Brocade Series 02 - Giselle (26 page)

“You know I can’t go anywhere without her, Esmee
. It’s a
curse.”

The last sentence was another aside to Giselle, as if she were in
league with him. She smiled stiffly.

“
I sent a summons to Navarre, Giselle,” Esmee continued. “I’m
certain we’ll hear back before long.”

She handed Giselle a cup
and saucer. She concentrated on holding it
without a hint of tremor.

“Summoning Navarre?” Jean-Claude asked. “Whatever for
? Is he still so caught up on my vineyards he has no time to greet his
prodigal brother? Really, Esmee, I’m surprised. You should
have sent word the instant my grooms arrived. I gave you all morning advance notice.”

Giselle was reeling, and yet
nothing moved. She still sat upright in the settee, careful
not to move. It was bad enough that Jean-Claude called
the vineyard his, but the fact that Esmee knew he was coming, and
hadn’t said a word, was somehow worse.

Esmee
may have been looking at her, but Giselle stared at the wall over Jean-Claude’s right shoulder
.

“Navarre has moved to the dowager house,” Esmee said,
finally.

“That
wreck? Why?”

“Perhaps you should ask that question of me, Jean-Claude.”

Etienne spoke up as he was wheeled into the room. The
wheels squeaked slightly as he neared. Giselle watched as the chair was put beside her. Etienne held out his hand. She gave him hers. It was like ice reaching heated stone. The tiny squeeze
she received made it even warmer.

“
Oh. Look. I’d heard you were moving about, Etienne. I didn’t believe it.
How things change,
non?”

“It was about time,” Etienne replied. “
I don’t drink tea, Esmee. Perhaps you’d see that a bottle of Chablis is fetched. Tea is so wretchedly weak.
Jean-Claude may even agree with me, wouldn’t you, dearest brother?”

“Thank
the saints! I was starting to wonder if you’d quit drinking, as well. And I could hardly ask your oh-so-beauteous, little
wife, now could I?”

Jean-Claude
set his cup down. Sunlight touched on his fingernail paint. Giselle quickly moved her glance to Esmee, watching her hesitate
before leaving. Giselle
wondered why. Was Jean-Claude likely to hurt Etienne with her sitting
right beside him?

“
And now…perhaps you’ll tell me why you came back to Chateau
Berchand, Jean-Claude? You know the provision of the agreement. You don’t come back.
I can’t see what Mother is thinking to
allow—”

“Spare me the lecture,
Etienne.”

Jean-Claude’s sweet
tone had vanished. This new one started an unpleasant quiver. Giselle looked to her lap, wishing she was anywhere else.

“You knew very well that the moment Charmaine informed me
of this little wife of yours, I’d come back. You promised you’d never
see her, let alone take her to your bed. Take care who you accuse of breaking his
word.”

“Etienne promised
…
what
?”

The words escaped her before she
could stop them. She looked first to Jean-Claude and then
Etienne. She watched her husband turn red, and drop his eyes. Giselle couldn’t
believe it. She was reeling again, and the cup was clattering atop its saucer with it. She’d been
purposely left at Antilli! There seemed no end to the intrigues in this family
.
Etienne had feared her presence would bring Jean-Claude. And he’d been
right.

“Etienne
. Brother. Is it possible you didn’t even tell your petite
duchesse
why
you never came for her? I’m
surprised at you.”

“No more than I am myself.”

Etienne squeezed her hand
again. Giselle looked back to her tea. It seemed safest.

“You expected me to do nothing, when the duns are at my door
almost every day?”

Jean-Claude spat out the words and stood
, rocking the chair with his move, and taking her gaze. She couldn’t help it.
He had such a commanding presence. His size. His dress. His comeliness. The force of his personality. Whatever it was, Giselle felt it, and l
eaned back in her chair to order to continue watching him.

“You aren’t the
duc,
Jean-Claude.”

“No
. Pity. But I am the heir.”

He walked to
the window she’d been standing at. Even its
height didn’t make him look any smaller.

“What will you do?” Etienne asked.

Giselle held her breath.

“Do
? Oh, please. I won’t
do
anything, dearest brother.” He chuckled and
turned back to them. “I’m visiting for a while, that’s all. Versailles
can be so stuffy, and I can’t tell you how I’ve missed the fresh…country…air.”

He
kept her gaze as he drew out the last words, as if daring her to contradict
. And she was still staring, somehow mesmerized, unable to look away. He smiled
slightly and then winked, as if they were fellow conspirators. Giselle swallowed, feeling gauche and stupid, caught and netted, ensnared and vulnerable. No wonder he wore a spider motif!

“Ah, the wine!”

The door opened, taking his attention from her. His exclamation greeted Esmee’s return. Apparently, she’d brought
Aunt Mimi, as well
. Giselle didn’t turn to check.

“Jean-Claude!”
Aunt Mimi exclaimed. She must also be the one clapping her hands.
“How can my favorite nephew come for a visit without telling me?”

Giselle
hadn’t moved her eyes from watching him. And he knew it. He acted like her attention was expected. Warranted. Deserved.

“I’m flattered
. As always. Mimi.”
His bow was exaggerated, matching his tone.

“
I received an answer from Navarre, Giselle,” Esmee said. “He says
our head groom is well-versed in anything you might wish to see. Giselle?
”

Giselle shook herself slightly before turning back to the room
. Every hair on her neck whispered in disagreement. Because now Jean-Claude was behind her and slightly to the left.

“Giselle sent for Navarre?”

Aunt Mimi asked it. Esmee answered. Giselle was still assimilating how it felt to have Jean-Claude near, but not in sight. It was unsettling. Disturbing. Bordering on fear.

“Of
course not.
She merely wished to tour the
stables. I sent for Navarre.”

The pressure on Giselle’s fingers increased for a moment
before Etienne released her hand.

“All this talk of Navarre and stables
.
Surely, there are more interesting things to discuss.
”

Jean-Claude
walked through her vision, and selected a glass of wine. She watched as he
drained his glass as quickly as Etienne usually did. Something Navarre said came back to her. From her tour of the portrait gallery.
Drunken,
debauched, and wicked.
..

“
Non?
”

He answered himself when no one else did
. The then he sighed. Heavily. It was extremely visual, moving a large chest and shoulders with it. And Giselle really needed to look at something else!

“Then
perhaps the charming
duchesse
wouldn’t mind if I accompany her
on this stable tour. What do you say, Giselle? I’m overdue for
entertainment of this sort, anyway.”

He looked
directly at her, and Giselle barely suppressed the reaction. A shudder.

“
But of course, Jean-Claude,” Esmee said. “We can make an
excursion of it. Someone should apprise Navarre of your arrival,
though. Perhaps that will change his mind on accompanying you.”

“Won’t that take some time?” Giselle asked
, without one bit of forethought.

Everyone looked at her
. She forced herself to
show nothing.

“To reach the dower house?” Esmee laughed lightly. “Honestly,
Giselle. Aunt Mimi’s house is just on the other side of the maze.
It takes a few minutes to reach if you know the path. I should have told you earlier.
”

Giselle couldn’t believe it
. She’d spent the entire afternoon
trying to best Esmee at intrigue, and she could’ve been talking to
Navarre! She felt everyone watching, but she knew Jean-Claude did. He was entirely focused on her. The feeling was even more disquieting.

Somehow, it felt like
even he knew of her failure.

Esmee
had offered to show the maze deliberately. Because she’d been told Giselle was trying to reach Navarre. How she
must have chuckled when Giselle refused. Giselle lifted her cup to her
lips and swallowed some tea while everyone waited for her reply. She set it back on the saucer. Nothing rattled. That was gratifying. And then she looked up and spoke with as bright a tone as possible.

“
Think nothing of it, Esmee. Truly. It’s nothing. If I wanted to know
where the dower house was, I would have asked.”

“Oh course, Giselle. I only meant
—”

“
I grow tired of this,” Giselle interrupted, placing her tea cup and saucer on the table. “I said I wanted to tour the
stables, and so I shall. And if Jean-Claude stands ready to escort, we’ll be on our way. Jean-Claude?
”

She stood and walked toward the door, waiting for him to
catch up.

“Of
course, my dear.”

He refilled his
wineglass and brought it with
him. Giselle forced herself not to look up at him as he neared. And then loomed above her. She
should’ve donned shoes with heels, but it wouldn’t have done much good. Her chin came to his silver belt buckle.

“Wait for us, my dears,” Aunt Mimi called. “
I wouldn’t dream
of missing this.”

Giselle
watched Aunt Mimi rise. “Esmee?” she asked.

“
No. No. You go. I’ll stay and chat with Etienne. I’m certain he has no more
interest in the damp and smells than I do. The stables are much
too odorous this time of year.” She shuddered. “
Au revoir.
Have a wonderful
tour.”

Wonderful tour
?

Giselle
heard and felt Esmee’s amusement and there wasn’t one thing she could do about it.

Giselle knew she should’ve waited for Louisa. She shouldn’t have relied on Isabelle. All the maid did was slow her down. And she needed an explanation for everything! Isabelle wanted to know why Giselle was interested in the
maze. She wanted to know why Giselle wasn’t resting for dinner.
She wanted to know why the stable tour hadn’t been enough air and
exercise.

And f
or once she wasn’t keeping her own counsel.

“
I can’t believe you need another walk,” she said. “Haven’t
you walked enough today? This will gain nothing but trouble for
you. Come, Giselle. Let us go back before it gets dark. We’ll be
missed.”

“Must you argue further, Isabelle
? You remind me of the time,
yet slow me down. That will make me late for dinner.”

The maid’s lips thinned, but she didn’t reply
. Giselle’s skirts touched the grass as she entered the maze with Isabelle at her heels.
She knew Isabelle still disapproved, but she’d finally stopped her
questions. Giselle was thankful for that.

Now…w
hich way?

The stables had been muddy, and if it hadn’t been for
Jean-Claude’s misery, Giselle would’ve cried with vexation at
Esmee. As the woman foresaw, the mud combined with other smells were atrocious, but Giselle had avoided the worst of it. Jean-Claude was heavier and
wore his heels, and it was amusing to watch him lift each foot, curl
his lips, and force himself not to complain. Perhaps that made the
time pass so swiftly, and not the plans she was fomenting.

She had just under three hours to prepare before she was
expected at dinner, which, due to Jean-Claude’s arrival was swelling
to over twenty participants. That should just give Giselle time to
negotiate the maze and find Navarre.

Her imagination didn’t think past that, to what would come
once she found him. She didn’t know how, or if he’d receive her. But h
e had to! She had to make him see she was crazed with heartache
when she spoke. She thought it was something the two men had
planned from the first.

No
. Wait.
She couldn’t tell him that.

“
Isabelle?” Giselle spun. The space around her was empty.
“Isabelle?”

Oh
! She should have waited for Louisa, but she ached with need for Navarre’s arms around her. Giselle had to be honest with herself.
She didn’t just want his arms. She wanted his arms, lips, all of him.

She hadn’t thought it through,
and Isabelle didn’t
know her true reasons. If Isabelle knew Giselle wanted to meet
Navarre and why, she’d never have agreed to come. And now, that she had, Giselle had second thoughts. And third ones. Giselle shouldn’t
have brought her. She’d never be able to speak freely with Navarre
with Isabelle hovering over them.

The corridor she was in ended
. Giselle stared at the hedge in front of her nose for several moments before she realized it. Then, she looked
up, but that didn’t help. The walls of the maze were very high, but
she expected as much. They’d been groomed for the Berchald family. Of course it was built for giants.

Giselle turned around and started back the way she came, for it
looked familiar. She caught her arm on a stray branch and heard the lace rip from her elbow. Then there came a rustle from behind the hedge wall to her left, but it hadn’t been caused by her actions.

“Isabelle?”

Her whisper was loud. It was growing darker in the corners of the maze, and no one else knew she was there. Giselle peeked around the corner before stepping out. The
statue that greeted her made her squeal. She put a hand to her mouth to stifle it. There was no reason for such fear.
There were statues at other corners. She walked closer. It was of
Diana, the Greek goddess of the hunt.

Had she seen it before?

Giselle had been so caught up in what she would say to Navarre, she hadn’t paid any attention to where she walked. There was another sound to her left, and she walked toward it. Perhaps it
was Isabelle.

But why didn’t she answer then
? Was someone else out here? Perhaps baiting her with more intrigue?
It could be Esmee. She’d
probably find it amusing if Giselle got lost looking for Navarre. But wait! It could also be
Jean-Claude.

Giselle backed from the strange rustling sound and ran into
what might be a
statue of the Greek god, Mercury. She didn’t know the mythological gods
well, even though Louisa had lectured her on them often enough, but
the wings on the statue’s heels showed who he was.

Oh, why had she come now
? She should’ve waited until tomorrow. Navarre would be informed of
Jean-Claude’s
visit, and she wouldn’t be wandering this maze, not knowing where she
was.

She
ran into Diana again.

Giselle’s hands went to her mouth to
squelch the cry. Oh! This was impossible! She was lost in the maze, and only
Isabelle knew where she was. But Isabelle could be lost, too. And…
Jean-Claude could even be stalking me!

Giselle ran blindly, passing another statue she couldn’t name,
and then reached
another dead end. Her heart constricted, her breath caught. She felt faint. Dizzy.
There was little room in her corseted dress for
panicked breathing, but that wasn’t the problem.

Someone was following her
. She was certain.

She was having trouble breathing
. Giselle clamped her hands
to her stomach and tried to suck in air as quietly as she could,
listening intently as she did so. Concentrating to hear above the thud of her own pulse. The only other sound was a bird call from high above.

Oh
. Thank the
Bon Dieu
.

She’d been stupid
. This was proof. If Jean-Claude were out here…stalking her……there wouldn’t be anyone to stop him. Why hadn’t she thought it through? He
could easily gain his inheritance back…by getting rid of her. That’s
why Aunt Mimi accompanied them to the stables without one comment
about the mud. She was protecting Giselle. They all were, and how did she repay that?

By
getting lost in the maze
.

Giselle had no one to blame
except herself. She turned back the way she’d come. It was difficult
to hear above the sound of her heartbeat. Nothing looked familiar, but she’d been running, without marking a path. She peered around a corner and stopped, sucking in another breath. She was at the edge of the hedges, in the vast open space that was the center of
the maze. She knew what it was because Antilli had just such a
layout, where Giselle had played when she was very small. This one contained
a small fountain,
a large tree, three stone benches, and
Navarre.

He sat on a bench
, facing her, but his head was in his hands
so he didn’t see her. Giselle knew she’d been mistaken earlier.
Navarre had no comparison. She’d forgotten how much he affected
her, too. She realized it as her heart raced, this time for an entirely
different reason.

Evening dress couldn’t have been more attractive on Navarre
than the homespun breeches he wore. His stockings were torn, and
Giselle smiled as she looked him over. His lower half was splattered
with mud, his shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbows, and his hair hung loosely to meet his sleeves. He was still the most handsome male she’d ever seen, Jean-Claude included.

She was almost to him before he looked up, and her heart
stabbed her when he did. Because she’d caused the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the pain in their depths
.

“Giselle?” he whispered.

She pushed between his knees, placing his head at
her neck level. He looked up at her. Giselle finally got to run her fingers
through his hair, filling her palms with the long, silky strands. It was
as delightful an experience as she’d imagined it would be, and she put her face against it, breathing deeply of the clean, fresh aroma. She had forgotten how wonderful he smelled.

And then she felt him respond
.
He wrapped his arms about her thighs, and
Giselle could swear she felt them, even through all her petticoats.

“My love.”

She whispered the endearment before lowering her
mouth to his, touching him, and teasing open his lips.

He groaned and Giselle trembled. She’d forgotten that
sensation, too.

“Giselle, you must stop. You don’t…know what you do.”

He was panting, and she canceled his
entreaties with kisses. A shudder ran through him, shaking her
with it. Large hands moved from her thighs, past her buttocks
covered with yards of material, to her waist.
Then she felt him moving up the boning of her corset to
cup her breasts.

She moaned, and
felt her flesh
swelling to fill his palms. His touch hardened then, almost paining her
before he wrenched his mouth away, and his hands fell.

“Navarre?”

Giselle clenched locks of his hair, making it
impossible for him to pull away easily. She liked being
able to look down at him. She felt in control, although she knew he could change it at any moment. It was a heady feeling.

“No, Giselle
. Please?” He looked away, pulling strands of hair from between her fingers.
“I’m a pig, remember?”

“
Non!
I’m stupid, Navarre, and young. I didn’t know what I was
saying.”

“No, Giselle.”

He sighed and lifted his hands to hers. She knew he was going to be able to untangle her. It was a matter of
time despite how she tightened her fingers.

“You were right
. And I didn’t even guess—”

“Don’t finish that!” she
stopped him. “You’re not a pig. You never were.
You’re noble. Honorable. Chivalrous. I wouldn’t love you so much otherwise.”

H
is breath feathered across her throat, but his hands stopped trying to pry hers away.

“You don’t understand, Giselle
,” he told her throat. “I
wanted
to do what Etienne asks. I
can’t tell you how much I long for it. So you see? I am a pig.”

“No, Navarre.”
Giselle pulled him closer. The situation was exactly as Louisa told her. “You’re not a pig. That was what made me most angry, I think.”

Her voice dropped to a
whisper as she managed to get the words out.

He looked back
up at her, confusion filling his eyes. Giselle
caught her breath at the light in them. She’d been fooled, earlier. Jean-Claude might resemble Navarre, but his eyes were a far cry from the soulful depth of Navarre.

“
You make no sense, Giselle. Please? Release me. I must go.”

He tried to untangle her
. Worse, he was using his thigh muscles to push her from the space between his legs at the same time.
The loss of contact made tears fill her eyes, and he flinched.

“Giselle, don’t cry
. Please? It’s best I stay away. You must
know that much. I can’t stay near you anymore, and not think of—! Oh God. I
am a pig.”

She had to make him understand, but it wasn’t easy
. And she had to speak quickly. She bent forward
and pressed her lips to his forehead. At the touch, he stopped
moving.

“
Navarre, please listen! I wasn’t angry at you, or even at Etienne. You must understand!
I love you. Completely. Totally. Until there is nothing else. It’s the only thing I know for certain,
anymore.”

“You know so little, Giselle
. How can you say that? You were
right to speak as you did. I’ve been thinking about it a lot these past few days. I should’ve spoken earlier and told Etienne he was
uncouth to suggest such a thing, let alone wish me to entertain
it. See? You were right. Now, please. Let go.”

Giselle took a deep breath before she lost her courage.