La Flamme (Historical Romance) (30 page)

"It would seem not."

"My compliments, my friend!"

There was a sudden urgency in Garreth's manner. "I must leave now. If Eugenia hears of this, there is no knowing what she might do."

"Yes, go home, Garreth. I'll send word if I hear anything more about Eugenia."

*                                          *                                          *

Sabine was recovering under the watchful eyes of Ysabel and Adrienne. Three wet nurses had been engaged, and Adrienne had miraculously rearranged the nursery to accommodate both her grandchildren.

It was long after dark, and Sabine had heard the clock chime the ninth hour. She entered the nursery and spoke to the nurse. "I'll take my daughter. You may leave us alone."

The nurse thought it was too soon after the birth of the twins for the duchess to be out of bed, but she dared not say so. "As you wish, Your Grace."

Sabine lifted her crying daughter in her arms and walked back and forth across the floor, attempting to quiet her. She paused to glance at her son, who had his little knees drawn up under him and was sleeping soundly.

"Sweet one, why can you not be good like your brother? See how well he sleeps, even through your crying?"

The sound of her voice seemed to calm her daughter, and the infant nestled against her.

Garreth stood in the darkened doorway with a tightening in his chest. Nothing had ever touched him as deeply as the scene he was witnessing. Sabine wore an emerald green velvet dressing gown, and her glorious red hair spilled down her back. Her beautiful face held a new maturity, and he caught his breath at the softness he saw in her eyes when she hummed softly to the baby. He suddenly wanted her to look at him with that same softness.

"Truly the little mother," he said, stepping into the room.

Sabine could feel her heart beating in her throat. "I . . . did not expect you."

His voice sounded detached. "You did not think I would hasten home to you?"

Their eyes locked, and there was a long silence.

"I think you did not return to see me, Garreth."

He moved closer, wanting desperately to catch a glimpse of the baby she held in her arms, but somehow reluctant to show his feelings. He stopped several paces from her. "I suppose you will scold me for not being here when the babies were born."

"I shall neither admonish nor advise you. In your defense, you could not have known they would be born early. I say only this to you; they are your son and daughter—flesh of your flesh—that should mean something to you."

Did she not know how proud he was of her and his babies? Could she not see that he wanted to reach out and touch her flaming hair, to touch his lips to hers, to hold her to his body until the trembling inside of him ceased?

"I have a great interest in their welfare," he said at last.

By now the baby was sleeping, and Sabine laid her in the cradle. Garreth looked from one baby to the other. He moved closer and reached out to touch a soft head.

"I have much to learn. I never knew babies could be so small." He was shaken with an unbelievable feeling of pride. He had not expected to feel this strongly about his son and daughter.

"They are smaller than most because they were born early."

"Mrs. North informed me that was usual with twins."

"So I am told."

"Which one is which?"

"The one you are touching is your daughter." She nodded to the other cradle. "That is your son."

He moved to stand over his son and took the tiny-balled fist in his hand. "It is hard to imagine that he will ever grow as tall as I."

"He will though, Garreth."

"What are their names?"

"I did not name them because I was sure that you might want to use family names."

"A thoughtful gesture." He moved in a leisurely way to her side. "We shall decide their names together. Do you have any preferences, Sabine?"

"I would like to name our daughter after my mother and yours. Of course, you will want a family name for our son."

He reached out and laid his hand on her arm. "I have a vague memory of your mother, having only seen her twice, and then for such a short time. She was very beautiful. What was her name?"

"As you know, she was French. Before she married my father, she was Lady Ryanne de Chavaniac."

"A lovely name." His eyes moved to his daughter. "Lady Adrienne Ryanne Blackthorn. Yes, I like it."

"I would like to call her Ryanne."

"Lady Ryanne Blackthorn. Yes, that will be her name." Garreth moved to his son. "My father's name was very English. Have you any objections to Edward Thayne Blackthorn, the eleventh marquess of Huntley?"

She looked down at his hands that were clasped on the rung of his son's cradle. She remembered how it felt to have those hands hold and caress her.

With relief, she nodded. "It's a good name. I like it." She moved to the door. "Good night, Garreth."

"Yes," he said watching the way the candlelight glinted on her hair, and wishing he dared touch the soft tresses. "I suspect you should not yet be out of bed. I believe it takes time for a woman to heal from childbirth."

"I am strong, Garreth."

He turned away from her and muttered under his breath. "I have known that about you."

She left and made her way to her room, wishing she was as strong as she pretended. All she had wanted to do was run into his arms and have him hold her, until the fear and uncertainty went away.

33

Adrienne found it difficult to leave her grandchildren. She held each baby, kissing them tenderly, and then handed them to their nurse. She brushed a kiss on Garreth's cheek. "Take care of yourself and this lovely family."

He smiled. "I shall, Mother."

She turned to her daughter-in-law. "I'll miss you, Sabine. You have become very dear to me."

Sabine tried not to show her sadness. "I shall miss you, Adrienne. Have a lovely holiday in Florence, but return to the Keep soon."

Adrienne bent close and whispered in Sabine's ear. "I'll give you and Garreth the summer to make things right between you, and that's all I can promise. I have become attached to my grandchildren, and I fear I shall make a nuisance of myself."

Sabine kissed her mother-in-law's cheek. "You could never be that."

The dowager duchess climbed into her coach and waved good-bye.

"I shall truly miss her, Garreth. Your mother is an extraordinary woman."

He was offering his finger to his daughter and smiled at the child when she clasped it. "Yes, she is. As are all the women in my life."

"I believe we should get the children back to the nursery now that they have seen their grandmother on her way. I think I shall go riding. I haven't ridden since the babies were born."

Garreth looked at her quickly. "Take Captain Barkley with you."

Sabine waited until the nurses carried the babies inside before she answered Garreth. "I don't need an escort," she said haughtily. "Are you afraid I might run away again?"

He was still reluctant to tell her about Eugenia's threats. "It had crossed my mind."

Sabine was glaring at him. "Whereas I might leave you, I would hardly leave my son and daughter."

His jaw settled in a stubborn line as he looked at her. "Nevertheless, you will take Captain Barkley with you."

She drew in an angry breath, but said nothing more. With her head high, she moved quickly toward the stable, thinking Garreth was still trying to punish her. He never allowed her to go out alone. Was he really concerned that she might leave?

Garreth watched her for a moment, then went inside and climbed the stairs to the nursery. The wet nurse smiled at him. "Her little ladyship won't go to sleep, Your Grace."

He peered at the child, who was rosy and healthy. "So it would seem."

"They are beautiful babies, Your Grace."

She held the child out to him, and he hesitated for only a moment before he took his daughter from her. He smiled down at the tiny girl who wriggled in his arms. "I believe she knows me."

"Of course she does, Your Grace. If you don't mind my saying so, your daughter does not eat like a lady, and can even eat more than her brother."

Garreth smiled at the little cherub face. For the first time, she smiled at him and his heart was so full he could not have spoken at that moment.

His son chose that moment to howl loudly. Garreth handed his daughter to the nurse and lifted the boy in his arms. When he held his daughter there was softness in his eyes, but when he held his son, pride ripped through him.

"So you thought your sister was getting all the attention and decided to protest, my son?"

The tiny Lord Blackthorn stopped crying at the sound of the deep voice, and looked right into his father's eyes. For just a fleeting instant, Garreth had the sensation that he was looking into Sabine's eyes, though he could not have said why. "They seem to grow more alert every day."

The nurse chuckled. "They are quite alert for only eight weeks old, Your Grace."

He placed his son back in the cradle and looked at each child before leaving the room.

The nurses and the servants were aware of his frequent trips to the nursery. For some reason he always came when the duchess was absent.

*                                          *                                          *

The night sky seemed on fire as jagged spears of lightning shattered the darkness. Sabine tossed on her bed in the thralls of a terrifying nightmare. She was reliving the night she had fled Woodbridge. She was running, running, trying to save Richard from death. "No," she moaned aloud, "NO, THEA!"

She sat up in bed, her heart pounding, her gown wet with perspiration. She took several steadying breaths, wishing she could rid her mind of the fear.

Suddenly a shaft of lightening struck with a force that rattled the windows and shook the ground. Without thinking she jumped out of bed and ran for the one pinnacle of safety—Garreth. She burst into his bedchamber to find him sitting in a chair with papers spread on his lap.

He came to his feet, seeing her stricken face.

"Sabine?"

"1—the—storm. I—"

He held out his arms, and she ran to him. His arms closed around her like a soft band of protection against anything that might harm her.

He could feel her tremble and sensed her fright. "Did you have a bad dream?"

She could only nod.

"I won't let anything, real or imaginary, harm you."

She nestled her head against his chest as the sound of the steady beat of his heart calmed her. She raised her head and looked into soft eyes.

"I feel ashamed. It—was like the night at Wood-bridge."

He lifted Sabine into his arms and carried her to his bed where he laid her down, then pulled the covers over her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took her hand in his. "You have no reason to feel ashamed, Sabine. You have more courage than ten men." He brushed a wayward curl from her face. "I'm glad you felt you could come to me."

She swallowed several times but could not speak, and he could see that her terror was real. "Do you want to sleep with me?" he asked.

She nodded.

He closed his curtains so she could not see the storm and blew out the candle before getting in bed beside her. Gently he pulled her into his arms. "Do you want to talk about it? We never have, you know."

"I often have the dream. It's like living that horrible night over and over."

He cradled her against him. "You spent the night in the flooded stream, with a broken leg, and yet you managed to keep your brother from drowning. I know of no one so brave, Sabine."

His praise warmed her. "I was not brave—I was frightened."

Garreth touched his lips to the pulse beat just below her ear. "You even faced me, Sabine, thinking I was the one responsible for the tragedy."

"I... know the truth now. But I am sometimes frightened, Garreth, knowing that I still have a faceless enemy."

He tensed. "What do you mean—what enemy?"

"The woman, whoever she is, that wanted me dead. I have tried to tell myself that she was only an imaginary danger invented by Thea's confused mind."

His arms tightened about her. "Don't think about it now." He tried not to think of the soft curves pressed against him. What Sabine needed was understanding, not his unbridled passion. "Suppose we speak of something pleasant, Sabine."

She raised her face to him, although it was dark and she could only see his outline. Dare she tell him what had been bothering her since the birth of the children? There would never be a better moment than now when he was gentle and understanding. "Garreth, I want to have my children christened by Father Santini as soon as possible."

She felt him tense. "My children will not to be brought up Catholic, Sabine. The difference in our religion has a new wrinkle, does it not? It reaches out for our children."

She had to make him understand how deeply she felt about the christening. "I implore you, Garreth, allow me to have them christened, and I will speak no more about this with you. I know no peace, fearing that my children may lose their immortal souls. -If you allow this one thing, I will ask nothing more of you."

"You ask much, Sabine."

Desperate words ached to be spoken, but she must keep calm. "Can you not guess how I feel about this matter, Garreth?"

He could. He still carried an image of her kneeling in the chapel in Paris. That day he had watched her without her knowing it, witnessing her devoutness as she had prayed. Finally he relented. "I shall allow the christening only if you have the priest come to Wolfeton Keep for the rite."

Sabine could hardly believe that he had agreed so easily. "I will send for Father Santini tomorrow. Thank you, Garreth."

He stroked her upper arm. "Would that all your wishes were so easily satisfied, Sabine. But mark this well, I only agreed to a christening. I will have no Catholic priest dwell within Wolfeton Keep."

Sabine knew this decision had been a difficult one for Garreth, and she would press him no further at this time. "It will be as you wish."

In gratitude, she moved forward and brushed her lips against his cheek, then pressed her face to his.

He took in a deep breath as the sweet smell of her dulled his mind. "Sabine, I brought you to my bed to render comfort, but if you continue what you are doing, I'll be more than a comfort to you," he warned.

Daringly, she turned her body to his, pressing her thighs against him.

His breath was hot against her lips. "Do you tempt me, or strive to make me mindless?" His arms went around her, and he positioned her tightly against him so she could feel him throbbing against her aching body. "Is this what you want of me?" he asked, his hands tangling in her hair as he brought her face to his.

"Yes," she answered breathlessly, offering her lips to him.

"I want you, and you want me—beyond that I dare not question," he said.

There was only a groan from her as he rolled her over, parted her legs, and rising, slid into her, the hotness of him burning into her mind.

His mouth caressed hers, while his body mastered her trembling flesh. Murmuring her name, he rubbed his lips against her and then deepened the kiss with a bruising force. She sensed that he was trying to hold back, and she knew he feared he would hurt her.

"Garreth, I am healed from the births," she whispered.

With a painful intake of breath, he drove deeper, his hips moving against her in such a way that invited her movements. Her body was singing in perfect harmony with his, and she knew that something out of the ordinary was happening to them. This was beyond lust and body hunger—it was love—a need for possession and total surrender.

Garreth was unaware by what name he called her.

"La Flamme, now I possess you as you have possessed me. You are mine at last."

Her hands slid over the corded muscles of his back. And she was unaware that she answered him in French. "Oui." She looked deeply into his eyes. "Oui, I am yours."

With excitement raging through their bodies, they breathlessly rode the wave of passion, spiraling upward to a height obtained by so few. They moved together, breathed together, and at last, reached a quaking satisfaction together.

He held her tightly until her body ceased to tremble. "You will no longer sleep apart from me," he said in a soft voice.

"Never."

He pushed the soft curtain of her hair aside and lay his lips inches from her mouth. "You are mine."

"Yes."

There was no need for further words.

Garreth cradled her tenderly against his heart until she fell into a peaceful sleep. Long after she slept, he held her, amazed that she had surrendered so easily. There was still trouble between them, but tonight she had come willingly into his bed.

His lips touched her brow. "You will no longer have the nightmares. I shall keep them at bay."

She sighed in her sleep and curled tighter into his embrace.

Garreth did not attend the christening, but then Sabine had not expected it of him. Little Ryanne cried when Father Santini anointed her with water, but Thayne merely looked bored. Afterwards, Sabine felt a great weight lifted from her shoulders. At last, her children's immortal souls were not in danger. In her heart she thanked Garreth for his kindness in allowing it.

Sabine's life had settled into a familiar pattern. Garreth was away most of the day, and she was now confident enough to take over the duties as mistress of Wolfeton Keep. She was glad that her mother had trained her well. When she had doubts about anything, she followed her mother's example.

At night, Garreth would take her in his arms and she would welcome his touch. But after their bodies had been satisfied there was always a wall of silence between them. The tension was building, and uneasiness hung in the air. Something had to happen soon— they could not continue as they were for much longer.

Sabine's mornings were spent directing the housekeeping, inspecting the kitchens, and making menus for the coming week. In the afternoon she could always be found in the nursery with her children.

The weather was wonderfully pleasant as the mild days of spring held the hot days of summer at bay. Sabine was seated on the floor of the nursery, with Thayne on her lap. He laughed and gurgled at her, while tugging at a red curl. He squealed with delight when she held him above her head, singing an old French song.