Brocade Series 02 - Giselle (6 page)

She caught her lower lips between her teeth and
walked forward two steps and into his arms. Navarre lifted her differently this time, cradled against his chest, while her arms wrapped about his neck for security. He smelled wondrous, too. How could she have missed that, earlier? Different
from anything she’d experienced before. It was like sunshine on
spring meadows, combined with the scent of the outdoor gardens
after a rain shower…no. Perhaps it was more like the lingering
smell of a warm fire combined with Savignen wine…no. That wasn’t even the smell. She didn’t know what it was.

He
shifted her, as if adjusting her weight. Giselle squeezed her eyes shut. The arm beneath her knees felt like it
was touching on bare flesh, and the feel of his hard, warm chest against her side was making her dizzy.

The walk seemed to take
forever, the length to the carriage triple what it had been. Much more than the eleven steps from before.
She wasn’t trembling anymore, it had turned to shudders, and her hands gripped to the fabric of his jacket. The feel of the material
sent gooseflesh roving her limbs.

“
It’s all right, Giselle. You’re safe. Such a frightened little thing you are.”

He whispered the words against her ear
. Heat touched her neck, instantly warming and tickling, and then something more happened…something insidious and strange. A tingling sparked into being somewhere in her lower belly, and began radiating outward from there. Giselle tightened every limb to halt whatever the sensation was. She had them locked when she felt him place her on the wood of the carriage seat. It took an act of will to
release her fingers from his jacket. Giselle moved first one hand to
the metal railing, and then the other, grateful for the chill against her
palm.

“Here,
Madame.”

Monsieur
Minot handed up a thick woven blanket, and Giselle watched her hands reach for it, and then somehow wrap it about herself. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Her hands didn’t even feel like her own. Nor did the blanket help much. Her body was too warm. Too aware. Too…alert. Nothing felt cold. Everything about this odd commotion within her felt amazing. Intoxicating. Addictive.

“You really haven’t ridden before, have you
? Forgive me if
it frightens you so. I can go slower if you like.” Navarre offered it
from his side of the carriage.

Slower
? Oh no! Oh…yes!

What was she thinking
? The experience of driving with Navarre was emblazoned
on her senses. She didn’t dare ask him to go slower…and make it last longer.

“
Non
. No. I’m fine, Navarre.
Tru…ly.”

She turned to reassure him, but, from her vantage point a few
inches above his head, the intent went awry. Her voice dropped. He’d placed his hat
back on, and the shadow of the brim fell to his lips. And her heart reacted with a leap.

She almost slapped a hand there
. Oh, heavens! This was impossible! But it couldn’t be all her fault.
It was unfair for any man to be so comely.
He smiled. Giselle gasped and turned away so quickly, it was probably insulting
.

“It was a pleasure to serve you,
Madame
la
Duchesse.”

Both Minots stood
on her side of the carriage, and she smiled at them
numbly. It felt like her mouth had joined the fray, and belonged to someone else, as well.

“The
pleasure was mine,” Giselle replied in a voice that trembled.
“You are an extraordinary cook,
Madame.”

The cabriolet swayed as Navarre got in
. Giselle started, but didn’t jump
that time. The only reaction was the white
knuckles on her hands. She was rather proud of that.

“You must visit again.”
Monsieur
Minot lifted his hand in
farewell.

“I’ll make certain and bring her.”
Navarre flicked the reins. “Until then.”

No
. Oh, no.

He
couldn’t bring her again. She’d refuse. She couldn’t let herself be this close to him ever again. She was a
married woman, journeying to her husband. And this
Navarre was far too attractive to her. Being near him was creating more than shivers. She couldn’t allow this again. Everything on her body was sending a warning.

“Look, Giselle,”

Navarre
spoke from beside her, interrupting her thoughts. She started and then looked out at where he was pointing. Savignen Valley. Her dowry.

“Isn’t it
beautiful? I always think so, especially so
when dawn is just breaking. You can see that, can’t you? I can understand the
comte’s
hatred for us better each time I look at it.”

“You know of
his…feelings?” she stammered.

He chuckled. “All of France knows of his displeasure. He
makes no secret of it. He’s even tried to draw Jean-Claude into a
duel over it — more than once.”

“Jean-Claude?”

Giselle put her nose under the blanket for warmth. It was much colder, and she shivered. She wondered how
Navarre could sit there so calmly without even a rug over his legs.
He had only his hose and the green satin breeches to keep him
warm….

Oh dear
! She had to stop her thoughts!

“My brother, Jean-Claude, attends to court functions
in Versailles. He’s one of the king’s favorite courtiers.
Hopefully, you’ll never—”

He stopped abruptly
.
Giselle waited, but he was silent.
Navarre pulled on the reins, and the horse stopped.

“See those lights?”

He pointed
again.
Giselle forced herself to look beyond how his sleeve defined the strength in the arm
before her. But she’d known he was strong. She’d felt it as he carried her.

Oh dear
!
She had to concentrate on where he pointed. It wasn’t an
easy task.

“
That’s the Chateau Berchand. We’ll be there within the hour.
Hold these.”

He held the
reins out for her. Giselle gripped the leather strips in both hands, trembling visibly
. Luckily, the horse didn’t move, for Giselle was woefully ignorant of how reins worked.

She watched Navarre str
ike flint and light candles in two glass
boxes on either side of the carriage. The glow shed some light on the
road, demonstrating how dark it had gotten. Giselle would have been petrified with fear if she were
alone.

“Are we late?”
She whispered it as the vehicle swayed again with his entrance.

“Not so much that anyone will worry.”

He smiled down at her. Time stood still. The newly lit lanterns made it more than obvious. The light glinted on teeth.
Of course, he would have the most stunning smile she’d ever seen, too. She
would simply have to admit that to herself and then let it go, as well.

“What of my maid, Isabelle
? And…my governess? They’ll
worry.”

He chuckled and took the reins from her hands
. ‘They’re
behind us. The baggage wagon can’t travel fast enough to overtake
us. May I share your cover?”

Her heart stopped again
. Her eyes went to their fullest, and he probably heard the gasp. Share the blanket? Together?
Oh…my!
She had yet to stifle how it felt when his fingers had touched hers while taking the reins! He kept up a running chatter, as if unaware of her reaction.

“Madame
Minot is a great cook, isn’t she?” he asked. “Not
that our own Chef Aaron doesn’t compare. Esmee would have my
tongue for denigrating words. Still, I grow tired of lengthy
courses rich with sauce. Don’t you?”

Perhaps he was rambling to put her at ease
. It was wasted br
eath. The feel of his leg against hers, even through her
skirts, was stopping her thoughts, and giving her different ones.

Giselle started praying then, silently and in earnest. She
couldn’t ignore the effect this Navarre had on her any longer. It was unwise and unprecedented. She
hoped Etienne’ s presence would be equally…stimulating.

Stimulating?

Giselle reeled in place. She’d learned that particular word from a novel Louisa
had sneaked in for her to read. Now, she knew what it meant. There was a feeling of expectancy, combined with…
mercy!
Could this be sensual attraction?

Sensual
? Attraction?

Oh
. This was bad. She should banish the thoughts! But…how?

“
I paid the Minots well to provide for your servants,” he continued. “Tell me, Giselle, why is it that you employ a governess?
Aren’t you too old for one?”

“I…I….” She was shaking too much to answer.

“You’re cold! Here, move closer. I’ll warm you.”

Oh no
! He can’t possibly mean.
..

He started the horse moving
with one arm, and Giselle was jolted against his
side. And then she was held there by his other arm. It wasn’t remotely cold. Her blushes overheated and frightened as she landed into the space beneath his shoulder.
She couldn’t stop the urge to snuggle and
closed her eyes. It was akin to a dream. And even if it was sinful, it was wonderful, too.

“Wake up, Giselle. We’re at the gates.”

She barely resisted the urge to giggle
. She wasn’t sleeping.
She was existing, letting many wild thoughts fill her mind. One
thing was certain. The next time she saw a priest, she’d have
something to confess. She wondered what the penance would be.

Giselle sat up and stretched, although the gown left little room for
the move. A stone gatehouse loomed ahead. Although there were two lamps on either side of the road, it was hard
to see color, especially against the mass of light that was glowing
from the castle yard inside.

“Am I presentable, Navarre?”

Giselle touched her curls and
wondered how much damage she’d done as she snuggled against his side. The memory made her warm all over, until there wasn’t anything cold. Anywhere
. Perhaps that would be all she had to keep her warm in the future. That was a sobering thought.

He looked down at her, his eyes unfathomable in the shadow
of his hat brim. She raised her chin.

“
You mustn’t ask that
of me, Giselle. I’ve been trying to control myself all during this trip. I still
don’t know how I managed.”

He turned away, and Giselle
’s eyes went wide. Her mouth followed. He couldn’t have just said—? He couldn’t possibly mean—? The waist of her new gown wasn’t the only tight part. The bodice was restricting all the feeling hammering through it. Amazement followed surprise as emotion filled her
. Razed her. Tossed her senses into the air somewhere so they could burst free. It was brightness. Light. Joy.
Heavens!

Light
flooded the courtyard they entered. A mass
of servants surrounded the cabriolet on both sides. It would have been frightening,
but she was beyond that at the moment. She was doing her best to
control the giddiness.

‘‘Monsieur
Navarre! Finally! You’ve arrived! This then, is
Madame
la
Duchesse?”

A groom opened the half-door and held out his hand for her
.
Giselle looked at it warily, ignoring the woman who’d spoken. It was Navarre who answered.

“Oui,
Esmee. I’ve brought Giselle du Berchald. Pardon, my
good man. Allow me.”

Navarre moved the groom aside and reached for her
. Giselle hadn’t even felt the sway of the vehicle as he’d left it. This time she leaned for him, and gasped as his hands encircled her waist. The contact sparked. And then it heated. Rapidly.

Her feet touched ground, but
everything else was soaring. She
caught his eye for a moment and the push her heart gave stunned and horrified. And thrilled.
And then she was facing a carpet stretched out for them. Giselle placed her hand
on Navarre’s outstretched arm as Louisa had instructed. Her hand trembled, while the arm beneath her fingers hardened somehow.

Oh my
!
Louisa hadn’t said a word about any of this!

“Madame
?”
the woman said. “I’m Esmee Denton. The
Blue Salon has been prepared for your arrival. Will you follow me?”

Their sister
had a
different surname? Giselle pondered it during the walk to the salon, keeping her mind blanked to the arm beneath her fingers. It was impossible! But somehow she must try. Each finger thrilled to every nuance. The fabric of his jacket felt sensual…and the arm beneath!
Merde!
She’d known Navarre was strong. Now she was getting another sample of just how strong. And it was heavenly.

No
. It was wrong.

She must control her thoughts
. Esmee was safe. His sister had a different surname. She was in apparent
control of the
estate. And she was extremely tall. Even Giselle’s papa would have to look up at the woman
. Giselle was dwarfed
.

“We have champagne, tea
, and several pastries that Chef Aaron
has prepared for your arrival,” Esmee added.

Giselle stood at the door
, considering a white-and-blue striped settee and two chairs before stepping forward and settling into
a chair. There was a mirror opposite her, taking up a large portion of the
wall. She glanced at it, gratified that her hair was still presentable,
although a few wisps of white hair had escaped and trailed down one
cheek. It was attractive, but it looked contrived, even to her.

“Champagne, please.”

Giselle couldn’t force another
bite of food past her lips, but a bit of champagne might help…if it didn’t add to the effervescent sensation overtaking her entire body. She felt strange. Other-worldly. As if her skin
was the only thing keeping her from floating away. It was incredible. Wondrous. Enervating. And Navarre was at the root of it.

She forced herself not to look at him.

“This vintage comes from Savignen, circa 1736. We felt it
was appropriate,
Madame.”

Esmee
’s voice was warm and welcoming. It appeared she was doing everything she could to be charming.
Giselle inclined her head, waiting for the other woman to sit. She
was beginning to remind Giselle of Isabelle.

“Why is that?”

Giselle
lifted the glass to her lips and immediately felt the tension
in the room. Despite her every effort, she exchanged glances with
Navarre, and instantly she knew.
Of course!
That was the year
of the marriage and their acquisition of Savignen Valley.

“
Please. You must call me Giselle,
Madame
Denton.”

The woman sighed in relief
. “
Tres bien.
Call me Esmee. I’ll accept no
other name from you…Giselle.”

Giselle watched her through the side of her wineglass
. Esmee
didn’t favor Navarre much. Her hair was so blonde it looked powdered
. Her eyes looked light blue, but Giselle couldn’t be sure.
Esmee caught her studying her, and Giselle had to look away.

Navarre sat in the other chair, and she glanced at hi
m for the barest
instant. She couldn’t stand to look any longer.

She continued perusing the room
. It was safer.

The salon
had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves beside the fireplace that contained
several slim volumes. The fireplace was of
black marble — very effective against the blue-flecked fabric lining
the walls. There were two long windows stretching upward to split the
room. Giselle guessed that even if Navarre stood beside
them, the windows might be taller. The drapes on either side were a darker blue than the rest of the room, and puddled onto the floor.

It was warm, inviting
, and feminine. The table behind Navarre was beautifully carved, and flowers graced the top. The
arrangement was very artistic.
Several miniatures hung on the walls, but Giselle couldn’t tell the subject matter from where she sat.

And then she did it
. She couldn’t prevent the pull of Navarre. Giselle gasped when she
met his gaze and couldn’t move. His eyes were no longer purplish blue, they were the color
of storm-filled skies.

“Our aunt, the dowager
duchesse,
is responsible for decorating
the Blue Salon, Giselle,” Esmee said. “She had a hand in furnishing much of the castle, didn’t she, Navarre?”

He shrugged and Giselle couldn’t pull her eyes away.

“She looks forward to meeting you, Giselle. We all do. There
hasn’t been a new face for so long, I can’t tell you how exciting it all is….”

Her voice could’ve been the buzzing of a
n insect for all the
attention Giselle was paying. Navarre had said he’d controlled
himself during the ride? Oh my! The words still thrilled. Stunned.

She watched
him
lift his champagne flute to his lips. Giselle swallowed with him, although she was simply gaining time
. Not once did he even blink.

“Perhaps you’d like to see your chambers, Giselle
? Giselle?”

“The trip was most
…exhausting, Esmee.”

Navarre turned from
Giselle and answered for her. Giselle watched him.
Exhausting? No!
It was
exhilarating! Amazing! Exciting!

“In that event, I should allow Giselle to retire
. Giselle?”

Giselle forced her
head to tilt toward t
he taller woman. “Thank you, Esmee. I would appreciate it immensely if I could be
shown to my…bedchamber.”

She blushed and looked down at her
hands. The last word came out in a whisper, and Navarre choked on
his drink. Perhaps she should seek a priest and ask penance before
going to bed, but then she wouldn’t be able to pursue her thoughts
before she slept.

And t
hat idea shocked her even more.

“Of course, Giselle.”

Esmee clapped her hands, and a woman in
a long black dress entered the room. She must’ve been waiting right
outside the door. Giselle recognized her uniform as that of head
housekeeper, just like the one at Chateau Antilli.

“Madame
Dessard? The
duchesse,
Giselle. Please have her
shown to her rooms.”

Esmee dismissed the woman with a wave of
her hand. Giselle wondered how well Esmee would take it when she was
replaced as chatelaine of the Castle.

“If
you’ll follow me,
Madame
la
Duchesse
?
” Madame
Dessard asked.

Giselle said good night to them, but didn’t dare glance
anywhere near Navarre. As she left the room, she realized he was right. She was
exhausted. The day contained more exercise and excitement than she normally saw in a year.

She waited at the bottom of the staircase for her weakness to fade. By the time she started up,
Madame
Dessard was near at the
top.

Giselle slid her hand along the polished wood of the banister as
she climbed. Her legs felt like lead, and her muscles like gruel. She hoped her rooms were on the
second floor. If she had to talk farther, she might need assistance.
It was an uncomfortable reminder of her frailty.

“Madame
is well?”
Madame
Dessard came back down the
stairs toward her. “You are weak,
Madame?
Wait one moment. I’ll send for
Navarre.”

Oh no!

The thought of having him carry her up the stairs gave
her needed impetus, and she reached the landing easily.
If it hadn’t been for the sconces high on the walls, the hall
would’ve been black. As it was, Giselle was grateful
Madame
Dessard still escorted her.

The main rooms of Chateau Antilli were large, but the ceilings
in Berchand were even higher. Giselle craned her neck to look up
and still couldn’t make out their height.
A door loomed before them, taller than two of Navarre. It
seemed like the entire home was built for giants.

Madame
Dessard knocked, and they waited.

“Madame
la
Duchesse,
we’ve been expecting you.”

A young woman
answered and almost fell over with the depth of her curtsy. Giselle
hid a smile, and then forgot all about her at the span of space before her.
The room was dark. Grim. It made her feel even more
small and insignificant. Giselle walked in slowly, waiting for the
impression to fade. When it didn’t by the time she’d reached the
center, her spirits lowered further. Perhaps it was because it was
night, but the candelabra on the table barely threw enough light to see
the size of the bed.

Giselle’s gasp of surprise was drowned out by the
housekeeper’s explanation to the maid. Giselle ignored both of them.
The bed was another monstrosity of immense proportions.
Either it was the largest structure she’d ever seen, or it just looked that way because it was several steps above the floor, on its own
platform.