Awakened by a Kiss (14 page)

Adrien forced his eyes to focus on the parchment in his hands, scanning its contents. Charlotte’s venom astounded him, his heart quickening with each incensed, irrational word she wrote. Her final phrase knocked the breath from his lungs.

 

 

 

Jésus-Christ!
Terror slammed into him. Adrien snagged his baldric and ran from the room in the direction of the stables, his uncles on his heels.

Pushing the horses to their limit, Adrien and his uncles raced toward Maillard, only to be halted abruptly upon entering the town.

Adrien’s heart plummeted.

Shops on the main floors, homes directly above, the roads and abodes were filled with activity; the streets chaotic and clogged. Its calamity spiked his frustration and anxiety as Adrien and his uncles maneuvered their way through the mass, unable to race the final stretch of the two-and-a-half-hour journey.

Two-and-a-half torturous, fear-laden hours.

The sun burned down upon him. Wiping the sweat from his brow with a sweep of his sleeve, Adrien desperately searched for the inn. Shouts from the windows above, haggling merchants and customers, squeals and laughter of dashing children, and the nickering of horses clashed together, and yet it was all a distant din. Adrien’s heart was pounding so fiercely, it resonated in his ears, muffling the noise.

“You there!” he called out to a pauper who caught his eye in the throng. “Where is the inn?”

“To the left.” He pointed up the street. “The first street to the left, my lord.”

Adrien’s gaze darted in the direction. It wasn’t far, but with the congestion before him, it was going to take a while. He tossed the pauper a coin and began shouting to those blocking his path. It moved people along. Too slowly. It was all too damned slow!

Every horrible scenario of what Charlotte might do tormented his mind and twisted his entrails. He prayed, he prayed, he prayed he was in time.

From her note, Charlotte wasn’t going to stop until Catherine was dead. Even more terrifying was the fact that Catherine was completely unaware Charlotte had been Baillet’s mistress. His sister could easily fabricate an explanation as to why she was at the inn.

Catherine wouldn’t have any reason to mistrust her.

Would Baillet notice Charlotte? Would he somehow foil her plans? Adrien desperately hoped so.

Finally turning the corner, Adrien spotted the inn at the end of the cobblestone road that was lined by three-story half-timbered buildings. He was almost there. His heart hammered harder. The inn was ever nearing. But not fast enough.
Merde
. Too many carts, horses, and people were in the way. Every minute mattered. Ready to jump out of his very skin, Adrien could wait no longer.

He leaped off his horse in the middle of the street, leaving it for his uncles to attend to, pushing and shoving his way through the afternoon crowds. His destination—the front doors of the inn.

The moment he tore across its threshold, he stopped dead in his tracks, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the darker interior. He heard weeping. A woman’s tears.

Scanning the few occupants in the room, some standing, some seated at the tables before him, he spotted Catherine’s maid and Baillet in the far corner.

Odette pleaded. She wept.

His blood froze. Seeing how distraught she was, he knew he was too late. Dear God, something had happened to Catherine.

The maid met his gaze. “Monsieur!” She rushed to him.

Adrien gripped her shoulders. “What has happened?”

Tossing a quick glance about, Odette lowered her shaky voice, “Your sister . . . she has . . . poisoned my madame. My sweet, kind madame.” Her chin dropped. She wept harder, her shoulders shaking.

Adrien’s knees almost gave way.

“Y-Your sister has locked herself in one of the rooms upstairs, and won’t come out,” she bemoaned. “Sh-She has the antidote. She won’t hand it over. I don’t know if it’s too late. I don’t know what poison she gave her.” Tears welled from her eyes. “She’s in a terrible way. . . and Monsieur de Baillet refuses to help. He-He’s leaving.”

Baillet approached then, his expression bland. “That’s correct. I am leaving.” He looked pointedly at Adrien. “I hope you enjoyed fucking my betrothed. It seems you did such a thorough job of it, she’s no longer interested in marrying me. None of this”—he gestured toward Odette—“is any of my concern.”

“You would actually leave her to
die
?” Adrien asked, stunned.

“As I said, this isn’t my problem. I do, however, intend to speak to His Majesty about your sister. I feel it is my duty to rid society of this madwoman. She tainted the broth and then admitted to it. For God’s sake, she could have killed me.”

Adrien snapped. Grabbing Baillet by the lapels of his justacorps, he slammed him backward onto a nearby table.

“You are to blame for all of this!” Adrien bellowed.

Baillet stared up at him, his eyes wide with fear. “Un-Unhand me!” His hands flew to Adrien’s wrists, but he couldn’t pry himself loose.

“You toyed with Charlotte’s affections! You used her. You misled her into thinking you cared.
You
brought this on!” He pulled Baillet up then slammed him back down, so that his head struck the table with brute force. Baillet yelped. “You’ll not speak a word of this to the King, Madame de Maintenon, or anyone, for if you do, I’ll call you out and end your worthless life.”

“Your—your sister poisoned a lady. That is against the law!” Baillet was foolish enough to protest.

“It will be Catherine’s word against yours, since she is the one lying on a bed right now. Not you.”

Adrien released Baillet.

Baillet sat up and smoothed his jacket. “If she lives.”

Rage exploded inside him. Adrien smashed his fist into Baillet’s jaw, knocking him off the table and onto the stone floor.

“Adrien!” Paul rushed in and grabbed his arm, Robert and Charles following directly behind. “Leave him to us. Go help your lady.”

Charles and Robert were already yanking a disoriented Baillet to his feet none too gently.

Adrien turned and ran up the stairs, two at a time. Odette was quickly on his heels, calling out which room. Upon bursting into Catherine’s room, the air shot out of his lungs, the sight before him hitting him like a physical blow. Leaving him cold and breathless.

Her auburn hair was fanned out on the pillow. A delicate hand clutched her stomach as she softly moaned and writhed, eyes shut. Horrified, he moved closer.

She was pale, so pale. Her complexion was almost gray.

Odette sobbed anew. “The pain gets worse at times. She had the tainted broth over an hour ago . . .”

Adrien sank down on the edge of the bed, taking Catherine’s hand in his. Her skin was cold. Clammy.

She opened her eyes. “Adrien,” she breathed.

A knot welled in his throat. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “I am here,
ma belle
.”

“Your sister and Baillet . . .”

“I should have told you she was his mistress,” he choked out. “I’m sorry.”

Again he kissed her hand again, fighting to maintain his composure. “Please forgive me, for . . . not being forthright, about my sister, about my affections. I love you.” Tears blurred her sweet face. He cupped her cheeks. “I am going to make this right. Stay strong. You are going to be fine. I’ll make certain of it.” He kissed her brow. “I love you, Catherine.”

A small smile graced her lips as a single tear slipped out of the corner of her eye.

“Charlotte!” He smashed his fist against her locked door, her room close to Catherine’s. “Open this door.”

Silence.

He slammed his shoulder into the wooden barrier. It gave but did not open. “Charlotte!” With fury and fear, he slammed his shoulder into the portal once more.

It flew open.

He found Charlotte curled up like a child, her arms tightly wrapped around her legs, crouching in the corner of the room on the floor. Her eyes red and swollen, she’d been crying extensively. She made such a pathetic sight, it momentarily unbalanced Adrien.

“Dieu
, Charlotte, what have you done?”

Large tears streamed down her face. “I—I wanted him to . . . l-love me . . . He—He doesn’t love me.” She sobbed, anguished. Broken.

He crouched down to her level. “I love you, Charlotte,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “I am begging you to help Catherine.”

She shot to her feet, startling him. “NO!”

It was then Adrien noticed a small pouch clutched in each of her hands.

“I hate her! She has his heart.” Her bottom lip quivered as she inched her way to the window. If what she had in the pouches was the antidote, he feared she’d scatter the powders to the wind.

“No, Charlotte. She doesn’t. She’s not going to marry him. There isn’t going to be a wedding. She doesn’t have his heart. He left, without a care over her condition.”

Her watery eyes widened slightly. “He—He did?”

“He isn’t capable of loving anyone. Please . . . Charlotte . . . Please, tell me you have the antidote.”

“Of course I do. The witch advised me to purchase both . . . in case the wrong person takes the poison. Sometimes these things are difficult to contain.”

He didn’t want a lengthy discussion. Or details of her misdeed. Time was of the essence. Still crouched he held out his hand. “Please, give me the antidote.”

She moved closer to the window. His stomach tightened with terror.

“Why? So you can save her? You love her more than me.”

He lowered his arm. “I am trying to save your life, can you not see that? If Catherine . . . dies . . . you’ll be arrested and executed.”

She froze.

With a strangled cry, she pressed one pouch-filled hand to her mouth. “I . . . d-don’t want that.” She cried hard, her shoulders slumped.

“Then give me the antidote, and I swear, I won’t let anyone harm you. You’ll return home. To Hôtel d’Aspe. You’ll be with family who love you.”

She shook her head. “No . . . noooo . . .” She moaned. “. . . I—I want to go to a cloister. The one
Maman
went to. She . . . She was h-happy there . . . I want to be happy, too.”

He rose. “If a convent is what you desire, it will be so, on my word. But first,
ma chérie
”—he held out a hand again—“you must give me the antidote.”

She stared at his open palm.

“
Please
, Charlotte. I love you. Let me help you. I don’t want you placed in prison.”

She gave him a quivering smile. “You do love me, don’t you, Adrien?”

“Very much,” he said from the heart.

Slowly, she stretched out her arm and held out a pouch to him.

He grabbed it from her grip. “What is in the other pouch?”

She handed him that one as well. “It is empty. It had the poison. If you want the antidote to work best, you need to mix it with wine.”

Adrien shot out the door.