The Indispensable Wife Page 15

  “When I touch you in your sleep, you hit me.”

  Aurore looked down at her hands, seeming even smaller than her tiny height. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “When you are awake, you want to hit me.” He had no idea what to say next, so he stared at her.

  She shivered but didn’t move otherwise. She wasn’t smiling, but that only meant she wasn’t showing her fake smile. He thought it might be progress.

  “I am the one who is sorry. I am sorry my difficult demeanor made someone hate me and think my lands could be taken. I am sorry we were separated so long that no one believed we would ever be together again. I was not there to defend you. Everything that has happened over the last two months has been my fault. And you are still afraid, which is also my fault.” He walked toward her slowly, holding out one hand. “How can I make it better? How can I ever expiate my sins against you?”

  She grabbed at his hand, clutching it so tightly in both of her tiny ones that he felt his bones grind.

  She let out a sob. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. You wanted an heir and I could not give one. I pushed you away. I even told you to bring me a baby. And then I wasn’t with you at court to hear the rumors early enough to quash them. I didn’t stand by you to show your enemies that you weren’t alone.”

  “No.” He scowled. “You did nothing wrong.”

  “I did. And then I ran away instead of coming to you, which confused everything even more. And now I can’t even let you touch me because I think of…of them. I am trying to push them out of my mind, but when anyone touches me or…or the door shuts too loudly…or a carriage pulls up… I didn’t tell you, but when Jean-Louis arrived, I was near panic until I saw his face. I had my dagger in my hand. Just a carriage.” Tears coursed down her sweet face.

  Instead of pulling her against him, he held out his arms and invited her in. She pressed her face against his chest and sobbed as he told her that no, none of it was her fault. When she looked up at him, it was only her hand wiping away his tears that told him he had shed them. Before the last two months, he hadn’t cried since his father died. No one had seen those tears.

  He cleared his throat, then took out a handkerchief and wiped her face. He cleared his throat again, but his voice croaked anyway. “How do we proceed, Aurore?”

  She frowned. “We retake the château and get revenge.”

  He nodded. “Yes. But how do we proceed, just the two of us, alone in a bedchamber?”

  Aurore smiled a tiny smile. “You said earlier we would undress.”

  Finally. But he tensed again. “You were afraid of me when I said that, weren’t you?”

  She looked away and shrugged.

  “Why don’t we put on our night clothes separately and sleep in the same bed?” He was resigned to lying chastely next to his wife. Forever, if necessary.

  She shrugged again.

  “Why don’t I lie still and you can touch me—” At the word touch, his heart began to beat more quickly and his arousal grew. “You can touch me however you want, and I will not grab you or hold you down or touch you in any way you do not ask for.”

  She looked solemnly into his face as if checking he was not lying. Her cheeks bloomed pink, and she took his hand again. She took a deep breath and met his eyes. “Why don’t you help me untie my bodice and my corset?”

  His heart stuttered; his entire body tensed.

  Her smile grew wide and sly, and she looked up at him from under her eyelashes. It was one of the few real smiles since he had found her. This one was more bravery than true seduction.

  It would be torture. Divine torture.

  Chapter Ten

  Near midday, Jean-Louis marched into the parlor where Dominique was sipping coffee with the rest of the gentlemen. “The Baron de Lucenay.”

  Jean-Louis’ friends exclaimed in triumph. Dominique banged his fist on the table. De Lucenay. He had always hated the baron’s son. More precisely, Albert de Lucenay had always hated him and Dom had been wary. Judging by the council meeting three days before and the slander he had thrown at Aurore, he still did.

  “No, the Baron de la Brosse, Jean-Louis. Surely you remember that,” said Jean-Louis’ father wryly from where he stood by the window.

  “Mon père, it is good to see you,” said Jean-Louis, bowing to his father, and then kissing him formally on both cheeks. Jean-Louis infused stiffness and formality into every aspect of his being, even when greeting his beloved family. Dom did the same, to keep those closest to him from seeing his soft underbelly. The baron, though, clasped his son to him as warmly as he had greeted his other sons and Dom.

  “Our messages have all crossed, it seems,” said the baron. “I arrived an hour ago to find everyone ready to come to the country.”

  Dominique had barely been able to concentrate on plans the evening before, in anticipation of his night with Aurore. And so far that morning, he had been unable to concentrate as his thoughts returned over and over to the awkward attempts he had made the night before to undress his wife without making her flinch. He sighed deeply, thinking of his wife’s touch as she ran her hand over his chest. She had brushed the red scar on his arm so gently that it had brought tears to his eyes.

  She had stopped to breathe deeply and regroup every few minutes, until finally she couldn’t keep away the evil thoughts any longer. They had fallen asleep holding hands, but she rolled away during the night and hit out when he rolled after her in his sleep.

  “Do you know de Lucenay, Dom?” asked Jean-Louis, halting in front of him.

  Dom snapped out of his reverie to find the others waiting for his reply. “His heir, Albert, is a secretary to the king’s council. He spoke against us in the council meeting with the king. We were rivals back when we both attended the king as boys. My father mentioned the baron as a Frondiste.”

  Dom’s father, the last Comte de Bures, had been a supporter of the rebellion—very nearly a civil war—between nobles who supported Louis XIV and those who wanted more autonomy and lower taxes. He had never openly declared his leanings, feeling sure the king’s supporters would win, even though Louis himself had been very young and a mere puppet of his mother and Cardinal Mazarin.

  “Ah!” said Cédric. “And so a Frondiste has sent two bastard sons to steal a loyal count’s holdings?”

  “You’re sure he is Saint-Ange’s father, then?” asked Dom, sitting up, suddenly understanding the conversation. “And Poudrain’s?”

  “I just said so,” said Jean-Louis, fixing Dom with a suspicious glare. “The Lieutenant Saint-Ange gave me names of the two others he knows of, one a monk, the other an army captain on the border with the Netherlands. There are rumors of daughters. Are you listening?”

  “He’s been mooning over his wife all morning.” Henri sneered at him across the little table that held the coffeepot.

  Dom glared back, silently daring him to say more. What happened with Aurore was so sweet and private that her family was not welcome to speculate.

  Cédric sighed aggrievedly, though with a definite twinkle in his eye. “Like honeymooners.”

  Dom’s own pain at being unable to touch his wife was interrupted by the flash of pain on Jean-Louis’s face. Jean-Louis’ honeymoon with his grasping, bitter wife had ended far too quickly when she forced him back to Paris because she was too bored to stay in the provinces with him.

  The baron squeezed Dom’s shoulder. “It is good to see, mon fils.”

  Dom smiled at the older man. Even if the others did everything for their sister, his father-in-law still treated him as a son. Even if Aurore never let him make love to her again… He sighed in frustration. The others shook their heads and smirked, still misunderstanding the reason for his sighs.

  The baron leaned down. “If you break my daughter’s heart again, I’ll be moved to shoot you myself.”

  With that pronouncement, he squeezed Dom’s shoulder again and went back to his place by the window.

  “Right,” said Jean-Louis
. “Who’s going to beg another audience with the king to tell him that not only is Dom not plotting against him, but it appears that de Lucenay and many of his sons are?”

  “I’ll go myself,” said Dominique, rising. “I will tell him yet again that I am loyal.”

  “I’ll go, too,” said Aurore from the doorway. “We have yet to see Louise de la Baume le Blanc.”

  The gentlemen rose and bowed to her, Dom narrowing his eyes. He still didn’t trust King Louis’ intentions toward his wife. She hadn’t said anything more about her conversation with the king in Mademoiselle de la Baume le Blanc’s chambers, but Dom suspected the king had flirted.

  “Really, I will try not to panic this time.” She turned and smiled at Dom, that bright, happy smile that showed the excess of life inside her. This was a real smile. He grinned back.

  “Disgusting.” Henri smirked when Dom glared at him.

  “I’ll go with you,” said the baron. “To show the whole family’s behind you.”

  “And maybe we can find more of de Lucenay’s illegitimate children. Did you get the names of the sisters?” asked Aurore. “It would be nice to know whom they’ve married, if they’re in convents, and if they wield power there.”

  “You think women would plot against the king?” Henri rolled his eyes.

  Aurore glared at her brother.

  Dom set his hand on her shoulder, the thin linen of her green frock catching on the calluses on his hand and the heat of her skin making his fingers tingle. “La Grande Mademoiselle, the king’s own cousin, stood on the battlements and locked His Highness out of Paris during the Fronde. And what child is not influenced by his mother? Or husband by his wife, if they are fond of each other?”

  Henri smirked. “And it’s the ladies who run the households, n’est-ce pas, Aurore?”

  “Well, exactly, Henri-chéri.” She patted her brother on the forearm and pinched him savagely.

  “Aïe! Aurore!” Henri glared and rubbed his arm.

  “Apologize, petite,” said the baron in bored tones.

  “Sorry, Henri-chéri,” said Aurore, unconvincingly. Dom stifled laughter.

  Aurore went up on her toes and kissed Henri on the cheek. Henri’s scowl eased, but he whispered something to her, and she glared.

  The baron sighed. “They’ve always been like that, if you’ll recall. And worse.”

  Dom nodded. “I remember.”

  “Right, Aurore. Go put on something nice,” said the baron. “Surely Cédric’s wife sent a court gown.”

  “Of course, Papa,” said Cédric.

  “A second one, so I don’t have to wear the same one as the last time. And the maid has already altered it to fit me. I won’t be but a quarter of an hour,” said Aurore.

  As she went past him again, Dom took her hand and kissed it. She blushed and kissed his cheek. He watched her go, a stupid smile on his face.

  He felt a thump on his shoulder and turned to find Cédric grinning at him. “It’s like when you were just married.”

  “No, it isn’t like that,” said Dom. He certainly wouldn’t speak of the problems in his marriage, not to anyone. He could only hope it would be like a honeymoon again someday. Soon.

  “Interesting family you have, Capitaine de Cantière,” said one of Jean-Louis’ fellow officers.

  Jean-Louis sighed. “You haven’t seen the half of it, Lieutenant.”

  Dom winced at the thought of Aurore’s mother and youngest brother.

  ****

  Mademoiselle de la Baume le Blanc was not available. The king did not have time to see them. Aurore gripped Dom’s arm more tightly and, even as her lungs constricted in mild panic, smiled at the footman who delivered the news. “Is there a councilor we could speak with? Some of our messages have not been getting through, and we believe there is someone intercepting them.”

  The footman’s nostrils flared slightly. “Impossible.”

  Dom looked down his nose at the young man. “We are not calling your honor into question. Someone tried to kill me and held my comtesse hostage. After such brutality, surely you can understand that there are those who would not be beyond stealing a few letters?”

  The footman’s eyebrows shot up.

  Aurore chuckled. “Yes, we’re that comte and comtesse. We’re very lucky to be alive, but we would like to regain the king’s favor and our lands. Could you find someone we can trust, please?”

  Several minutes later, as Aurore could hardly contain her impatience for a moment longer, a man cleared his throat.

  She spun around, trying to pretend she had been surprised and not panicked.

  “Son Altesse himself has sent me to you.” This was a mere secretary, and they had only his word for it that he would tell the king everything, but he took notes and said he would look into the link with the Baron de Lucenay. “Though with his son my superior, I suppose I should—” He stopped at the fury in Dom’s expression.

  Aurore squeezed Dom’s arm to keep him from making it worse. “We are asking for an investigation into Albert de Lucenay’s activities. It hardly seems practical to have him investigate himself.”

  The secretary rushed to assure her that he would take the information directly to the king.

  When he had bowed himself into the back halls of the palace, Aurore turned to Dom. “He’s going to warn Albert de Lucenay, who will warn his father and send a runner to his brothers.”

  Dom nodded. “The bastards are surely already warned that we are coming. They will have found out the morning after our hearing. I doubt that anyone will stop de Lucenay and his son from fleeing.”

  Aurore frowned. It was generally easier on the court as a whole when nobles went into exile rather than being put on trial and all their acquaintances questioned. “But we still do not know who tried to kill you.”

  Dom pulled her closer. “We will capture the bastards in our château. They will know who shot at me. We will never be able to stop everyone, but if we arrest the bastards who attacked you, I will be satisfied.”

  Aurore shook her head. “I won’t be, not until they all are in prison. How can I keep you safe if your attacker is still at large?”

  Dom sighed. Aurore could argue until his head spun about who should protect whom, and he would still say she was wrong and keep marching straight forward. There was no way she could stay away when they retook the château. Not only for her own injuries did she crave revenge, but for the way Dom had almost died and the bastards had gloated.

  ****

  The journey to her father’s estate was, for Aurore, layered with nerves about the coming attack and nerves about seeing her mother again. Her father had confirmed that Maman was still in the country and planned to stay until the situation was resolved.

  Her father’s guilt over fathering Michel and falsely accusing his wife of adultery were all that had made him hand Emmanuel over. Poor Manu was growing up as suspicious and bitter as their mother.

  Her mother hated Aurore more than anyone else in the family, though the baronesse hoped to turn them all against their father. She always had. Perhaps her mother had been harshest with Aurore because she thought a girl should stay with her mother. A rush of love flooded Aurore’s heart for her father, who had fought to keep her and who had loved her unabashedly.

  Aurore also had a pleasant sort of nerves from Dominique riding with her in the carriage while her brothers took turns sitting across from them and ignoring how Dom smiled seductively and whispered into Aurore’s ear. Her brothers apparently teased Dom unceasingly when she was out of earshot, especially after they retired to their room in the inn after barely touching their supper. Her family would never know that the two of them only kissed, then fell asleep holding hands.

  But some of these nerves were because Dom did not want her to go to the château with them. He hinted again a few times, especially when Jean-Marie or Michel was with them. The two of them would grumble at her, and she would tell them that they had no authority over her. Late on the second day
, Dom picked a moment when it was just the two of them in the carriage to suddenly turn serious. “You shall stay with Cédric’s family, of course. You and Sandrine can give each other comfort as you wait.”

  This was the Dominique she knew: direct and bossy.

  She shook her head and batted her eyelashes at him. “I know I’ll be perfectly safe with you. And I’ll stay far from the fighting, of course. Oh, please, chéri, let’s not argue about this.”

  His frown turned fiercer. “Yes, you will stay far away from the fighting; you will stay at your father’s house under heavy guard.”

  Her heart sank. Betrayed. He had tried to dissuade her before, but he had not yet resorted to a direct order. She squeezed her lips together, forcing herself to think before speaking. “I will stay in the village under heavy guard. I will be safe in either place, n’est-ce pas? And besides, Michel has taught me to defend myself with a dagger. I carry it with me at all times now.” She had always wanted to be able to defend herself, but no one would teach her anything until she became a comtesse and could order them around. Finally, she had talked Petit le Grand, the captain of the guards, into teaching her to shoot with a small crossbow. She had been terrible at it; the recoil made her jump, and she didn’t have time to practice.

  But Dom shook his head, scowling. “You will do as I say. Your brothers and I will retake the château without you in the way. My château and my honor will be restored.”

  Aurore’s cheeks burned, and there was a rushing in her ears as anger built inside her. She held her mouth still for as long as she could, which was no more than a few seconds.

  “I will not do as you say. What right do you truly have to tell me that it is your château? I have lived there almost without interruption for five years. Because of you, I have barely spent time at court at all, and I’m the one who is good at making allies. If anything, when you cheated on me and left me pregnant and alone over and over again, you should have stayed at your precious château and I could have been at court. I could have had the best doctors watching over me and perhaps I wouldn’t have miscarried. Instead, I was trapped in your château, living the simple life, while you traveled from palace to palace with the king, even though you are useless when it comes to politics and intrigue and knowing whom to befriend.”