by Jackie Ivie
“Most assuredly, Madame,” Ambross said. “I look forward to seeing my fiancée at her convenience.”
“Of course.” Giselle smiled. “I’ll see her summoned to the Red Salon. Aunt Mimi, will you pull the cord?”
Giselle dared not do it herself. She wasn’t moving from contemplation of Jean-Claude. And he returned the favor. And as Aunt Mimi rose, Jean-Claude took her seat. She almost cringed away from his nearness, but caught it.
“You seem interested in giving orders, Giselle,” he leaned close, “but don’t grow fond of giving out my gold. Do I make myself clear?”
“Your gold? Why, Jean-Claude! Such a jester you can be.” Giselle laughed, but it was brittle-sounding to her own ears.
“It’s no jest, Madame. I warn you.” His words stopped, and his eyes narrowed. At the same time, his features softened. She’d never seen such a change. She knew he was going to try a different tack, and prepared herself. “You’re such a lovely duchesse, and yet you stay sequestered with my older brother? Why would you deny the world the pleasure of your presence like that? It isn’t very gracious of you.”
Giselle shrugged. “It’s Etienne’s wish.”
“What does he have to keep your interest, ma cherie?”
He leaned closer, and Giselle gripped the chair arms. Oh, why did she ever think herself brave?
“Why Giselle, you’re not dressed for our ride. I specifically mentioned the time. Did you forget?”
Giselle struggled to control her expression as Navarre was ushered into the salon. He walked to her and bent over her hand. His attire was perfect. He looked perfect. Healthy. Clean. No one would guess he’d been up almost the entire night, although… Now that she looked closely at him, she could see a tiny scratch on his chin, and some darkening along his throat where she’d been overly amorous with kisses.
“I must…have forgotten,” she stammered.
“Pity. I was looking forward to showing you the grape stamping vats. Tomorrow, perhaps?”
Giselle nodded. It seemed like the only thing she was capable of. She couldn’t believe her own reaction to his touch. Even with Jean-Claude sitting right beside her, she felt the quivers from holding to Navarre.
“And Jean-Claude. Here, still? I can’t imagine what the chateau has to keep you from Versailles this long,” Navarre continued. “I’ve heard they mourn your continued absence.”
He released her hand and turned toward his brother. Although his voice hadn’t changed, Giselle didn’t imagine the threat in his stance. She knew Jean-Claude wasn’t immune to it, either. Navarre looked dangerous. It was strange how that thought thrilled her.
“I find things much more entertaining here, littlest brother,” Jean-Claude replied in a bored tone. “Why, you never know what might happen next. First, my eldest brother consummates his marriage, and then my sister gets betrothed. I wouldn’t find it odd to hear of your own wedding plans when next I wake.”
“Esmee’s betrothal?”
Navarre glanced at Giselle, and he shouldn’t need to. She’d told him about Esmee’s feelings the previous night. He said he’d handle it, but Giselle wanted to prove herself. He should understand, if anyone could.
“I just walked in on Esmee’s betrothal to the mayor, and no one had the decency to notify me in advance,” Jean-Claude complained.
Giselle mumbled something about Etienne needing her and escaped from the room without looking back.
She had done it!
She settled Esmee’s future and no one helped her do it. When Louisa and Isabelle saw her skipping about her chamber, even they paused in their duties. Giselle simply tipped her head and smiled wider. She knew what the change was.
She wasn’t a mouse anymore.
She was the Duchesse du Berchald.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“We’ll leave Swift Night and Judgment Day here, Giselle,” Navarre said.
Who would name a horse Judgment Day?
She didn’t ask it aloud, because it sounded like a bad omen, and she didn’t want anything to spoil her day with Navarre.
“In case any look for us, we wandered amid the vines, but you’ll have to ride up with me. Can you do it?”
He shouldn’t need to ask.
“I always keep a mount here. It saves time if I’ve been away too long or the horse is tired. Come. I’ll lift you up.”
Barring the cabriolet, Giselle had never been so high in her life, and she looked down in trepidation.
“Don’t be frightened. I won’t let you fall. I’d fall in your stead, I swear it.”
Hard thighs slid into place behind her, and Giselle tried ignoring the sensation, especially when he pulled her against his chest. Because they were touring stamping vats. Nothing more.
“Where do we start?” she asked.
He didn’t seem inclined to answer for a bit. They left the vineyard behind and started up a hillside. Steady heartbeats filled her ears. His soft breath teased her neck, but still, he didn’t answer.
“Navarre?”
“You can’t tell?”
She shook her head.
“I’m taking you to the arbor.”
“The arbor? But why?”
“Need you ask?” He chuckled.
She turned in shock. “But, Navarre, it’s still daylight!”
“I know.” He laughed harder, and his arms tightened around her. “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this, too. I felt like thanking Jean-Claude yesterday for making this a reality.”
“But…we can’t!”
Giselle tried to ignore the images. It felt wicked and depraved, as bad as any animal in heat. She couldn’t possibly allow it. The arbor loomed before she could give voice to her rebuttal. Sunlight streamed through the greenery. She’d never seen anything so beautiful and peaceful.
Navarre slid off the horse’s back behind her, and she eyed his hands. In the dark of night, hidden away in her bedchamber, it didn’t seem as real as it did at that exact moment.
“I love you, Giselle.”
Her eyes filled as she looked at him expectantly standing there. If she wished it, he’d remount and leave with her. She didn’t need to ask. Light percolated through the leaves, touching on the bench within the greenery beyond him. Giselle’s heart surged.
She leaned forward and fell into the tightness of arms that trembled as he held her. That’s when she knew he’d been holding his breath, awaiting for her decision.
“And I love you, Navarre.”
Lips touched hers, softly at first, then powerfully. She grabbed his jacket lapels with hands like claws. He moved, and she clung. Vines brushed her elbows, forehead, slippers, but she paid little attention to the contact. It meant she’d have some scratches to explain, but that sounded like a small price to pay for what was going to take place.
She felt the bench at her back, the give of a stem behind her head, and above all, Navarre’s weight atop her. The weave of his jacket tickled her neck as he pressed into her, dropping his kisses onto her cheeks. Her nose. Her lips.
“Oh, dear God! What am I doing?” He ground out the words against her mouth and then yanked his lips from hers.
Giselle watched him lift his head. He had the oddest expression on his face. His eyes were wide with an expression bordering on disgust. She still trembled at the feel of him atop her, the length of one leg was already between her thighs, separating them.
“Navarre?” she whispered.
He heaved a breath and stood, disentangling himself from arms that felt leaden. Giselle cringed away from the look he gave her before he turned. His shoulders lifted as he sucked in air, then he gave the loudest, most raw cry she’d ever heard.
Giselle gaped. She wasn’t the only one affected. More than one bird was startled from its perch and loudly proclaimed the reaction about it.
“Mon Dieu!”
Navarre yelled the words with another cry, this one deeper in timbre and lasting even longer. It raised gooseflesh all along her as
she heard it.
Giselle put her hands over her eyes. She didn’t dare look at him. She didn’t dare look at anyone. The rustling about her quieted and she waited what seemed a long time.
“I must apologize, Giselle.”
His whisper was as heart-rending as his cry had been. She turned her head and opened her eyes. He was leaning against greenery, holding back his hair with hands that trembled. She wondered what he was looking at, out beyond the horse.
“Navarre?”
“Didn’t you hear me?” he asked.
“But…I’m willing. I heard you, but I’m willing, Navarre.”
Giselle didn’t know how she got the words out. She watched his shoulders flinch when she did.
“I know, my love. I thought I was, too. It’s just…I can’t explain it. I long to see you, be with you, grow old with you…love you. And I want to be seen with you! I don’t want it hidden anymore…like the deceitful secret it is.”
Giselle sat up slowly, brushing stray leaves and twigs from her bodice as she arranged her skirts into the proper arrangement.
“Can you understand what I’m saying?”
She nodded, but he still faced away from her, and couldn’t have seen it.
“I’ve envisioned you here so often…your hair unbound. Your clothing strewn about. And now that I have it…I can’t do it. I love you too much.”
He stopped, and she waited again. She knew exactly what he spoke of.
“I thought if I possessed your body, I’d be whole. The torment would end. I was a fool. I find it so difficult to imagine being apart from you that I’ve created an even greater purgatory to reside in. I’m explaining this poorly, I know. You’ll have to forgive me for that, too.”
He turned stricken eyes to her, and Giselle’s immediately welled with unshed tears.
“I was never a poet, Giselle. I never aspired to such. And then I met you. All I know is that I love you so much, it hurts. I can’t believe it at times…but I also love my brother, Etienne! And you belong to him. Sometimes I fantasize of what could be, but I’m evil to contemplate that! You will never be mine unless something happens to him. It can’t be. You belong to Etienne, not to me.”
He fell to his knees before her and grabbed her hands with such force she winced. He didn’t seem aware of what he did. He wasn’t capable of seeing her. He looked like he was being sentenced for the same crime she was guilty of.
“Navarre, please don’t do this. I beg it of you.”
He smiled sadly.
“You see? I explained it poorly. I don’t mean our love. That is a gift from the Bon Dieu. Never doubt that. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane. And don’t you dare forget, we do what we do to save Etienne. But that does not excuse my new feelings for you. The way my heart feels whenever you’re close. How it aches when you’re not. It’s as much a part of me as breathing. I love you so much I can scarcely recall Etienne’s face! But I must. I have to. Don’t you see?”
He lifted her hands and touched his lips to them, but it wasn’t to kiss. He was pulling back from her. Withdrawing.
“I have to also accept the fact that your child will belong to Etienne. He’ll be its father. Not me! I don’t think I can even contemplate how that will feel. Do you understand? I can’t imagine standing by and watching as that happens. I’m no saint. I’ve dreamed of us together, just as our nights have shown, but it’s impossible. Etienne stands in the way.”
He sighed and turned away. “But for such thoughts, I’m as vile as Jean-Claude.”
“No, Navarre.”
He looked up and smiled, but his eyes no longer held any secret messages for her. They were as empty as glass.
“I love you, Giselle. I always will. But I can’t have you. I never could. Only at night, hidden from view, can I play-act as if I can…and play-acting isn’t real! God! I wish it was.”
He might not have been crying, but it looked like he was. Giselle knew what he was saying. He didn’t explain anything poorly. He was a master at words. She didn’t try to stop him as he walked to his horse, still grazing as placidly before them.
“Come, Giselle. It grows late. We can have no whisper attached to your child, can we?”
“How do you know I carry one?”
“I don’t know. I simply hope it is so. We can’t do this much longer. Seeing you here made me certain. You were so pure and untouched, Giselle. I should worship at your feet, not drag you into hell with me!”
She followed and waited for him to lift her back in front of the saddle. At least she’d have the ride back with him. Navarre had opened her eyes, and he was right. The situation was worse. Now that she knew what loving meant, how could she face it when she did conceive, and it was over?
No.
Giselle refused to think of the babe as Etienne’s. The entire world could say it, but she wouldn’t. She loved Navarre too much. Their child would be an extension of that love. She was certain.
“Navarre?” she whispered softly.
He didn’t look down at her. He watched the leaves shimmering above them, instead. She reached to touch his throat. She had her fingers against it when he gulped, and she felt the tremble of his cry. He refused to look down at her, and she knew why. It would cost him too dearly.
“I love you.” She leaned against his chest.
He grabbed her about the waist and lifted her away from him and into the saddle. She instinctively knew why he didn’t put her in front of it. Because he really was withdrawing. She wouldn’t even get this ride.
He walked the horse slowly, shoulders slumped and his head bowed. From her solitary perch, the vineyard looked spectacularly lush as they left the trees. Giselle tried to look at anything except Navarre’s back. They were well into the growing season, and purple grapes hung from every limb, contrasting with the green leaves.
Savignen Valley was well worth any price to possess it.
Except the one she was paying.
~
She knew she had to tell him, and it felt like she was facing execution to contemplate it. She’d been suspicious of the success of Etienne’s plot, but, after swearing Louisa and Isabelle to secrecy, Giselle hoped to have a few more days, maybe weeks.
Navarre still visited her nightly, and they pretended like nothing had changed since the arbor. But it had. It was like an unspoken pact between them. They were living in a fool’s world, but she still went on her knees to beg God for a few more days.
That didn’t seem too much to ask, a few more days before she had to tell Navarre of her pregnancy. The knowledge would end his visits. She’d never again catch her breath at the sound of his footstep, nor cry aloud her pleasure, nor hear his groans of fulfillment. The babe would end everything that mattered for her.
That’s what he’d been telling her at the arbor. And that’s what she couldn’t bear.
Gerty’s action while Giselle was preparing for supper convinced her, though.
“I have brought a bottle of Savignen 1736, Your Grace.”
Giselle watched her uncork the bottle and set it on the night table. Giselle rarely drank anymore, and Navarre wouldn’t find it of interest, either.
“Savignen 1726? Why would you do that, Gerty?”
“We save it for special occasions, Madame. I thought it appropriate.”
“I gave no such word, Gerty. You overstep yourself.”
“In that case, I stand corrected, Madame. Shall I have it sent back to the cellars?”
Her apology was given beneath her breath. Giselle barely heard it. Gerty suspected? That meant it wouldn’t be long before her brother knew. And then Etienne. And then everyone. And Giselle wanted to be the one to tell Navarre.
No. That was a lie. Giselle didn’t want to tell him, at all. She wanted him to remain in ignorance as long as possible. Gerty was still standing beside the bed, her dark eyes full of curiosity and something else. She looked like she was enjoying Giselle’s discomfiture.
“Isabelle has served me so wel
l, Gerty, I find it annoying sometimes to have so many maids. Perhaps I’ll speak with Esmee when she returns. She may have need of your services.”
“You don’t need my services?” she gasped.
Giselle had managed to break through the maid’s complacent stance?
“I didn’t say that. I only intimate that Esmee, being in such straits when she marries, would appreciate you far more than I would. It’s something I must think over. You may go now.”
“But, Madame-’
“You heard her, Missy,” Louisa snapped. “Take your gossipy tongue below-stairs where it belongs, and make haste! Bringing wine to celebrate? I can’t believe what I am hearing!”
“Calm yourself, Louisa.”
Giselle waited until Gerty shut the door to speak. Louisa sighed.
“Your secret won’t stay hidden much longer, Giselle.”
“I know.” Giselle shook her head as Louisa poured some of the wine out.
“The Monsieur…he will be pleased?”
Navarre? Giselle doubted that. “The duc will be. And that has to be enough. Oh, Louisa…how will I bear it?”
She was lucky to have Louisa. She realized it fully then. All those years when Giselle had argued and berated her companion over her incarceration, Louisa had remained loyal and patient. Giselle couldn’t imagine the loneliness of her future nights, when Louisa would be her only confidant.
Once Navarre knows….
She couldn’t finish the thought.
“You should be happy, you know. This child will bring such joy to this household, and I can’t imagine more beautiful parents. Just think…an enfant!”
Her voice dropped to a whisper, but Giselle glanced down. She must have been drugged not to have thought through the consequences before, because her belly was twisting with it, now. Her nights with Navarre were ending. She would never again whisper to him in the darkness, or feel his touch, or look deeply into his eyes, or feel his nakedness pressed to hers?
“I know.” Giselle tried to smile. “It’s just….”
Isabelle entered the room, struggling with Giselle’s ironed dress without any help with the door from Jean or Henri. That reminded Giselle of their absence. They had been given some time to themselves. Etienne wasn’t out of danger. News of Giselle’s pregnancy would make Jean-Claude even more desperate.