is this indulgence on too grand a scale? I know you thought I'd lost my senses with Chambord."

  St. Briac laughed fondly as the sun struck sparks on his dark chestnut hair. "Sire, I think that your plans for Fontainebleau are inspired."

  "It's only that I want the best, the most glorious. Not for mys
elf so much as for France."

  "Future generations will thank you for that," Thomas assured him, and then asked that he and Aimée be excused so that they might wash away the dust from their travels before the midday meal. As they walked across the courtyard, he glanced back at Francois, who was gesturing animatedly to the awestruck Gilles le Breton.

  "So much for our monarch's crise de foi. His nature is too optimistic to let minor things like a lost battle and a year's imprisonment dampen his spirits for long. He may not be able to conquer Charles V at the moment, but he's discovered that there are other challenges to be met."

  * * *

  It was a wonderful feeling to be surrounded by the court again. Aimée hadn't realized how much she had missed all of them, especially Marguerite, and even her new friend Ghislaine Pepin. Happily flanked by St. Briac and a radiantly beautiful Honorine, she ate her matelote de la Loire, a fish stew crowded with eel and flavored with mushrooms, cream, and Vouvray wine.

  Aimée had borrowed a gown and some jewels from Marguerite for her sister to wear, and Honorine, resplendent in sky-blue velvet, sapphires, and diamonds, was dazzling Bonnivet, who sat to her left. It was enough for Aimée to sense Honorine's happiness. She looked forward to all they now could share as sisters since each had found her niche. Aimée knew that Honorine needed to play for a while, to bask in the splendor of the court, but a part of her hoped that some day she would marry Teverant and discover a truer, deeper happiness.

  Down the table, the king had just embarked on a long tale about the previous afternoon's hunt, when the doors flew open and a crazed-looking Chauverge burst into the hall, followed by two harried guards.

  "Aha!" he shouted, pointing at St. Briac. "I knew it! I knew that this criminal would be brazen enough to appear at court. Guards! Arrest the seigneur de St. Briac immediately!"

  The king held up his hand and said mildly, "Pardon me, chevalier, but if anyone is going to be arrested, it will be you. I have told you what fate would befall you if you dared to show your face at my court again. Aside from that, I am not charmed by such rude interruptions."