Brocade Series 02 - Giselle

by Jackie Ivie

  She grabbed a breath and slammed her entire body up into his. Lightning was hitting at her. Stunning her. Overtaking and encompassing her. And her ears were filled with a thunder that spliced the night, encompassed her hearing, overrode her experience, and claimed her body. Giselle clung to him while the cacophony of sound dimmed, replaced by the heavy thud of her own pulse.

  His arms shook, and then it transferred to his body as everything went taut. Rigid. He lifted his head, arching backwards while his body vibrated in spasms that lifted her, too. The space above them reverberated with the deep rawness of his long, drawn-out groan. It ended in laughter just before Navarre collapsed, rolled onto his back, and pulled her atop his chest, where Giselle rose and fell with each breath.

  “Oh Giselle. Je t‘adore. Merde! I’ve never…. I had no thought to—I love you. I can’t believe it!”

  She felt exactly the same way. Navarre whispered more endearments to her once his breathing calmed. Giselle listened to each beat of his heart as she struggled with her sobs. She knew it was the wrong time to cry, but nothing stopped them.

  Navarre lifted his head when he felt them.

  “You’re crying?”

  He was smoothing the hair from her face as he spoke and his whisper tore at her heart.

  “I cry, because it’s so beautiful, Navarre.”

  “You do? Truly? I didn’t hurt you overmuch, then?”

  She shook her head and wiped quickly at the moisture before it dripped off her nose. She couldn’t believe herself. She’d just had the most incredible experience of her life, and she had eyes swollen with tears and a red nose.

  “Ah, Giselle, my love, you’re wondrous. That was wondrous. I can’t believe it! Everything is amazing. I’ve never felt so amazing. Etienne had better plan for a dozen children, and I’ll tell him of it on the morrow.”

  He chuckled at his joke before turning on his side. He settled her into the niche he’d created at his front.

  “I love you, Navarre.” She whispered it into his throat.

  “And I you, ma petit.”

  He kissed her ear. His breath touched her cheek, and his warmth enfolded her nearly everywhere.

  A dozen children?

  Sounded wonderful.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Open the door, Giselle!” Louisa called. “The entire staff is awaiting you.”

  Giselle should have guessed who was behind the infernal pounding at her door. Then again, she was the one who’d bolted it.

  “You’d better see what they want,” a bored, male voice said beside her. “I certainly can’t do it.”

  Giselle gasped and lifted her head from the pillow.

  “Good morning, Giselle,” Etienne said.

  Chills ran her back at the memory of what Navarre and she had done. In the exact same place where Etienne now reclined. Giselle slid from the bed and raced to the water closet. And the chamber pot. She was afraid she was going to be ill. It didn’t help that Etienne’s laughter accompanied her actions.

  “Giselle! I don’t want to break down this door!” Louisa shouted.

  Giselle swished a wet cloth across her face with a trembling hand and tied her robe more securely. She wore one of her heaviest ones. Navarre had dressed her in it before he left. After another session of lovemaking. At almost dawn. She was blushing as she crossed to the door, knowing Etienne watched her.

  “Ah, Louisa! You’ve been so loud, you woke my…husband.”

  Giselle stumbled on the word, and at the sight of Gerty directly behind Louisa.

  “The duc?” Louisa asked.

  “Oui. He sleeps at my side…as you can both see.”

  Giselle moved aside to let them in. The women looked at Etienne. He replied by waving his fingers at them.

  “Yes. Well. I suppose Madame will want breakfast. Gerty?”

  Louisa sounded strange. Gerty was staring wide-eyed. Etienne wasn’t having any problem with the situation. He stretched out, folded his arms behind his head, and then grinned. By the way Gerty was shifting from foot to foot Giselle guessed the maid couldn’t wait to tell everyone this news.

  “That sounds nice. Yes. I’d like my breakfast. And a bath brought up, too.”

  “A…bath?” Louisa was still acting stunned.

  “Perhaps Gerty will see to it, instead.”

  “Gerty?” Louisa asked.

  “Gerty, see to a breakfast tray for the duc and myself. Fetch Isabelle, too. You may go now.”

  Gerty swiveled and started running. Giselle’s lips twisted. She knew her supposition had been right. And she shouldn’t quibble. It was according to plan. If none gossiped over Etienne’s presence in her chamber, they might spend their time gossiping over who sired Giselle’s babe, when there was one.

  She blushed and had to duck her head for a moment. If there was no babe, it wouldn’t be due to any lack of Navarre.

  “Isabelle?” Louisa whispered.

  “Perhaps you’d better sit down, Louisa.”

  “Dismiss your woman, Giselle. And come back to bed. I miss your warmth.”

  Louisa saw the look that accompanied Giselle’s shudder, but that didn’t stop it. She might be learning to play-act like any other Berchald, but Louisa would be hard to fool.

  “I shall come back to you…darling.” Giselle rolled the word across her tongue like it was nothing. She was rather pleased with herself over it, too, “but only if you keep your word not to drink today.”

  “My what?”

  Louisa looked a little pale, and both women watched Etienne’ s temper tantrum as he pounded on the covers. He just managed to look and sound silly.

  “Oh look. Our breakfast has arrived,” Giselle said. “Merci, Gerty. Perhaps you could see now that my husband’s valet is summoned?”

  “It’s already been seen to, Madame.”

  Giselle wondered at her own naiveté. Of course it was already seen to. Informing her brother of the duc’s location would have been the first thing Gerty did. Giselle narrowed her eyes.

  “Tres bien. You’re very competent this morning, Gerty. My compliments. That will be all, then.”

  “I don’t need my valet!” Etienne folded his arms and glared as Giselle helped Louisa to the door.

  “Please see that Isabelle has a bath brought for me, Louisa. I’ll wish to speak with you later, too.”

  “I daresay you do.” She shook her head as she left. Giselle returned Henri’s nod before closing the door behind Louisa.

  “Now. What is that nonsense of my valet?” Etienne said. “I’m perfectly capable of getting back to my chambers myself. I didn’t need anyone to get here, did I?”

  “Well, then….” Giselle surveyed him from across the chamber, assuming the same type of affronted expression he wore. “I look forward to seeing you do just that. Do you need your chair?”

  She poured a cup of tea and sipped it, ignoring him no matter how difficult it was. Her legs and thighs were sore, and she blushed again. It was so near. So dear. So amazing. She closed her eyes, breathed the tea aroma, and let the memory wash over her. Making love with Navarre had been unbelievable, and she felt the renewed satiated feeling.

  It was difficult to brand such a beautiful thing as evil.

  “What brings that sort of look to your face, I wonder?”

  Etienne said it snidely, and Giselle opened her eyes. He was wheeling himself from around the bed. She watched him for several moments.

  “Are you still here?” she asked finally.

  He made some exclamation she didn’t try to decipher, stopped at the chamber door. “Tell my brother not to get too used to usurping my property. I may be half a man, but I’m still a man. Understand?”

  Giselle nodded. She didn’t trust her voice.

  “He must be a no lazybones, by the look on your face. Give him my compliments, will you?”

  She screamed the reaction, and threw her cup of tea at the closing door. Etienne found that amusing. She knew what he was trying to do. He was t
rying to manipulate her into feeling guilty. Despite the fact he’d begged her. Giselle was determined not to allow such a thing. She’d made her decision. Nothing about what happened with Navarre had been anything other than heavenly. She closed her eyes again. That way, she swore she could actually smell Navarre.

  She wouldn’t have awakened, but Navarre’s movement near dawn pulled the covers off her, and she tried to cling to him.

  “Don’t leave me,” she’d mumbled.

  He’d kissed her lightly on the nose.

  “Imagine the scandal, Giselle. Especially after I’ve gone to all this trouble. Do you think it easy to slip through the maze at night?”

  She’d giggled.

  “You think it’s amusing?” He’d sat on the edge of the bed, his outline vaguely visible. “Perhaps you should visit me instead. Except you’d probably get lost, and then what would everyone say?”

  “I shudder to think of it,” she whispered.

  “Help me find my shirt. I can’t leave it here. This room is so damnably dark. Why in the blazes—? Ouch!”

  Giselle had laughed as he fumbled about and opened the drapes, letting the first blush of dawn into the room. She shouldn’t have, but he was in such disarray. His hair was a riot about his head, and his breeches were on backward.

  “You should put on something before you walk about, Giselle.”

  Her eyes had widened as he neared, and she crossed her arms modestly, before realizing how stupid that must look.

  “Not that I’d complain…”

  His breath had raised the gooseflesh on her arms, although he simply stood there. He wasn’t touching, just looking, and her blush warmed her more than the bedding could.

  “You must stop this enticement, Giselle,” he complained. “I’m so sore, I may not be able to visit you again for a time.”

  “What?”

  She’d grabbed at him, pulling his arms around her as she trembled against him. Now that she knew what loving meant, it wasn’t possible to think he’d not come again.

  “I’m teasing, my love. It’s not my soreness that bothers me, it’s yours. You must let me know, during supper if you like, if you can…or if you can’t. I’m explaining this poorly, aren’t I?”

  She shook her head before meeting his eyes.

  “It will be light soon. I must make certain you’re dressed. Choose a more concealing gown. There’s no question now, you know. You’re mine. I can’t bear to recall how you looked last night, and no one, not even Etienne, is to see you that way. Ever.”

  He’d touched a finger to her chin, lifting her mouth to his.

  “You’re mine, Giselle. Mine!”

  Their lips stopped his words, and she’d sagged against him. The beat of his heart warmed her, filling her palms with the texture of it, and then he stepped back.

  “Go back to bed, love. Dream of me.”

  Giselle had settled onto her belly against the pillows, watching as he tied on his cape and pulled the hood over his head. She stretched, lifting her derriere into the air a bit. She would do as he asked, and don the thick nightgown…but not yet.

  He was almost to the connecting door to Etienne’s rooms.

  “I love you, Navarre.” Her voice barely made a sound, and his back stiffened.

  “Merde, but I can’t bear the thought of leaving!”

  He’d lunged across the bed and pulled her into a hug so tight, she almost fought it.

  “The hours ahead of me now? They will seem like days! I know I’ll see you at sup, but that’s much too far away. Oh, how can I bear it, Giselle? I slept away the day to be awake all night long with you. And what happened? I slept.” He smiled, then sighed. “What have you done to me to make it so? Life, she is cruel, non?”

  Giselle was trembling so much at his observation, she couldn’t answer. She knew exactly what he meant. She never felt more protected or loved. She was where she belonged, where she was meant to be, and there was nothing bad or wicked or wrong about it.

  A noise out in the hall had Navarre lifting his head. They both had held their breaths as the sentry set down his chair in a new place.

  “I must go.” There was the slightest touch of his lips to her hair, and then he was gone.

  Giselle had listened, without knowing how tense she was, waiting for Jean or Henri to shout the alarm outside Etienne’s door. She didn’t realize no sound of alarm was given until a shaft of sunlight lightened the floor where Navarre had stood. Thank goodness! They couldn’t be caught now! But, how could she face the hours ahead?

  ~

  “We could always tour the first addition, Giselle,” Esmee said. “I couldn’t take you there before, but that’s not a problem now.”

  “Really? Why would that be?” Giselle lifted her blue skirts with a hand that trembled.

  “Why, because it’s Navarre’s wing, of course.”

  She should have known. Giselle steeled herself to meet Esmee’s gaze with a blank expression. Esmee smiled as if harboring a secret. Giselle felt her heart drop. And then Esmee turned back around and led the way.

  Giselle forced her legs to climb the staircase to Navarre’s rooms. She had no idea lovemaking would leave her so tired and sore. The throbbing in her legs threatened to drop her more than once. She also had several thumb-sized bruises on her inner thighs. She knew Isabelle had seen them, too, but her maid didn’t say anything. She never did.

  “Navarre chose this wing, because he loved the idea of the secret passages it was rumored to hold.”

  “Secret passages?”

  Giselle was four steps below her, and moving awkwardly. Esmee didn’t seem to notice. She waited with the same smile on her face that she’d had all morning. Giselle wondered if it was Esmee’s turn to guard her from Jean-Claude. She should probably be grateful they cared.

  “Ouì. Navarre was always full of stories, even as a child. He was very inventive. I didn’t know whether to laugh or follow when he dragged me down these halls.”

  Giselle reached the landing and looked about with obvious interest.

  “‘Look, Esmee,’ he’d say. I’m certain they’re here. If I turn this cornice-piece, a secret staircase will be revealed behind this panel.’ He knocked on the walls, searching for a hollow sound. ‘You hear it, Esmee?’ he would ask.”

  She knocked on the wood panels as she talked, walking slowly toward the three doors at the end of the hall, imitating Navarre as a boy.

  “’I’m certain this wall has a space behind it, Esmee! Listen! Do you hear?’”

  “Did he ever find any?” Giselle came closer, lowering her voice at the same time.

  “Can you keep a secret, Giselle?”

  Esmee bent to Giselle’s level. Giselle nodded. Esmee crooked her finger at her and pushed open the first door.

  Oh! I shouldn’t have come!

  Giselle was immediately wrapped in Navarre’s scent. If Esmee had turned she would’ve caught Giselle sagging against the doorframe.

  “Oh. Look at this! He should’ve had maids attend to this room yesterday when he left.” She shook her head at the sight of Navarre’s unmade bed with the quilt tossed aside and the sheets dented where he lay.

  “Brothers,” she snorted. “They’re all cretins. I wash my hands of them.”

  She walked to the fireplace and gestured over her shoulder for Giselle to follow her. Giselle eyed Navarre’s four-poster bed, the filmy sheeting of a canopy spread all about it, and her legs shook beneath her skirts. She had trouble walking across to Esmee.

  “If you run your finger along here…there’s a little button-thing. Like a bump the woodcarver forgot to remove. It was…right here. Oh. Here it is.”

  She’d run her hand along the bottom of the fireplace mantel, and the panel beside her dropped back into the blackness. Giselle’s gasp of surprise was covered by the sliding sound.

  “Where does it…go?”

  Her voice stumbled on the last word. Esmee had just given away Navarre’s secret. He didn’t use the hal
ls to reach Etienne’s bedchamber. He used this passageway.

  “Just about everywhere, I assume. I don’t know. I never explored it. Navarre would have my head for showing this to anyone. Why, I don’t think he knows that I remember it. It was a very long time ago.”

  Giselle glanced at Esmee uneasily. She’d lived long enough in this household to realize that Esmee was trying to tell her something. The unpleasant chill she felt was worse than the one she’d experienced that morning from waking beside Etienne.

  Giselle looked at the floor. Esmee was letting her know that she knew the secret. Giselle flushed with shame. What had felt so wondrous and heavenly the previous night suddenly felt lustful and damning in the daylight.

  Giselle clenched her hands at her side. Well, what had she expected? Even if it was heavenly and wondrous, her love for Navarre was still a sin.

  “Should we explore it and see?” Esmee stuck her head into the space while Giselle watched. “It’s not that dark, Giselle. I see daylight through some cracks, too.”

  Giselle waited until Esmee pulled her head back into the room before peeking in, too. She didn’t see any cracks.

  “Should we follow it and see where it leads?”

  “No.” Giselle shivered.

  “Why not? It might even lead to the duc’s chambers. What a surprise that would be. What do you think?”

  She knows!

  Giselle choked on her reply and stepped into the passageway to disguise her reaction. She was too naive for such word games and too emotional to act a part. She wished Esmee would simply quit baiting her. It would be more compassionate.

  “It’s very dark, Esmee.”

  Giselle reached out to gauge how wide the passage was and squelched the scream as her fingers touched warm stone. She wasn’t about to speak of it, for Esmee would simply ridicule her again. But there wasn’t any sun in here to warm anything.

  “Wait while I light a candle, Giselle. I can’t wait to see….”

  The panel slid easily back into place, cutting off her words. Giselle was left staring into the blackness without time to even gasp. The warmth of the stone was all she found soothing, and she spread her hands about it at her back.