Brocade Series 02 - Giselle (34 page)

“Unless I sleep through it,
Madame,
which isn’t as far-fetched
as it sounds.”

His eyes went to the lace of her bodice before sliding down her
body. She hadn’t considered the light blue morning-gown an enticing
ensemble, yet that’s how she felt. She matched the shudder that ran down his frame. She’d never felt such undiluted longing, and knew
he experienced it, too.

Oh
! This was terrible.
Isabelle was watching them from the doorway, hovering near to show Navarre out
.

“What am I saying?” He reached for her hand and brought it
to his lips. “I
cannot stay away. And it is useless to
sleep. I close my eyes, and you’re beside me. Why do I bother
describing it? Dismiss your maid, darling, and let me show you.
”

He didn’t know what he asked
. Or how wondrous it sounded!

“Can I get you anything,
Madame?”

Isabelle spoke loudly
from the door, interrupting, and reminding them of their duty as
efficiently as any chaperon.

“No, thank you, Isabelle
.
Monsieur
Navarre is just leaving.”

He
walked from her before Giselle finished speaking, taking all
the warmth in the room with him. Giselle turned into the pillows so
Isabelle wouldn’t see her expression. She had no right to be bereft. She knew he’d come back that night, sneaking through the secret
passage in his chamber to make love to his brother’s wife.

~

Navarre had changed clothes from that afternoon, although
Giselle couldn’t have said for certain what he’d worn. In evening
attire, he eclipsed even Jean-Claude. Giselle spent some time
comparing the two. Navarre wore dark-brown velvet breeches, a
light tan jacket, with a shirt and jabot of the finest beige-colored
linen. He was pure masculinity, but she already knew that.

Jean-Claude was wearing medium-blue striped silk breeches, a
lace-edged ecru-shaded jacket, and if Giselle wasn’t mistaken, his shirt had a
purplish tone. Perhaps it was the contrast to Navarre that made it so,
but his facial paint with a crescent-moon-shaped patch near his
mouth and a large wig on his head made him look silly.

She was in luck
, they were dining
en famille.
Margot hadn’t
attended, leaving only six for the affair. Even with a small audience,
though, Giselle felt the tension from sitting beside Navarre.

She hadn’t worn a ball gown, panniers, or
large hair style,
because it was just a family meal. As shocking as Isabelle had thought it, Giselle had refused to wear a corset, too. Her figure
hadn’t changed the slightest, but she wanted to tease Navarre. She
must have been too innocent to know the consequences.

“
I understand Etienne has recovered from his accident,
Giselle,” Jean-Claude said.

“Excuse me?”

He interrupted her from contemplation of
Navarre’s upper lip, and it took a few moments to comprehend what
he asked.

“
I understand Etienne…visits you?”

It was unbelievably crude of him. Giselle smiled behind her
napkin and considered what the news meant to him. Gerty already told her Jean-Claude wasn’t welcome back at Versailles without a
substantial sum of money. The fact that Etienne’ s marriage had been
consummated must have given Jean-Claude fits of anxiety.

Still, it
truly wasn’t amusing. Her smile faded. Jean-Claude was probably more dangerous when he was desperate, but what could he
do? Henri and Jean both guarded the ducal chambers, the doors were
bolted tightly, and no one was allowed in without the
duchesse’s
permission.

“Why yes
…Etienne does visit me,” she replied finally. “I’m gratified
you considered it worth noting.”

Navarre shifted beside her
. Giselle fought the urge to
glance at him.

“I’m simply considering my future, Giselle,” Jean-Claude
replied. “It will be difficult to put aside my, shall we say,
aspirations? If Etienne produces an heir.”

“Oh, I don’t believe
if
will be the issue, Jean-Claude. I
think it will be more a matter of
when
.”

Giselle
’s amusement colored every word. Jean-Claude jumped visibly, and Navarre sounded like he was choking. Marguerite smiled hugely and
Esmee giggled into her napkin. Aunt Mimi blushed, but she looked
pleased at the same time.

“
I see.” Jean-Claude pushed back his chair. “I find it too stifling to finish this meal. If you ladies will excuse me? Navarre?”

Giselle watched him walk away, teetering a bit on his high
heels. He was a presence even dressed as he was. She knew where
he was headed, and didn’t envy Margot at all.

“If
doesn’t come into the question?” Navarre
whispered it to her as he bent to retrieve a dropped fork, waving away a
footman as he did.

“I’m
not wearing anything beneath my gown,” Giselle
whispered back, covering her mouth with her napkin as she did.

“What?”

He jerked upright, and wide, blue-violet eyes glared at
her. He was furious. He almost threw the fork at the servant, while his hand shook
. And she had done that to him?
Incredible.

“We can get workmen on it, can’t we, Navarre?”

Giselle watched Navarre’s eyes narrow before
he turned to look down the table at Esmee. Giselle was reeling in place at the
look he gave her.

“What…needs…work?”

He pronounced each word carefully,
and Esmee shrank against her chair.

“The tower that Etienne fell from
,” she replied finally.

“See to it, then.”

He turned away from her, and she sighed in relief. Then
Navarre grabbed his wine glass and glared at Giselle over the rim.
Her eyes widened as his fingers turned white on the stem. She didn’t
realize what she did to him. Hadn’t he already said as much? She
didn’t hear the sound, but the stem fell to the table, separated from the goblet. Several dark drops of blood immediately followed.

Giselle’s hand went to her mouth as she realized Navarre
didn’t appear to have even
felt it.

“Navarre! You
have hurt yourself!”

Marguerite’s cry
brought a footman from the wall, cloth in
hand. Still, Navarre glowered at Giselle. His nostrils widened.
She knew she was turning white
.

“Merci
.”
He spat the word at the footman and wrapped his
own hand without breaking his gaze at her. Giselle knew the others
were staring. She needed to invent some story to
such a show of anger. But what? She could say she’d suggested a bride for him
?

No, that would never do
. She had to avoid that subject for fear
Etienne would hear of it and start thinking. He could have Navarre
married off easily…just as soon as Giselle conceived.

She couldn’t believe her train of thought!

“Navarre.”

Marguerite pushed back her chair before the
footman could assist her and walked toward them. Navarre must
have been aware of it, but he refused to relinquish Giselle’s gaze.
He forestalled his mother by flinging his napkin to the table,
shoving back his chair, and with one last glare at Giselle, striding from the room. Relief swept through the rest of the diners while Giselle
clasped her hands in her lap and concentrated on controlling their
shaking.

“Do all my sons react so to you, Giselle?” Marguerite smiled.

Giselle swallowed to gain time.
“Oui,”
she replied, “although Etienne takes a bit longer to run from me.”

Everyone laughed, including several of the servants
. Giselle
knew Gerty would be upset at missing this latest tidbit of gossip.

“
I think Giselle spoke too soon, didn’t you?” Esmee asked.

“About what?” Marguerite asked.

“Navarre has been acting a bit strangely. Giselle and I talked
of it earlier, didn’t we?”

They were looking at her
. She was frozen in place.

“We think Navarre may finally have another interest beside
Chateau Berchand duties. Isn’t that right?”

“
I—” Giselle began, but no sound came out.

“We think he might be in love,” Esmee continued. “Isn’t that
exciting?”

“With whom?”
Aunt Mimi asked it from behind Marguerite.

“Did he say, Giselle?” Esmee asked. “That’s what you were
speaking of, wasn’t it? Come. Confess. Who is it?”

“I
—”

This time there was a bit of sound, but her words stopped
anyway. What could she possibly reply? Yes. He was most certainly in love
. With me
.

“Would you ladies excuse me as well? It’s been a very
tiring day. I should have dined with Etienne, I think.”

Giselle was
feeling a reaction so intense, she feared she might be ill. She
couldn’t possibly sit calmly discussing the possibility of Navarre
having another lady. She simply wasn’t up to the task.
Giselle walked from the room without assistance and ignored
any looks the servants might be giving her, too. This was all her
fault, and while she was sorry, she was exhilarated as well.

Teasing him had been very gratifying, even if she couldn’t tell
anyone of it. It had been immensely warming, too. She’d never seen
such blatant sensual desire. She could hardly wait until he came to
her.

It was difficult to climb to her room with the shivers racing her
legs. Giselle was grateful that Louisa, Isabelle, and
Gerty were still eating below-stairs. She needed the solitude.

Locking the bolts took some time, as did lighting the candles
from the one she carried. When she finished and blew it out, she saw Navarre’s bulk detach itself from her drapes.

“Navarre
! You’ll be seen!” Her hand went to
her throat.

“
I don’t care, Giselle.”

She backed from him,
until a
dresser stopped her. Jars rattled on the dresser’s surface when she bumped into it.

“Navarre.”

Her hands slapped against his chest as he reached her. It didn’t stop him.
Punishing lips secured hers and pushed her until her back met the wall behind her
.

“You intoxicate me, Giselle
. You make my blood boil. You make my control break and my senses sharpen until nothing else
matters. I’ve never had a woman before, and I can’t believe it! I crave it. Shake with it. I’m on fire for you, and yet you toy with me!”

“Navarre, no
! Wait! Not like this!”

He ignored her plea and lifted her to the dresser top,
splitting her legs with his hips, shoving her skirts aside to put velvet clothed thighs against hers
. His mouth twisted, drawing her glance.

“Non
?”

His head dropped. Giselle whimpered as he tongued
her neck and finished by nibbling her ear. His hands had moved to her waist, to hold her and then yank her to him,
shoving her right against him.
The hard part of him rubbed against her moisture, hard and ready, even covered by
velvet. And the contact tormented. Teased. Titillated.

“Non
?”

The
touch of his tongue against her throat gave her
chills. Tremors.

“You want me to stop, Giselle
? Truly? Then say so. Don’t just
react to a man teased beyond his limits. Do you understand what
I’m
asking?”

He shoved again at her, brush
ing velvet against her apex and she was ready to scream it.

“Well, my love? Do you want me to stop? To leave you to the loneliness of yon bed? You must tell me now…while I still possess the power to go.”

Giselle
lurched upward, sealing her lips to his. A groan
surged through them. She restlessly pawed his hair
loose, barely able to breathe through the kiss.

“Is that a
yes
?”

“Oh yes, Navarre
. Yes!”

She fumbled
with the knot of his jabot for a moment, before he tossed her hands
away.

“You tease me with visions of nakedness and now
torment with slowness?
Non
. I think not.”

He lifted her
. Giselle wrapped her legs about him and clung
. And then the linens of the mattress met her back. And then he pushed back from her.
His eyes drilled into hers, causing such a roar in her ears
that she almost missed the knocking of the maids.

“You answering that?” he asked.

She shook her head. He grinned.

“You’d better shed that dress before I
get there, then
.”

His jacket spilled from the chair he tossed it to
. His shirt followed
.

“Your dress, Giselle?”

“Navarre, I….”

Her voice stopped at his motion of untying his breeches
.
Giselle had to look away. She couldn’t watch. She could scarcely make her hands function.

“
I still frighten you?”

His chuckle brushed her earlobe, and she concentrated on that, rather than the movement of
his fingers on her dress hooks.

“You really aren’t wearing anything else. What a vixen you’re
turning out to be.”

His whisper ended with the firm pressure of
what had to be his lips
against her back, and she squealed as it tickled
.

The dress did rip when it
got caught at her waist. Giselle didn’t care. All she wanted was Navarre. Holding to her as he explored. Im
printing his ownership everywhere he touched. He kissed the
small bruises on her thighs and licked her inner knee until she screamed at him to stop.

And then he yanked her to the edge of the mattress, using the pedestal to join them
. And it wasn’t shock filling her moans. It was gratification. Satiation. Ecstasy. And all of it orchestrated by him.

“Giselle! Love! Giselle! Love!”

The words became a string of them
, placed into existence to match his rhythm. Every thrust. Every time he pulled her toward him and then pushed away. The bed joined in again, rocking and swaying to each movement as Giselle cried with bliss again and again. And this time when he tightened everything and yelled his pleasure to the ceiling, she watched. Glorying in each palsied surge. Each twinge. Every heavy breath. Imprinting it on her memory. Stored. Saved.

The man was beautiful
. Everything about this was the most heavenly of experiences. She was so lucky.
She loved him.

~

“Aunt Mimi, may I ask you something?”

“
Why…anything, Giselle. I so rarely see you out anymore. Not that I
would wish things any different. I must tell you how pleased I am to hear about you
and…Etienne.”

She blushed and Giselle almost did, too
. Her blush wouldn’t be from shyness, especially after what
Navarre and she had done every night for over a week. Giselle
closed her eyes for a moment and held her breath and reminisced. It
was paradise to be in his arms, loving her with every quiver of his body. Exploring every inch of his. And what might happen next. She caught herself impatiently
waiting for sunset anymore.

She opened her eyes again
. Such thoughts weren’t going to accomplish her goal, and she’d been lax with her promise already.

“I’m worried about Esmee.” Giselle sat below Aunt Mimi on
an embroidered footstool and whispered her secret.

“Esmee
? I didn’t think you had time to worry about anything
except…oh. My. I shouldn’t bring it up, but I can’t help it. It’s just wonderful how
you young people have taken to each other. I can hardly wait for the
news.” She blushed again.

“Yes, well…
,” Giselle cleared her throat. All that aside, I don’t think Esmee deserves to be
shut up in Chateau Berchand. She’s still so young, don’t you think?”

Aunt Mimi
looked at Giselle over the rim of her hoop. “Esmee made her own soup, dear. Now she will just have to
swallow it.”

And after saying that, she s
et her thin lips and bent her gaze back to her
stitching. Giselle watched as she placed several delicate threads.

“But I’m so happy, Aunt Mimi, it almost makes me cry to see Esmee so miserable. Don’t you think she deserves a husband of her own? And maybe…a family?”

Now, she was as red as Mimi
. This was ridiculous.

“If
she is, it’s her own fault. Esmee is ineligible, my dear. Unacceptable. There isn’t a man in France who would offer for her now. I
told her that when Etienne welcomed her back into the family fold, I
did.”

She finished her row of stitches
.
Giselle waited while she turned the piece over and slit the thread with a sewing knife.

“What if I knew someone acceptable
?”

Mimi
put down her hoop with a trembling hand, but she still wore her bland expression.

“Giselle, you worry over a trifle. Esmee
can spend her days being of assistance to you in running your
household, or she can join a convent. She knows that.”

“
But I know someone. Don’t you want to see Esmee happily
wed?”

“
There is no one, Giselle. Esmee is happy enough as she is, I
assure you.”

“What of children, Aunt Mimi
? Doesn’t she deserve to be a
mother?”

“She’s much too old, Giselle
. You’re almost too old to
contemplate a first child, but given the circumstances, I’m sure the
Lord will overlook your age. You don’t know how dangerous it is to
attempt birth at Esmee’s age.”

“What if I had been asked to approach her, Aunt Mimi
? What if the groom was totally acceptable and declared his intentions to her.
Couldn’t we overlook the past, then?”

“Another
bourgeois?
I refuse to contemplate it. I already told
you, Giselle dear, there are no acceptable suitors.”

“Isn’t the mayor acceptable? He comes from a long line of—”

“Ambross has declared himself for Esmee?”

“
Oui
,” Giselle lied.

“That’s startling
. Hmm. I suppose, if it’s Ambross, I have no objections. Have Etienne make the arrangements.”

Oh no
.
That was the one thing she couldn’t do.

Giselle almost blurted it out. She
’d already tried
speaking with Etienne just this morning. It was still a mortifying
memory.

“You heard me correctly, Etienne,” she
’d told him. “
Monsieur
Ambross and you must approach him. I suppose Navarre can do it, if
you’re unable.”

She shouldn’t have added the last, but she was tired of his arguing
. Not only must she abide his presence in her bed every
morning, but he looked at her now as if she were crazed.

“
I believe Navarre does enough of my duties already, don’t you
agree?”

Giselle
had eyed him over the rim of her cup and tried to ignore the
furious beating of her heart. She was accepting Navarre into her bed in order to save Etienne’s life. He’d begged her for that very thing, hadn’t he?

“We can
have a small dinner party, Etienne, with just the local elite attending. If
you come down to it, wouldn’t that start tongues wagging?”

“Oui,
and if I were to do so, Jean-Claude will have his
opportunity. That would be worse than stupid, and I think not.
Navarre can set it up. I grow tired of this whole affair.”

‘
I’m sorry.”

The harshness of the morning light made his
features appear more angular than ever. He looked thinner, too, but she
hadn’t noticed that before.

“Are you getting enough rest, Etienne?” she asked.

“With all the howling you two do? I’m surprised anyone in the castle can sleep.”

Giselle’s jaw
had dropped. She didn’t even feel the burn
from her spilled coffee. “How dare you?”

“How dare I
? Surely you should look in a mirror occasionally,
Madame
la
Duchesse.”

Giselle
had opened and shut her mouth and then shut it again.
He was right. No matter how beautiful, amazing, wondrous, or loving. They were still wicked for what happened. But did that mean they were to cease enjoying it? Is that what Etienne wanted now?

Giselle had turned her back on him and gone to her wardrobe room
. She loved Navarre. And that was the only thing that mattered.

Giselle looked
now across to Aunt Mimi, tossing off
recollection of her morning argument with Etienne. She didn’t want
to face her conscience. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Etienne doesn’t feel…up to…interviews of that sort, Aunt Mimi.”

“Then have Navarre arrange it. It matters little at this point.
Esmee a bride? I can’t believe it.”

“Na
…varre can’t arrange it.”

Despite every hold she had on herself, Giselle stumbled over
his name. Aunt Mimi didn’t notice, though.

“Why not
? He handles everything else.”

“
But Jean-Claude is next in line. If Etienne can’t handle the arrangements, shouldn’t it fall to Jean-Claude?”