by Chloé Duval
“Are you angry with me?” Gabrielle inquired timidly.
Sophie hugged her and laid her chin on her shoulder.
“Of course not. Never. I’m happy for you. You deserve this.”
“Thank you, Sophie.”
They held each other for a few minutes before Sophie pulled away.
“Tell me, my dear, when will I be meeting your intended?”
“Soon, I hope. He is in England, taking care of a few final details before we leave,” Gabrielle explained, “but he will be back shortly, and he will come here and take me to the castle. We will be married in the Chandeniers church. Everything is ready. Hélène spoke to the priest, and Céleste will be in charge of the meal, which will take place in the castle just before it is sold next month. We will celebrate my father’s wedding to Hélène at the same time.”
“What a wonderful idea! How romantic!”
Gabrielle nodded, butterflies swirling in her stomach. Knowing that her father would not be alone after she left for America with Thomas made things somewhat easier. He would have someone who loved him to take care of him.
“As for Thomas, I hope I can meet him before the wedding,” Sophie commented.
“I will introduce you when he comes to Angers, I promise. You will love him, I am certain of it.”
“I have no doubt about it. If you love him, so will I. But why didn’t you travel with him to England? Did he not offer?”
“He did.”
A few days after his return to the castle, as they sat together on their love seat one night, watching the fire, just happy to be there, Thomas had confessed that he must leave again soon. He had only come back for a few days to propose to her. He would not be gone long, he promised. He only had a few more things to settle. She could come along, he had suggested, his voice hopeful. If Maurice accepted, of course.
Gabrielle had almost packed immediately, without even asking her father. The mere idea of being separated from Thomas even for a few days when they had only just been reunited was unbearable. She never wanted to be parted from him again, not for a minute. She wanted to stay with him always, go wherever he went. And she wanted to discover his life there, meet the uncle who had raised him and be introduced to his grandmother. She wanted to see all the little things that had been a part of his life: the streets he had walked, the buildings he had passed every day, the rooms where he had lived. She wanted to see the place where he had grown into…himself.
But even though they had planned a simple ceremony with only their closest friends in attendance, Gabrielle wanted to make their wedding…magical. She wanted the first day of their life to set the tone for all those that followed. She wanted to give him the fairy tale he had never had, the one the baron had stolen from him. It was a promise she had made to herself, and the reason she had insisted upon being a part of the preparations, despite Céleste’s protests that she already had more than enough to deal with.
And in order to do so, Gabrielle needed some time.
So she had kissed Thomas gently and said that she would love to come with him and meet his family, but that she could not. He had understood, of course, and had promised they would detour by England before they sailed for America so he could introduce his wife to his family. The mere word had made Gabrielle dizzy with happiness.
A few days later, their ways had parted for now in front of the bookstore, on a kiss laden with emotion and promises.
Two weeks had gone by, and Gabrielle had been glad to be busy with the bookstore and the wedding preparations, because she missed Thomas. Very much.
“Why didn’t you go, then?”
Sophie’s voice pulled her out of her reverie.
“I wanted to have time to prepare our wedding properly,” she explained. “I want us to be able to remember it for all our lives, even when we are old and decrepit and no longer know our names. I want to give him the most beautiful wedding I can.”
Sophie considered her for a time, smiling.
“You really love him, don’t you.”
It was more of a statement than a question, and Gabrielle confirmed with a nod.
“From the bottom of my heart. I had never felt anything so strong for anyone. It is as if—I do not know how to describe it. I can only breathe well when he is near. My heart no longer belongs to myself but only to him. Without him, the world is gray, black and white, but it is awash with a thousand colors the instant he appears. Do you see what I mean?”
“I think I do. I envy you, Gabrielle, for having all of that.”
“One day so will you. I know it.”
“May you be right. Your Prince Charming would not happen to have a brother, by any chance?” Sophie teased.
“Unfortunately not. But the man of your dreams is out there somewhere waiting for you, Sophie. I am certain of it.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
They smiled at each other in the mirror, and suddenly there were tears in Sophie’s eyes.
“Oh, Sophie! What is it?” Gabrielle cried, turning around to enfold her friend into her arms.
“It’s silly. You are not even gone yet. But—I will miss you so, Gabrielle! What will I become without you?”
Gabrielle felt tears well up and roll down her cheeks.
“You will become a famous milliner, very in demand! I will miss you too, Sophie. But we will come back from time to time. And you will come visit me in New York. It might not be as exciting as the Exposition Universelle, but—”
“Oh, I think I can live with that.” Sophie laughed through her tears.
She moved away and wiped her face then Gabrielle’s before adding playfully, “Maybe I will move there too!”
“Oh, please do! Come live in New York with us! We would have such fun! And perhaps your Prince Charming is there waiting for you!”
Just as Sophie was about to reply, the clock in the corner of the room struck two.
“Dear God!” Gabrielle exclaimed in alarm, sniffling inelegantly. “I must return to the bookstore! Papa is visiting the printer today and we are expecting a delivery.”
“Run along, then! I have everything I need to finish your dress; it will be ready in a few days.”
“Thank you, Sophie!” She rushed back behind the screen. “You are a wonder! I knew I could count on you!”
* * * *
A few minutes later, cheeks pink from the biting February cold, short of breath and somewhat disheveled, Gabrielle pushed open the door to the bookstore.
“Étienne, I am back!” she announced, the bell over the door ringing merrily as she shut it behind her.
She looked around and caught sight of him at the back of the deserted bookstore. Before she could remove her hat or gloves, he strode toward her and put his arms around her, holding her tight.
For a second she thought she felt his lips against her neck, just under her jaw.
“What are you doing?” she protested, laying her hands on his chest to shove him back.
Just then, the bell chimed again as the door opened to admit two delivery men carrying a large case full of books.
“Delivery for Maurice Villeneuve,” the first declared.
“I am his daughter,” Gabrielle announced at once, breaking free of Étienne’s hold. “Follow me.”
She guided them toward her father’s study, glaring at Étienne as she went, but he only smiled smugly back before looking away. Gabrielle boiled inwardly as she showed the men where to put the case.
Étienne had been behaving very strangely ever since she had returned from Chandeniers. It was as though he had suddenly made it his mission to have her give in to his advances. His dedication could only be admired. Previously he had more or less restrained himself—though rather less than more—but now he displayed his interest openly, often taking advantage of Maurice’s absences to slip increasingly unsubtle
double entendres into their conversations. Sometimes he stood so close to her when he “helped” her put the bookshelves into order that she could feel his breath in her hair and his body brush against hers.
Enough was enough, Gabrielle decided as she saw the delivery men out. It had to stop, and it had to stop now.
Once she had closed the door, she flipped the sign to indicate the bookstore was temporarily closed. Feigning a calm she did not feel, she removed her coat, hat and gloves, hung them on the hook and motioned for Étienne to follow her to the back of the bookstore.
“What in name of the Lord were you thinking?” she attacked, furious. “Étienne, enough is—”
He didn’t let her finish. Before she realized what was happening, he had taken her face between his hands and pushed her against the wall to kiss her.
“What are you doing?” Gabrielle cried, shoving at him. “Are you insane? Let go of me!” she exclaimed when Étienne refused to budge.
Far from obeying, he caught her wrists and moved in closer again.
“Marry me, Gabrielle,” he murmured.
“You have lost your mind, Étienne! Let go of me!” she repeated, trying to tug her hands free. “This is not funny!”
“It is not meant to be, and I have not lost my mind. I want to marry you. I always have.”
“Étienne, I know you think you are in love with me, but—”
“I am in love with you, Gabrielle.”
“—but I do not love you. I am engaged to Thomas and I will marry him. I love him. Now let go of me, please.”
But still Étienne did not release her. Roiling fear began to bubble up within her. There was a strange glint in his eyes, and it did not bode well.
“You are not from the same world, Gabrielle,” Étienne argued, his grip on her wrists tightening. “We are. I will love you and take care of you better than he ever will. I will be by your side all your life, in your father’s bookstore. It is what you always wanted. I can give you what you wanted. He cannot. He does not know you the way I do. He does not love you the way I do.”
“You’re talking nonsense. You do not know him. You know nothing of him. Release me, or I will scream.”
“I may not know him, but I know that if he loved you as much as you say he does, he would be here with you now. But he is not. I am. I was always here, and I always will be. And I am worth a thousand times more than that monster.”
Rage ignited within her.
“Thomas is not a monster!” she shouted, struggling harder.
In vain. Étienne was much stronger than she was, and he used all his weight to hold her against the wall.
“You are not even half the man he is! And he respects me far more than you do right now! Let go of me, I said!”
Uncontrollable rage seemed to come over Étienne, and his face twisted in disgust. As though a mask had fallen away and revealed his true self.
“Why him?” he yelled, red with anger. “Is it his castle? His money, is that what you want? You disappoint me, Gabrielle, I did not think you so mercenary. But I will never let you go. You are mine, do you hear? It doesn’t matter how, you will be mine, whether you like it or not. I haven’t waited for you for two years so you can just slip through my fingers!”
He shoved her against the wall, pinning her with his bulk, and kissed her. His tongue forced its way past her lips without any regard for her resistance.
Panic washed over Gabrielle for the briefest of moments, intensifying when Étienne grabbed one of her breasts and kneaded it forcefully, humping against her like an animal in heat. She whimpered in pain, which only seemed to encourage him. He tried to hike up her skirt and worm his way in between her legs. And just like that, her panic disappeared, replaced with rage that increased her strength tenfold.
Who the hell does he think he is? Does he really think he can use me like this? I’ll show you, just you wait!
Both his hands were busying feeling her up, leaving her face free to move. She bit down viciously on his tongue and immediately pulled free from his mouth when he flinched back. Then she wrenched one of her legs free and stamped on his foot with all her strength.
Étienne jumped back with a shout of pain, but she wasn’t done yet. Utterly furious, she swung up with all her might and kicked him in the crotch, then slapped him as hard as she could. The crack rang out in the silence of the bookstore.
Short of breath, eyes blazing, she dashed out of reach as he squirmed on the ground, face twisted in pain, the shape of her fingers clearly visible on his cheek, staring at her as though she were the devil.
She wished she were. She would have turned him into a worm and crushed him beneath her heel.
“Never. Do. That. Again,” she enunciated furiously as he hobbled to his feet.
The fact that he was up again so soon filled her with panic, but she pushed it down, putting more distance between them.
“You are mine, Gabrielle,” Étienne grunted.
“Leave. Leave now and maybe I will forget what just happened.”
“I will not. Not until you belong to me.”
“I will never belong to you,” she retorted icily. “Now leave before I become really angry. And never set foot in here again.”
Étienne smiled sardonically, predatorily, and lurched forward, a cat playing with a mouse. Gabrielle’s heart was beating so hard she felt it resonate all through her body. She backed away and hit something. She moved aside and stepped into another piece of furniture.
Lord, she thought as she fought against her rising fear. There is too much furniture in here.
She looked around for an exit, but no matter where she went, Étienne could catch her in a matter of seconds.
Think, Gabrielle. Think.
But nothing came to her. Her thoughts were flooded with panic.
Seeing her cornered, Étienne smiled triumphantly.
“Angry, you?” he hissed. “Do you really think you can overcome me?”
He leapt at her and seized her wrist, pulling her to him. Gabrielle thrashed, but his grip was too strong.
“I think I just did,” she retorted, concealing her fear. “I can repeat the feat.”
“That’s what you think. I won’t be fooled twice.”
His lips scraped against hers again, but she turned her head away, twisting in repulsion.
“Just hold still, you’ll like it. Hell, you’ll even ask for more,” he growled as he grabbed her skirts.
“Never!” she gasped, teeth clenched.
Think, Gabrielle, she repeated to herself. Think. There has to be something.
The solution flashed in front of her eyes.
The dagger!
The bookstore had been robbed a few years earlier. Ever since, her father had kept a dagger hidden behind the counter. If she could reach it, she would be able to defend herself.
Summoning all her courage, Gabrielle pretended to stop struggling. She forced her body to relax, hoping his grip would loosen so she could tear free.
“You see? That’s a good girl,” Étienne purred, biting at her earlobe.
She shuddered in disgust and tried to breathe through it. She closed her eyes as he cupped her breast, covered her lips with his. She let him, hiding her revulsion.
Just a few seconds more. Just a few seconds.
She felt the tension in his muscles recede, almost imperceptibly at first, then for good. That was what she had been waiting for. Gathering her strength, she shoved him back and darted behind the counter. With trembling hands, she gripped the dagger and pointed it at him.
“Out. Now.”
“You think you can just chase me out? This bookstore is mine, Gabrielle, and so are you! It belongs to me, as you do!”
That was too much. She could not bear his presence any longer.
Gabrielle took a deep breath and
leapt at him, blade aimed at his throat.
Her heart beat wildly, blood pulsing in her temples. Her legs shook so hard it was a miracle she could stand.
Her hand around the hilt, however, had never been so steady.
She was deathly afraid, but her wrath was greater still.
She gripped the dagger tighter and pressed the point against his neck, drawing a drop of blood.
“Out, I said!” she hollered, pushing him back. “Out of my sight before I butcher you like the swine you are!”
This time Étienne seemed convinced of the seriousness of her threats. He stared at her hatefully a few seconds longer before he raised his hands in surrender.
“Very well, I will leave,” he conceded ungraciously. “But you will come back to me, Gabrielle. Trust me, you will.”
“Never. Especially after what you just did. Leave! I never want to see you again! Ever!”
“You say that now, but when you are alone and need me to take care of the bookstore, you will come back to me and I will have won. I will be patient. I will wait.”
“OUT!” she shrieked, all restraint lost.
She kept her eyes trained on him and the dagger pointed at his throat until he was outside. Then she darted to the door and slammed every lock shut. She tracked his movements as long as she could, checking he did not double back. Once she was certain he was far away and would not return, she dropped into a corner, curled into a ball and broke into sobs.
* * * *
When Maurice returned from the printer, some two hours later, the copies of the inventory for the castle sale under his arm, Gabrielle had pulled herself together. She was still shaken inwardly, but her hands were steady and her legs supported her.
It was almost as though nothing had happened.
Almost.
She was attending a patron when her father entered.
“Is everything all right, Gabrielle?” Maurice asked in concern once they were alone. “You look ill. Did something happen? Where is Étienne?”
Of course her father would be able to read her. It was pure fantasy to think she could hide anything from him. Trying to swallow down the nausea that threatened to overcome her at the mere mention of his name, she kept her voice carefully neutral.