La Flamme (Historical Romance) (25 page)

Adrienne was stunned by the callousness of his words. "Why do you want to hurt Sabine? She was a child when she married you. Her mother died, her father was killed, and she had to flee for her life. Have some compassion for her."

"For her as a child, I have compassion. For the woman she has become, I have none."

"You will regret it if you do not rid yourself of this hardness in your heart, Garreth."

He smiled sardonically. "I regret many things, Mother, and I'm sure if I live long enough, I'll regret many more."

*                                          *                                          *

Sabine was instructing the butler on shining the silver when Richard burst into the pantry. "He's coming, Sabine. A rider came from the village to warn us. He'll be here within minutes."

She didn't have to ask who Richard meant. "Is he alone?"

"I was told that there are two coaches and ten outriders accompanying him."

She moved out of the pantry, with Richard at her side. "I have ordered the gates to be closed and locked, Sabine. I will only admit the duke if you say so."

"Let us climb to the battlement. I will see this for myself," she said, not knowing if her heart was racing from happiness or fear. He had come for her, as she had known he would.

Remembering the raid on Woodbridge, the villagers were in a panic as a column of soldiers wearing the duke of Balmarough's livery rode swiftly through, heading for the castle.

When they reached their destination, they were met with barred gates. Richard and Sabine stood on the battlement, and Richard called down to them.

"What seek you here?"

Garreth removed his hat and looked at Richard, ignoring Sabine. "Good day to you, Lord Richard. I come to pay my respects to you, and to take my wife home."

"You have no jurisdiction here, Your Grace," Richard answered with an assurance that was unusual in one so young. Sabine had taught him well.

At last, almost reluctantly, Garreth looked to Sabine, and she saw a coldness there that made her shiver. Snowflakes were softly drifting earthward, and the whiteness was the perfect backdrop for the pale blue cape that Sabine wore.

"Madame," Garreth said stiffly. "I pray you accept my escort to Wolfeton Keep. It is there that I would have my child born."

Richard stared at Sabine, seeming much older than his years. "I will turn Garreth Blackthorn away if you don't wish to see him."

Sabine was silent for a moment. "Allow him to enter, Richard. Garreth has his rights. But you might want to ride into the village and assure the people that they have nothing to fear from these men."

Richard nodded. "If you are certain this is what you want."

Sabine looked into her brother's troubled eyes. "I am carrying my husband's child, Richard. I must do what is right for my baby."

He called down to his guard. "Open the gates to allow the duke and his men to pass through."

Richard took Sabine's arm and carefully guided her back into the castle.

The meeting she had been dreading had come at last.

28

As Garreth entered the castle, he was led down marble halls so bright that the chandeliers were reflected on the walls. He moved past tapestries that had been woven long ago. Vaguely, he noticed the display of weapons that adorned the ceiling, and the suits of armor that lined the curved walls.

Silently he followed the servant up the ornate Renaissance stairs to the second floor, where he was shown into a green and gold salon. "Her grace will be with you shortly, Your Grace. Is there anything you require?"

Garreth could tell by the man's stiff manner and the way he avoided his eyes, that he was mistrustful of him. "No, I require nothing."

After the servant had withdrawn, Garreth looked about the tastefully decorated room. Everything about it revealed the wealth of its young lord.

His attention was drawn to a portrait that hung within a large alcove. Standing beneath it, he stared at the little girl pictured there, a dull ache in his heart. The artist had deftly captured Sabine's unusual amber eyes, that even at such a young age were melancholy and sad, and seemed to be looking at him accusingly. This was the Sabine he remembered from the wedding. How could he not have recognized her in Paris? The features were exact—it was so apparent to him now that Sabine and La Flamme were the same person.

Sabine's footsteps faltered outside the door while she gathered her courage to face Garreth. Stiffening her spine, she grasped the handle in her hand and the door creaked open.

He was standing beneath her portrait and turned to watch her enter, his face an unreadable mask.

She wore a modest brown velvet gown with a wide white collar and a matronly head covering. Her only jewelry was a gold locket he had so often seen her wear. Their gazes collided, and he swept her a bow.

"So, Madame, we meet again."

She moved to the hearth and held her hands out to the fire, hoping that if Garreth noticed them trembling he would think it was because she was cold. "You come because the king commands it?"

"He has commanded me."

There was wistfulness in her voice. "Garreth, it seems destiny has once again stepped in to dictate the course of our lives."

Sabine noticed no softness in his dark eyes, no sign of the love they had shared that last night in Paris. Instead they were as cold as the wintry snow that fell past the window.

As Garreth removed his leather gloves and tossed them on a nearby chair, he glanced at her stomach. He could see a slight rounding there and it gave him a rush of pride. Then his lips twisted sardonically. "It would seem, Madame, that in your haste to avenge yourself on me, you got caught in a trap of your own making."

She met his gaze, knowing that she deserved his contempt. "So it would seem." Was he happy about the baby? It didn't appear so. His manner was distant and detached.

"I have come to escort you to Wolfeton Keep."

He had been prepared for Sabine to fight him on this, but she merely nodded.

"I will come with you. I ask only that you delay our departure for two days so that I might see Richard depart for London."

"I could never deny you anything, Sabine. I feel sure it will take you that long to pack your belongings." He dropped down in a chair and watched her for a moment, softening his manner slightly at her acceptance of his demands. "My only concern is if you are able to travel in your ... condition."

"I will not impede your progress."

"You are welcome to bring whatever servants and possessions you wish."

"You are most kind, Garreth." She attempted to hide the rush of heat that stained her cheeks because he was staring so intently at her. "As for servants, I will bring only Ysabel with me, although she is more a friend than a servant. I would wish her to be accorded the respect of my personal maid."

"As you wish."

"I brought the grays with me from France. I would like to take them with me."

"Ah, yes, the matched grays. Of course, you may bring them." He glanced toward the door. "Where is Richard—I had hoped to see him."

"He has ridden into the village to assure the people that your soldiers have not come to raid."

A muscle twitched in Garreth's jaw. "The villagers did seem to scatter into their cottages as we passed. I should have foreseen their fear and instructed my men not to wear livery. I ask your pardon for the oversight."

"It is of little consequence. They will believe Richard when he assures them that they have nothing to fear." She searched his eyes. "There is nothing to fear, is there?"

She watched fury ignite in the depths of his dark eyes and wished she could retract the words that had been spoken in anger.

"I may ever stand accused in your eyes. If you still judge me guilty, I'll put forth no defense. My good intentions and my family honor need no vindication."

Why hadn't she told him that she believed in his innocence?

Without a word, she moved to the bellpull, and a servant immediately appeared. "Please show his grace to his room, and send his valet to him." She turned to Garreth. "Be assured that your men have been properly housed. Richard and I dine at eight. You may dine with us if you like. Or ... if you would prefer, I can have a tray sent to your room."

He stared at her intensely. "You are the perfect hostess. It will be my pleasure to dine with you and your brother." He loomed over her for a moment. "I have a dilemma, Madame. By what name do I call you: La Flamme, or Sabine? I seem to have difficulty separating the two in my mind."

She stared at the carpet. "La Flamme was an illusion. I am, and always have been, myself."

He bowed stiffly. "As you will, Sabine," he said. Then he left the room.

She had held herself rigid during their conversation—now she collapsed onto a chair, her heart pounding and her mouth dry. She had made it past the first ordeal, and hopefully that had been the worst. Perhaps their meeting at supper would be less strained.

That evening, Garreth was shown into a room where the amber glow of the candles fell on the stark white marble floor. An elderly gentleman, dressed in finery that had been in vogue twenty years earlier, was conversing with Richard. They both turned their attention to Garreth.

"Your Grace," Richard said, smiling. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

Garreth walked toward the young lord, returning his smile. "That was not the impression I got when I arrived this afternoon."

"You will have to understand that I was only thinking of my sister. You would not now be here, if she had not allowed it. I pray you understand my feelings on this."

"I do, Richard. And I admire the loyalty you have for your sister."

The boy let out a relieved breath. "I am glad that you were not offended by my actions. I like you, Your Grace." He turned to the gentleman beside him. "Your Grace, may I present my uncle, Sir Simon Woodbridge?"

The elderly man looked Garreth over carefully. "I am pleased to meet you at last, Your Grace, and happy that this beastly affair is ending in a happy conclusion."

"Uncle Simon became earl in my absence, Your Grace. He was only too happy to rid himself of the title, though he will be remaining at Woodbridge to manage the estate while I am away at school."

Garreth glanced around the room, noticing Sabine had not yet come downstairs. "Very admirable of you, Sir Simon."

With a rustle of silk, Sabine swept into the room with her head high. She avoided looking at Garreth, but she could feel his presence and knew that his eyes followed her.

Richard, knowing what she was feeling, went to her, and taking her hand, led her forward. She brushed her lips against her uncle's cheek and turned to Garreth.

"I trust you have found your quarters comfortable, Garreth."

"Indeed they are."

"I believe," she said, smiling tightly, "that we can dine now."

Garreth held his arm out to her and her golden eyes flashed, reminding him momentarily of La Flamme, before she veiled her gaze and placed her hand on his arm. She walked stiffly beside him, remembering a time when she had limped and he'd been forced to slow his steps to match hers. She glanced up to find him watching her, and it was most unsettling.

Sabine wondered how she would get through this night, and how she would sit at the same table with Garreth and make polite conversation.

Silver and gold dishes adorned the dining room table, while four sober-faced servants stood at either end of the room anticipating the family's every need.

Garreth was seated, as befitting his title, on Sabine's right. Richard was at the head of the table, and his uncle on Sabine's left.

Sabine forced herself to turn to Garreth, to engage him in polite conversation. "Was your journey a pleasant one?"

"Reasonably so, considering that a snowstorm struck but a day from our destination." He raised a glass of wine to his lips and then looked at her. "You should not concern yourself about the journey to my home. I have arranged for your every comfort."

"I look forward to meeting your mother. I remember well her many kindnesses."

"Unfortunately, that will not be for a time. My mother has decided to winter in Brighton."

Sabine could not hide the disappointment in her voice. "Oh. Is it because you told her about. . . Paris?"

He lowered his voice. "I did tell her about Paris . .. with exceptions. But that is not why she decided to leave. She believes that we should be alone to become better acquainted with each other—her words, not mine."

Sabine could feel her face burn. "You must try the leg of mutton
a la braise
, Garreth. It was my mother's recipe, and quite delicious. My father always boasted that Woodbridge has the best-tasting mutton anywhere because of the sweetness of our grass."

"Why, Sabine, you're a wellspring of domesticity. Only you and I know that you also have other talents."

She could only lower her eyes, wishing the meal would end. Soon the last course had been served, and she rose, leading the way to the salon. Richard and Uncle Simon were soon bending over a chessboard, leaving Sabine to entertain her husband.

She was seated near the fire and watched as Garreth moved about the room. He was restless, pacing like a sleek cat ready to spring on its prey. At last he came to her, and she motioned for him to sit beside her.

"You are not enjoying our hospitality," she observed.

"This is not your hospitality, Sabine. Woodbridge Castle is your brother's domain—Wolfeton Keep shall be yours."

"You are right, of course," she said stiffly.

He glared at her. "I don't trust this subservient act of yours. It makes me want to watch my back."

She deliberately folded her hands demurely in her lap. "Is it not a wife's duty to obey her husband in all things?"

"God help me, but I believe I liked you better the other way."

Some of the spark was back in her eyes. "What way is that, Garreth? Did you come here expecting me to defy you? Are you disappointed that I gave in so easily?"

"I merely don't trust you."

"I take that as a compliment. I would not want you to think I was commonplace and predictable."

He stared into the fire, the licking flames reminding him of her glorious hair. "I'd like to see the man who believes he can predict what you will do."

Wanting to put an end to the evening, Sabine turned to her brother. "Richard, it's your bedtime."

"Oh, Sabine," the boy groaned, but obediently came to her. "Why must I be treated like a child?"

She smiled, clasping his hand. "At school, Richard, they will be much more strict than I. They will not allow you to sneak a book and read after you are in bed."

"Very well. It matters but little that I am lord of this domain." He bowed to Garreth. "I will wish you good night, Your Grace."

"Good night, Richard. Now that we are family, why don't you call me Garreth?"

The boy beamed. "Good night, Garreth."

Uncle Simon moved toward the door. "I'm to bed, as well. I want nothing less than a warm fire in my hearth and a warming pan at my feet."

Sabine started to rise, but Garreth reached out, placing his hand on hers. "You are feeling well?"

"Yes, of course."

"Are you"—he seemed to be struggling with his words. "Are you very unhappy?"

"If you mean about the baby, I love the life I carry within my body."

"Even if it's mine?"

She stood. "I am tired, Garreth."

He come to his feet. "Forgive me, I should have realized that. You will have to understand that I have never been exposed to a woman in your condition."

"Stay and enjoy the fire if you like," she said hurriedly. "I will instruct a servant to light your way when you are ready to retire."

He turned his back on her and walked to the window. It had stopped snowing, and a bright moonlight gave the appearance of day. "Good night, Sabine."

Everyone had wisely allowed Sabine and Richard to be alone as he prepared to board the coach that would take him to London.