When Strangers Marry (26 page)

She began to climb down from the attic through a square opening framed with beams, to a ladder propped against the wall below. Justin cautioned her to mind her balance, as it was a long distance to the cypress floor below. “Careful,” he èaid, watching her descend the first few steps. “There used to be a railing, but it was broken.”

“Why doesn’t someone fix it?”

“Because no one ever comes up here.”

Lysette made no reply as she concentrated on placing her feet securely. Suddenly the silence was broken by a startling shout.

“
What are you doing up there
?”

Her entire body jumped at the unexpected noise. Terrified, Lysette felt herself lose her balance and sway backward. With a sharp cry. she reached out frantically to save herself, but her fingers clutched empty air. Swiftly Justin leaned over the attic open ing and grabbed for her, crushing her wrist in a bru tal grip. She gasped as she felt herself dangling in midaii, suspended only by Justin’s hand wrapped around her arm.

Glancing downward, she saw a man with dark hair below them. “M-Max!”

But it wasn’t Max. It was Bernard, who repeated his furious shout.

Lysette reached for Justin’s arm with her free hand. “I have you,” the boy said roughly. “You’re not going to fall. Can you reach the ladder with your feet?”

She strained, but could not touch it.

“Uncle Bernard…help…” Justin gasped, but a searing pain in his side prevented him from speaking further.

Bernard was strangely slow to move.

Lysette felt the grip around her arm slip a little. “Justin!”

“I’ll help,” Bernard murmured, moving beneath Lysette.

However, Justin had used every ounce of his remaining strength to pull Lysette up to the opening of the attic. Her stomach slammed against the exposed beam, and she lost her breath. Justin kept pulling until she was halfway across his lap. She lay without moving while Justin pried her fingers away from his trembling arm and dragged his sleeve across his face. He blinked rapidly and shook his head, as if he couldn’t quite focus properly.

Bernard appeared at the top of the steps. His face was dark with rage. “You could have waited for me to assist you.”

Justin moistened his lips and spoke with an effort, his young face gray with pain. “You
wanted
her to fall, Bernard.”

“What kind of insane accusation is that? I was coming to help!”

“You took your damned time about it,” Justin said hoarsely.

“Explain what you two were doing up there,” Bernard demanded.

Ignoring him, Justin bent over Lysette and urged her to sit upright. Dazed, she held her stomach and
breathed deeply. “Justin,” she said, realizing what he had done, “are you hurt? Your wound—is it bleeding?”

He shook his head impatiently.

“You were searching through Corinne’s belongings, weren’t you?” Bernard shouted. “You have no right to do such a thing. I forbid it!”

Justin began to retort hotly, but Lysette silenced him with a touch on his shoulder. She stared coldly at Bernard.

“You
forbid
?” she repeated. “I was not aware, Bernard, that you were in a position to forbid me anything.”

“Or me!” Justin added, unable to keep quiet.

“It’s not decent,” Bernard said savagely. “Pawing through her possessions just to satisfy your petty jealousies, prying and staring. By God, I hope she curses you from the grave!”

His words lashed through the silence. Until now Lysette had never seen evidence of Bernard’s temper. She found it curious that his wrath had been aroused on behalf of his dead sister-in-law.

She kept her voice very soft. “Why are you so upset, Bernard?”

He ignored the question. “I’m going to tell Max about what you’ve done as soon as he arrives home. By the time I’m through, he’ll beat you—as he should have a long time ago.”

“We’ll see,” Lysette said. “Now please leave so Justin and I may descend without further mishap.”

Bernard’s face purpled, and he went down the steps. Unfortunately, Justin’s temper was still smoldering,
and he leaned over the edge of the stairwell to call after Bernard.

“Who appointed you guardian over her belongings, Uncle? She was
my
mother. What was she to you?”

Bernard swung around as if he had been struck, looking up at Justin with a flash of pure hatred. Uncomprehending, Justin stared at his uncle, his blue eyes bewildered.

Had Lysette wanted, she could have been the first to rush to Max when he arrived, to tell him her side of the story before Bernard or Irénée spoke to him. She chose not to. Opening the bedchamber door, she looked down as Max came into the entrance hall. Immediately Bernard and Irénée beseiged him, one angry, the other merely concerned, while Max stared at them both in dumbfounded silence. It was impossible for Lysette to hear what they said, but the tone of their complaints was clear.

Sighing, Lysette closed the door. She went to the large chair by the hearth and rubbed her temples to soothe a throbbing ache. Several minutes passed, but she did not move until she heard Max come into the room.

“
Bon soir
,” she murmured with a weary smile, knowing that he was undoubtedly furious with her. But she was too tired to argue, or win him over, or try any of her usual tactics to divert him. “Tell me right away,
mon mari
…how much trouble am I in?”

M
ax’s gaze swept over her, and his stern face softened as he crossed the room. Lysette gave a sigh of relief as he gathered her in his arms. The tightness in her chest eased. The familiar scent of him was soothing and pleasant, and the strength of his body elicited a shiver of comfort from the very marrow of her bones.

His lips brushed over hers, and he sat down in the chair, pulling her onto his lap. “Madame, would you care to tell me what happened today?”

Lysette snuggled against his chest. “I did not expect one little visit to the attic to stir up such trouble. Besides, you’ve told me before that I may do whatever I please in this house.”

“Of course you may.”

“Justin was with me.”

“Yes, I heard.”

“All we did was open a few boxes and trunks.”

His warm hand moved over her back in an idle pattern. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I wasn’t looking for anything. I was just
looking
. And Bernard behaved very strangely, Max.” Lifting her head from his shoulder, she gazed at him earnestly. “From the way he behaved, one would think that Corinne had been
his
wife. He was absolutely furious.”

“I understand. Bernard can be high-handed at times.”

“This was more than high-handed!”

“Let me explain my brother to you,
petite
,” Max said gently. “You’ve always known him to keep his emotions to himself. But occasionally they do surface, and when that happens they do so with an explosion. Today Bernard had a rare burst of temper. Tomorrow he’ll be his usual glum self.
C’est ça
. He’s always been like that.”

“But when he spoke about Corinne—”

“Her death, and the circumstances surrounding it, affected us all. I’m certain Bernard has done his share of wondering what happened to Corinne, and whether he could have done something to prevent it. Perhaps that is why he is so protective of her possessions now.”

Lysette pondered his explanation. In that light, the episode seemed far more reasonable than it had this afternoon. But there was a question in her mind that refused to go away, and she had to ask it, even at the risk of making him angry.

“Max, are you certain that Bernard’s feelings for
Corinne were not something more than brotherly affection? Whenever Corinne’s name is mentioned, he reacts in what I consider to be an odd manner. This afternoon wasn’t the first time he and I have exchanged words about her. After I went to the old overseer’s cottage—you remember that day?—he told me not to pry into the past anymore, or it would come back to ruin me.”

Max was still, but she sensed a new tension in his limbs. “Why didn’t you tell me about that before?”

“I didn’t know you well enough,” Lysette replied in a subdued tone. “I was afraid it would upset you.” She peered into his face, trying to read his thoughts. “You haven’t answered my question about his feelings for Corinne.”

“As far as I know, there is only one woman Bernard has ever loved. Ryla Curran, the daughter of an American who settled his family in New Orleans after years of running a flatboat up and down the river. The match was an impossible one…she was from a Protestant family. But eventually they had an affair, and she became pregnant with his child. She disappeared without a word to her friends or family about where she was going. Bernard has searched for years, but he has never been able to find her.”

“When did all of this happen?”

“At the same time Corinne was murdered. No, there was nothing between Bernard and Corinne. He was completely involved with this girl. Losing her affected him so deeply that he had never wanted to marry anyone else.”

“I didn’t know.” Lysette actually found herself feeling sorry for Bernard. “
Bien-aimé
,” she said tentatively, reaching up to stroke his bristled cheek, “are you unhappy about what I did this afternoon?”

He rubbed his cheek against her soft palm. “Actually, I was expecting it, my curious little cat.”

“I saw Corinne’s portrait,” she said soberly. “She was very beautiful.”

“Yes.” He brushed a wisp of hair off her forehead. “But she didn’t have hair the color of a sunset.” His thumb glided over her lips. “Or a mouth I wanted to kiss every time I saw it.” His lips moved to her ear. “She certainly didn’t have a smile that stopped my heart.”

Lysette’s eyes half closed, and she shifted closer to him. As she slid her arms around his neck, her wrist bumped against the back of the chair. She winced at the unexpected pain.

Max looked at her sharply. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Lysette groaned inwardly as she realized that the sight of her bruised wrist was going to bring up more questions about today, when she was now willing to forget the entire matter.

Ignoring her protests, Max unwrapped her arms from around his neck, his gaze raking over her. “Why did you flinch like that?”

“It’s only a little—”

He drew in his breath sharply at the sight of her swollen, discolored wrist. Black finger marks showed against her pale skin. Suddenly there was
a look in his eyes that made her uneasy. “What happened?”

“Just a little accident. I was coming down from the attic—the steps are so narrow, and there is no railing—and I lost my balance. Justin was quick enough to catch my wrist and pull me back. Everything is fine now. In a day or two my wrist will be perfectly—”

“Did this happen before or after Bernard appeared?”

“Er…during, actually. Bernard shouted and startled me, and that was when I fell.” Lysette did not tell him how slow his brother had been to offer help. Her perception of things might have been more than a little awry. And Bernard had probably been too stunned to move. Some people were quick to act in such situations, like Justin, while others froze.

“Why didn’t Bernard mention it to me?”

“I have no idea.”

He lifted her out of his lap and set her on her feet.

“What are you doing?” she asked warily.

“I’m going to get an explanation out of him.”

“There’s no need.” She tried in vain to make peace, reluctant to cause further trouble between the brothers. “It is all over now, and I—”

“Hush.” Gently he took her arm, holding it in order to inspect her wrist. He uttered a curse that made her ears burn. “I want you to go to Noeline. She has a salve for bruises.”

“But it is nasty,” she protested. “I was there once
when she was putting it on Justin. The smell of it made me ill.”

“Go to her
now
. Or I’ll see that you do later.” He paused meaningfully. “Believe me, you would prefer to do it now.”

A few minutes later Lysette sat glumly in the kitchen with Noeline, focusing her attention on the kettles bubbling merrily in the fireplace while the housekeeper tended to her wrist. A housemaid stood at the huge wooden table, cleaning the iron chandelier. Deftly Noeline smeared the mustard-green salve on Lysette’s arm. The noxious odor caused Lysette to jerk her head back. “How long must I keep this on?” she asked in disgust.

“Until tomorrow.” Noeline smiled a little. “You’re not going to make babies with monsieur tonight, I think.”

Lysette raised her eyes heavenward. “
Bon Dieu
, I’ll be fortunate if he ever comes near me again!”

Justin appeared at the doorway of the kitchen. Keeping his hands in his pockets, he wandered over to them. “What is that smell?” he asked, and clutched his throat, pretending to gag.

Silently Lysette vowed to wash her wrist as soon as she escaped from Noeline.

Justin grinned at her consolingly. “It smells like the devil,
sans doute
. But it does work,
Belle-mère
.”

“He knows for certain,” Noeline said, wrapping a length of cloth around the arm.

“I know what you put in your salve, Noeline,” Justin said. He squatted on his haunches and murmured
confidentially to Lysette, “Snakes’ tongues, bats’ blood, toad hairs…”

Lysette scowled at his teasing. “Why don’t you go find Philippe? He can help you with some of the Latin lessons you’ve missed.”

Justin grinned. “There is no need to bring Latin into this. I will leave. But…” He glanced at her bandage. He was silent, as if he wanted to say something but was uncertain of the right words. Raking his hand through his black hair until it stood on end, he looked at the floor, the ceiling, and then his gaze met hers.

“What is it?” Lysette murmured, surprised by his sudden shyness.

Noeline went to check one of the pots over the fire.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,
belle-mère
,” Justin muttered, gesturing to her wrist. “I’m sorry.”

“You helped me, Justin,” Lysette said gently. “I am very grateful for what you did. I might have been badly injured otherwise.”

Seeming relieved, Justin stood and dusted his breeches unnecessarily. “Did you tell Father what happened?”

“About your saving me from falling? Yes, I—”

“No, about Uncle Bernard, and how strange he was this afternoon.”

“
Oui
.” Lysette smiled wryly. “Your father seemed to think it was not unusual. He told me your uncle has always been a bit peculiar.”

“
Bien sûr
, that’s true enough.” Justin shrugged. “I’ll go now.”

Lysette watched him as he left, thinking that the boy had changed since the duel and his confrontation with Max. He was friendlier, less sullen, as if his dark nature had been tempered by new understanding. Noeline sat down beside her again, shaking her head with a smile. “That boy was born for trouble.”

“And what is their complaint?” Bernard asked, looking wounded and upset. “That I did not move quickly enough? I was startled, Max. By the time I recovered my wits, Justin had already pulled her to safety!”

Max’s frown did not ease. “Your manner seems to have been rather belligerent. Why is that?”

Bernard hung his head with an ashamed expression. “I didn’t intend to lose my temper, but all I could think of was how it would upset you, knowing they had been combing through relics of the past. You’re my brother, Max. I don’t want you to be troubled with reminders of that horrible time. I tried to tell them that it was better to let things be. I suppose I expressed myself far too strongly.”

“Corinne was Justin’s mother,” Max said. “He has a right to look through her belongings anytime he wishes.”

“Yes, of course,” Bernard replied contritely. “But Lysette—”

“Lysette is my concern. The next time you object to something she does, take the matter up with me. Bear in mind that she is the mistress of this house, and more of a wife to me than Corinne ever was
And…” Max paused to give his next words emphasis, staring hard at his brother. “If you ever raise your voice to my wife again…you’ll take up residence somewhere else.”

Bernard’s cheeks flushed with suppressed emotion, but he managed to nod.

Early in the morning, Max strode down the long curved staircase, having been sent out of the bedroom with Lysette’s adamant refusal to ride around the plantation with him. After the previous night’s vigorous lovemaking, she had decided that it would be too uncomfortable for her to manage the highspirited Arabian he had recently purchased for her.

As he headed to the front door, his attention was caught by the sound of a groan from one of the double parlors. Investigating the sound, he saw Alexandre’s long body stretched out on the parlor settee, one booted foot braced on the gilded rococo arm, the other resting on the floor. His hair was wild, his face unshaven, and his clothes were disheveled. There was a sour alcoholic smell in the air.

“What a pretty sight,” Max remarked sardonically. “A Vallerand after a night of self-indulgence.” He jerked the drapes away from the windows, letting in a flood of brilliant sunshine.

Alex groaned as if he had just been stabbed. “Oh, you evil bastard.”

“Fourth night this week?” Max said casually. “Even for you, that is an excess.”

Alex tried to burrow into the settee, like a wounded animal seeking refuge. “Go to hell.”

“Not until I find out what is bothering you. At this rate you’ll kill yourself by the end of the week.”

Alex made a smacking noise and caught the scent of his own breath. His face crumpled in disgust. He squinted at Max and raised an unsteady finger to point at him. “You…” he said heavily, “tipped your wife this morning, didn’t you?”

Max smiled pleasantly.

“I can always tell by the disgusting smirk on your face. Tell me…married life suit you? Good. Too bad you ruined it for the rest of us.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t look at me like that. Did you ever think
I
might like to have a wife…a woman to cover whenever
I
felt like it…maybe even have children someday?”

“Why don’t you?”

“
Why?
” Alex wobbled to a sitting position, holding his head as if he feared it would topple from his shoulders. “After you ruined the Vallerand name, do you think a decent family would give their daughter to a brother of yours? All fine and good for you now…you’ve got Lysette…but me…”

“Alex,
tais-toi
,” Max said, his amusement replaced by compassion. He sat in a nearby chair. “Hush.” He had never seen his youngest brother so miserable. “I should wait until you’re sober before attempting this, but we’re going to try talking about it anyway.”

“All right,” Alexandre said gamely.

“Now, this is about Henriette Clement, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re in love with her? You desire permission to court her?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t believe her father will give his consent?”

“I
know
he won’t. I’ve already tried.”

Max frowned. “You’ve asked for Clement’s leave to court Henriette, and he refused?”

“Yes!” Alexandre began to nod, and stopped with a wince. “And she loves me…I think.”

Leaning forward, Max spoke slowly. “I will take care of it. For your part, I want you to—Alexandre, are you listening? Stay here and rest today. And tonight. No more drinking, do you understand?”

“No more,” Alex repeated obediently.