Destiny's Kiss (25 page)

“You did that?” He could not believe what he was hearing. “To get your hands on Château de Villeneuve?”

“It is an estate worthy of Charmaine and me.”

“You've miscalculated again. The land and the rubble, probably all that was left by the mob, are not worth my Lirienne's life or my brother's.”

“I didn't miscalculate tonight.” His wild laugh set the horses to shifting uneasily. “Congratulations, de Villeneuve.”

He frowned. What was de Talebot's ploy? He would go along with this until he knew. As long as de Talebot was taunting him, he was not going to shoot. “For what?”

“On your wife conceiving again.”

“Lirienne is pregnant?”

“
Was
.”

Rage billowed through Philippe, hot and blinding. He fought it. He could not let his temper betray him now. “What do you mean?” he asked through gritted teeth. “What have you done to her?”

“She's dead at the bottom of a hill along the river.” With his left hand, he pulled a whip off the wall. “A pair of swipes with one of these finished her.”

Philippe's hands were on de Talebot's throat before he realized he had leaped forward. The pistol fell to the floor as de Talebot struck him in the face. He staggered back, then hit de Talebot's chin. He followed that blow with another. Blood erupted from de Talebot's nose to soak his hand.

Grasping a pail, de Talebot threw it. Philippe ducked and swung again. The blow missed as de Talebot pummeled Philippe in the gut before firing his fist upward into Philippe's chin.

Dropping to his knees, Philippe gasped. He could not let de Talebot win. He had vowed to see this man dead for killing his brother. And Lirienne … No, he could not believe she was dead. At that thought, he used his fury to clear his mind. He surged to his feet and tried to focus his eyes.

The frightened horses shrieked. Hay in the back corner was on fire. He stumbled to the stalls and opened the doors. A pair of fists hammered his back. He hit the floor hard. The horses' screeches echoed through his aching skull as he was rolled onto his back.

He saw de Talebot smile, saw him raise the pistol. His boots struck de Talebot in the stomach and catapulted him back toward the stalls.

Philippe tried to stand, but dropped to the floor. A scream brought him to his feet. “No, Cristal!”

The white horse's hoofs thrashed de Talebot's limp body again. As the horse ran out of the burning building with her foal following, Philippe lurched toward de Talebot. One look told him de Talebot was dead.

Reeling backward, he grasped Soyeux's halter and called to her foal. He coughed. The damp hay was smoldering before it burst into flame. If they didn't find their way out soon … Together, they stumbled through the smoke and out into the barnyard.

He dropped into the mud as his neighbors began to fight the flames. Burying his face in his hands, he wondered why they bothered. He did not care if they saved the barn or not. He had a lifetime to rebuild … and to mourn.

Nineteen

A gentle hand settled on Philippe's shoulder. He stood so suddenly that the woman beneath the cloak gasped. He almost spoke Lirienne's name, then realized she was too round for Lirienne.

“Agathe!”

“Come with me! Now!” She took his hand and pulled him to his feet and away from the barn. When someone tried to push a pail into her hands, she thrust it away. She lowered her wet hood as she stepped onto the porch. “Thank God, you're here!”

He dropped down to sit. Staring at the flames, he choked out, “That cur de Talebot sent a letter to Charmaine Fortier, and then he—”

“Philippe!” She knelt beside him and grasped his arms. “Listen to me. You must listen to me.”

“What does it matter? What does anything matter? He murdered Lirienne.”

Agathe moaned. “I didn't know it was Monsieur de Talebot, because I was told she said—”

“Said?” He came to his feet. “Lirienne is alive? Where is she?”

“Monsieur Slater sent a frantic message to me that I was needed, that I must come immediately. He found Lirienne by the river when he was checking his traps a short while ago.” She whispered a breathy prayer as she stood. “He sent word that she's in a bad way. She was in labor, according to Monsieur Slater's message.”

He cursed. “I can't get out to his farm when my horses are scattered through Azilum.”

“Monsieur de Talebot has a wagon.” She shuddered as she spoke the man's name.

“Let's get it.”

“But Monsieur de Talebot—”

“You don't have to ask him.” He did not bother to explain that the man he had trusted enough to call a friend was dead.

Grabbing her arm, he hurried her across the common to de Talebot's barn on the other side of the road. He pulled two horses out of their stalls and hooked them to the wagon. He assisted her onto the seat, then climbed aboard. Taking the reins, he sent the wagon racing up the hill. He hoped he would not be too late … this time.

Slater opened the door at Philippe's frantic knock. He frowned. “Miss Suchard, when I sent for you, I did not expect you to bring Mr. de Villeneuve. Not after—”

“How is she?” Philippe asked.

“Alive.”

“No more?”

“Why do you care?” he exploded. “Did you let your jealousy and rage overpower you again? She kept you from trying to kill me, but she couldn't stop you this time, could she? Do you think anyone will forgive you for trying to kill her?”

“Kill Lirienne?” He grasped two handfuls of Slater's shirt. “What are you talking about?”

“If you didn't recognize your own wife when you drove her off the road, she knew your white mare. I never would have guessed that you'd do something like this.”

“I didn't do that!”

“I know what she told me.”

Not caring that Agathe was listening to the exchange with an expression of horror, Philippe said, “Listen to me, Slater. Vachel de Talebot tried to murder her. He wanted to be sure I had no heir other than Charmaine Fortier.” He faltered. “Can I see her?”

“She's sleeping.”

“And the child?” asked Agathe.

“The contractions are slowing to a stop.” Slater ran a hand through his red hair. “I think. I know about cattle, not women. Miss Suchard, she told me to send for you, that you'd helped with another birth.”

Dropping her soaked cape onto a bench, Agathe said, “It's about time you two thought of her. This way?” She pointed to a door by the hearth.

Philippe loosened his cloak. “I will—”

“You will stay here while I check on her. I don't need you in the way,” Agathe retorted with uncharacteristic fire. As she rolled up her sleeves, she glared at them. She closed the door behind her.

Philippe winced at the sound.

“Where is de Talebot?” asked Slater.

“Dead.”

“That's too bad.”

“Too bad?” He frowned. “He doesn't deserve to live after what he did.”

“He should have paid for what he did.”

With a grimace as he rubbed his bruised knuckles, he said, “He paid.”

Slater handed him a cup. When he lifted it, he smiled at the scent of whiskey. He took a deep swallow, then another. Setting the cup on the table, he walked to the bedroom door.

“Wait!” Slater called. “Miss Suchard said—”

He ignored Slater and his own voice of caution. Last time, they had kept him from Lirienne's side when she so desperately needed him. He would not be kept away this time.

Agathe met him at the door. His determination must have burned in his eyes, because she stepped aside and whispered, “She's not quite conscious, but you can sit with her. Philippe …”

He squeezed her shoulder. “I'll call you immediately if she needs help.”

When the door shut behind her, he looked across the room where, on a day of insane jealousy, he had almost killed Ennis Slater. Pain coursed through him as he recalled that Vachel de Talebot had been the one to hint that Lirienne was giving Slater more than bread.

How many times had he called her
ma petite folle
? He was the fool, a huge fool, not believing in the honest gift of love from the one person who wanted to give him her heart despite his title and onetime wealth, not because of it.

A board squeaked as he walked to the bed. He choked back a gasp of dismay when he saw her colorless face.

The sound roused Lirienne from her painful stupor. She gripped the covers. “Mr. Slater?” Her voice rattled through her head as she tried to breathe past the remnants of pain cramping her center.

“
Ma petite
, wake up.”

She wanted to ask Mr. Slater why he was speaking French. Not Mr. Slater … Philippe!

Opening her eyes, she watched him lift her hand from the quilt and fold it between his. Quietly, he said, “'Twas not me on Cristal,
ma petite
. I would never do anything to hurt you or our baby. You believe that, don't you? Please tell me that you believe me.”

Lirienne tried to speak, but her voice cracked. Her breath caught in her throat as he raised her fingers to his lips. The pleasure of his light kiss was sweet, but promised more fiery delights.

“Vachel de Talebot stole Cristal and tried to kill you,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“That doesn't matter. All that matters is you must believe that I love you.” A smile curved along his lips.

“You love me?”

“When I asked you to marry me, I asked you to be my wife for as long as I would need you.” He pressed her palms to his lips. “I will need you every day of my life. I love you and our child.”

“The baby!” she gasped weakly.

“
Ma petite
, Agathe assures me that you have not lost the baby.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “Do you believe that you are the one, the only one, I love?”

“Yes.” She held out her arms to him. As he gathered her close, she knew her heart had found a haven next to his.

Epilogue

Summer, 1795

Lirienne sat on the front porch and watched the sunset reflected back from the lazy waters of the Susquehanna River. On these pleasant evenings, night tiptoed into the river valley.

With a wave, she called a greeting to a neighbor as she continued to hum a lullaby and rock her daughter, Lucienne. Philippe was thrilled with a daughter. Not that he did not want a son, but, with that beguiling sparkle in his eyes, he reminded her of the ecstasy they would share as they kept trying for the son who would be the next Vicomte de Villeneuve.

She rested her head against the chair and listened to the symphony created by frogs and crickets. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The night would not be quiet, so she was glad Lucienne was sleeping now. Maybe she should, too, but, even in her dreams, she could not imagine a happiness beyond what she had discovered here.

So many changes had come to Azilum. Five streets ran north and south, and nine avenues went east to west. Two stores had been built, along with a distillery, a mill, and the wharf. The dream had come true for those who had fled from the tyranny of the guillotine.

And her dreams had come true. She thought back to that night six years ago when a frightened girl had discovered fire on the lips of the man who would win her heart. Looking at the gold ring on her left hand, she thought of how Philippe had bought it back from Mr. Jacobs when he'd sold the two foals to another farmer.

Hearing her name called, she jumped to her feet. She put the baby in the cradle by her chair, then ran into the arms which had not held her since Philippe had left to go to Wilkes-Barre to sell a second pair of colts.

She kissed him with fervor to try to make up for the kisses they had been denied during their days apart. As her fingers stroked the strong sinews along his back, she exulted in having him against her. He smiled and twisted a strand of hair around his fingers.

“I don't have to ask if you missed me,
ma petite
.”

She gave him an impish smile. “Lucienne is asleep. Come with me, and I'll show you exactly how much I missed you.”

“Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Her eyes narrowed as she saw the glimmer of devilment in his. When he moved aside so she could see two people standing behind him, she gasped and stared at the white-haired man and the woman with her hand on his arm. “Papa? Maman?”

She was swept into an embrace which bridged the years of separation. Fingers touched her tear-washed face, and she smiled as her mother asked, “Is she as lovely as she feels?”

Papa's laugh was the one Lirienne remembered so well. “She looks exactly as you did when you were a young bride.” Turning to Philippe, he asked, “Where is that granddaughter you promised us?”

Lirienne pointed to the cradle as Philippe's arm went around her shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispered. “How—?”

“It was simple. I sent money for their passage with Giselle when she returned to France with Charmaine.” Tapping her on the nose, he teased, “After all, this isn't only for you. I need help with the horses. Who better than your papa, Monsieur Gautier?” He grew serious as he added, “I didn't forget my first vow to you,
ma petite
. I told you if you'd help me, that I would give your parents a home on my lands.”

She laughed. “Who would have guessed you'd fulfill that promise here?”

Her face was tilted beneath Philippe's as his mouth covered hers. The thrill of desire surged through her, unstoppable.

He lifted his lips to gaze into her eyes. “Shall we go and welcome your family home?”

“
Our
family,” she corrected softly. “And
our
home forever.”

“Forever,” he echoed as he took her hand.

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