Brocade Series 02 - Giselle (17 page)

Giselle leaned to kiss the tip of his
nose before sliding from his lap, and returning to the horse, searching among the deadfall for her pins. She didn’t need an
assist.
She’d done it before. Yet, everything felt different. As if she’d gained new sensitivity. Her hair felt slick and erotic. His hands about her waist as he reseated her felt like they left marks. And the
sensation of the hard saddle against her
derriere
was
almost impossible to withstand. And yet she must.

He handed her the hat
. Giselle retied it and then watched
him toss a leg over his mount. He had very long legs. Muscled. Strong. Lean. What she wouldn’t give to feel them against hers…

“Don’t look at me like that, Giselle
,” he said. “Or I won’t be responsible for my own actions.”

He was teasing, yet he wasn’t, and she couldn’t look away. He bent to retrieve her reins. Giselle watched the material in his jacket
move, wondering what it would be like to feel his bare chest pressed
against hers, as well.

“They will never believe us innocent, Giselle, if you continue
that.”

He was chastising her, but
smiling as he did so. Giselle was
grateful the sun was setting. She nearly unbalanced herself looking back at the arbor, but it was worth it. The sun’s last rays touched the tips of the dark-green vines. The sight was etched into her memory and her senses. She still smelled Navarre on her, too, and she
lowered her head to the ribbons at her chin.

He loves me, and I love him.

She longed to shout it, but it was
just another secret the castle would have to hide. It was darker
beneath the trees as twilight closed in, and Giselle looked about her.
It was good it was dark. That’s where their love belonged. I
t was evil. Lustful. Sinful.

It was completely dark before her tears started up again.

Giselle was so lost in crying, she thought when they stopped that
they were at the gate. She opened her eyes to see Navarre come out
of the gloom with a handkerchief in his hand.

“Don’t cry, Giselle. I beg it of
you.”

“Then you shouldn’t have given me this.”

She held it to her
nose and caught his scent. That added to the void building within her, the one
blacker than the night all about them.

Navarre walked around the horse and lifted
a hind leg.

“What are you doing?” Giselle mopped at her tears as she asked it.

“Removing a shoe. That way, Swift Night will limp, and our
story will be believed.”

Swift Night
?
Her mount? Giselle almost laughed. And that was a relief . “What story?” she asked.

‘
Your horse threw a shoe in the vineyard. We’ve been delayed immensely because
of it.”

“You’re very good with stories…Navarre.”

Saying his name even caused a reaction. Giselle fought to stop the shivers.

“
Well, I wasn’t always the paragon of duty you see before you, my
love. I had to have a story for my mama, didn’t I?”

He must have sensed her lurch of pain as she realized what he
meant. He needed a story for being late coming back?
Perhaps it was because he was seeing someone like Desiree?

“Giselle, you worry for nothing
. I’ve never loved another. Nor wanted to.
How could I after my fiancée threw me over for Jean-Claude’s vaunted attractions?”

“
Jean-Claude? Your brother? I…don’t understand.” And she was reeling. Giselle
bent forward over the pommel to keep her balance.

“My betrothed is a very
beautiful woman. Headstrong. Spoiled.”

“What has that to do with it?”

“She’s an only daughter, Giselle. Her
pere
gives in to her
every whim.”

“
But a betrothal is binding.”

He shrugged. “So they say. Who am I to question it
? Do I
look desperate enough to enforce it when she wants life at court and
him
, not the chateau with me?”

“But…Jean-Claude?”

“Who can understand women? Look about. I have little to offer. She found
marriage to me wasn’t to her liking just yet. Jean-Claude is the heir-apparent to the duchy. He could buy her carriages, dresses, and jewels that stun the eye, not ‘pea-sized sapphires’ such as I offered.”

“She couldn’t wed with him, though,” Giselle said. “
I don’t
understand.”

“Jean-Claude has many attractions to the ladies, Giselle
. I, for one, cannot fathom what they are. All I know is
Mademoiselle
wanted life at Versailles Palace
as his mistress more than she wanted me.”

Giselle heard the disgust in his voice, but couldn’t answer
.
The latest secret was too much to assimilate.
Jean-Claude…and Navarre’s betrothed? She preferred being Jean-Claude’s
mistress to a wife? What sort of woman was so stupid?

‘There. I’ve finished. Swift Night will have a strange gait
until we get home.”

“He won’t be in pain, will he?”

Giselle stroked the little
horse’s mane.
Navarre chuckled.

“That must be what makes you so different,
Giselle. It makes me long to kiss any unhappiness from your mouth,
and to see you smile. You have such a generous spirit. No other
woman would care, but the animal’s suffering is your first thought.
Je t’aime, ma petit.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, then he turned from her and
re
mounted his horse.

“Just as I love you.”

She wanted to shout it, but that would never do. Ever.
They resumed riding. Swift Night did walk oddly, but the castle gate loomed in the darkness within moments. And that meant her ride was over.

All of it.

“
I can’t believe the trials you’ve gone through,
Madame.
Look
at this gown! It will take all day to press out the wrinkles, and your
hair! I hope I can get a comb through it,” Gerty continued.

Giselle bit on her tongue and resolved that if anyone said
another word, she might scream.

“Giselle, are you certain you won’t dress in your chamber?” Louisa asked.

She refused to answer. She knew Etienne was in her bed,
surveying the room like a king. Louisa was being wise, but Giselle
was beyond listening. Louisa wanted the
duchesse
to act with
propriety, not to give Gerty more to talk about.

Giselle sighed
. She refused to let Etienne watch her dress. It
felt like sacrilege.

“Which nightgown would you like warmed,
Madame?”
Gerty
asked. “This one? Or would you like one a bit more…concealing?”

She held up another filmy nightgown decked in lace. In her
other hand was the one Giselle wanted. Made of heavy cotton, it was
tied at the neckline with a pink ribbon. Giselle didn’t let the maid
know the answer.

“See that a supper tray is sent up for the
duc
and me, Gerty.
See to it at once.”

“Very good,
Madame.”‘

The maid bowed and handed both gowns to
Isabelle, whose inclusion into the wardrobe room made it more
stifling.
When Isabelle held up the cotton one, Giselle nodded. They
knew her too well.

“Thank the Lord you’re finally seeing sense
.” Louisa was using
her lecturing tone. “The talk has been about nothing but you and
Navarre. How can you be so blind? Even if you become a mother,
they’ll suspect it’s his child!”

“What
…did you just say?” Giselle gasped.

“You heard me.”

She turned and stormed from the room while
Giselle narrowed her eyes.
There was no point in arguing with her about it. There would
never be a child.

“She shouldn’t have said that, Giselle.”

Isabelle helped her
into the nightgown as she spoke. Giselle was so grateful for its
concealment, she nearly hugged the maid.

“You’d never do anything
as evil as they whisper. I told them so.”

“
Merci,
Isabelle. And could you leave orders that the
duc
and I are not disturbed?
”

The smile that lit her face warmed Giselle, and she needed it
.
Cold squeezed off her breath almost as she spoke. She
was
capable
of the things being whispered, but she refused to repent and seek
God’s forgiveness just yet.

She
’d set aside her decision to join a convent for the
time being. Navarre’s embrace in the arbor was too enticing. She wasn’t prepared enough. Aspiring nuns didn’t melt into their
brother-in-law’s arms and steal kisses when no one was looking.

Giselle wished that was all she was guilty of.

She wanted more. Her entire body was aching with denial, and there was no one she could unburden herself to. If she had to stay
from Navarre’s presence forevermore, then she had to have one more
kiss. Just one. She’d confess all, if God granted her just one. She wouldn’t
ask for more.

Isabelle wouldn’t have believed what her mistress was wishing
for as she watched Giselle join Etienne in the bedchamber. Giselle
had trouble believing it, herself.

“It’s about time you decided to entertain me,” Etienne said.
“Dismiss your woman and come here.”

Giselle ignored his complaints and smiled as Gerty brought in a
tray of food. Giselle was wrapped in a thick robe, concealing which nightgown she wore. It was odd, but she watched as Gerty tried to
decipher it before she left, following on Isabelle’s heel.

Such a strange household
.

“Bring me a little bit of supper, too, Giselle,” Etienne said.

“You’ve already eaten.” She replied and bit into a croissant.

“Then bring me some wine
. I’m thirsty. Giselle? Didn’t you
hear me?”

It was pleasant to ignore him, and she had Navarre’s love to
thank. It was like a warm blanket about her.

“
Oh…I don’t think so. You’ve already had
too much to drink.”

She glanced at him. His jaw dropped, and she stifled a laugh.

“What has Navarre done to change you so? I’ll wring his neck,
I swear it.”

Giselle regarded him from across the room as he slammed his
fist into his palm. She was no longer frightened of him. Her heart lightened as she realized it. He didn’t scare her and he couldn’t threaten her. She had
Navarre’s love protecting her. She’d never go near Etienne again, and he couldn’t force her.

“Navarre
? He took me to see Jacques and Rene,” she informed him.
“I also met Desiree, and
I’m
not impressed by what you consider
womanly, Etienne.” His name came out more sarcastically than she
intended, and she bit into her roll again.

His mouth opened wider in shock. She enjoyed keeping him
off balance.

“You met…Desiree?” He choked on the words.

She turned aside to hide her grin. “Oh. Yes. Since she’s almost as large
as her mama, I could see I’ll never appeal to you.”

“Desiree
? Large? I don’t believe you.”

“
So? That hardly concerns me. She also has another little bastard
to add to her brood, a boy child named Bernard. She wouldn’t tell
Navarre who fathered the child, but it was probably the same as
Rene.”

That was a dangerous thing to say, but Giselle didn’t care. He
no longer frightened her.

“Rene’s my child! How dare you question it?”
He was almost
purple with rage.

She turned to face him. “
I dare, because it’s true. I also don’t care how many illegitimate children you support, Etienne. I won’t bed
with you. I refuse. If you try and force me, I have two options — I
can join a convent near Bordeaux, or I’ll let my papa seek the
annulment he so desperately desires. Am I making myself clear?”

He lifted up his arms and made fists as he glared at her
.
Despite her earlier self-assurance, Giselle found him very
intimidating. If she hadn’t been in the arbor with Navarre, she
probably would have been a trembling wretch under that gaze. As it
was, she barely managed to suppress an unpleasant shiver.

Then he surprised her.

Giselle’s eyes widened as he fell back
onto the pillows and laughed aloud. It was her turn to be shocked.
She was still speechless when he lifted his head.

“
I believe we’ll get along fine after all,
Madame
la
Duchesse,”
he said in a low tone.

Giselle was surprised at the look in his eyes
. She put her hand
to her throat at what looked like…interest? Lust? Her aggressiveness made him desire her? She gulped at the thought.

“
Why…if you’ll join me up here, perhaps I can perform after all. Come. I
look forward to testing it. Come,
Madame.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said
? You disgust me, and it isn’t
your disability that does so. It’s you!”

“
Ho. Ho. This is exceptional. Come, Giselle. See sense. You are wanting a
man, and I want an heir. Admit it. Whatever happened to you appears to have
opened your eyes to carnal pleasure. It will be a pleasure to initiate
you. Come. Your anger arouses me more. I’ve never seen such
womanliness.”

He lifted the covers beside him as he finished
.
Giselle grabbed up her rosary and ran for the wardrobe room,
bolting the door behind her. He was disgusting. The food in her
stomach threatened to erupt at the thought.

Etienne got
aroused by her anger? That was revolting.
Jean-Claude couldn’t possibly be as bad. And she
intended to tell
them all the moment it was light.

~

“I can’t imagine why Navarre insists on moving to the Dower House.”

Giselle’s fingers stumbled on the keys of the pianoforte as
Aunt Mimi continued her conversation to Esmee. It took two more chords before she recovered sufficiently to blend the notes again.

“I
t’s been closed up so long it’ll take an age to
make it habitable again. It was never as lovely or as imposing as the
castle, anyway. I wonder what the boy’s up to. Oh Giselle.
You play divinely. I can’t think where you learned
such talent, or from whom.”

Giselle glanced up and smiled. “My tutor was a man named
…
Jacques
.”

She waited for either of them to react to the name, but there
was none. It seemed Giselle was the only female with knowledge of
Etienne’s illegitimate son. That should surprise her. It didn’t.

“He was certainly a master
. Are you playing his music?”

“
Oui
,” she answered.

That seemed to satisfy them, and while she listened for a few
more moments, neither woman said a thing. Navarre was moving away from her?
Non. He couldn’t be so cruel.

Could he?

Giselle’s fingers slipped again. This time she caught it before any discordant notes. Although the pianoforte had only been invented in 1709, by the
year of Giselle’s birth, no noble family was without one. The
Chateau Antilli had two. There was an ornate, white one on display
in the music room, and an older, carved wooden one that Giselle had
been trained on. It wasn’t as elegant, but the notes sounded so
sweetly that Jacques exclaimed when he heard them.

Giselle closed her eyes
. Reminisced. She’d been about eight, maybe younger when the tutor had first arrived. Louisa
had already made certain Giselle knew rudimentary scales,
and Jacques had been impressed.

“This instrument is
tres belle, Mademoiselle.
Forgive my rudeness, I keep forgetting. You are no
Mademoiselle,
are you? Please continue,
Madame
Giselle. I’ve never heard such lovely sounds.
I’ve been writing down some notes, and
I’d
love to have you practice them for me.”

He gave her a sheaf of brown paper mottled with black dots
.
Giselle didn’t recall what happened to the original score, but she
memorized it and played it for years afterward. The man had been a musical genius.

“He’s never mentioned a preference
. I suppose it is lonely for
him. Why did he not speak of it before now?”

Aunt Mimi’s
words invaded Giselle’s reverie, causing her fingers to
stumble again. She concentrated on her playing, instead of their words. Inanimate objects rather than feelings.

The instrument at Chateau Berchand didn’t play as well as her
old one
, but it was still generous sounding. The notes softly sought each corner of the immense room in which the ladies sat, but it wasn’t loud enough to hide Aunt Mimi and Esmee’s conversation.

About Navarre.

She shouldn’t listen. It was inviting heartbreak.
She should stop playing. Retreat to a quiet corner. Hide. But that
would never do. No one must ever guess the emotion she was hiding.

The keys misted before her eyes
. She was grateful she could play from memory. She closed her eyes again and let her fingers
move for her. Jacques’ music had never sounded so lost. Giselle didn’t recall when she changed to another of his compositions. She’d
played it for him whenever he requested it, but she hated it, because it
made her cry.