Claimed By Chaos

by Abigail Graves

  Chapter 9

  After a day in a coach with Giselle, Alastair was still unable to make sense of her. She slept through most of the trip, waking only when they stopped to rest the horses and eat. Her ability to consume food rivaled Mirabelle's. During the meal she was evasive, still referring his questions to Gilles. Despite analyzing her every feature, comment and behavior, Alastair knew nothing more than what Gilles had told him.

  Her ability to nod off quickly, to sleep while traveling, the way she ate and her willingness to follow Gilles’ directions without question put him in mind of a soldier. He felt his brow furrow. He couldn’t think of anything more ridiculous or unlikely.

  The coach turned and Alastair leaned toward the window. They were within sight of the drive. He tapped Giselle’s shoulder and she sat up straight and alert. He narrowed his eyes. Like she's ready for battle. He thought.

  “Winthorpe.” He gestured out the window. Giselle leaned and gasped as she looked out.

  “It's lovely! Look, I see them! There's Gilles!” She turned and Alastair felt his chest tighten. Her eyes watered and she was clearly overcome. “That must be Lucien and Mirabelle!” She touched his knee in excitement and he stared at her hand. “They're beautiful!” Her restlessness and anticipation filled the cabin as she all but pressed her face to the glass, trying to see everything. Alastair looked out and saw Gilles pacing nervously.

  As soon as the footman pulled the door open, Giselle sprang out and ran for him.

  “Gilles!” She cried as she jumped into his arms. He wrapped her in his embrace and was rocking her as tears ran down his face.

  Alastair felt ashamed at how tense he’d become. Gilles was trying to regain his composure but his chest heaved and his jaw twitched. Mirabelle and Lucien looked at Alastair, their faces identical in their confusion. Alastair shrugged and waited. Giselle was laughing but it sounded watery and hysterical. Finally, Gilles set her down and cradled her face in his hands.

  “How, Giselle?” His eyes searched hers. “I saw you die! By the time I got there, you were gone!” His voice was hoarse and his breathing was ragged. Mirabelle gasped and her hands flew to her mouth. Lucien’s head snapped toward Alastair, his expression darkened.

  “You were there?” Giselle whispered. Gilles swallowed and nodded.

  “I was too far away. I couldn't get there in time, I'm so sorry!” He whispered. Her face softened.

  “I didn't know! You must have been so worried.” She threw her arms around his neck and Alastair stifled his jealousy again.

  “Worried?” Gilles laughed. “You have no idea, mon petite!” He set her away from him and turned her toward Lucien. “Giselle, this is His Grace, The Duke of Clerendon.” She sank into a low curtsy as he bowed over her hand. “Lucien, Lady Giselle St. Claire.”

  “Welcome to Winthorpe, my lady. Please, call me Lucien.” He said as she smiled in delight and nodded.

  “Then you must call me Giselle!” She turned to Mirabelle. “Mirabelle! I have heard so much about you!” Giselle squealed as she threw her arms around her. Mirabelle's eyes were wide with surprise but she laughed and returned the embrace.

  “I haven't heard very much about you but I have a feeling we’re going to be great friends!” Mirabelle said as Giselle stepped back.

  Gilles was no longer emotional, his demeanor had become serious. He looked down at Giselle sternly.

  “We need to talk.” He stared down at her and she nodded. “Can I borrow your study, Lucien?” He asked. Lucien nodded as they turned toward the door.

  Things were quiet in the study for several minutes. Alastair waited with Lucien and Mirabelle in the hall, each of them pretending they weren't straining to hear something.

  “I told you to stay and wait for me!” Gilles roared. Mirabelle’s eyes grew wide.

  “Oh, He's not happy!” She whispered. Lucien shook his head as he stared at the door. Alastair had a feeling his thoughts were similar. He was wondering if he should intercede.

  “You're not my father! I can make my own decisions, Gilles!” Giselle was quite furious. Alastair and Lucien shrunk away from the door. Mirabelle smiled.

  “I think I like her!” She announced.

  “I promised your father I would take care of you!” Gilles thundered.

  “I can take care of myself!” She returned.

  “You were shot, Giselle! And you nearly drowned. Do you know what that did to me! I had nightmares!” They heard something slam. It was most likely Gilles’ fist against something solid.

  “Clearly I survived and you're more of a woman than I am!”

  “Oh, no!” Mirabelle whispered.

  “Good God!” Lucien gasped.

  “Excellent!” Alastair announced.

  A loud crash had everyone cringing. Things within the study became quiet again. Mirabelle and Lucien sat on the steps and Alastair paced. He was rarely a bystander, he wasn't enjoying the experience. He knew that the two of them were deciding how much he would be told. Every time his steps took him close to the door he felt tempted to kick it in and demand the truth.

  Half of an hour (or an eternity) later, the door to the study opened and Gilles and Giselle walked out. Both were relaxed and smiling. All had been forgiven, it seemed. Alastair looked back and forth at each, waiting for one of them to begin. Gilles turned to Giselle, his grin wide.

  “Change into your work clothes and meet us on the back terrace.” He winked and she smiled jauntily before dashing up the stairs. Gilles turned to Lucien. “I need three loaded pistols and three small plates.” Lucien nodded hesitantly and turned on his heel. “Shall we?” Gilles asked as he gestured towards a sitting room that opened onto the terrace.

  “When are you going to tell me who she is and what happened?” Alastair’s voice was low as he prowled alongside Gilles. He stopped and gripped Alastair’s arm.

  “I think it would be easier if she showed you who she is. Then, we can tell you her story.” His smile was enigmatic as he pushed him toward the door. Alastair cursed and stepped onto the terrace.

  Lucien strode out with the pistols just before Giselle appeared at the door. She located them on the terrace and jogged in their direction. Alastair knew he was staring but couldn't help himself. Giselle had her hair tied back and was dressed in head to toe black. She wore a simple black blouse, sleek black breeches and riding boots. In her minimal, dark clothing, she seemed much smaller but somehow more potent. When she joined them, she was practically bouncing, she was nearly vibrating with energy. Lucien and Mirabelle both stared and waited. Alastair shook his head and turned to Gilles. His eyes shimmered as he smiled down at Giselle.

  “Do you think you could fetch something for me?” He asked softly. Alastair sensed a hint of concern. She smiled and looked toward the house. Her eyes began scanning the façade.

  “Certainly. It looks fairly simple.” She said as she turned to him. Gilles raised his hand and pointed.

  “That's Alastair’s room. I'm curious… He used to keep something under his pillow. I'd like you to check and see if it's still there.” Alastair swung to face Gilles and was about to ask him what the hell he was thinking when Giselle sprinted toward the house. He turned and saw her leap onto a stone planter and launch herself into the air. She grabbed hold of a window ledge above the terrace doors and was pulling herself up. “You might want to hurry, Alastair.” Gilles said softly as Alastair watched her scale the bricks.

  Too stunned to move, it took a shove from Gilles to get him in motion. He ran toward the upper terrace steps and jumped over them. He looked up and saw Giselle balanced on the rail of a balcony one level above his and four rooms away. He rushed through the doors into the sitting room, dodged the furniture and crashed into the hall, skidding on the marble. Alastair took the steps two at a time until he reached the landing of the second floor and sprinted down the hall. He burst into his room to find Giselle reclining on his bed.

  He rested his hands on his hips as he caught his breath. She smiled and
held up the metal soldier his father had given him. Alastair cursed and dove for it. Giselle stretched as she grabbed his lapel and fell back onto the mattress, pulling him on top of her. He gasped in shock as he felt her beneath him, pressed against him from chest to thigh. She held the soldier over her head in one hand as the other slid into his hair, pulling his face to hers. Helpless, he groaned against her lips as her leg wrapped around his waist. Her tongue swept along his lips and he growled as he cradled her jaw and tangled his tongue with hers. Giselle moaned and thrust her hips, cradling his now straining erection between her thighs. Lust roared through Alastair, he grabbed her derrière and ground against her. She arched beneath him and pushed against his shoulder as she rolled until she was sitting astride him. He blinked up at her. Her hair had come loose and swirled around her face. He hauled in a desperate breath, overcome by her beauty and aching with need. Giselle pressed the soldier into her cleavage as she lowered her lips to his. Their mouths crashed together and Alastair heard his heart pounding in his ears as she rocked against him, teasing his aching cock. He felt her hands spread his coat open before she grabbed his lapels and tugged down, locking his arms against his sides a moment before she lunged and pulled the covers over his head.

  Alastair felt her leap from the bed as he wrestled with his coat and the covers. Once he was free he saw her at the balcony door. She had the curtains and sheers wound around one hand.

  “Sorry, Alastair!” She winked and ran onto the balcony. Alastair rushed after her and saw her standing on the balcony rail for a brief moment before she let herself fall. He ran and reached for her but she was already flying backward through the air beyond his reach. Her lips curved, teasing as the fabric became taut and stretched. Alastair heard the rod snap and fabric rip, he had a second to duck before the other end of the window dressings exploded through the door. She let go just as she landed on the hedge next to the terrace.

  “Christ!” He whispered as he watched her bounce off of it and land on her feet. She saluted him and ran toward Gilles, Lucien and Mirabelle. Alastair could only stare in astonishment as he watched Giselle pull the soldier from inside her blouse and hand it to Gilles. He cursed, turned on his heel and strode from the room. He made his way back outside quickly to find Mirabelle clapping.

  “That was magnificent! You were like a cat, I’ve never seen anything like it!” She gushed. Lucien was enjoying himself as well.

  “I'm sorry about the curtains, Your Grace.” Giselle lied. He grinned as he shook his head.

  “You can destroy all the window dressings at Winthorpe as long as I get to see Alastair make that face each time. You should have seen him when you jumped!” He laughed as he clapped Alastair on the back. Alastair shook him off and scowled. He held out his hand to Gilles.

  “Please.” He ordered. Gilles grinned as he set the soldier on his palm. “Well?” He was running out of patience. Gilles looked at him pointedly. Just wait...

  “Mirabelle, this kitten has claws.” Gilles said cryptically as he handed Giselle two pistols. She tucked one into her waistband and took the third. Gilles picked up the three saucers and strode onto the lawn, his back to the three of them. Giselle stepped forward and took a wide stance. Alastair could sense her focus stretching. Gilles tossed a saucer into the air, two more followed in rapid succession. Giselle raised her right arm, fired and dropped the pistol. Her left arm raised and fired as her right drew the third pistol from her waistband, raised it smoothly and fired. Three loud cracks filled the air and the saucers exploded into powder. Gilles strode back towards the terrace and joined them.

  “Bloody hell, that was fantastic!” Mirabelle proclaimed. Lucien elbowed her.

  “What she means is, that was incredible.” He corrected. Alastair narrowed his eyes as he looked at Giselle. His mind was starting to weave facts together and he was struggling to believe what was becoming obvious. He looked to Gilles.

  “Alastair, Lucien, Mirabelle, allow me to introduce Le Fantôme Noir.” He announced as he gestured toward Giselle. Lucien whistled.

  “Bloody. Hell.” He whispered. Mirabelle scowled as she looked up at him.

  “The Black Ghost?” She asked as she looked at each of them.

  Alastair stepped back and closed his eyes as visions of messages, reports, lists and maps flashed rapidly against the back of his eyelids. Pieces of the puzzle that he'd struggled with since the end of the war started falling into place. The imaginary chessboard cleared and only one figure remained. When Alastair opened his eyes four faces were watching him expectantly.

  “Le Fantôme Noir was the War Office’s most successful assassin.” Alastair said softly as his eyes swept over Giselle.

  “You're bamming me!” Mirabelle declared as her gaze flicked from face to face. Realizing it wasn't a joke she stared in awe at Giselle.

  “The three of you are standing next to the most dangerous person any of us will ever meet.” Gilles said and Giselle rolled her eyes. “She's killed more men than Lucien, Alastair and I combined. I've seen her kill men with pistols, knives, playing cards, a spoon, her breasts…”

  “As far as deaths go, I don't think I’d mind that.” Lucien murmured as he smiled dreamily. Mirabelle turned and kicked him in the shin. He yelped and hopped on one foot. “Yours, of course, my love!” He swore.

  “Don't give me any ideas.” She hissed a she turned back to Gilles who was doing his best to keep a straight face. “You can't seriously expect me to believe that this lovely, tiny woman is a violent killer.” She protested. Giselle pursed her lips and shrugged. Gilles laughed.

  “That's why she was successful, Mirabelle. No one saw her coming until it was too late or they simply underestimated her.” Gilles gestured toward the house. “Giselle, why don't you change and then meet us in Lucien’s study. We can talk there.” Giselle nodded and strode toward the house. Once she was through the terrace doors, Mirabelle turned to Gilles. Her smile was large as she punched his arm playfully.

  “I rarely get to say this but you're completely wrong, Gilles. She's absolutely perfect for Alastair.” She linked her arm in Lucien’s and led him toward the house. Gilles shook his head as he set off after them. Alastair paced along side him. Gilles glanced at him as they entered the house.

  “Do you understand why I told you to reconsider?” He asked softly. Alastair was thoughtful for a moment before he nodded.

  “I understand why you would think that her past and her identity would be a surprise but it's hardly a deterrent. If anything, it only makes me more certain.” He stopped Gilles. “Giselle is not the only one with secrets. There are things that I have done… I think she may be more capable of overlooking them than most women. Yet I still worry that she may not be able to.” He stared into Gilles’ eyes, willing him to understand.

  “What do you mean? What have you done?” Gilles’ eyes searched his. Alastair shook his head. There was no need for him to know.

  “There is much you don't know about me, Gilles. I prefer it that way.” Alastair turned and strode into the study leaving Gilles to stare at his back.

  Chapter 10

  “Shall I order tea while we wait?” Mirabelle asked as Alastair entered the study. Gilles followed. Both shook their heads.

  “Giselle doesn't care for tea.” Gilles said as he took a seat.

  “Wine.” Alastair added as he sat across from him. His eyes were fixed on the door.

  “Very well!” She reached for the bell pull before taking a seat next to Lucien on the couch. “How could a young lady like Giselle come to work for the War Office, as an assassin, of all things?” Mirabelle asked. Alastair's head snapped towards Gilles and he leaned forward. Gilles relaxed and crossed his legs.

  “Her father was Aldous St. Claire.” He paused and looked at Alastair and Lucien. Lucien nodded thoughtfully and Alastair’s face became blank with the exception of his eyes. They flared in surprise. Both Gilles and Lucien turned to Alastair. Gilles rolled his eyes and Lucien snorted. “Seriously, Alasta
ir? You're so brilliant but you couldn't have at least put that together?” He said incredulously.

  “Aldous was Aldous.” Alastair shrugged. “He was an exemplary fellow, I didn't need to know his entire history.” He mumbled. Lucien raised a brow.

  “No. But you knew his name, at least?”

  “Now that you mention it, I recall that I did but at some point, it became unnecessary information.” Alastair sounded defensive.

  “Who was Aldous St. Claire?” Mirabelle asked, hoping to move the story along. “Aside from Giselle’s father and one of the Capets.” She looked expectantly at Gilles.

  “Aldous recruited us to work for the War Office. At first, he wanted me to take his place in London but it became obvious that Alastair would be better suited to oversee all of our activities and pick targets. Lucien was perfectly positioned to operate within the ton and at court. I wanted to follow Aldous to France. He agreed and became my mentor.” He paused when Hendrick entered.

  “Would you please bring us some wine and something to hold us over until dinner?” Mirabelle asked.

  “Certainly, Your Grace.”

  “We might need a few bottles, Hendrick.” She added. He bowed and took himself off. She turned back to Gilles and gestured for him to continue.

  “Giselle’s mother, Evangeline, died when she was twelve. Aldous was devastated, he turned to his work with the War Office as an escape. He adored Giselle and had doted on her but it was too painful for him to remain at home. A great aunt had volunteered to keep her. Giselle was miserable, the woman immediately began training her to be a proper young lady. She talked of preparing her to wed a prince or a duke and overwhelmed her with lessons and rules. Giselle had fired her first pistol when she was four and started fencing when she was five. Aldous being Aldous, hired anyone that could teach him anything. Carpenters, gypsies, magicians, artists, acrobats… and Giselle learned right along side him. She learned to throw knives, sleight of hand and how to climb damned near anything. As you can imagine, embroidering and dance lessons held little attraction for her. She endured for two years until Aldous told her he was going away, indefinitely. We were half way to France, in the middle of the Channel when we found her stowed away on the ship. Aldous was furious but he had no choice. From then on, the three of us were a team. Fortunately, Giselle was a natural.