Tempted by His Touch: A Limited Edition Boxed Set of Dukes, Rogues, & Alpha Heroes Historical Romance Novels

by Darcy Burke

  It gave her great comfort to sing it again. She hadn’t done so since that night in the chapel with Madre Paola. And Simon.

  The man who had inspired her to take risks, to reach for happiness.

  This final obstacle to putting her past behind her and revealing her stepfather’s sick act was proving to be insurmountable.

  She was about to respond to Gabriella when something caught her eye just past Gabriella’s shoulder. “Gabriella, is that not the school?”

  Gabriella turned and gasped. “That is André Grignon, the schoolmaster. He is whipping that child!”

  Standing outside the schoolhouse, the schoolmaster viciously lashed a small boy with a switch across his back as the child wailed in agony.

  “Stop this carriage!” Angelica shouted to the driver and jumped down the moment it came to an abrupt halt. She ran and snatched the boy to her. Pushing the sobbing child behind her, she turned to confront the schoolmaster, fury burning through her veins.

  “What do you think you are doing?” She shook with outrage.

  “Stand aside,” the tall, thin man ordered. “I discipline the children as I see fit.”

  “No! This is not discipline! This is brutality. What could he possibly have done to deserve a beating of this magnitude?”

  The schoolmaster snorted. “I do not answer to you.”

  “I’m taking him home.” She turned to the boy when Grignon grabbed her arm. Instinctively, she swung around and struck him with an open palm across his face. “Don’t touch me! I am not one of these helpless children you enjoy mistreating.”

  Angelica ignored the man as he held his cheek, stunned. She gently picked up the sobbing boy and briskly carried him to the carriage, Gabriella rushing alongside her.

  In short order, they found themselves standing in the Moutier home, having learned en route from the young boy, Tristan, that his mother worked in the Moutier’s household.

  Sabine stepped out into the foyer, wearing a welcoming smile.

  Her smile died the instant she saw the crying boy in Angelica’s arms and his blood-soaked shirt. Sabine rushed forward, gently lifted the shirt, and saw the open cuts slashed across his back.

  “My God, what happened?”

  “Grignon did this to him,” Angelica explained, still livid.

  “Brute!” Sabine’s single word was rife with disgust. Calling to a male servant, she ordered him to carry the child upstairs.

  “This treatment of children cannot be tolerated,” Angelica said.

  “Oh, I quite agree!” Sabine looked just as enraged. “First, I must inform Claire about what happened to her son. Then we shall get to the bottom of this. If this is the first time Grignon has done this to a child, it is one time too many. Today is the day disputes are heard in the village square. We’ll attend and advise Simon of the schoolmaster’s practices. I don’t believe Simon or Jules had any idea that Grignon was capable of this!”

  Angelica glanced at Gabriella and cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I already have a matter before Simon today. This one involving the schoolmaster will make two.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Simon sat at a long table in the village square with Jules, Domenico, and Armand. A large crowd had assembled before them. As Domenico called out each item from the list, the concerned parties stepped forward before Simon and took turns arguing the merits of their dispute against the opposing individual.

  Simon tried to render judgments that were fair and would set boundaries of conduct for all. By the sixth dispute, he was hard-pressed to stay focused. Merde. This was tedious in the extreme. Jules hadn’t jested when he’d told him these were mostly about chickens.

  Armand diligently recorded every dispute and resolution.

  “That was the last one, was it not?” Simon inquired, anxious to put an end to the tiresome task.

  Domenico shook his head. “No, I’m afraid. There is one more that was added at the last minute.”

  Simon sighed. “Domenico, tell me it isn’t over any more livestock.”

  “No, definitely not livestock…”

  “I am next, am I not?” Père Crotteau stepped out of the crowd to the middle of the square before the table of four.

  “Yes, you are. Proceed,” Domenico ordered.

  “I have a very serious matter to put before you, Captain. A matter of grievous importance. A conduct that cannot, must not, be tolerated. There is an individual amongst us who has committed a crime against the Church.” Gasps and murmurs swept through the crowd.

  “Dieu.” Simon groaned to himself. This was the last thing he was in the mood to deal with. Could this day get any worse?

  He rubbed his tired eyes with his finger and thumb. “Who is this individual?” His voice was flat. “And what is the crime?”

  “A woman, Captain. She entered the church and attempted to desecrate the holy house with a sacrilegious act.” Cries of astonishment rose anew from the spectators.

  With a heavy sigh, Simon asked, “Where is this woman? What is her name?” The prolonging of this monotony irked him.

  “Here,” a voice called out from the back of the crowd. With another wave of murmurs, necks craned and turned, followed by a collective gasp as Angelica finally broke through the mass to enter the center of the square.

  Simon swore under his breath.

  Jules leaned into him. “Oh, this is going to be interesting.” He grinned.

  Domenico poorly suppressed a chuckle.

  Simon ignored his friends as he watched Angelica approach and stop beside the old priest. From the top of her glossy brown curls down to the simple cut of her pale yellow gown, she looked stunning. She fixed him with her full attention, her hands folded in front of her, her chin raised.

  “I’m the one Père Crotteau accuses.”

  His insides twisted with a mixture of desire, longing, and vexation. Did she have to cause him grief all of the time?

  “What have you to say regarding this charge against you?” he demanded. What he really wanted to ask her was, Where have you been the last two nights? She was the only woman who’d ever kept him waiting. She was the only woman he’d ever waited for.

  “The charge is absurd. I was with her, and I convinced her to do it,” Gabriella called out as she stepped into the center and stopped beside her friend. Another round of gasps and murmurs swept through the crowd. “If there is to be a punishment, then it is for me as well!”

  “Gabriella!” Domenico exclaimed, no longer sharing Jules’s amusement at the scene before them.

  “I have no objection to having both women punished,” the priest magnanimously offered.

  “What did she do?” Simon asked.

  “She entered the Holy Church today and she—sang,” Père Crotteau announced. “And it was not a Psalm,” he was quick to add.

  Simon briefly closed his eyes and held back the expletives bellowing in his head as murmurs rippled through the mass once again. His exasperation made him feel suddenly weary.

  Armand leaned toward the three other men at the table. “Did the priest say, ‘sang not a Psalm’?”

  “Yes,” Jules confirmed, still smiling. “That is what he said.”

  This was an area Simon wasn’t comfortable with, for he lacked the devotion some had. Yet he didn’t want to appear unconcerned.

  He couldn’t believe he was about to settle a religious dispute, of all things.

  “Captain,” the priest continued. “The sanctity of the church must be maintained. I won’t tolerate anything but pious devotion within its walls.”

  “Père Crotteau is right. She must be punished!” the schoolmaster, André Grignon, exclaimed as he stepped forward to join Angelica, Gabriella, and the priest. “She must learn her place. This morning, this woman came to the school and took one of the children…and then she”—he paused, touching his cheek—“struck me when I tried to stop her!”

  A roar erupted from the spectators. Sabine de Moutier stepped out into the center with the other
s.

  “Sabine…” Jules’s amusement died the instant he saw his wife standing defiantly with Angelica.

  “Silence,” Simon commanded the crowd.

  “This woman is guilty of nothing but falling victim to two pompous individuals who are under the misguided belief that your reasoning would ever be as absurd as theirs.” Sabine leveled her husband and Simon with a stern look.

  “Oh Dieu,” Jules softly swore.

  “Did you do the things these men accuse you of?” Simon ignored Sabine’s comment, too vexed at the willful, green-eyed woman before him and her errant ways.

  Angelica took a step forward toward him. Her delicate shoulders back, she stood tall and held his gaze. “I did attend church, and I did sing. I sang a song that was taught to me by my mother. It has been a form of prayer to her since her death. As for your schoolmaster, I admit I did take the boy and that I did strike Grignon. In fact, I am hard-pressed at the moment not to strike him again.”

  Gasps and murmurs swelled in the square again and died down just as quickly. A smile tugged at the corners of Simon’s mouth, despite himself, remembering full well the force with which she could deliver a palm to the cheek. Grignon looked positively outraged.

  “You see! She freely admits to her evil deeds,” Père Crotteau chimed in.

  “She has not committed evil deeds! There is nothing evil about Angelica’s song,” Gabriella argued. She moved to Angelica’s side. “If there has ever been a voice truly angelic, then surely it is her voice. Her song is heavenly. Sing to us, Angelica. Sing to these people, and let them judge if there is anything sacrilegious about your song.”

  “Gabriella!” Angelica exclaimed in a heated whisper.

  “What of her act of sacrilege?” the priest demanded.

  Domenico leaned into Simon and rasped in his ear, “You are not going to punish my wife. I, on the other hand—”

  “Easy, Domenico,” Simon stated softly. He didn’t feel Angelica deserved to be punished because of her song, yet he couldn’t show favoritism here. Fairness as well as impartiality was expected of him. Nor could he offend those who were devout and clung to the Church’s rules by making light of the matter.

  Simon turned his attention back to the small group before his table. “I find myself rather liking Madame Dragani’s suggestion. Angelica will sing us the song she says is a prayer to her mother.”

  Her eyes widened. “I’ve never sung before such an audience.” There was unease in those moss-green eyes.

  “Go on, Angelica. You can do it,” Gabriella said.

  “What do you hope to prove with this?” Jules murmured.

  “Wait and see.” Simon found himself anxiously anticipating her song. “Are you curious to hear the song Père Crotteau believes has defiled the sanctity of the church?” Simon asked the people.

  The crowd responded with a roar. “Yes!”

  He’d given her no choice. She looked around at the throng clamoring to hear her song, and then at him. Why are you doing this? was clearly etched on her lovely face. He wanted to answer her unspoken question, to tell her to trust him, that it was the only way he could think of to avoid having to punish her yet still appear impartial. But then again, she didn’t trust him. Did she? Not with a single meaningful detail about herself?

  “Sing,” he commanded her.

  She looked around again, then back at him and finally took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and paused. Eagerly, he awaited that first heavenly note. She didn’t disappoint. She began to sing. Softly at first, then stronger.

  The crowd fell silent.

  He hadn’t forgotten the song. That beautiful, haunting voice pervaded his heavy soul. It was but one of the many multifaceted reasons he was so very drawn to her.

  Absorbing every sweet note, he wanted to remain suspended in it. Her voice and that song had a way of vanquishing all else but its melody. And the woman it came from.

  When the last note faded, she opened her eyes and scanned the crowd. For a moment, there was only silence.

  Lucio and Nicolo were the first to clap vigorously, followed by thunderous applause from the rest of the throng, their cheers and whistles filling the air. The look of astonishment on her face was priceless. Slowly, a brilliant smile formed on her sweet lips. He couldn’t hold back his own grin. It was obvious she’d never truly realized until this moment how moving that song was. There was pure joy in her eyes, and in his heart for her.

  His beautiful songbird had succeeded in winning over the entire crowd.

  Just as he knew she would.

  He glanced at Jules, Armand, and Domenico, thoroughly enjoying the stunned looks on their faces.

  Simon raised his hand, and the jovial noise dissipated. “I must agree with Madame Dragani. That sounded far too angelic to be wicked. Would you not agree?” he questioned the crowd. They cheered anew.

  “This is preposterous!” the priest began to spout, red-faced. “The church is no place for—”

  “That song is as close to heaven as some of us here will ever get,” Simon interjected. There was applause and some laughter that rippled through the crowd. “The mademoiselle will henceforth refrain from singing her prayer in the church, and you, Père Crotteau, will accept her onetime form of spiritual devotion to her mother’s memory. We are finished with this matter. Step back,” Simon ordered. The old priest complied with a nod, being wise enough to know how far to push.

  “Now then, I’ll hear about the incident at the schoolhouse next.” Simon’s gaze was fixed on Angelica. He’d schooled his features into a more purposeful look, though he still reeled with pleasure over her accomplishment.

  With regret, he saw her smile die, yet she didn’t flinch under the weight of his stare as others did. She never had. Inner strength was something he’d always admired. And she had an abundance of it.

  “Today, I observed, while on my way past the schoolhouse, Grignon whipping a child severely,” she responded, her tone dripping with disdain and anger.

  “That is nonsense. A gross exaggeration of the truth,” the schoolmaster argued.

  “It is not an exaggeration.” She cast Grignon a look of contempt. “The boy was terribly wounded. This man does not teach. He terrifies these children. No child can possibly learn under these conditions. Nor should they be made to.”

  “You know nothing of what you speak. And you know nothing of teaching,” Grignon countered.

  “Not true. I have taught children in the past, and they can learn, even difficult passages, when you stir within them the desire to learn,” she shot back.

  Simon watched as she stood her ground, not allowing Grignon to intimidate her. She spoke with conviction. And she was completely alluring in her temper.

  She was completely alluring always.

  “Is this true, Grignon? Did you beat this child?” he asked.

  “The child was simply disciplined. Discipline is an important part of any child’s education.”

  Simon nodded. “I will see the boy for myself before making a decision on this matter.”

  “But she is out of control. She needs punishment!” the schoolmaster exclaimed, his eyes scanning about for someone to concur.

  Simon frowned. “Grignon, do you dare question my judgment?”

  Grignon’s brows shot up. “No-No, of course not.” He cleared his throat. “I am confident your decision will be just and proper, as always.” He forced a weak smile.

  “Simon, the boy is here,” Sabine announced. She motioned to her servant, who carried the boy to the center of the square next to Sabine.

  Sabine lifted the boy’s shirt.

  Instantly, a soft cry quivered through the crowd. Simon felt his ire grow as he gazed at the child’s back.

  “Grignon, you call this discipline?” Simon demanded.

  “Yes. It is important—”

  “It is excessive. And unacceptable!”

  Jules let loose a string of expletives. “If I’d had any inkling he was capable of doing so
mething like this,” he growled, “I would have broken his skinny neck.”

  Simon knew if Grignon had done this to other children, their parents would have been afraid to report authority to authority. It was often the way with peasants. Regardless, he had to know for certain. “Have others among you had children suffer something similar to what this boy has suffered at Grignon’s hands? I demand a show of hands.”

  People exchanged uneasy glances. Slowly, some reluctant hands began to rise.

  Merde. “Grignon, you are relieved of your duty as schoolmaster.”

  “What?” Grignon paled.

  “Furthermore, three months’ labor in the fields, without pay, will hopefully give you enough time to consider your ill ways.”

  “But…”

  “Don’t speak!” he barked. “Or I’ll reconsider my punishment and flog you myself. That is all.” Simon stood.

  The crowd began to depart.

  Simon stepped around the table. “Angelica?”

  Standing with Gabriella, Sabine, and their husbands, she turned around. She was smiling, despite the marital discord near her.

  “A word with you,” he requested.

  She approached. He wanted to shake her, to hold her, to lose himself in the sweet oblivion she induced with just one of her kisses.

  “Yes?”

  “A warning, if you will. In a single morning, you have managed to offend the Church and unsettle our system of schooling. Tell me, do you have any plans for the afternoon?”

  “No, I believe I’m done for the day.”

  “Excellent. I think we need to keep you busy. You have been teaching Suzette to read and have taught children in the past. Would you like the position of schoolmistress?”

  A small gasp escaped her. “Oh yes! Yes, I would!”

  Angelica felt as though her heart was ready to burst, overjoyed by what she’d just observed—his anger and outrage over the abuse the boy suffered. How many more times did she need to see him demonstrate his compassion for others? With each matter brought before him today, he’d been fair. Considerate. He’d even assisted her with the old priest—and now he was granting her a position that meant the world to her—schoolmistress.