Brocade Series 02 - Giselle (27 page)

“I
spoke as I did to hide my own desire for it, Navarre! Don’t you see? I had to cover my own reaction. I didn’t know any
other way.”

She whispered the last words to the sky
. She couldn’t stop the
tears as she was totally honest with him.
Giselle didn’t dare look down
. She finally admitted she wanted him, and was ready to give up her hope of heaven for it. There was no place left to hide.

Navarre’s hands still touched hers, although he seemed to be
stone. She didn’t know what else to say. She’d bared her soul, saying something
hidden even from herself.
But for what?

Nothing
.

“Giselle
. Look at me.”

She shook her head and sniffed
. She couldn’t possibly look
at him.

“Giselle, please
? I beg it of you
.”

“I can’t, Navarre! I’m so wicked! And…no one understands.”

“Wicked?”
He chuckled again, his breath teasing her throat. “Giselle, we aren’t wicked. We’re caught in a trap from which there is no escape. I adore you so much I fear sometimes I’ll go mad from it.
Still, nothing changes. I can’t sleep and I can’t eat. My every thought is of
you. Nothing assuages it, either. If I stay away, what happens then?
I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and then I can’t even think. Nothing
changes, Giselle, nothing. You belong to Etienne…and not to me.”

She pulled one hand free to wipe away tears before they
dropped off her chin.

“
I want you, Giselle.” His voice dropped to a low rumble of
sound.
“Dieu!
I want it so badly, it eats at me. But I
won’t do as Etienne asks. And you won’t either. That’s not wicked. It can’t be. Being wicked cannot possibly feel this bad.
” He sighed, and she felt hair moving across her skin as he turned his head
away. “I’m explaining it badly, aren’t I?”

“No.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

“Because it hurts too much!”
Admitting that brought on a
fresh flood of tears. They blurred her vision and clogged her throat. “I never should have come!
I’m
sorry,
Navarre. So…sorry.”

“Sorry?”

He pulled her down onto his lap, and wrapped his arms about
her, holding her close. Secure. Protected. And Giselle sobbed even harder. She buried her face in his
shirt front and wept bitterly.

“You have to stop this before you take ill again,
my love. Then I’ll blame
myself for it. I’ll have to send your notes back unopened and be a terror to my servants. You must think of them if nothing else. No?
Then think of me out here without even a dry shirt!”

Giselle giggled
. Perhaps that was the reaction he’d wanted.
She moved away from his chest so she could see
him. “
I
love you, Navarre.”

“
I know.” He smiled, putting small lines about his eyes. “I know it just as l know the sun will
rise tomorrow and the next day. It’s what keeps me sane, I think.
No, I lie. The only thing I know for certain,” he leaned back until he
was against the back rest, “is how right this feels.”

His voice ended, and the arms around her tightened until she
felt certain the boning in her corset would be imprinted on her skin.
She didn’t stop him, though. She relished the sensation of his strength.

“You must go back now, Giselle
. You’ll be missed.” His grip
eased, but he didn’t release her. “And you must take care never to come
here again.”

“Don’t make me do that. Please? When can I come? Where,
then?”

“You know the answer
to that, Giselle…just as I do.”

The haunted look was back in his eyes, and hers filled with
tears again.
Stupid, useless tears!
He was right. She did know the answer. They were caught in
a painful trap, and these avowals of love did nothing but make the wound cut
deeper. She realized then exactly what love was. It was up to her.
She’d do anything to take the
look of pain from his eyes.

But none of that
made it any easier.

Giselle shuddered once more, gulped, and forced her emotions
down
, although her belly rebelled. She fought that, too. She refused to be ill. She stood shakily, and he let her go. And then she walked from him, focusing on the
fountain while she waited for her tears to dry.

“
Oh. I appear to have dirtied your gown, Giselle. I hope you can think of an
explanation the others will accept.”

She swiveled back to him
. She wondered how he knew. He
wasn’t even looking at her. He was staring at the ground between his
feet again.

“
I toured the stables today, Navarre. That’s enough of an
excuse.”

She spoke impersonally
. Of stables. As if this weren’t the last time they dared to be alone together. And it wasn’t anger separating them this time. It was duty. And honor. And integrity.

She
could learn to hate those words.

“T
he groom was a competent guide?”

Giselle backed from him, unable to bear listening any further
.
She was supposed to stop crying, not start up again. A hedge stopped
her, and she realized she didn’t know the way out. She didn’t
dare ask Navarre to show her. She wouldn’t be able to bear it. If she
remained with him much longer, she was afraid she’d be on her hands and knees
begging him to do as Etienne wanted.

“Jean-Claude…didn’t think so.”

Giselle tried to smile, hoping
it sounded in her voice.
When he stood abruptly and stared, she knew she’d failed.

“Jean-Claude?”

Giselle put her arms out to stop his approach, but he lunged
toward her. She couldn’t bear anymore. It wasn’t humanly
possible. Giselle turned to run away, but the hedge at her nose
stopped her.

“Jean-Claude toured the stables with you
? He’s
here? He can’t be here!”

She opened her mouth to answer, then stopped
. If she spoke at
all, he’d hear the grief she was stanching. It was too raw. Too visceral.

“Answer me, Giselle!”

He
had reached her. She
felt him right behind her. She nodded.

“When did he arrive
? Why wasn’t I informed? Doesn’t
Esmee realize what might happen if I’m not there?”

Giselle
took a deep breath and turned, tensing for the effect of his eyes. She wasn’t
disappointed. Confusion, anger, surprise, and pain showed so clearly
she could almost touch them. If she was grieving, so was he, just
in a different fashion.

“Jean-Claude
is evil,” he continued speaking.
“Truly. He’s twisted. He
doesn’t have any thought to right or wrong. He thinks only of himself. He’s dangerous!
Dieu!
Someone should have told me!”

“Perhaps you should read your missives before you return
them.”
Her words were garbled. Indistinct.

He glared at her for a moment,
and then grasped her to him, cradling her in arms t
hat felt wonderful. It was horrid, wicked and wrong, but
Giselle couldn’t lie to herself any longer. She breathed deeply of his chest where it was pressed against her cheek, and thanked the
Bon Dieu
for such a gift.

“Oh, Giselle
. This is bad. I can’t stay away now. It’s not safe. But it will be difficult! Do you understand? One
hint of how we feel for each other and Jean-Claude has a weapon.”

“A
weapon? I’d say he has several already. He’s very
handsome and he’s very charming. And he uses both as weapons.”

Navarre pulled away
and glared down at her.

“I
can’t believe you just said that, Giselle. I can’t. Of all women, you
should know how I detest—”

“
I was teasing, Navarre.”

Giselle giggled,
and then sniffed. It was better than her tears.

“
Teasing? Oh. Well, it’s not amusing.”

He set her from him,
and looked at her for long moments before he shook his head.

“Go now
. Tell Esmee not to expect me for
sup, but I’ll be back in residence tonight. I promise.”

“Do I have to tell
her?”

“She bothers you, my love
? Very well, but I can’t think it would be easier to tell Etienne. He’ll know you were with me.”

“Do I have to speak of it?”

“Have your companion do it, then. But for now, you must go.”

“Very well
. But…Navarre?”

“
Oui?”

“
I don’t know how I got here. Or the way out.”

“You’re lost
…and yet you found my hiding place?
Le Bon
Dieu works in strange ways. Come,
Giselle. Take my hand. I’ll show you.”

He offered her heaven
. She stepped back.

“Oh
. You’re right. Follow me, then. But stay close.”

Giselle struggled with the linens and untangled her legs from
her nightgown. Still, she felt suffocated by heat. There was no other
word to describe it, and she didn’t know what to try next. One
window was already open from the last time she’d awakened.

Navarre wasn’t the subject of her dreams,
either. Etienne was. Giselle
sat for a moment to reflect on the last one. She’d dreamed of Etienne laughing. Crying. Drinking. And then he’d been struggling. The
last was the worst. She shuddered. He’d been screaming for help.

The heat sensation came again, growing to roasting level a
s she dwelled on Etienne’s screams. Giselle
pulled the cloying cotton from her legs. There was nothing for it.
The night was stiflingly hot, and her dreams were filled with Etienne.
She might as well check on him. And if that didn’t work, she’d
change into one of her filmy nightgowns.

The feeling of heat intensified as she unlocked the connecting
door to Etienne’s chambers. Giselle looked over her shoulder. It felt
like there was someone with her, but that was ridiculous. The entire thing was.

Etienne hadn’t come down for supper
. He hadn’t been missed
. Supper had never been so stilted. Aunt Mimi and Jean-Claude did most of the talking, while Margot had sat looking like she’d seen
a ghost.

A ghost?

Giselle clutched a hand to her throat. That’s where she’d felt this heat before – the tower. With Esmee.

“
Stop, Giselle. You’re frightening yourself.”

She said it aloud as she
stepped into the
duc’s
chambers, almost expecting
to meet up with the long-dead
Duchesse
Bertina. Or worse. A drunken Etienne.
Entering his room was worse than stupid. His covers were messily tossed about, and Giselle almost turned away. It appeared like he was having the same kind of night that she was, nothing more.

He wasn’t there, though
. That was odd…

The window casement was shut
tightly, and Giselle knew he’d never leave the room unaided. She didn’t know where he kept his wheeled chair, but, the moment she
started searching for it, all the warmth vanished.

Giselle rubbed her hands together to ward off the sudden chill
.
It was ridiculous, temperature didn’t change that rapidly. She was
being silly, but why was the chair missing, then? She knew how
rarely he used it. He wouldn’t get up and roll about the halls at night…would he?

Warmth returned the moment she had that thought
. She no longer ignored it. Somehow, she knew exactly where he was, and that he was in mortal danger!

“Help! Someone help
! Navarre! Esmee!”

Giselle’s screams
went ignored until she yanked on Etienne’s servant bell.
The valet answered quickly. She stupidly noticed that he
didn’t favor Gerty much.

“Summon
Monsieur
Navarre! Go now! Get help! Etienne has fallen
from the second-wing tower! Go! Don’t stand there staring, go!”

She shoved him toward the door, his mouth open.

“What is it, Giselle?”

Esmee was the first to reach the ducal chambers
. Giselle
grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the main foyer. “Etienne’s in danger
. Where is Navarre? Navarre!” She saw him run into the hall below them.
“Thank the
Bon Dieu!
I’ve been so worried.”

She rushed down the steps to him,
remembering at the last moment not to
go into his embrace. That would have been disastrous with all the observers about. Light flared
about them as torches were lit.

“What’s all the noise about?”

Jean-Claude asked it, as he walked into
the gathering as if the family normally
assembled in their sleepwear in the middle of the night. Giselle also
noticed that he came from the hall that led to the haunted tower. And that was the opposite of
his own apartments. Her eyes narrowed.

“Etienne’s missing, and I know where he is,” she
announced loudly.
“Esmee! Remember when you showed me the haunted tower where someone removed some rock? Well? Don’t stand there looking at me like I
lost my mind! Go save him!”

“How do you know it’s not already too late?”

Jean-Claude reached for his snuff can as he spoke. Giselle couldn’t believe it. If she had doubted Navarre’s character appraisal
of the man earlier, she was more that naïve. She was criminally negligent.

“The tower’s been tampered with?” Navarre asked. “Esmee, why didn’t you tell me
? Quick, send a man around to check at the
base of it. And Jean-Claude. Don’t leave. Stay with the women while I go.”

He almost knocked down Louisa as he turned, and Giselle
could have hugged her when she saw the dressing gown she carried. She’d been running through the halls in her nightgown. But she didn’t care
.
She wasn’t ashamed. Etienne’s survival was all that mattered.

Giselle waited until Navarre disappeared from the hall, three men running at his heels before she turned back to
face Jean-Claude. He finished inhaling his snuff and brushed the remnants off his jacket as
if he’d asked her the time of day and not how she knew. He
smiled down at her.

Giselle raised her chin
. She’d thought
him the most stunning male she’d ever seen. She wasn’t far off. He was what she’d been
warned of by Isabelle and the fat priest for years. She knew exactly
what she was looking at now. He was described in any number of
Scriptures. She just hadn’t believed that such evil would come
packaged so magnificently.

She’d been a fool.

“It’s not too late, Jean-Claude.”

Warmth enfolded her as she spoke
.
She had no need to fear him with the
Duchesse
Bertina helping her. Giselle didn’t even question it.

“How can you know that, my dearest little
duchesse?
You’ve
been sleeping.”

Jean-Claude’s eyes slid insolently down her
frame and back up again. Giselle was grateful for the robe’s concealment. She hugged
the neckline against her. She didn’t have to be experienced to know
what he left unsaid.

“
You leave her alone, Jean-Claude.”

Esmee spoke
up before Giselle
could, championing her. Perhaps she’d misjudged Esmee.

“I
’
m not speaking to you, Esmee, my dear. I’m speaking to the
petite
duchesse.
Someone should ask her how it is that her husband
lies dead from a fall, and she’s the only one with knowledge of it,
shouldn’t they?”

“Etienne hasn’t fallen yet
.” Giselle answered with so much
authority, she wasn’t surprised to see Esmee’s mouth gape open.
“And
I’m
not the only one with knowledge, but you already know
that, don’t you?”

There was an audible gasp about her, and Giselle watched
Jean-Claude stiffen. His purplish-blue eyes became calculating and
cold. Giselle would be trembling at the intent in them if it
weren’t for the cocoon of warmth wrapped about her.

“He hasn’t fallen, you say
? Hmm. I find that difficult to believe.”

“
I don’t care what you believe,
Monsieur.
He hasn’t fallen. You were premature.”

Louisa pressed against Giselle’s arm
. And then a servant entered the hall and started shouting.

“Merde
!
Bring a torch and some rope! Be quick!”

There was a
collective gasp as activity burst about them. Giselle
didn’t move her gaze from Jean-Claude. She watched him watching
the servants. There was disbelief on his face and she knew exactly what he was thinking. It was a powerful feeling.

“Go see what’s happening, Louisa.”

Giselle sent her off
without taking her eyes from Jean-Claude. If he hadn’t still worn his
face-paint, she could have known for certain, but he seemed to
have paled.

“The
duc
is dangling from the tower! They’re attempting a
rescue!”

Louisa was back with the message.
That time Giselle was certain. Beneath his mask,
Jean-Claude had definitely whitened.

“Dear God, Jean-Claude,” Esmee said
. “How can you stand
there and pretend to us? To me?”

Giselle refused to look away
. She stared at him unblinkingly.
Jean-Claude had been in the castle less than a day, and he already
tried to kill Etienne. Her mouth was dry and she knew she was in
shock, and yet nothing broke through the warmth and security surrounding her. Strengthening her. Protecting her.

“
What is it? What has happened?”

Marguerite,
Madame
du Berchald, walked
into the foyer to ask it. Nobody answered.

“My maid told me Etienne has had an
accident. Is this true, Esmee? And Jean-Claude? What are you
doing out of your chambers?” Her voice sharpened on the last bit of her query
.

He‘s been busy trying to kill his brother,
Giselle answered in
her thoughts.

Madame
du Berchald had claimed illness kept her from joining them for
supper earlier — but she looked perfectly
healthy as she stood before Jean-Claude.

“
I asked you a question!” she
hissed.

“So you did
. And perhaps I’ll answer it,
Maman.
Perhaps not. But the one thing I won’t do is stand about in the hall like a peasant.”

“We’ll retire to the Red Salon
. See that wine is brought.”
Esmee said.

Giselle took her eyes from Jean-Claude in order to inspect her
mother-in-law while Esmee directed the household. Marguerite
didn’t look as old as she should, but perhaps that was the paint she also wore. Although she was smaller than Esmee, she still
overshadowed Giselle, and her dressing gown was more splendid in
design than any ball gown.

“
I can’t take my eyes off you for a moment, can I?”

Giselle heard the whispered words to Jean-Claude as they took
what seemed to be their assigned places in the Red Salon.

“
Moi?
The word you received was inaccurate, Mother. Etienne has
experienced an accident…and according to the
duchesse,”
Jean-Claude said, “he didn’t fall. She still hasn’t explained her
knowledge of it, have you, Giselle?”

“Giselle!”
Their mother turned to Giselle. “We meet under horrid
circumstances,
non?
I wasn’t feeling well earlier, child. Pray forgive me, and explain. What is this Jean-Claude speaks of?”

The warmth in her voice didn’t reach her eyes
. Giselle realized
Marguerite was acting. She wished there was another explanation, but knew she was right. And Giselle was getting as jaded as everyone else.

“There’s never a good time for attempt
ing murder,
Madame,”
Giselle answered coolly.

Louisa gasped beside her.

“There should be no listeners to this sort of conversation,
Madame
la
Duchesse.”
Marguerite’s voice carried a note of reproof
. “Perhaps you could see we aren’t disturbed?”

She was
speaking to Louisa, and Giselle’s eyes narrowed.

“
Forgive me, but Louisa is my companion. She stays.
I awakened abruptly to the certain knowledge — call it a dream, if you
like — that my husband was in danger. I knew it for a certainty when
I went to check. I can’t tell you how faint I am at this moment. Why…if
Louisa weren’t at my side, anything might happen.”

Giselle sat on her chair and placed a hand to her forehead while
she feigned a near collapse.