Forever His (39 page)

He lowered his cheek to hers, the scratchy silk of his beard rough against her skin. “Because I want so badly to make love to you?” he murmured.

A rain of heat melted through her. “Because I don’t want to torment you ... or me.”

He made a hungry sound that she could feel vibrating through his chest. “I fear we shall need to take our escorts with us when we leave for Paris. It would look suspicious if I asked them to stay behind.”

Her breath caught as he sneaked a nibble at her earlobe. “Yes.”

 “Yes, it would look suspicious? Or yes to this?” His tongue teased the sensitive skin behind her ear.

“I can’t th-think when you’re doing that.”

“I cannot think at all. Except of how to steal a moment alone with you.” He nipped her neck, wringing a little moan from her. “I have tried to devise some excuse to send our loyal shadows away for even a quarter hour. It is all I think of. Us together. You all soft and hot and open beneath me.”

“
Gaston
,” she pleaded.

“Aye, like that. The way you say my name like that. When I sink into you so deep ... so hard ...” He punctuated each word with a flick of his tongue in her ear. “And you turn into sweet honey all around me.”

His hand shifted upward slightly, his thumb caressing the underside of her breast through the velvet of her gown. Her heart was pounding.

“Etienne is right behind us,” she whispered in warning.

“Hmm. Mayhap the solution lies in a few alterations to your gown,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “A secret opening in the skirt, and I could shift you just so ...”

A tremor shuddered through her as he moved her more tightly against him. Breathless, she gripped his arm, able to feel exactly how aroused he was.

“And mayhap another opening, in the front.” His hand slid downward.

“And buttons,” she added, shivering. “I think it’s time to introduce the idea of a buttoned opening on men’s pants.”

“An excellent suggestion. You can make a new pair of leggings for me as soon as we arrive at my chateau.”

She giggled nervously, realizing that he had gone from kidding to serious about this. He wanted to make love to her on horseback. Out in the open. “Gaston, this is crazy. We’d never get away with it. They’d
see
us.”

“Pharaon’s gait will conceal our movement,” he assured her, kissing the curve of her jaw. “The only difficulty I foresee is in silencing the sweet music you make, wife, when I am inside you. How shall we accomplish that?”

She bit her lip, moaning softly, barely able to believe the outrageous suggestion he was making, or the reckless excitement rushing through her. “I don’t think we can. I can’t hold back what I feel for you. Not when you’re ...”

“Joined to you, so fully that we are one?”

“Yes. Yes, when you make me feel so complete and whole and ... perfect.”

He groaned. “My sweet Celine, I am going to make love to you,” he promised hoarsely. “By this time on the morrow, we shall invent a new way of riding. I mean to make you feel perfect until you faint with it.”

She made a small, hungry sound, holding tight to him as he pressed her close. Glittering needles of arousal and anticipation showered through her, making heat curl in her belly.

“But until then ...” He chuckled dryly and straightened, loosening his steely grip just slightly. “Mayhap you should tell me more of your time. It seems to make an excellent distraction.”

She had to wait for her heart to slow down a bit before she could catch her breath enough to talk. “Have I told you about telephones yet?”

“Aye, you did mention them. The devices that enable one to speak and be heard across great distances. And you spoke of the lights that burn without flame. And the cities, with their gray buildings stretching into the sky without a blade of grass to be seen. And the fact that ale is stored not in wooden casks but in small round metal objects called ‘cans.’ ”

Celine laughed. Even without looking, she could tell he was making a face. “You make it all sound so awful. Actually, we’ve made a lot of advances. There’s education and medical care. And people are free to live as they choose in most countries, whether they were born noble or not. Everyone has an equal say in how things are run. And people live a long time, some a hundred years or more—”

“And there are few kings. And no knights. And everyone works hard because they wish to buy many things, but homes are so stuffed with these things that some pay to have the excess stored elsewhere. And knaves steal goods, and kill, and bring terror to your cities and go unpunished. And your people so abuse the land that in some places the air is unfit to breathe and the water unfit to drink. The more you tell me of your century, the less I find to recommend it.”

“You liked the idea of cars.”

“Aye, the carts that race without horses. That I would like to see.”

“If we had one now—”

“Is it possible to make love in a ‘car’?”

Celine groaned. So much for distracting him. “Yes, actually, it is.”

He nodded in understanding. “Then I can see why men invented such a conveyance.”

“
Men
aren’t the only ones who invent things. In my time, men and women are considered equal. Women go where they want, and do what they want, without having to ask permission from husbands or fathers or brothers.”

“Even in France?” he asked incredulously.

“Even in France.”

“On the whole, I do not like the sound of the future.”

Celine grinned. He was incorrigible. And perhaps she liked him best that way. Persuading him that the twentieth century was a better place was a lost cause.

She didn’t know why she kept trying.

“If there are no knights in your time,” he asked curiously, “who keeps the peace? Who administers the laws?”

“We have people called lawyers and judges who administer the laws. But the police are the ones who keep the peace. They have special cars, and uniforms, and ...” Her smile faded. “Guns.”

Gaston’s arm flexed around her waist. “That is the sort of weapon that injured you?”

“Yes.”

He was silent for a moment. “How did it happen?”

She hadn’t told him about that night, not in detail. She had repeated the story so many times to so many cops and lawyers and reporters that she had done her best to put it out of her mind ever since. But somehow, with Gaston holding her so close, she wanted to talk about it. She felt safe talking about it. For the first time. “I was in Lincoln Park—it’s a place with trees and grass in the city, in Chicago. I went there with my fiancé—”

“You are
betrothed?
” Gaston stiffened so suddenly that Pharaon jerked to a stop.

“No, not anymore. We ... he broke it off. After what happened.”

Gaston relaxed and nudged his stallion forward. “If he deserted you when you were injured, he was a cur and you were better off without him.”

Celine’s smile returned at that completely unbiased opinion. “His name was Lee. Leland Dawber III.” She was surprised and pleased to discover that she could speak his name without hurt or regret or embarrassment. “And I think ‘cur’ is a pretty good description. Anyway, we went to the park because I wanted to celebrate New Year’s Eve by making snow angels. That’s, uh, something children do. You lie down in the snow and move your arms and legs and make it look like an angel.”

“Children?” He chuckled, dropping a kiss on the nape of her neck. “It sounds to me like something you would do. I have always found you most charming stretched out in the snow.”

“Yes, well ...” She shivered at his kiss and the memory of the fiery encounter he was referring to. “Lee proposed to me that night. And I accepted.” It was hard to believe now, that she could have ever thought herself in love with a man like Lee. “But when we got back to his car, there was a gang of teenagers, and they—”

“Teenagers?”

“Oh, sorry. Teenagers are young people, around Etienne’s age. These boys had guns, and they wanted to steal Lee’s car.”

“And where were these guardsmen—these ‘police’ who are supposed to keep order?”

“Well, unfortunately, they’re not always there when you need them. Lee should have just given up the stupid car, but instead he argued with them. There was a scuffle—a skirmish, you might call it—and one of them fired his gun. But he missed Lee and hit me instead.”

“And this weapon, this ‘gun’ ” —Gaston’s voice took on a rough edge—“could have killed you?”

“It almost did. I spent weeks in the hospital, having surgeries. There was one bullet fragment they couldn’t get, so tiny I can’t even feel it. The doctors—physicians—thought it best to leave it in place. They said it would probably never bother me. But less than a year later, it started to shift. They told me it was getting too close to an artery—those are the largest veins in the body, the ones that carry the most blood. They said if I didn’t have it removed ... it would kill me.”

Gaston’s hand shifted from her waist to her back, touching the spot where the scar was concealed beneath her gown. “And they will be able to save you, these physicians of your time?”

“Yes. The twentieth century might not be better in every way, but our level of medical knowledge and skill is a definite improvement.”

He made a sound in his throat that might have been assent, or worry. “And this ‘bullet’—does it cause you pain?”

“No, I’ve been fine. I had a few twinges right after we got to Avril’s, but they went away.”

He was silent for a time. Then he wrapped his arm around her waist again, and pulled her closer than ever, tucking her head beneath his chin. “I do not like the idea of sending you home to this century of yours, where there are such dangers and no knights.”

She blinked back a sudden hot rush of tears at the softness in his voice. “But we both know that I’ve got to go home, Gaston,” she whispered. “We can pretend all we want. We can avoid the subject as long as we want, but we both know what I have to do.”

He didn’t reply. She leaned into him, closing her eyes, and they rode in silence. Was this what the rest of her life was going to feel like? Celine wondered, swallowing hard. This ache of loneliness and loss and helpless desire, this longing for a love like none she would ever feel again?

The minutes stretched into an hour, time ground to dust beneath the steady rhythm of Pharaon’s hooves.

She was almost dozing when a flight of birds suddenly burst out of the trees ahead of them, an eruption of beating wings and shrill cries. Gaston yanked his stallion to a halt, a spray of pebbles and dust scattering across the path. Celine had to grab Pharaon’s mane and Gaston’s arm to keep her balance. “What—”

He clamped a hand over her mouth, his entire body taut and still. Etienne reined in beside them, his expression grim, his crossbow already in his hand. Gaston drew his sword.

Celine’s heart jolted. What was wrong? What could possibly
be
wrong? They were almost to Gaston’s castle. The birds were just startled. They—

Remy’s voice sounded ahead, shouting a high-pitched cry of alarm.

Which was suddenly cut short.

Gaston burst into action. Celine found herself lifted to the ground before she even knew what was happening.

“Guard her with your life, Etienne,” Gaston ordered in a harsh whisper. He cut the bundle from his saddle, the one containing her purse, and tossed it to her as he pinned his squire with an intense gaze. “Do you hear me, lad? With your
life!
Run!”

“Gaston!” Celine caught the bundle, but she never had a chance to question him or call out more than his name before he wheeled his horse and galloped off in Remy’s direction. Etienne vaulted from the saddle, holding his crossbow in one hand, grabbing Celine’s arm with the other.

“Etienne, no!” Celine struggled. “We can’t just let him ride off alone like that!”

“Milady,” he hissed, “this is for your own good—”

“I don’t
care
about my own good. He’s—”

“Shh!” Keeping a firm grip on her arm, he smacked the horses—his stallion and the little plow horse—sending them galloping back down the path the way they had come. Then he darted into the trees at a dead run, tugging her behind. Celine didn’t have any choice but to race with him into the shadows, her mouth dry, her heart hammering.

She didn’t understand at first why they were fleeing on foot. Then she realized that any pursuers would follow the horses first before they thought to search the woods. The trick might buy them time. She stumbled as she tried to keep up with Etienne’s agile stride. He still held the crossbow in his hand.

Behind them, she heard the sound of riders pounding down the path, right where they had stood seconds ago.

They ran until the trees were nothing but a blur and every gasp of air hurt her lungs. Finally Etienne stopped and pulled her behind a thicket. They crouched there, both breathing hard. Celine was shaking, her pulse pounding. What had happened to Gaston?

“Rest a moment, milady,” Etienne whispered. “Then we must keep—”

“Christiane?”

The angry male voice was a thin, distant sound that came from the direction of the road.

Tourelle’s voice.

Celine almost leaped to her feet in panic, but Etienne yanked her back down beside him.

“Nay—if we break cover now, we might be seen,” he whispered. “Wait until he moves on.”

“Christiane!” Tourelle shouted again, the name carrying eerily through the trees as he rode slowly along the path. “Do not vex me further by hiding! Show yourself. Your husband is not yet dead, but he will be if you do not come out.
Now.
”

Etienne fastened a hand over her mouth to stifle her cry and locked an arm around her waist to hold her still. She struggled against his grip.

“Milady, nay,” he hissed in her ear. “It is a ruse.”

Trembling, she forced herself to stop fighting him. Logic told her she couldn’t do Gaston any good by obeying Tourelle’s demand, but not knowing what had happened made her want to scream.
Where was he? What had they done to him? Was he hurt?

Tourelle was getting closer. She could hear the steady clop of his horse’s hooves on the dirt road now, and his voice, louder, icy with fury.