La Flamme (Historical Romance) (16 page)

"Very well," she said at last. "But I'm sure it is not the kind of recreation to which you are accustomed, Your Grace."

Garreth smiled down at Richard. "Your sister hasn't learned that all men have some of the boy still in them— has she?"

Richard nodded eagerly. "When I am old like you, I will still want to run and play games."

Garreth arched his brow and smiled at Sabine, while she burst out in amused laughter. "I'm sure the duke is not yet in his dotage, Richard."

"I suddenly feel old." He smiled at Richard. "I am not certain that I was ever as young as you."

It was apparent to Sabine that Richard liked Garreth, and she thought that might be dangerous. Without telling him why, she must warn him to be careful.

After Garreth had dismissed his driver, they climbed aboard Sabine's coach and were soon on their way. Garreth was seated beside Richard, who pointed out locations of interest.

Sabine sat silently, her eyes trained on the window as if she was hardly aware that Garreth was there—but she was very aware of him. Then she turned to him and found him watching her. Their eyes locked in silent battle.

Garreth saw no warmth in La Flamme's amber eyes. He could only wonder what had happened to make her so distrustful of men. Perhaps Richard's father had hurt her so deeply that she punished every man for his treatment of her.

He wanted to win her trust. What would it be like to see her smile, to hear her laughter—to crush those full lips beneath his?

Suddenly her eyes were no longer cold—it was as if someone had lit a candle behind them—or as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. Damn! She was the most maddening woman he had ever known.

Sabine dragged her gaze away from Garreth's and glanced out the window again. While she knew little about men, Garreth knew exactly how to make a woman ache inside. He made her very aware that he desired her.

Garreth deliberately turned back to the boy, who enthusiastically pointed out Notre Dame Cathedral.

"Your Grace," Richard asked, "did you know the conception of that church dates back to 1163? But it was not completed until 1345.1 love to hear the bells ring. You can hear them from our house."

Garreth couldn't keep from smiling at the young boy. "Richard, while my French is passable, I would better understand you if you spoke in English."

"I can speak English very well, Monsieur le due."

"You are very advanced for one so young, Richard. You cannot be over—"

"I am in my ninth year, Your Grace."

"I know of no young man your age who would be so well versed. What is the source of your education?"

"My sister taught me when I was younger and now I have three teachers. I have seventeen books, which is quite a lot, is it not?"

"Indeed it is, Richard."

"My sister makes me read. But it is no hardship because I like books." Richard smiled at Sabine. "But I do not like it when she insists that I learn politeness, chivalrous ways, and how to behave in courtly society. Why do you think I must learn those things?"

"I suppose because your sister deems it so. It would be wise to please her in this, Richard." Garreth was thoughtful for a moment. "I cannot recall when last I had leisure to read. I am kept very busy in the country."

Richard's eyes sparkled with curiosity. He was always interested in hearing about England. "What is the name of your estate, Your Grace? Perhaps I have heard of it."

"Wolfeton Keep."

"No, I have not heard of it. Are there any children there?"

Sabine pretended to be observing something out the window, but she waited for Garreth's answer.

"I have no children, Richard."

"A wife, perhaps?"

Sabine turned her head, her eyes colliding with Garreth's. She knew from Stephen that he had not taken another wife, but she wanted to know if he still considered himself married to her, or if he now believed she was dead.

"Only myself and my mother live at Wolfeton Keep, Richard," he answered, artfully sidestepping the question.

"Tis a pity," Richard said. "When I am older and have to marry, I want many children so they won't be lonely."

"As you have been?"

"I have always had my sister, Your Grace," Richard hastened to assure him.

Shamelessly, Garreth plodded onward, questioning the child, hoping to learn about his mother—for he was now certain that La Flamme was indeed Richard's mother. "What of your mother and father?"

"I never knew my mother, and my father died when I was but a small child."

Sabine's voice was cool. "You can see. Your Grace, Richard and I have only each other."

"Tell me more about England," Richard said, settling back against the seat.

"Have you never been there?"

Richard paused but for a moment. "Oui. But I was too young to remember much about it."

"What shall I tell you?" Garreth asked. "Let me see—do you want to know about King Charles?"

Garreth watched the boy's eyes darken with distaste. "I do not like your king—he's a tyrant! I support the cause of your Parliament. King Charles has only one redemption—he married a French Catholic."

"I am astonished by your knowledge of my country, Richard." Smiling, Garreth looked at Sabine, who gave him an innocent look. "Who has kept you so informed about English politics?"

Richard giggled at Sabine. "My sister has taught me that those who blindly follow your king are fools."

"Oh?"

Much to Sabine's relief, they had reached their destination. Her coachman helped her to the ground, and she took her brother's hand. "What shall we see first, Richard?"

His voice was filled with excitement, his eyes gleaming. "I want most to see the boat races. May we?"

"Richard, you know the races are only on Saturday mornings, and even if we came then, we could not get close enough to see them. Many people spend Friday nights camping near the river so they will have a have a good view of the races the next morning."

Richard looked disappointed. "I love boats." He spoke to Garreth. "I have heard that you English have boat races on the River Thames—is that so?"

"Indeed it is. And it is not difficult to see the races from any vantage point."

"Some Friday night," Richard said, "I shall sleep along the river so I shall have a good view of these races."

"Come along, Richard," Sabine said. "Choose what you would like to see."

He quickly forgot his disappointment. "I want to see the fire-eater and the trained dogs and the acrobats. Then can we see the marionettes?"

Garreth saw La Flamme's first genuine smile. "Let's away to see the fire-eater. I hope, Monsieur le due, that you will not find this all too tedious."

There were many stalls, and Richard visited them all. First he had a cream confection, an orange drink, and a bag of hard candies.

To Sabine's surprise, Garreth seemed to be enjoying himself. He laughed with Richard when a small dog leaped in and out of a rolling hoop. Later, Sabine stood to the side, watching as Richard and Garreth seemed captivated by the marionettes.

She could not help but think it was a pity that Garreth did not have a son of his own, for he seemed to have a genuine fondness for her brother. She remembered how uncomfortable he had been when visiting her as a child. When she watched him with Richard now, she wondered how he could have once planned her brother's death. Suddenly she decided to walk between the two of them and take Richard's hand, which she held for the rest of the day.

When the sun was going down, Sabine announced that it was time to leave. On the ride home, Richard lay with his head against her shoulder, his eyes closed drowsily. Lovingly, she touched his cheek as he drifted off to sleep.

"He is a very exceptional child," Garreth said, finding that he meant it. "You must be proud of him."

"I am often in awe of my brother's brilliance," she said, ready to further bait the trap. "But then it is not surprising that he is so intelligent—his father was a most exceptional man."

"You said
his
father."

"I meant to say
our
father," she corrected, pretending contrition.

Garreth stared at her through half-closed lashes. "I can see that he resembles you. But his light-colored hair he must get from his father."

Sabine tensed at the mention of her father. How could she have forgotten, for even a moment, that Garreth was the enemy? "No," she said abruptly. "It was our mother who had light hair. Father's hair was like mine."

Garreth's eyes rested on her flaming head, and he wondered what it would feel like to touch the shimmering curls.

"Where would you like my driver to take you?" Sabine asked, her voice suddenly cold.

"You could invite me to sup with you and Richard."

"I'm afraid, Monsieur le due, that will not be possible. I must hurry as it is, to make the evening's performance."

"Then dine with me afterward."

She was silent for so long that Garreth thought she might accept.

"I am sorry, I never dine with gentlemen."

"You have dined with Stephen," he said.

"Ah, Stephen is different. He is my friend."

"And what am I?"

"That is for you to say, Your Grace. I do not know you."

She gasped when he reached out and took her hand in a firm grip. His eyes never left her face as he brushed his mouth against her fingertips.

"You will know me well, this I promise. And do not expect me to be one of the milksops that are content to worship you, nor merely your friend." His eyes were bold, his manner insolent. "I want more than that from you."

He wrenched open the door and stepped out, disappearing in a swirling mist.

Oh, yes, she thought, taking an unsteady breath, they would know each other intimately before she brought him down from his lofty perch.

18

When Stephen entered the breakfast room, Garreth had already eaten and was having a second cup of tea. "You look like hell, Stephen," he observed cheerfully.

"Damn," Stephen groaned, as he waved the serving girl away with her platter of food. "I drank too much wine last night." He glanced at Garreth, who was immaculately dressed as always. "Where were you yesterday?"

"I went to the park and watched trained dogs jump through hoops."

"What?"

Garreth leaned back in his chair. "I accompanied Mademoiselle La Flamme and her brother on an outing."

"You jest. I don't care how irresistible you are to other women, she certainly was not charmed by you."

"She still isn't, but she invited me along nonetheless."

Stephen looked at him suspiciously. "I happen to know that she protects her brother from all outsiders. I have seen him only once, and then by accident when I was at her house and the boy came back from taking the dogs for a walk. I was not introduced to him, because Ysabel hurried him upstairs."

Garreth eyed his friend over the rim of his cup, then set it down and folded his hands together. "I am compelled to ask you something, Stephen, and I want complete honesty."

"It's about her, isn't it?"

"Yes. I need to know what your feelings are for her. If they're deeper than friendship, I'll return to England without seeing her again."

Stephen pondered how best to answer Garreth. "I have always been a practical man. At one time, I fancied myself desperately in love with La Flamme. She saw what my feelings were, and to spare me hurt, made me realize that all we could ever be was friends. But I have told you this before."

Garreth lowered his head, studying the floral pattern on the teacup. "I am not as practical as you, Stephen, and it's already too late for me."

"I am sorry now that I brought the two of you together. Mayhap, we should both return to England, then you can put her from your mind, Garreth. You are both my friends, and I see no happy ending in this for either of you. She has already suffered because of what some man did to her."

"So you believe that the boy is her son, and that his father deserted them?"

"I didn't at first—lately, I'm not so certain. The mere fact that she keeps her past so secretive makes me question."

Garreth stood. "I won't hurt her, Stephen, and I may even be able to help her."

"You can't offer her marriage." Garreth walked to the door and turned back to his friend. "What makes you think she'd have me?"

Garreth presented his card to the butler. "Is mademoiselle receiving callers?"

The man glanced at the card. "She is not in, Your Grace."

"When is she expected?"

A woman came up behind the butler and Garreth recognized her as the one who always accompanied La Flamme.

"See to your duties, Cholet, I will speak to his grace," Ysabel said.

Garreth looked into the faded blue eyes of the woman. How better to learn about a person than through a personal servant?

"Madame, we have never met. I am—"

"I know who you are," Ysabel said, looking him over carefully. Her eyes stabbed deeply into his. "Cholet told you the truth, Your Grace. Mademoiselle La Flamme is not here."

He had the feeling as he stared at the old woman that she was no mere servant. She gave him the impression that she had a canny insight that could probe his mind.

"Could I come in and talk to you, Madame ... ?"

"Just Ysabel. And to talk to me would be fruitless. After you inquired about my health and I assured you that I am hearty, we would have come to the end of our conversation."

He grinned. "It appears that you are well able to handle any gentlemen who come to mademoiselle's door. She has a protector in you."

"It is well that you remember that."

"I do not suppose it would benefit me to ask you where I might find mademoiselle?"

Ysabel was silent as if she were deciding something. At last she nodded. "This is Thursday, so she will be with her fencing master, Monsieur Daymond."

Garreth was not surprised to hear that La Flamme was doing something as unconventional as fencing. "Where might I find this Monsieur Daymond?"

Again there was a long silence as Ysabel studied the duke intently. "You will see his school once you cross the
Pont-Neuf
bridge."

"Thank you, Madame."

Ysabel saw the relief in his eyes that was quickly replaced by uncertainty. This handsome devil had never met anyone like Sabine—he was completely bewitched by her. Ysabel was beginning to believe that Garreth Blackthorn might be innocent. She was a good judge of character, and she could find nothing in him that suggested deceit.

"If you go to Monsieur Daymond's school, you may not find a welcome."

He smiled, and she could see how a woman would lose her heart to him. "I shall take my chances, Madame." He swept her a bow and turned away to mount his horse.

Ysabel was wise enough to know that nothing could stop Sabine from colliding with her past. Today, Ysabel had made certain that the duke met Sabine on her own grounds, thus giving her the advantage in the battle that would surely come.

Garreth was admitted to the fencing school by a servant who led him to a small sitting room.

"I would like to see the fencing master—is he in?"

"
Oui
, Monsieur, but he is with a special student and cannot be disturbed. If you have come to inquire about lessons, you must wait."

Garreth could hear the sound of clashing swords coming from the thin walls. When the servant departed, he moved into the hallway and entered a long gallery with high windows that caught the afternoon sunlight. Standing in the shadows, he watched two gentlemen fencing. One was tall and moved to sidestep the shorter slender swordsman, but the lighting quick blade caught him and he laughed heartily.

"Again you have mastered the master, Mademoiselle La Flamme. Shall we try again?"

Garreth stared in astonishment at the slender figure who wore the garments of a cavalier. Her breeches and doublet were rust colored, her cuffed boots were of the same color. Never had he seen a woman in men's apparel, but it suited her. On closer inspection, he saw the soft curves of her body—how could he have mistaken her for a man? He could not see her face because she wore a protective helm.

Fascinated, he watched her graceful parry turn into lethal lunges. She was damned good, he thought.

The two crossed swords, and then La Flamme went on the attack. Wielding her rapier, she struck, once, twice, thrice, driving back her opponent. When the instructor advanced toward her, she agilely sidestepped his thrust, turning it to her advantage. She was poised as she wielded the deadly blade, driving him against the wall.

"Enough, enough, Mademoiselle." He chuckled and threw up his arms in surrender. "You need no more lessons from me. But if you ever decide to give up acting, I could use your talents."

She flourished her rapier in a salute, then laughingly removed her protective mask, allowing her crimson hair to spill down her back. "You are the master, and I believe you only let me win out of pity."

"No so. I told you when you began the lessons that I would not show mercy just because of your sex. Nor have I. You defeated me last week, and today you became the master swordsman."

Garreth clapped his hands together slowly as he walked toward her. "Quite an exhibition, Mademoiselle La Flamme."

She turned around quickly, her eyes meeting his. "I did not expect to have an audience, Monsieur le due," she said with composure.

"I know of no other woman who would have dared such a venture." He stopped in front of her, his eyes sweeping down her slender form.

The fencing master excused himself, but neither Sabine nor Garreth noticed.

He did not flinch when her sword snaked through the air to pop loose the gold button on his jerkin without even damaging the fabric. In a smooth motion, she speared the button from the floor and offered it to him on the tip of her rapier. "Perhaps you would like a contest, Monsieur?" she asked daringly.

"Keep the button as a memento," he said in a deep voice. "When you and I meet in a contest, it will be of a different sort, Mademoiselle."

She took the black cape that was draped across a chair and threw it about her shoulders. The long folds fell to her feet, concealing her slender figure. She pulled on leather gloves, glaring at him all the while. "How did you find me here, Monsieur?"

"I have my informants," he said with a slight smile.

She swept him a stiff bow. "I'll give your regards to Ysabel.
Au revoir
, Monsieur."

When she turned to leave, his hand came down on her shoulder and he turned her to face him. "Since I have gone to all the trouble to find you, could we not dine together tonight?"

"I have a performance."

"Afterward?"

She stared into those fathomless eyes, feeling as if she were being dragged into their depths. "I think not."

"When can I see you?"

"Tomorrow," she said, taking him by surprise. "I have a chance to purchase a pair of matching grays that have long interested me. Stephen has an eye for good horseflesh, so I want his opinion. As his houseguest, you may join us if you choose."

"Does Stephen know?"

"I sent him a message."

"Do you like dangling Stephen along and the other poor devils who will beg for any crumb you toss their way?" Garreth asked with growing frustration.

Her golden eyes bore into his, and for a moment she could not answer. "He understands our relationship, and no matter what you think, I don't dangle him. Good day, Monsieur."

She rushed across the gallery, her cape flying out behind her.

He didn't know what demon had possessed him to insult her. Why must he always try to provoke her? Anger guided Garreth's steps out of the gallery. Once outside, he mounted his horse. He had made a fool of himself today and every day since he'd met La Flamme. As soon as it could be arranged, he would leave for England and put her forever from his mind.

Sabine stood in Monsieur Daymond's office, watching Garreth ride away. It was becoming increasingly difficult to act indifferently to him. She remembered the day he had come to her and held her in his arms while she cried out her grief at the death of her mother. She must not be seduced into trusting him, for that would surely cause her downfall, and do harm to Richard.

Sabine heard a man speaking to Cholet, and descended the stairs, thinking it would be Stephen. She paused on the bottom step when she saw Garreth.

"So," she said, going forward to greet him, "you decided to come with us. Is Stephen waiting in the carriage?"

"Stephen didn't come."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Did he not get my message?"

"When I arrived home, your message was on the entry table."

"Then why did he not come with you?"

He took her arm and guided her toward the door, giving her no time to protest. She stopped when he would have handed her into the open carriage.

"I demand to know why Stephen isn't here."

Garreth's hands spanned her tiny waist and he lifted her into the carriage. "It's cloudy. I hope it doesn't rain to spoil the day."

"I was asking about Stephen."

"It's quite simple." He climbed in beside her. "I did not give him your message."

She could hardly believe his impudence—how dare he do such a thing! "You are devious, sir. You deliberately kept my message from him."

"I did," he admitted. He smiled, leaning back and looking into her golden eyes. "How could I miss this chance to have you to myself?"

"This is ... is... abduction."

"That's not the way I see it. Did you or did you not ask me to come with you today?"

"I. . .
oui
, but not—"

"I merely accepted your invitation."

"You, Monsieur, are bold beyond belief."

"I'm merely an opportunist." His eyes seemed to soften when they rested on her face. "Be warned, La Flamme, when I see something I want, I usually get it."

"If you think you can win me by tricks, Monsieur, you are mistaken. I do not like men who take what they want, no matter who they hurt."

He blinked his eyes in astonishment. "If that is the way you see me, I shall just have to change your opinion. The driver waits. Will you not give him direction—the team grows impatient."

Reluctantly, Sabine instructed the driver. When they started off, she refused to look at Garreth, but instead stared straight ahead.

Soon the coachman was aptly maneuvering the carriage through the crowded streets. After an uncomfortable silence, she turned to Garreth. "Tell me about yourself, Your Grace, so that I might know you better."