Brocade Series 02 - Giselle

by Jackie Ivie

  And that was what decided her.

  Charmaine had arrived during the Christmas season and taken over, gracing the dining table, sitting in Giselle’s old spot, and murmuring double-edged words, now that Giselle was just another dowager duchesse. ‘Such a horrid experience you’ve been through. Such trauma. What a pity to lose your child, Giselle. It’s a triple tragedy for you, isn’t it? Not only have you lost your husband and your position, but you lost the Berchald heir, too.

  ‘Such a shame. I won’t hasten your departure from the ducal chambers, of course. But, you cannot stay there forever, now can you? Navarre and I will be needing them. Navarre and I make such a lovely pair, don’t we? I’m certain the dower house will easily suit your needs. And think! You’ll have Mimi for company. I understand Navarre has made it quite habitable. I know I speak for him when I offer you an assist on the move. We’ll try to make it…how can I say it? Less emotional? Yes. That’s it. We’ll make it less emotional for you.’

  And then, Charmaine had laughed.

  Giselle had somehow found the courage to ride a Berchald horse. She’d left it at an inn, and then joined Isabelle for the ride on a post coach. She ran from Charmaine. She ran from all the Berchalds. And he had no right to find her!

  Navarre gave chase. She heard him. Giselle realized he could outrun her before she reached her room, so she stopped. She should have known she’d fail at escaping him, just as she failed at everything. She waited for her breathing to calm as he neared.

  “Giselle?”

  She thought she was prepared, but a riot of shiver went all the way through her, reaching the tips of her boots and the headdress atop her head.

  “Will you not turn and face me?”

  She shook her head.

  “Why not? I’ve spent a lot of time and effort to find you, searching convent after convent.”

  His sigh exposed her weakness, and she was glad she faced away from him.

  “The least your woman could have been was specific.”

  Giselle smiled slightly at Isabelle’s loyalty.

  “Is there someplace we can go with more privacy?”

  She knew what he was referring to. It was rare for a handsome nobleman to chase a nun through the halls. The thought almost made her light-headed. They had an audience at the end of the hall ahead. She wondered how many sisters were watching from behind them.

  “There’s no need for further privacy, Monsieur le Duc. I have no desire…”

  She had to somehow force this lie from her lips. She had to be strong enough. She made herself remember his words. He hated the baby. He had probably rejoiced at the loss. That would make it easier to woo the lovely Charmaine without any guilt on his conscience, “…to speak with you.”

  It would have had more bravado if she hadn’t lost the last word in anguish. Giselle pressed her knuckles to her mouth to stop the emotion. He hated the baby, she kept reminding herself. He hated the baby. He hated— “Look at me, Giselle.”

  She heard the tenderness in his voice, but it was Charmaine’s property in the future. She had the right to hear such a tenor from him, not Giselle.

  He hated the baby.

  She composed herself as best she could. Maybe if she made him understand she’d made her decision and that it was useless to pursue her further, he’d leave.

  And then maybe she’d be able to sleep at night.

  Another lie, Giselle?

  She turned and was grateful of a sudden there were only high windows below the eaves letting in light. His was the only face to receive illumination. That was too much, though. Giselle held her breath to look at him, and released it as slowly as possible. If she were trying to pose disinterest, she was failing at that, too.

  He had more lace in his wardrobe than she recalled. She tried to think of him as foppish like Jean-Claude. She failed at that, too. Where lace flowed from Navarre’s collar, it only strengthened his appearance. That didn’t seem possible.

  His face looked thinner. Perhaps that was what made him look so masculine despite the lace. Nothing about those violet-blue eyes had changed, and Giselle gasped, turning all her avowals to dust when she met his gaze.

  “They tell me you haven’t completed your vows. Is that true?”

  He stepped nearer, blocking out the light, and Giselle swore his eyes darkened. She couldn’t stand for it, but she must.

  “If I say it’s too late, will you go?”

  “Do you honestly want me to?”

  He stepped closer still, leaning his head toward her, and there wasn’t any room to back away. She remembered those eyelashes, how their slight shading on his cheeks made her heart pump color into her cheeks. She’d give anything to hide her blush.

  “Oui.” She held out her hands to keep him away.

  “I don’t believe you.” He lowered his head, almost grazing her lips as he smiled. Giselle felt the spark leap between them when he did.

  “Very well, Navarre, I admit it. I love you. All right! I always will.”

  Unpleasant shivers flowed down her arms as she bared her heart and turned her face away. There was a tempest of tears behind her eyes, but she wouldn’t let him see it. She wouldn’t tolerate his breath on her neck a moment longer, either.

  “You say you found hell, Navarre?” she asked bitterly. “You don’t know the extent of it. I do. I found it the day I met you. Now go, before I say something I’ll truly regret. Go.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Giselle waited for him to leave. When he didn’t she had to look back at him. There was a sheen of moisture coating his expressive eyes, and hers filled, too.

  “Why do you do this to me, Navarre?” Her voice croaked, and there was little time left before trembling eroded it completely. “Isn’t it enough to know I’ll always love you? Isn’t that enough for you? Why? I admit it. I love you. I love you so much, I can’t stand to see you with another woman. So much so that I’ve chosen this.”

  She gestured to the hall about them. The interested faces at the ends of the hall waited. They were foregoing their breakfast in order to listen.

  “Must you torture me further?” she begged. “Isn’t it enough to know you destroy my peace, my sleep, and my every waking moment? Well? Isn’t it?”

  She had failed again. Giselle knew it as sobs overwhelmed her. She covered her face with her hands and shook with them. Then, she wasn’t alone, and her tears were soaking into the front of his jacket. She couldn’t keep from his embrace. She’d never been able to. Her trembling was far shy of his, though, and she felt it like a fresh wound.

  “Why do you do this?” she asked. “I already told myself you’re out of reach for me. You always have been. And just when I think I can live with it, you come again. Why? It’s hopeless, that’s what it is, and you only prolong the hurt. Why must you do this?”

  “Because I love you, Giselle.”

  She couldn’t stand the catch in his voice. She shoved herself free.

  “Love? Love means nothing to the nobility, Navarre! It’s less than nothing! We have our assigned roles to play, and we do. We allow loveless match after loveless match. Merde! I wish I were a member of the bourgeois. Perhaps then you could belong to me. What am I saying? It can’t be. It never could.”

  “Etienne was right, Giselle. You’re rather delightful when you’re angered.”

  He smiled slightly, and she turned her back on him.

  “Go away now, Navarre. I have no further use for you. Can’t you see? Go back to your role and let me choose mine. It’s the least you can do.”

  She walked to her cubicle door and opened it, trying to see through the tears in her eyes.

  “Do you ever wonder what he, or she, would have looked like, Giselle, deep in your self-righteous praying?”

  Cold flooded over her as she realized what he asked. Her self-righteous praying? Giselle tore off her wimple and threw it at him, wishing it were something more substantial. She wanted something to put a crease in that hard head of his.
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  “Self-righteous praying? Me? It wasn’t I who hated the baby, Monsieur le Duc! It was you! Do you think those words haven’t been engraved into my memory? They torment me so that even my prayers fail me! Well?”

  She screamed the last words at him and moved to slam the door, but he was too quick. Giselle suspected the gasp she heard outside was due more to his presence in her chamber than her words.

  The same mirror that mocked her that morning reflected his face, and she wouldn’t allow it. Giselle turned her back on him and his image, staring at the wall behind her cot. She saw the rosary and cross and knew she hadn’t been praying enough.

  “I didn’t hate the baby, Giselle.”

  She wanted to trust the tears staining his voice, but she didn’t dare. He asked her to trust him before, and what had it gained her? A lot of heartache and an ocean of tears. She forced herself to ignore the vague hope his words started within her. She could be that strong. She had to be.

  “I only said that to make it easier for you. I don’t blame you for not believing me, but it’s true.”

  His voice sounded strained, as if he fought back tears, but Giselle wasn’t a fool anymore.

  “You lie convincingly, Monsieur le Duc. It appears to be a trait all the Berchalds share.”

  Giselle trembled at his intake of breath behind her, and she hoped he didn’t notice. If she didn’t turn, if she just controlled her reactions, he’d never know. That was her last hope.

  “I needed to make you dislike me, Giselle. I only lied….”

  He stopped, as if unable to continue. Giselle looked at the ceiling to stay her cry, concentrating on the vacant ceiling and bare beam overhead. She didn’t want to think about the rawness of his voice.

  “It was stupid of me. I know that now, but I only thought…. Mon Dieu! I’m not even making sense, and it’s because it feels as if you’ve already tried me and found me guilty. I only thought that maybe if you hated me enough, Etienne wouldn’t be such a horrid alternative. Not for you….”

  His voice dropped to a whisper. Giselle studiously watched the beam, refusing to listen.

  “…or for my child.”

  She turned, failing once again in her resolve. She ignored the tears that streamed into her mouth. Her humble little room had never looked so small before. The sight of him leaning against the door as if for support made it feel as if her heart fell to the pit of her belly.

  He lied to make Etienne more acceptable?

  “Navarre?”

  He refused to look at her at first. His gaze remained on the floor. Then, slowly, eyes the color of a stormy sky reached to her. Giselle was fortunate her cot was so near, because her knees crumpled. How well she remembered those eyes.

  “I want to believe you, Navarre, I do. But I’m so afraid.”

  “Afraid? Of me, ma petit? I can’t bear it if you are. I’ll do anything. I swear it. I’ve been rampaging through the entire countryside trying to find you. I think I frightened your maid into an early grave. I beg you to return with me, Giselle. I can’t live like this much longer.”

  He fell to his knees in front of her, and she couldn’t avoid him any longer.

  “Navarre—.”

  “You must return with me! You must. I can’t admit failure. Esmee pines for you. She has postponed her wedding until I find you. Mother refuses to leave her wing of the castle, and that Louisa will have my head. It’s enough to drive a man mad.”

  Giselle longed to smile, but she couldn’t. Charmaine was going to be there, too. Why didn’t he mention her?

  “Navarre.” She swallowed to stop any more tears, and knew he noticed. “I’m sorry, but—”

  “Don’t finish that! I’ve been stupid, Giselle, and I’ve been a coward. I showed both when I allowed Jean-Claude access to you. I don’t ask your forgiveness and do you know why? Because I cannot forgive myself, that’s why. Don’t look at me so sadly. Listen to what I’m saying!

  “I’m no poet. I can’t even write a decent love letter, but we’ve lost enough time. I have many faults, and I’m certain you can name even more. Is there any other reason not to accept my suit? Well? You don’t answer, and I must ask myself why. Why, Giselle? Must I first approach your father? Say so, and I will, no matter how much I dislike the man. I swear it. I’ll even cede Savignen back to him if you wish. Don’t look so surprised, I’ll do it, and do you know why? Because I can’t live without you. The entire estate can’t do so, and I refuse to give such a long speech ever again in my life. So tell me — will you accept my suit?”

  He didn’t make sense. He must have known that from her expression. As much as she longed to hope he was offering what it sounded like, she wasn’t sure.

  “What of Charmaine?” Giselle whispered. “She’ll have something to say about your request.”

  “Charmaine is a harlot of the lowest order. Her name must never cross your lips again. Do you think it was easy for me in Versailles? I waited endlessly for an audience with the king. I spent so much gold trying to see him, we’re almost paupers again. Do you know why? For you, Giselle. I wrote you daily, non! Hourly.”

  He sighed. “You ask of Charmaine? She can find her own way. She always does. All I wanted was one thing from His Majesty. Permission to wed. You can’t imagine my fear when I returned and found you gone. And no one knew where. You can’t imagine my emotion when I learned of it.

  “I begged the Bon Dieu for one chance to see you again, to let you know of my stupidity over l’enfant. The only clue I had was that miserable maid of yours. She didn’t make it easy. She sent me on endless empty chases. Finally, this morning, when the Mother Superior told me of your description….”

  He was going too fast. Giselle put up her hand to stop him. She didn’t dare fill in his words. “You…wrote to me?”

  “Of course, ma petit. I could think of nothing except how miserable life would be without you. I wrote endlessly, but you never answered. I thought I’d go insane. I wondered if you ignored me because of my words, or my actions. I wanted to know, but you were always silent.”

  “I…I never received a letter from you.”

  “I know. Just as I was leaving Versailles, Charmaine gave them to me in a bundle. She had them intercepted. You can’t imagine my fear when I found you missing. Even Louisa didn’t know where you were. Merde! I’ve been run ragged!”

  Beautiful, tear-damp, blue eyes beseeched her, and Giselle felt the smile tugging at her lips. She’d almost let Mademoiselle Frerre’s intriguing ruin her own life? Charmaine had almost won. It was a horrifying thought.

  “I had to petition Rome for the annulment, Giselle, and then the pontiff made me wait until the New Year before he decided.”

  “You petitioned Rome?” Giselle was shocked at his audacity.

  “For an annulment, ma petit,” he said gently. “You don’t think I’d allow any memory of the disastrous marriage to Etienne stand between us? Never. I shall remember him as the older brother I adored. You may recall him as you will, but I’m not chancing it. When we wed, it will be before God and all mankind, Mademoiselle Giselle Patrice d’ Antillion. You didn’t know I knew your full name, did you? You have your mother to thank for that. She’s happy to have the Duc du Berchald remain her son-in-law. The comte? He will take more persuasion, I think.”

  “You can honestly ask for my hand in marriage?” Giselle was afraid to let her joy sound too much in her voice.

  ‘That’s what I have been saying all along. Did you listen? Non. What else must I do to get your attention?”

  Giselle giggled and reached for him, pulling his hair from the blue satin ribbon that held it. “Marry me, Navarre. This moment.”

  “You don’t want an official engagement soiree? Or congratulations on catching such a prize?”

  A self-mocking smile twisted his full lips, and Giselle licked hers to still their trembling. “Later.”

  She pulled on his shoulders, but only managed to slide from the cot when he didn’t move. His arms enfolded
her and almost started her crying again.

  “Later?”

  Giselle didn’t know how he managed to drag his lips from hers long enough to ask it, but it was too long.

  “Do you have the papers with you?” Giselle couldn’t keep her fingers from him, and she tried to ignore the play of muscles as she searched his pockets.

  “The Mother Superior has them. I made certain she knew my intentions were strictly honorable. You must stop that, my love!”

  All she wanted was to feel his skin against her again.

  “You don’t know what you do! Give me a moment to compose myself!”

  Giselle stopped her motions and looked into eyes that were merry, blue, and very close. “Of course I know, Navarre.” She leaned forward to kiss his nose. “I always have.”

  Giselle stood to watch him rise and averted her eyes as he tucked in his shirt. Just the glimpse she had of him was enough to start the hunger within her. She’d forgotten how masculine and immense he was.

  “Always?”

  He looked at her from under his eyebrows as he worked his hair back into a queue. He looked so beautiful, while she was a disgrace. Giselle looked down at herself. What was she thinking? She wore a brown dress belted with a cord, and her oiled hair lay flat against her head. Yet somehow, when he looked at her, she felt beautiful.

  “Oui, Navarre. I know I tease, and I won’t stop. What do you have to say to that?” Giselle giggled as she opened the door and stepped out into a large number of nuns in the hall.

  “Je t‘adore. That is what I say. Step lively, my good sisters. There’s a wedding to attend. Don’t look at me like that. This is sanctified ground, isn’t it? There’s a priest awaiting us, too. Don’t just stand there. Go!”

  They scattered, giggling. Giselle smiled as she watched them. She’d noticed before how women acted around Navarre, so it wasn’t a surprise. He was a Berchald, after all.

  “Navarre, can I take a moment to bathe? Perhaps I can find something suitable to wear, too?”