by Jackie Ivie
At least, he was far away. Esmee needed a new trousseau, and Jean-Claude took the ladies to the Paris shoppes. He was offering his approval of their outfits. As out-of-character as that was, everyone in the castle breathed easier the moment the carriage drove out of sight.
“Do I have to attend sup?” Giselle eyed the dress Isabelle carried as if it were sack cloth. “I’m not really hungry…and I dread it.”
She just wanted to sleep as she had for the past week. That was one of the things that made the women suspicious of her condition in the first place.
“I suppose the family can get by without you,” she replied. “It’s only Margot, some retainers, and Monsieur Navarre of course.”
“Navarre?” Giselle’s voice caught. “I suppose I can make an effort to dress then. After all, I don’t want Chef Aaron sulking, do I?”
She looked from one to the other, trying for an innocent expression. Louisa contorted her face as she suppressed her reaction to Giselle’s words.
“I think it’s a very good thing Monsieur Navarre lives in a different house. That is what I am thinking,” Isabelle replied. “It keeps tongues still.”
“Oh, Isabelle! The things you say,” Giselle giggled. “As if I would be interested in Monsieur Navarre. I have the duc to keep me company. Perhaps I’ll dine in with him, instead. That will give them something else to talk about. What do you say to that?”
“I think it’s an excellent plan.”
Louisa nodded sagely, and Giselle longed to toss something at her.
“It will give us something to do with this celebration wine, too.”
“Wine? What wine?” Isabelle asked.
“Gerty brought me a bottle with which to celebrate,” Giselle informed her.
“She needs better manners, may the Lord forgive her.”
“Leave it for now. I grow tired of discussing it. I don’t believe my husband will have further need of wine this evening, anyway.”
Louisa saw through the words, if Isabelle didn’t. Etienne was doing his utmost to drink himself insensible anymore. Giselle had to banish the thought. No one would believe Giselle was besotted with him, if they could but see him.
Giselle made her decision. She would tell Navarre of their baby that evening.
Perhaps, a celebration would be in order before he left her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
It was strange how hollow-sounding her bedchamber could be. Giselle surveyed it from the safety of her pillows as she waited for Navarre. Even the sound of her breathing echoed back at her. She should have had Louisa light a fire. That way, the crackling logs would dispel some of the stillness.
So this is my future.
She was wearing the most beautiful negligee she owned. Made of ivory silk, slit past her thigh, it had a bodice sewn of the finest Brussels lace to frame her bosom. She looked at the effect in the mirror before her eyes misted over with tears. She’d never be able to wear it again. It would hurt too much.
Etienne still snored. Giselle caught a hint of the louder ones again. He’d snored through supper, too. She hadn’t missed his company. He hadn’t anything except sarcasm for her anymore. He was too drunk to care if she ate in his chamber with him or not. That was a small favor, but she must learn to count her blessings.
There was a slight creak of a door hinge, and then Navarre was with her.
“You didn’t dine with us, Giselle,” he said. “I’ve never been so worried. Do you ail? Should I go?”
The look of concern on his face made her smile freeze. The man was so handsome! Even dressed in nondescript black leather, with his hair hidden under his hood, he was absolutely beautiful.
He was heartbreaking, true…but beautiful, too.
Giselle’s eyes filled with tears, and she cursed the emotion that caused them. She didn’t want to spoil this. Somehow, this night would have to see her through all the hollow-sounding nights ahead until her child was born.
But what release would that bring? She was so stupid. And their mother had even warned her of it.
“Giselle? What is it, love?”
The bed shifted as he lurched across it, gathering her into his arms. Giselle quickly looked aside. She couldn’t face him. Not until she had these accursed tears banished.
“Don’t cry. Please? I can’t stand for that.”
“I love you, Navarre,’ she whispered against the leather covering his chest.
“Ah. I think I see.” He kissed her hair and the arms about her tightened. “It is your woman time. And we can wait. I’ve been told it lasts but a sennight I understand, but I refuse to sleep elsewhere. Help me off with this.”
Giselle held his sleeves for him as he tugged his arms free, leaving her with the shirt.
“But I’ve never seen you wear this before,” he said. “You wore it for me? Merde! I can’t keep my thoughts, my desires, not to mention my hands from you, yet you tempt me? Is there no end to your wickedness?”
She let him talk, loving the sound of it through his chest as she snuggled against him.
“You’re nearest the light.” He yawned, and she followed. “You must blow it out.” He kissed her forehead and settled them into the pillows.
Giselle ran her hands down his chest, using his flesh like the keyboard of a pianoforte. His skin was smooth and warm to the touch. Then she played with the satin sheet against his waist, moving it back and forth slowly.
“Giselle, I’m warning you!”
She giggled and slid further down his side in order to explore. There wasn’t enough lace at her bodice to prevent skin-to-skin contact with him, and she rubbed against him greedily. He felt hot and firm. The curve of his hip filled the space between her breasts, and her fingers slid across his thigh.
“Mon Dieu! You really are a vixen!”
Large hands gripped her shoulders, hauling her to him. The hard look in his eyes was meant to be intimidating. She pursed her lips and kissed the air between them.
“What? I tell you of my understanding, and what do you do? Torment me. Toy with me, again.”
Giselle felt the hard pressure of him writhing against her belly. Was it striving against his will, then? She shook, or rather the hands holding her did.
“I love you, Navarre.”
She assumed he cursed her, but the words weren’t clear when spat from between his tight lips. She wasn’t thinking about that. She clung as he rolled, twisting them in the bedding and pinning her beneath his weight.
His hair wasn’t tied back. It fell from both sides of his face, tickling where it touched. Giselle felt the contact against her chin and earlobes as she shook her head. He rained punishing kisses on her throat and breasts.
“Navarre!”
Giselle couldn’t help squealing when he licked her. Her hands clenched his shoulders, kneading the muscle there. “I can’t—Navarre, I beg you, I can’t breathe!”
She knew he didn’t believe her, for he shook now with laughter, holding her immobile while he tickled and teased.
“Navarre!”
Finally, he shifted his weight, and Giselle gulped for air while he settled his chin into the hollow of her shoulder. His eyes sparkled with mirth. Giselle let her gaze rove over every bit of his face.
“Now will you let me sleep in peace and not tease me with your beauty?”
Giselle loved the little lines that ran from the corners of his eyes down his face. She traced one with a fingernail, pulling back when he turned his face to nip at her.
“I—I’m in the family way, Navarre,” she whispered.
“Hmm?”
It was difficult to concentrate on her words when he was gazing at her. His blue-violet eyes were soft and warm with love.
“Didn’t you hear me?” She expected surprise, perhaps joy. Even anger would have been acceptable. He acted as if it was nothing. She couldn’t believe it.
“Why do you anger, Giselle?”
“I’m not angry. Why do you think so?”
“So the fam
ily is in the way. Do you think I can forget? It’s the first thing I think of every day when I awake, and the last thing I recall before I sleep. Non. That’s a lie. I can’t go a minute without thinking of you.”
“That isn’t what I meant, Navarre. It’s done. You and I…um. L‘enfant…the heir. We’ve done it, and I’m….”
Her voice stopped as his eyes filmed over with tears. The joy she’d glimpsed was quickly overshadowed by such immense sadness, she actually felt it.
“So soon?”
Giselle felt her heart lurch when he asked, then he turned and rolled away from her. He was taking the sheets and his warmth, and she knew the real reason was to disguise his emotion.
“Navarre, you can’t leave me!”
She would have held to him, but he shrugged her hand away, easing those lengthy legs back into his leather breeches. She had to stop him.
“Please? I beg you!”
Something in her voice slowed him. She watched a tremor run down his back before he pulled on his shirt, hiding his skin from her. She wondered if she’d ever see such splendor again.
“Giselle. I can’t stand your pleas. I’m too much of a coward, I tell you.”
“No.”
He turned back to her. Candlelight brought his features into sharp relief and glinted on the single track of a tear. Giselle didn’t feel brave, either.
“It’s been a joy beyond words, Giselle,” he whispered. “Lord help me, I knew this would come. I knew it. I thought…I was prepared for it.” He wiped a hand across his face. “I can’t endure the thought! Your face. Your…skin!”
He turned aside, his voice dropping to a whisper, raw with emotion. Giselle hastily wiped her own tears away.
“We can run away, Navarre,” she said quickly. “We’ll leave Etienne. I’d go anywhere with you. Surely you know that?”
He turned back and smiled without any pleasure. Although the light was dim, Giselle saw the lines of bitterness on his face.
“I will not do that to my brother, Giselle. Think of the scandal he’d have to face. And, even if I listen, what would you have me do? I have no skills. I wouldn’t even be capable of menial labor. You want to add the guilt of sentencing you to poverty to everything else?”
“If I can be with you, and have our baby with you, I can do—”
“Enough!”
Giselle pulled back, clutching the sheets to her throat at his expression. He was shouting at her. And he wasn’t finished, either.
“Not our baby Giselle, Etienne’s! You carry the Berchald heir! If you think I desire this child, you’re mistaken! I hate it, I tell you! I hate it as much as I hate myself!”
The connecting door crashed open with such force, Navarre’s mouth fell open, stopping his words. Giselle was grateful. She was displacing pillows in her haste to hide. Get as far from him as possible. He hated the baby? She’d heard it, but her mind didn’t accept it.
“How many times must I ask it of you, Madame la Duchesse?”
Etienne stumbled over her title. His bleary red eyes focused on her perch against the headboard. “Do you think it a pleasure to listen to you two night after night?”
“You’re drunk, Etienne.”
Navarre’s words were hushed, but frightening-sounding. Giselle trembled even more as she heard them, but Etienne seemed unaffected.
“Drunk? Of course I am. Do you think it easy to listen while my wife adulterates me?”
Giselle gasped, earning another glare from Etienne.
“Acting like little more than a woman of the—”
“Stay your tongue!”
Giselle thought she’d seen Navarre angry before, but it was nothing to this. The red color rising up his throat, the narrowed eyes, and the lowered head seemed to be someone else. She couldn’t imagine anyone more predatory-looking.
“If you value anything, Etienne, you’ll go back into your chambers. Now. Before you say something for which there is no apology good enough.”
His whisper terrified Giselle. Etienne seemed to shrivel in his chair.
“What do you think I’m made of, Navarre, stone?” he asked. “Do you think I care nothing for my wife? She’s my wife, damn you! Is nothing sacred to my brothers? I know I’m only half a man. I see it every time the drink wears off, but does that change anything? Non. I’m still a man. And that is still my wife.”
He turned to Giselle, and she couldn’t look away. Blue eyes filled with drink and remorse regarded her. She gulped past the constriction in her throat.
“Perhaps, if I had been the one, Giselle?” he asked.
“The…one?” She was surprised the words made sound.
He smiled. Despite his unkempt appearance, she saw the man he once was. He was a handsome specimen, equally as beautiful as Navarre, just different.
“To fetch you,” he added. “If it were possible for me to come—what am I saying? You know the truth. If I possessed enough courage to come and get you, would you have wanted me instead?”
Giselle couldn’t see his face any longer through her tears. There was no way to answer such a question. Navarre backed from the area, leaving her range of vision. Giselle ignored his movement, for she couldn’t answer otherwise.
“I’m sorry, Etienne,” she said softly.
His head fell forward, and Giselle covered her face with her hands. It wouldn’t have mattered who she met first. She’d never love anyone like she loved Navarre.
“I suppose I already knew the answer. But I had to ask.”
The sarcasm was back in his voice and Giselle pulled her hands down.
“It’s no matter, Etienne.” Navarre went on his knees before his brother. Giselle tensed for what she knew he was going to say. “I won’t be coming here again. It’s finished.”
“But you must, Navarre,” Etienne said. “Forgive me, I was crazed! I still…Jean-Claude! He may…’”
Giselle held her breath.
“He’ll gain nothing from your death now. He can’t inherit. Giselle….” Navarre’s voice cracked on her name, making her heart skip a beat. “She carries your son. It was what we were so loudly discussing.”
“My…son?”
Etienne slurred the words. Giselle barely heard it over the roaring in her ears.
“Oui. If the Bon Dieu is merciful.”
“This is wondrous news! It deserves a bit of cele…cele…bah! My tongue fails me. I need a glass of wine. And look! Savignen 1736. Perfect.”
He’d rolled to the bedside table and grabbed up the bottle Gerty had uncorked for Giselle. After two swallows, his expression began changing. Then, he choked and spat the ruby-colored liquid down the front of his shirt.
“This wine. It’s so…so bitter….”
Navarre leaped to catch him as he lurched forward. The motion knocked both of them to the floor.
“Etienne! No! Dear God, no! Giselle! The wine!”
A trail of red stained the rug at his knees. Giselle threw off the covers, stupidly noticing she still wore the negligee she’d planned to seduce Navarre with.
“Etienne! Non!” Navarre slapped his brother’s face so hard, Etienne’s head rocked. “Non. No. Please God no!”
He cried and kept shouting at ears that couldn’t hear anymore. Giselle tripped as she stepped off the ledge, forgetting it was there.
“Don’t touch the wine, Giselle!”
“The wine?”
She knelt and lifted the bottle, dripping some of the liquid on her fingers.
“It’s poisoned! Etienne’s dead because of it. He wanted to celebrate the news. Oh God, and I wanted—no! This isn’t what I wanted, Dìeu! How can I ever forgive myself?”
He rocked and crooned to his limp brother as Giselle set the bottle down. She shook so hard, she tipped it over again. She had to grip it between both hands the next time.
“Don’t touch it, Giselle! This is all my fault!” Navarre wailed.
Giselle thought she’d heard his cry of pain in the arbor. She’d been ignorant.
This cry of agony came from the depths of his being.
“What can I do, Navarre? Tell me! Should I fetch someone?”
Navarre’s arm shot out to stop her. He gripped her upper arm in a fist that would leave a mass of bruising. She winced.
“You forget yourself, Giselle.”
His tone was cold. Deadly. A match to his eyes as he cradled Etienne with one arm and held her with the other.
“I’m not supposed to be here. Remember?”
He enunciated each word, everything on him condemning and brutal. She was going to be ill.
“You’ll do nothing. Do you hear me?”
He let go of her arm. Giselle clapped her hands to her mouth and scooted from him. Shivers rippled up and down her back. She was ready to retch and he commanded her to do nothing?
“Give me time to reach the maze, Giselle! Listen to me, damn it!”
He was speaking harshly to her, because she was near to fainting. That was the reason, she reassured herself. She watched him set Etienne onto the floor and touched his cheek for a moment before rising. Giselle couldn’t move her eyes.
“Giselle! You understand? I need time. Two…maybe three minutes. At least to reach the maze. Then call for help. Not before. You understand?”
“Navarre?”
She looked up as she whispered and saw him blanch. Against the black of his cape, he looked the shade of Jean-Claude’s face paint. She thought he wasn’t going to answer as he turned and walked stiffly toward Etienne’s room.
“What is it?”
He turned at the door, his gaze flickering from where she was crouched to Etienne and back.
I love you.
She didn’t have the courage to say it after all, but she could have sworn that he heard it. His lips thinned as he frowned.
“I didn’t truly believe in hell until now, Giselle. I just wonder what it will be like to live in it.”
She gasped. His words were so cold. So bitter. So hate-filled.
“Au revoir.”
The door shut before his words reached her, but it wouldn’t have mattered. It was good-bye and she knew he meant it.