A Sister's Quest (37 page)

In a choked voice, Michelle whispered, “It is signed, ‘Your mother, Sophie Rameau Levesque.'”

Silence filled the room, which was small by the standards of the grand Château Tonnere du Grêlon. Larger than the refectory at St. Bernard's, it did not feel crowded with the many people sitting on the faded brocade settees. The room might once have been grand, but the wallpaper was now peeling and the floors were dull. In a corner between a floor-to-ceiling window and the hearth, which was decorated with garlands for Christmas, Lucile played with an old woman Brienne called
Grand-mère
. Madame LeClerc had raised Brienne during the years they lived in London, hiding from Marc-Michel Levesque's enemies. Beside her sat a woman a generation younger, Madame St. Clair who had been Dominic's foster mother. They were now a part of the Levesque family.

Sensing Alexandra's gaze on her, she looked at him. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

“I think I shall be.” She smoothed the note on her lap. “If only I had had this months ago …”

She could not fault Frau Herbart, who had lamented losing this letter before Michelle left St. Bernard's. In the months since, Michelle had forgotten about it. Never had she suspected that the headmistress would find it weeks later and send it on to Vienna. Slowed by the weather and the events that had exploded across Europe before Napoleon was sent into what she prayed was permanent exile, it had reached Vienna after she and Rusak left. Frau Schlissel had brought it with her when she came to Paris, but she and the letter had found their way to Château Tonnere du Grêlon only this morning. This had been the first time all day that everyone had been together so Michelle could share the letter.

Alexandre took Michelle's hand and led her out of the room. Climbing the wide stairs, he said nothing as they went to their room. She did not look at the bed on its raised dais or the frayed cloth of gold curtains as she flung her arms around him.

“How much simpler our first meeting would have been if I had only known!” she whispered.

He stroked her back. “You cannot be certain of that. You had no reason to suspect that Alexei Vatutin and Alexandre Vernier were the same man.”

“It is Christmas Eve again.” She breathed in his intriguing male scent. “Who would have believed a year ago that you and I would be here at a French château with my family?”

“Who would have believed that we would be anywhere together? Last year at this time, we were recovering from that mad attack on us. I wish I knew who had ordered that. It might have been LaTulippe. It might have been someone else.” When she shivered, he said quickly, “Forgive me,
Liebchen
, for reminding you of that.”

“I wonder what 1816 will bring. I hope it is peace.”

“I think that is everyone's wish, and you,
Liebchen
, made it possible by not listening to me.”

She smiled as she locked her fingers behind his nape. “I do believe you usually remember everything you hear.”

“Except when you tell me you love me.”

“You forget that?”

“Only so I can exult in hearing you say it again.” He kissed her with slow, lingering hunger. “But I am glad you heeded me about looking for a better hiding place for important items.”

She laughed. “Do you think LaTulippe's men would have found the copied pages in a torn stocking beneath a pile of discarded clothes in the wardrobe at Brienne's house?”

“You have learned your lessons well.”

“All of them.” She drew his mouth down to hers. When her tongue brushed his lips, he moaned with the need that swept over her.

He drew back, shocking her. Quietly, he said, “
Liebchen
, I got my new orders yesterday.”

“I know.”

“How—” A flash of astonishment was replaced by a grin. “You have learned too much from me.”

“Are you telling me that you are leaving?”

“After the new year begins. It will be strange to go without Rusak, but he enjoys working at that school for the deaf.” Smiling, he stroked her shoulders. “Who would have guessed he would be the one teaching school now?”

“He was so proud to show the Americans and Dr. Gallaudet that he could learn the French signs without previously speaking French. It seemed perfect that he would replace Monsieur Clerc as an instructor when Monsieur Clerc went with Dr. Gallaudet to the United States.”

Alexandre's smile faded as he murmured, “You are babbling. You always do that when you want to avoid talking about what is really bothering you.”

“Your leaving bothers me.” She closed her eyes and whispered, “No, that is wrong. Your leaving breaks my heart.”

“I can tear myself from that part of my life no more than I can halt breathing. We have been lucky to have had the summer together, but I must leave as soon as the holidays are over.”

“Oh.” She drew away. That her sister and brother had found a lifetime of love had been no guarantee that she would, too. If only she could stop dreaming of the future she wanted for her and Alexandre.

He turned her back into his arms. Gazing at his face, which displayed the scars of his last assignment, she wondered how she would be able to kiss him farewell, knowing he could die before he came back to her.

“I already talked to Dominic. As your brother, he is your closest male relative. He has agreed to—”

“You talked to him about this already? And what did you two agree to? For me to sail with him about the world on his ship or simply to stay here to watch my niece and nephew grow older while I pray for a home and a family of my own?”

“Michelle, I—”

“No! Don't say it! I love you, Alexandre Vernier. I loved you when you were Alexei Vatutin, and I love you now. Changing your name does not change my love for you!”

He silenced her with his lips over hers. She leaned into the kiss, wanting to savor it with every inch of herself. Nothing had changed, especially her heart.

Slowly he raised his head. “If you would be silent for just a moment, you might understand.”

“I understand.” The sorrow stripped the sweetest edges from the passion. “You are leaving, but let's not argue about it tonight. Just kiss me, Alexandre. Kiss me, and don't say a word about the future.”

“Even about our wedding?”

“Wedding?”

Laughing, he asked, “And why else would I speak to your brother about this before I talked to you? I wanted his permission to ask you to be my wife. Will you marry me? I know this question is long overdue, but, to be honest, I never thought about marriage until I thought about leaving you. I want you in my life. Will you marry me, Michelle Levesque?”

“Yes.”

He crushed her to him as he tasted the love he had not planned to find when he went to safeguard the daughter of a late partner. Somewhere, in the realms of memory, he could hear the sound of Sophie's laughter. He wondered if this was what Sophie had plotted all along. Giving no time to the teasing thought, he concentrated on the tantalizing woman in his arms.

It was only hours later, when she rested in Alexandre's arms amid the incredible peace of sated love, that Michelle asked where they were going for their honeymoon.

He laughed. “Are you sure you want to know? It will be, of course, the site of our next assignment.”

“Where?”

Pressing her back into the pillows, he whispered in her ear, “Russia.”

Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. “You are joking!”

“I wish I were,
Liebchen
. Not my choice of assignment either. If you thought Vienna was cold …” He gave an exaggerated shiver. “Of course, I shall have you to keep me warm.”

“Always.” She ran her finger along his nose. “How do you say ‘I love you' in Russian?”

“I will be damned if I know.” He grinned. “I do not speak Russian.”

She laughed, and he joined in until the sounds of their amusement became a soft murmur of joy as he brought her back into his arms. It was where she would stay, no matter where their quest for adventure took them.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2000 by Jo Ann Ferguson

Cover design by Neil Alexander Heacox

ISBN: 978-1-5040-0884-6

Distributed in 2015 by Open Road Distribution

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