by Jackie Ivie
Esmee’s lips set, and she glared at Giselle before turning aside.
“Come sit beside me, Giselle.”
Aunt Mimi patted the blue striped settee. Giselle looked from her to Navarre and then Esmee. Nothing was spoken, but they were deciding something. She could sense it. And this was maddening! Giselle looked at Navarre again and he finally met her glance. Her heart lurched, differently than before, as she read the emotion in his eyes. It wasn’t love. It was misery. And pain.
“Go to her, Giselle.” He gestured to his aunt.
“But Navarre…I must know if it’s true.” Giselle blinked away the moisture that had instantly coated her eyes.
“Not now, Giselle.” He turned away and started walking toward the doors.
“That’s not fair! I lied about the state of my…my marriage….” the words were choking her, “and you say not now? To me? Then, when?”
He stopped and the sigh that ran his frame was easy for her to spot. It lifted his shoulders.
“Tomorrow. After luncheon.”
“Tomorrow? But—”
“I will not speak of such things now. Not here. I usually ride after luncheon. I will be available to you then. You can accompany me if you like.”
If she liked? She was to ride. With Navarre? Alone again? Her heart was giving her trouble as it went faster, while her breath was a match. She had to concentrate in order to answer without giving anything away.
“Very good.”
Giselle saw Aunt Mimi’s nod at her answer through the corner of her eye. She was amazed the words came out as dull and bland as they did. That was two lies in one evening. . And there would be a heavy penance to pay. But maybe…just maybe…it wouldn’t come too soon.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Giselle rubbed at her eyes. She’d surprised herself by sleeping deeply. The connecting door still puzzled her, though. But not enough to continue looking at it. Her neck ached, and the headboard felt so hot against her back, it started a sweat at the back of her neck. So hot… So…alive.
Mon Dieu!
Giselle flipped over to face Etienne, frightened at the sight of her husband, and he knew it. She couldn’t disguise it. She pulled at the sheets to cover herself, her mouth gaping as she started shaking.
“Bonjour.” He greeted her and then he smiled.
Giselle went icy, the sensation depleting her strength. Sapping her will. Stilling her thoughts.
“Do I still frighten you, little one?”
Etienne reached for her as he said it. Giselle jerked back, toppling over from the unaccustomed weight of the turban-wrapped hair. He found her amusing. Laugher filled the room.
“Oh, come, Giselle. I won’t harm you.”
He moved closer as he spoke, using his arms and shoulders. Giselle lifted her head as she felt the mattress moving, while her jaw dropped. And then her eyes went wide. Oh no! Etienne’s upper torso was thick with muscle…and nothing else. He was naked in her bed?
Non, non, and non.
Giselle lunged for the edge, tossing the bedcovers at him in her haste. She heard his chuckling again.
“You’re very beautiful, Giselle…but I’m certain you’ve already heard that before, especially from my littlest brother, eh?”
Giselle was grateful the room was dark. He couldn’t see the guilt flood her. The morning glow behind the draperies shed just enough light to reveal his nakedness against the white sheets.
Tiens! She hadn’t looked away fast enough.
“You can run, but I can’t chase you, you know.”
He leaned back against the headboard, his arms behind his head as he said it. Giselle knew he was studying her. She didn’t look again to see it. She felt his regard as an unpleasant shiver up her back.
She’d also been stupid with her nightgown. She had several thicker ones. Anything would have been better than the filmy thing she had on. He had slept in her bed, and she snuggled against him as if he were the headboard? Giselle felt ill at the thought, and then went cold all over.
“It’s warmer back here with me.”
“Why…are you here?”
Giselle started searching for her dressing gown as she asked it.
“Why? I’m fulfilling your request, of course. My rooms are being cleaned. Isn’t that what you instructed?”
He chuckled again. It wasn’t funny, and the dressing gown seemed to have grown more sleeves. Giselle turned both of them right side in, before finding another one. She tossed it aside, barely stopping her cry of frustration. She also stopped the rash of words. She hadn’t considered the consequences of her command. She’d been testing her authority over Madame Dessard. She never intended Etienne to actually sleep with her. How could she have?
“Come, Giselle. Stop this nonsense and come back to bed. It’s warmer in here. With me.”
She shook her head.
“You weren’t so cold to me before you woke. You found me quite comfortable. You snuggled against me. I know. I watched you.”
He watched me?
How could she bear it? It felt like she’d betrayed the most beautiful thing she’d ever experienced – her newly discovered love for Navarre! And yet, she’d snuggled against Etienne…and didn’t even know it?
She should have said something to her mama last night. That’s what she should have done. Perhaps Papa would relent and let her rejoin the family after all….
No! Giselle thought. The comte didn’t deserve Savignen Valley back. But what else could she do? What?
“Come back to bed, Giselle. See sense. It’s quite cold out there. You can’t hide it, you know. And I’m still a man. I can tell. You might as well be naked.”
Giselle’s face flamed as she crossed her arms about herself. Only a blunt, uncouth barbarian would say such a thing! She knew the sound she made resembled a snarl, but it was more. It was a wound to the heart. She’d betrayed her love for Navarre!
“You must obey me, Giselle. You do know that, don’t you?”
He was trying to cajole her now? He might as well save his effort.
“I said I watched you, and it’s true. I’ve been awake most of the night, thinking. I made a spectacle of myself last night. You have my word it won’t happen again.”
“I don’t believe you.”
The words were out before she could stop them. Giselle was amazed at her own daring.
“Why not?”
Because drunkards can’t hold to promises! She longed to shout the words, but held her tongue.
“Come along, Giselle. My patience isn’t that long.”
“You drink too much,” she said bluntly.
He laughed, and Giselle narrowed her eyes. It seemed Etienne was enjoying the situation.
“So? I can’t walk, either. Pity about both. Anything else?”
“I don’t know you.”
“True enough. I hardly know you either. What of it? You’re still my wife, and I’m your husband. You’ve womanly curves, too. I appreciate that.”
Giselle gasped. “You’re—That’s so—it’s…lewd.” She was flustered, and the words sounded it.
The room grew lighter, and she saw him clearly as he leaned forward. “Lewd? Interesting word choice. I don’t think I mind that you find me so. Truly. So, you’ve found a few of my defects. I have them. Who doesn’t? If you look beyond them, you’ll see I’m just a man, all the same. A man who happens to be your husband. I grow tired of repeating myself. Come back here. Now.”
He no longer sounded pleasant, he sounded menacing, and just last night she’d likened him to a small boy? That had been naïve. She backed a step, and then another.
“Do you wish me to fetch a servant to make you obey? Or perhaps I’ll summon my brother. Navarre will see to it that you do your duty. He’ll see to it that you join your husband. He has no other choice. Is that what you want, Giselle?”
The moment he said the name, Giselle stopped. And then she started walking back to him, forcing one step after the next. Having that threat
carried out was the worst thing she could imagine. She wondered if Etienne knew that.
He wouldn’t quit staring as she reached the pedestal and stepped up. She had to turn aside from the blatant masculinity of his chest. Her eyes filled with tears. Her heart thudded, and each beat sent pain. She blinked rapidly at the velvet texture of her coverlet.
“You see? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She couldn’t answer. If she did, he’d know what she was trying to staunch.
“Now…if only you’d do it willingly, and not at the threat of my little brother’s presence, all would be well, non? You’ll work on that?”
Giselle nodded.
“Tres bien. Come closer now.”
She shook with the effort, but leaned into the mattress. Wads of material in her hands kept her steady as her eyes overflowed with tears.
“Now give me a kiss.”
She couldn’t even face him and he wanted a kiss? He wanted her to touch his lips with her own? Giselle slammed her eyes shut to the horror of it, and didn’t care that the tears slid off her chin and down her throat.
She’d found purgatory, and it wasn’t part of any afterlife. It was here. Now. The Bible and the priests hadn’t been succinct. Giselle’s hands crushed the velvet into her palms and she concentrated on how that felt. Any sensation was better than feeling the touch of Etienne’s lips against hers.
She’d have to cancel her riding plans with Navarre. She couldn’t face him. Not now. Maybe never. A knot formed in her throat, choking her. A roar that sounded like thunderous rain pounded through each ear, so loud she almost didn’t hear Etienne’s snort.
Her eyes opened. He hadn’t moved at all. He didn’t expect her to crawl up into the bed beside him, did he?
“You’re still a maid?” he asked. “What stupidity is this? You asked for me, Giselle. I thought it meant—.” He stopped and ran his fingers through his long, blond hair, and then glared at her. “This is impossible! I don’t want a sacrificial lamb I have to deflower! What fool would? I’m not even certain I can function, and now you toss this in? I certainly can’t if you shrink from me. What were you thinking? I need a woman, not an unfledged girl! I need passion and heat, not tears and virginity. Merde!”
Giselle heard the pain in his voice and looked away. He didn’t want her virginity? Only a fool would? What did that mean?
“I don’t know what I was thinking. Or why. And I already have two sons — Jacques and Rene. I don’t need you! As God is my witness, I don’t know why I’m even here. Be gone from my sight! This moment! Go! I don’t want maidenly fears. I don’t want pity. And I can’t abide tears! Go! Let me rest in peace.”
His voice grew loud and bitter the longer he railed at her. Giselle didn’t wait for the end of it. She tripped in her haste and fell to her knees beside the pedestal. She drew a quick cross of thankfulness on her breast before fleeing, pushing past rows of ball gowns to search for a place to hide in the wardrobe where she could sob in privacy. She didn’t care if the servants found her there.
It would serve the duc right.
~
There were too many people in her wardrobe room.
Giselle told them twice before Louisa finally had Gerty leave. Giselle wasn’t listening to any of their entreaties, either. She didn’t care how the duchesse should behave. She knew what she wanted. She wanted her hair washed out, an ensemble set out for riding, and some answers.
“This would have been more convenient if you bathed in your chamber, Giselle,” Louisa told her. “I can’t imagine why we must make do with this enclosure. We are being pressured by your clothing, and you might splash. What would happen to your dresses, then?”
“I don’t care.”
“Mai oui, you’re stubborn today.”
“Call it what you will.”
“This is a wardrobe chamber, Giselle, not a bathing room. It’s so small we’re tripping over each other to serve you.”
“Send Gerty and the others away then. Isabelle may stay.”
“You can’t make do with such a small staff, Giselle. Especially with this coiffure. It’ll take time to undo. What possessed you to—”
Giselle interrupted her. “I will not issue my orders again, Louisa. I will not argue them either. I bathe in here. Then, I’m going riding. Etienne isn’t going to watch me. And unless you want the rest of the household to know why, you’d better make sure all these people are sent away. Away! Do you hear me?”
“It shall be as you wish, Madame le Duchesse.”
Louisa bowed formally and dismissed Gerty. Giselle knew tales of her bathing in the wardrobe room would grow until they’d think she’d used a closet. That was a misnomer. This room was easily as large as her tower in Chateau Antilli, and would have been convenient except for the dresses cluttering both sides of the available space.
“And shut the door after her!” Giselle shouted.
She heard Etienne’s laugh. He was disgusting. Revolting. Confusing. He said he wanted a woman, but what did that make her? And who were these sons of his? She couldn’t ask Gerty, Isabelle, or even Esmee, who arrived next after being told about Giselle’s demands by Gerty.
Giselle didn’t care. She was going riding with Navarre, and she would get the answers she deserved. If they were too horrid, she would leave. They could keep Savignen Valley. And good riddance. Giselle would join the convent of St. Mary in Bordeaux. That’s what she was going to do.
She didn’t tell Louisa her plans. That would just start another sermon on how she needed to live more and pray less. Giselle must not have been praying enough. Etienne was her penance. She shuddered just thinking of him.
“Is the water too cold, Madame?”
Isabelle held out a towel as she asked it.
“Non. I’m letting my imagination run amok again. What time is Monsieur Navarre riding? Has he said yet?”
“At four, Madame.”
Isabelle was avoiding her gaze. She wasn’t calling her Giselle, either. Giselle knew why. The entire household was probably under the assumption that she prepared herself for an assignation with Navarre. Giselle lips thinned. She no longer cared what they thought.
“Bring my dress, Isabelle, and don’t waste any more time.”
Giselle was curt. Annoyed. They must have suspected as much, for no one spoke again. And if anyone questioned anything, she was ready to snap at them, too.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Navarre probably looked as incredibly handsome as always in his red breeches and black frock coat, but Giselle ignored him as she stormed down the steps. She came to a stop beside the beast she was to mount. She’d have been terrified of one as big as Navarre’s but hers looked more like an overgrown puppy. It was uninspiring against the stylish gown Isabelle had laced her into.
She didn’t care about such things as her appearance anymore. She hadn’t even checked in the mirror before she left. How could she? Etienne was still there. Drinking. From a lounging position in her immense bed. Surveying the chambers as if he belonged there.
Giselle looked down at herself. The gown was tight against her cinched-in waist, the skirt wasn’t full, but it was voluminous, and gone was the high, powdered arrangement of her hair. She was grateful for the comforting weight of her bun against the back of her neck, although the elegant hat on her head was as unwieldy as Monsieur Poinre’ s creation from the previous day.
“You look splendid, Giselle.”
Navarre smiled down at her, and she glared at him until the smile left.
“Put me on the horse, Navarre, and get me away from this horrid castle.”
“Horrid? What has happened? If Etienne has—.
“He has done nothing, but I refuse to talk near these walls! They tell too many tales. And I refuse to be gossiped about any further.”
“Very well.”
He lifted her easily, and Giselle tried to squelch the instant reaction to his hands about her waist. She was angry with him, too. He was a Berchald. And the entire
family was perverse, not just Jean-Claude.
Still, she felt the heat of a blush at his touch. She needed more material about herself to protect herself from the experience.
“Since you haven’t ridden before, I’ll lead.”
Giselle nodded and tried not to watch as he mounted his horse right beside her. She’d assumed it wasn’t possible to gasp in her corset, but she was wrong. Despite what everyone thought, she wanted answers from him, nothing more.
It was a pity her heart wasn’t listening.
Giselle’s hands on the saddle horn trembled. It would help if Navarre wasn’t sitting so straight in his saddle right in front of her…or if the queue showing beneath his hat weren’t so golden-blond…or if his shoulders weren’t so wide. His hips so slender…
Her horse started off. Giselle choked back the cry of surprise. It would never do if he thought her frightened, and after a few steps, she realized that she wasn’t. This riding was no worse than the cabriolet had been, only a bit stranger. She moved backward and forward with the animal’s gait, pleased with herself.
“Do you have any preference on time or how far you wish to ride?”
They reached the gate. It was a different than they’d entered when she first arrived. Giselle looked through the opening at gray stone that stretched out to line the road for some distance. A few trees shaded the lane, and she held her breath in wonder as they thinned. Finally, she saw the size of her own dowry.
“You didn’t answer me, Giselle. Giselle?”
Navarre turned in his saddle, so much higher than her on his big horse. Giselle couldn’t see his expression in the shadow thrown by his hat, but he could see hers. She could tell by his next words.
“Ah. The valley. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Very productive, too. We have the best yield in all of France. I have an excellent overseer, too.”
“I?” she queried.
“Well…Etienne doesn’t show much interest in any part of the Berchald estate, so I do.” He shrugged and turned back around. “If you wish to tour Savignen Valley, it will take until nightfall.”
“I came for answers, Navarre, not sights.”