Brocade Series 02 - Giselle (19 page)

Giselle tripped on a stair, but it wasn’t because her dress was
too long, although it was. She recovered and smoothed down the skirts.
Madame
Broussard must have really rushed on making this
one, for the length was too long, and the bodice was loose enough to
be unseemly.
Giselle didn’t care how it fit, however. Her concern was
seeing Navarre again. The thought made her blush hotly.

How could I have been so wanton
? Acting
like little more than an animal?

The entire time it had taken to finish her toilette, Etienne had watched from the bed
. Giselle had avoided his eyes in the mirror, but
she’d done as he bid. He wanted her to wear this dress.
He also wanted her to wear the sapphires again. Perhaps that
was why he’d chosen a gown so blue, it was almost black. The blue ribbon threading through the skirt and sleeves had such a purplish hue, Giselle felt her heart twinge painfully when she saw it.

It was as if
Etienne was making certain she knew who she belonged to…and it wasn’t his brother
.

The staircase to the ducal chambers had a landing midway
down, splitting into two separate staircases. From that vantage, one
could look over the foyer below and choose which direction to finish.
Giselle usually took the one to her right since it led to the most-used
chambers. Almost defiantly, tonight she chose the opposite. She squealed
when an arm grabbed her from the seldom-used Red Salon.

“Navarre!”

She had time to whisper the name just before his
lips met hers. And as wondrous as it felt, she had to stop it. She’d promised God, and He’d fulfilled his part. And she couldn’t let this happen ever again—
The moment she tried to pull away, his arms tightened
. How
was she to feign disinterest when she couldn’t prevent her own body
from weakening, clinging to his? He felt it, too. Navarre lifted his
head and chuckled against her cheek.

“Darling
. Giselle.”

His whisper was low, making her entire
body tingle. She’d never be able to stop him if this continued.
She pulled from him, but it was a loss so acute, she started
shaking.

“Why do you move from me
? I’ll make certain no one
knows about us. You must learn to trust me.”

Oh no
! This is terrible!

“I’ve thought of nothing else all afternoon, Giselle
. You enflame
me beyond reason. You’re the most desirable, beautiful, exciting—ah!
Words fail me.
”

His whisper was so full of joy that Giselle’s throat
constricted
.

“Na… varre.”

She needed to explain, but the intent in
his eyes made it go awry. His name had started on a harsh note, and
ended on a cry of sound. She had to look away.

“Such passion
! Oh, Giselle! You no longer need to question what it is.
You definitely have it. I still can’t believe it. Come closer.”

“No, Navarre
. Please?” Giselle held up her hands.

“Non
?”

He stopped the instant she spoke. The look on his
face was akin to a slap. Giselle looked up at him, wishing for less intimacy than two candles lighting the space, but perhaps that was too many. Her eyes widened as she stared at him, and she watched him
do the same.

They were dressed alike!

The blackish coat he wore closely matched her bodice, the lace edging
his jabot was the match to her ribbons, and his breeches were made of the same satin as her skirts. Giselle didn’t understand why Etienne
made her wear this dress. It made no sense.

“It appears my tailor spent some time with your seamstress,
doesn’t it? This is interesting. I wonder….”

Navarre turned from her
. She
watched him walk to the window casing to stare out into the night. Perhaps he was looking at her reflection in the glass. She wouldn’t
know unless she went to him, and that was something she dared not
do.

“Did Etienne choose your dress, Giselle?” He spoke to the
glass.

She nodded.

“Strange, that. He specifically bade me to wear this suit. I
don’t even like it. I think I know why. Do you?”

She shook her head, waiting for him to finish. The candlelight
reflected on the sheen of his breeches.

“He’s not stupid, Giselle, far from it
. That’s what he’s
saying.” He sighed and turned back to her. “Do you know what
I’m
referring to?”

She shook her head again
. The lump in her throat hadn’t budged
.

“He has guessed how we feel
. I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s
not impaired, just immobile. And I bear full responsibility.”

“
Oh, no!”

Giselle
clasped her hands to her cheeks cooling the heat.
She hadn’t considered that, at all.

“Calm yourself
. He can’t know everything, darling. We’ll
just have to be more circumspect in the future.”

“No, Navarre,
non.
You…you don’t understand.” She was
choking on the words. The lump wasn’t helping, either. “What
happened in his chambers can’t—it was—I can’t let you….”

Giselle
blushed as he raised his eyebrows. She knew why. It was a silent query to recall
who had attacked whom.

“You must understand, Navarre
! I can’t—um. I begged God…for just
one more kiss,” she stammered, blaming the ball of tears in her throat
for the raspy voice, “before I go…to confession. I had to have one
more! Just one. Don’t you see?”

“You didn’t want a chaste kiss, Giselle
. I may not have Jean-Claude’s experience with the ladies, but even I know the
difference.”

Giselle couldn’t
bear to look at him. His expression was that of a man
who tasted something bitter and wanted to spit it out.

“I…I…”

Her voice halted, and it was just as well. She was choking on the words, anyway. Why was it so difficult to say the word passion?
How could she make him see?
I was carried away by
passion. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know.
And now that she did…the future was impossible to look at.

How
could she make him see?

“You toyed with me, Giselle
. Admit it.”

“No
!” Her horror colored the word.

“You used me to satisfy your…shall we say
…curiosity?”

“No, Navarre
! It wasn’t like that.”

She crossed the room to him and grabbed an arm
. He made it sound evil. Corrupt.

Exactly as it was
.

“Enjoy Chef Aaron’s skill, Giselle
. I find I’m no longer
hungry.”

He shrugged her off his sleeve and walked away
.
Giselle didn’t cling to him or call him
back. She knew what was happening was the right thing…so why did
it feel so wrong? She couldn’t stand to be near him and not touch
him. She already knew that. It would be better if Navarre wasn’t
about, tormenting her with the impossible, wouldn’t it?

Was
n’t this what she wanted?

What had she done
?

Giselle called
out,
but the door shut softly behind him. And when she reached it, he’d gone. And she had no one to blame but herself.

~

“I was certain Navarre said he was coming to supper this
evening, didn’t he, Esmee?”

Aunt Mimi asked
it.
Giselle toyed with laughing from her lone place at the end of the
table. But didn’t. She was too close to crying.

“Perhaps he took ill, or that dratted house of mine takes more
of his attention than it should. I can’t imagine why the boy insists on
moving there. Chateau Berchand is his home.’’

Giselle was grateful
nobody addressed her
. She doubted her ability to respond
. She didn’t even remember leaving the Red Salon. She’d
blown out the candles, and stayed for several long moments in the dark. That part
she recalled.

Dark
was better, she decided, concentrating now on the ice
sculpture in the center of the table.

“It’s so rude of him
. I’ve little time to change the table
arrangements already, and then he upsets everything. Eleven to
dinner? Whoever heard of such a thing?”

Giselle ignored Esmee’s complaints and sat through
every
course, although, by the time mousse arrived for dessert,
she was near hysterics. Now she knew
what Etienne meant when he’d said they could all go to hell. That first night. When she’d eavesdropped.

Except it felt like she was
already
there.

Her heart seemed to be crying Navarre’s name with every beat,
but it was too late. It had always been too late. She’d never be his. Only in her fantasies could
she imagine it so…and those were about to end. She was going to confession.
Giselle doubted she had the strength to see it through.

But somehow, and from somewhere, she had to find it.

“Marriage is sometimes a rocky affair, Giselle. I can attest to
that.”

“Pardon?”

Giselle turned to Aunt Mimi. She’d made a point
of sitting beside Giselle after sup had finally ended, and they’d moved to the Blue Salon. And Giselle couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten there.

“The late
duc
was a difficult man to learn to care for.”

Giselle watched Aunt Mimi blush with a sense of detachment
.
The rosy shade made her look years younger. Giselle didn’t know why Aunt Mimi had singled her out. She wasn’t paying attention
.

“
I mean…things with Etienne might not always go as smoothly
as one might wish.”

Giselle nodded to her comment
. It didn’t matter anyway. She
wasn’t interested in continued breathing, much less wanting things to go
smoothly.

“What time is Mass?” Giselle asked.

“We can go now, Child. We can be a little early. It won’t harm
anything. It may even help with finding our own place in heaven one
day,
non?”

Aunt Mimi put her hand on Giselle’s elbow, pinching the flesh as she steadied herself
. Giselle longed to tell her she needed a stouter
leaning post. Giselle wasn’t stable.
Navarre had accused her of toying with him
. Well…hadn’t she?
What had she hoped to gain by begging for his kiss— and more?

They entered the chapel.

“Here’s our pew, Giselle. Oh. I see Esmee’s already here.” Aunt
Mimi said.

She loved Navarre
. Incessantly. Longingly. What use was such an emotion if it tore her apart?

He
’d accused her of using him to
satisfy her curiosity! No. Never.

Tears stabbed at her eyes, and she daren’t let anyone see
.
Giselle held to the wood backrest, closed her eyes, and forced the emotion down. She welcomed the renewed constriction in her throat as the sobs subsided.

She would never have done what Navarre accused her of
. She
loved him. And it created an ache so vast, no one could’ve told her of it an
d had her believe it before.

“They’re starting,
dear.”

Giselle forced her eyes open
. Aunt Mimi wasn’t watching her. Mimi was settling onto the bench.
That was a blessing. Giselle sat.

The priest’s intonation of Latin made her glance up at him
. What was this? He
wasn’t the same priest who had heard her confession earlier in the
week. Oh. This was terrible. How could she unburden her sins to a stranger
?