by Jackie Ivie
He kept her gaze as he drew out the last words, as if daring her to contradict. And she was still staring, somehow mesmerized, unable to look away. He smiled slightly and then winked, as if they were fellow conspirators. Giselle swallowed, feeling gauche and stupid, caught and netted, ensnared and vulnerable. No wonder he wore a spider motif!
“Ah, the wine!”
The door opened, taking his attention from her. His exclamation greeted Esmee’s return. Apparently, she’d brought Aunt Mimi, as well. Giselle didn’t turn to check.
“Jean-Claude!” Aunt Mimi exclaimed. She must also be the one clapping her hands. “How can my favorite nephew come for a visit without telling me?”
Giselle hadn’t moved her eyes from watching him. And he knew it. He acted like her attention was expected. Warranted. Deserved.
“I’m flattered. As always. Mimi.” His bow was exaggerated, matching his tone.
“I received an answer from Navarre, Giselle,” Esmee said. “He says our head groom is well-versed in anything you might wish to see. Giselle?”
Giselle shook herself slightly before turning back to the room. Every hair on her neck whispered in disagreement. Because now Jean-Claude was behind her and slightly to the left.
“Giselle sent for Navarre?”
Aunt Mimi asked it. Esmee answered. Giselle was still assimilating how it felt to have Jean-Claude near, but not in sight. It was unsettling. Disturbing. Bordering on fear.
“Of course not. She merely wished to tour the stables. I sent for Navarre.”
The pressure on Giselle’s fingers increased for a moment before Etienne released her hand.
“All this talk of Navarre and stables. Surely, there are more interesting things to discuss.”
Jean-Claude walked through her vision, and selected a glass of wine. She watched as he drained his glass as quickly as Etienne usually did. Something Navarre said came back to her. From her tour of the portrait gallery. Drunken, debauched, and wicked...
“Non?”
He answered himself when no one else did. The then he sighed. Heavily. It was extremely visual, moving a large chest and shoulders with it. And Giselle really needed to look at something else!
“Then perhaps the charming duchesse wouldn’t mind if I accompany her on this stable tour. What do you say, Giselle? I’m overdue for entertainment of this sort, anyway.”
He looked directly at her, and Giselle barely suppressed the reaction. A shudder.
“But of course, Jean-Claude,” Esmee said. “We can make an excursion of it. Someone should apprise Navarre of your arrival, though. Perhaps that will change his mind on accompanying you.”
“Won’t that take some time?” Giselle asked, without one bit of forethought.
Everyone looked at her. She forced herself to show nothing.
“To reach the dower house?” Esmee laughed lightly. “Honestly, Giselle. Aunt Mimi’s house is just on the other side of the maze. It takes a few minutes to reach if you know the path. I should have told you earlier.”
Giselle couldn’t believe it. She’d spent the entire afternoon trying to best Esmee at intrigue, and she could’ve been talking to Navarre! She felt everyone watching, but she knew Jean-Claude did. He was entirely focused on her. The feeling was even more disquieting.
Somehow, it felt like even he knew of her failure.
Esmee had offered to show the maze deliberately. Because she’d been told Giselle was trying to reach Navarre. How she must have chuckled when Giselle refused. Giselle lifted her cup to her lips and swallowed some tea while everyone waited for her reply. She set it back on the saucer. Nothing rattled. That was gratifying. And then she looked up and spoke with as bright a tone as possible.
“Think nothing of it, Esmee. Truly. It’s nothing. If I wanted to know where the dower house was, I would have asked.”
“Oh course, Giselle. I only meant—”
“I grow tired of this,” Giselle interrupted, placing her tea cup and saucer on the table. “I said I wanted to tour the stables, and so I shall. And if Jean-Claude stands ready to escort, we’ll be on our way. Jean-Claude?”
She stood and walked toward the door, waiting for him to catch up.
“Of course, my dear.”
He refilled his wineglass and brought it with him. Giselle forced herself not to look up at him as he neared. And then loomed above her. She should’ve donned shoes with heels, but it wouldn’t have done much good. Her chin came to his silver belt buckle.
“Wait for us, my dears,” Aunt Mimi called. “I wouldn’t dream of missing this.”
Giselle watched Aunt Mimi rise. “Esmee?” she asked.
“No. No. You go. I’ll stay and chat with Etienne. I’m certain he has no more interest in the damp and smells than I do. The stables are much too odorous this time of year.” She shuddered. “Au revoir. Have a wonderful tour.”
Wonderful tour?
Giselle heard and felt Esmee’s amusement and there wasn’t one thing she could do about it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Giselle knew she should’ve waited for Louisa. She shouldn’t have relied on Isabelle. All the maid did was slow her down. And she needed an explanation for everything! Isabelle wanted to know why Giselle was interested in the maze. She wanted to know why Giselle wasn’t resting for dinner. She wanted to know why the stable tour hadn’t been enough air and exercise.
And for once she wasn’t keeping her own counsel.
“I can’t believe you need another walk,” she said. “Haven’t you walked enough today? This will gain nothing but trouble for you. Come, Giselle. Let us go back before it gets dark. We’ll be missed.”
“Must you argue further, Isabelle? You remind me of the time, yet slow me down. That will make me late for dinner.”
The maid’s lips thinned, but she didn’t reply. Giselle’s skirts touched the grass as she entered the maze with Isabelle at her heels. She knew Isabelle still disapproved, but she’d finally stopped her questions. Giselle was thankful for that.
Now…which way?
The stables had been muddy, and if it hadn’t been for Jean-Claude’s misery, Giselle would’ve cried with vexation at Esmee. As the woman foresaw, the mud combined with other smells were atrocious, but Giselle had avoided the worst of it. Jean-Claude was heavier and wore his heels, and it was amusing to watch him lift each foot, curl his lips, and force himself not to complain. Perhaps that made the time pass so swiftly, and not the plans she was fomenting.
She had just under three hours to prepare before she was expected at dinner, which, due to Jean-Claude’s arrival was swelling to over twenty participants. That should just give Giselle time to negotiate the maze and find Navarre.
Her imagination didn’t think past that, to what would come once she found him. She didn’t know how, or if he’d receive her. But he had to! She had to make him see she was crazed with heartache when she spoke. She thought it was something the two men had planned from the first.
No. Wait. She couldn’t tell him that.
“Isabelle?” Giselle spun. The space around her was empty. “Isabelle?”
Oh! She should have waited for Louisa, but she ached with need for Navarre’s arms around her. Giselle had to be honest with herself. She didn’t just want his arms. She wanted his arms, lips, all of him.
She hadn’t thought it through, and Isabelle didn’t know her true reasons. If Isabelle knew Giselle wanted to meet Navarre and why, she’d never have agreed to come. And now, that she had, Giselle had second thoughts. And third ones. Giselle shouldn’t have brought her. She’d never be able to speak freely with Navarre with Isabelle hovering over them.
The corridor she was in ended. Giselle stared at the hedge in front of her nose for several moments before she realized it. Then, she looked up, but that didn’t help. The walls of the maze were very high, but she expected as much. They’d been groomed for the Berchald family. Of course it was built for giants.
Giselle turned around and started back
the way she came, for it looked familiar. She caught her arm on a stray branch and heard the lace rip from her elbow. Then there came a rustle from behind the hedge wall to her left, but it hadn’t been caused by her actions.
“Isabelle?”
Her whisper was loud. It was growing darker in the corners of the maze, and no one else knew she was there. Giselle peeked around the corner before stepping out. The statue that greeted her made her squeal. She put a hand to her mouth to stifle it. There was no reason for such fear. There were statues at other corners. She walked closer. It was of Diana, the Greek goddess of the hunt.
Had she seen it before?
Giselle had been so caught up in what she would say to Navarre, she hadn’t paid any attention to where she walked. There was another sound to her left, and she walked toward it. Perhaps it was Isabelle.
But why didn’t she answer then? Was someone else out here? Perhaps baiting her with more intrigue? It could be Esmee. She’d probably find it amusing if Giselle got lost looking for Navarre. But wait! It could also be Jean-Claude.
Giselle backed from the strange rustling sound and ran into what might be a statue of the Greek god, Mercury. She didn’t know the mythological gods well, even though Louisa had lectured her on them often enough, but the wings on the statue’s heels showed who he was.
Oh, why had she come now? She should’ve waited until tomorrow. Navarre would be informed of Jean-Claude’s visit, and she wouldn’t be wandering this maze, not knowing where she was.
She ran into Diana again.
Giselle’s hands went to her mouth to squelch the cry. Oh! This was impossible! She was lost in the maze, and only Isabelle knew where she was. But Isabelle could be lost, too. And…Jean-Claude could even be stalking me!
Giselle ran blindly, passing another statue she couldn’t name, and then reached another dead end. Her heart constricted, her breath caught. She felt faint. Dizzy. There was little room in her corseted dress for panicked breathing, but that wasn’t the problem.
Someone was following her. She was certain.
She was having trouble breathing. Giselle clamped her hands to her stomach and tried to suck in air as quietly as she could, listening intently as she did so. Concentrating to hear above the thud of her own pulse. The only other sound was a bird call from high above.
Oh. Thank the Bon Dieu.
She’d been stupid. This was proof. If Jean-Claude were out here…stalking her……there wouldn’t be anyone to stop him. Why hadn’t she thought it through? He could easily gain his inheritance back…by getting rid of her. That’s why Aunt Mimi accompanied them to the stables without one comment about the mud. She was protecting Giselle. They all were, and how did she repay that?
By getting lost in the maze.
Giselle had no one to blame except herself. She turned back the way she’d come. It was difficult to hear above the sound of her heartbeat. Nothing looked familiar, but she’d been running, without marking a path. She peered around a corner and stopped, sucking in another breath. She was at the edge of the hedges, in the vast open space that was the center of the maze. She knew what it was because Antilli had just such a layout, where Giselle had played when she was very small. This one contained a small fountain, a large tree, three stone benches, and Navarre.
He sat on a bench, facing her, but his head was in his hands so he didn’t see her. Giselle knew she’d been mistaken earlier. Navarre had no comparison. She’d forgotten how much he affected her, too. She realized it as her heart raced, this time for an entirely different reason.
Evening dress couldn’t have been more attractive on Navarre than the homespun breeches he wore. His stockings were torn, and Giselle smiled as she looked him over. His lower half was splattered with mud, his shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, and his hair hung loosely to meet his sleeves. He was still the most handsome male she’d ever seen, Jean-Claude included.
She was almost to him before he looked up, and her heart stabbed her when he did. Because she’d caused the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the pain in their depths.
“Giselle?” he whispered.
She pushed between his knees, placing his head at her neck level. He looked up at her. Giselle finally got to run her fingers through his hair, filling her palms with the long, silky strands. It was as delightful an experience as she’d imagined it would be, and she put her face against it, breathing deeply of the clean, fresh aroma. She had forgotten how wonderful he smelled.
And then she felt him respond. He wrapped his arms about her thighs, and Giselle could swear she felt them, even through all her petticoats.
“My love.”
She whispered the endearment before lowering her mouth to his, touching him, and teasing open his lips.
He groaned and Giselle trembled. She’d forgotten that sensation, too.
“Giselle, you must stop. You don’t…know what you do.”
He was panting, and she canceled his entreaties with kisses. A shudder ran through him, shaking her with it. Large hands moved from her thighs, past her buttocks covered with yards of material, to her waist. Then she felt him moving up the boning of her corset to cup her breasts.
She moaned, and felt her flesh swelling to fill his palms. His touch hardened then, almost paining her before he wrenched his mouth away, and his hands fell.
“Navarre?”
Giselle clenched locks of his hair, making it impossible for him to pull away easily. She liked being able to look down at him. She felt in control, although she knew he could change it at any moment. It was a heady feeling.
“No, Giselle. Please?” He looked away, pulling strands of hair from between her fingers. “I’m a pig, remember?”
“Non! I’m stupid, Navarre, and young. I didn’t know what I was saying.”
“No, Giselle.”
He sighed and lifted his hands to hers. She knew he was going to be able to untangle her. It was a matter of time despite how she tightened her fingers.
“You were right. And I didn’t even guess—”
“Don’t finish that!” she stopped him. “You’re not a pig. You never were. You’re noble. Honorable. Chivalrous. I wouldn’t love you so much otherwise.”
His breath feathered across her throat, but his hands stopped trying to pry hers away.
“You don’t understand, Giselle,” he told her throat. “I wanted to do what Etienne asks. I can’t tell you how much I long for it. So you see? I am a pig.”
“No, Navarre.” Giselle pulled him closer. The situation was exactly as Louisa told her. “You’re not a pig. That was what made me most angry, I think.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper as she managed to get the words out.
He looked back up at her, confusion filling his eyes. Giselle caught her breath at the light in them. She’d been fooled, earlier. Jean-Claude might resemble Navarre, but his eyes were a far cry from the soulful depth of Navarre.
“You make no sense, Giselle. Please? Release me. I must go.”
He tried to untangle her. Worse, he was using his thigh muscles to push her from the space between his legs at the same time. The loss of contact made tears fill her eyes, and he flinched.
“Giselle, don’t cry. Please? It’s best I stay away. You must know that much. I can’t stay near you anymore, and not think of—! Oh God. I am a pig.”
She had to make him understand, but it wasn’t easy. And she had to speak quickly. She bent forward and pressed her lips to his forehead. At the touch, he stopped moving.
“Navarre, please listen! I wasn’t angry at you, or even at Etienne. You must understand! I love you. Completely. Totally. Until there is nothing else. It’s the only thing I know for certain, anymore.”
“You know so little, Giselle. How can you say that? You were right to speak as you did. I’ve been thinking about it a lot these past few days. I should’ve spoken earlier and told Etienne he was uncouth to suggest such a thing, let alone wish me to entertain it. See? You were right. Now, please. Le
t go.”
Giselle took a deep breath before she lost her courage.
“I spoke as I did to hide my own desire for it, Navarre! Don’t you see? I had to cover my own reaction. I didn’t know any other way.”
She whispered the last words to the sky. She couldn’t stop the tears as she was totally honest with him. Giselle didn’t dare look down. She finally admitted she wanted him, and was ready to give up her hope of heaven for it. There was no place left to hide.
Navarre’s hands still touched hers, although he seemed to be stone. She didn’t know what else to say. She’d bared her soul, saying something hidden even from herself. But for what?
Nothing.
“Giselle. Look at me.”
She shook her head and sniffed. She couldn’t possibly look at him.
“Giselle, please? I beg it of you.”
“I can’t, Navarre! I’m so wicked! And…no one understands.”
“Wicked?” He chuckled again, his breath teasing her throat. “Giselle, we aren’t wicked. We’re caught in a trap from which there is no escape. I adore you so much I fear sometimes I’ll go mad from it. Still, nothing changes. I can’t sleep and I can’t eat. My every thought is of you. Nothing assuages it, either. If I stay away, what happens then? I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and then I can’t even think. Nothing changes, Giselle, nothing. You belong to Etienne…and not to me.”
She pulled one hand free to wipe away tears before they dropped off her chin.
“I want you, Giselle.” His voice dropped to a low rumble of sound. “Dieu! I want it so badly, it eats at me. But I won’t do as Etienne asks. And you won’t either. That’s not wicked. It can’t be. Being wicked cannot possibly feel this bad.” He sighed, and she felt hair moving across her skin as he turned his head away. “I’m explaining it badly, aren’t I?”
“No.”
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
“Because it hurts too much!” Admitting that brought on a fresh flood of tears. They blurred her vision and clogged her throat. “I never should have come! I’m sorry, Navarre. So…sorry.”