Nicolette stood, crossing her arms over her chest. She tilted her chin upward in a defiant gesture then stomped her foot so hard her curls bounced. "Zut! I will not marry him. You cannot force me. I will not accept such treatment! How could you do this? I thought you loved me."
"Nicolette, watch your language!" Laurent bellowed. "There will be no further discussion. The dowry is settled and you will marry him!"
"I refuse! Nothing you can do will change my mind! You cannot force me. This is completely unacceptable. Give him the dowry but don’t expect me to marry him!"
Four
Jamie watched the brother and sister as they battered against one another like the ocean crashing against a cliff, so much alike in temperament, yet so different. He smiled, realizing that he had never seen his friend this angry, and yet, he could understand perfectly. Only yesterday Nicolette had the same effect on him.
Laurent’s hands were clinched into fists at his side as he looked furiously down. Nicolette stood unflinching, appearing unafraid, and glared at him. Most women would have fainted at the surprise of the unexpected betrothal. Instead, she stood toe to toe with her brother, refusing to do as he wished.
Fascinated, he could not take his gaze from Nicolette. Her perfect rose petal lips were now a robust burgundy and her cheeks flushed a bright pink. Magnificent in her anger and so exquisite in her beauty that she nearly took his breath away, he thought of the Goddess of the Dawn. Then suddenly he made a surprising decision, "Perhaps Laurent cannot bend you to his will lass, but you will yield to mine. Whether you are a Goddess, or Joan of Arc, I will have you!" he whispered.
He walked slowly toward them then eased himself between the brother and sister so deftly that it surprised them. Jamie reached for Nicolette’s shoulders and slowly pulled her near, "Aye, lass, that paper on the mantle is signed and sealed. Make no mistake, you will be mine." His gaze searched hers, "The dowry has been accepted and the betrothal settled. I will have you for my own and nothing will stand in my way."
She tried to twist away but his hands only moved to clasp her upper arms more firmly.
"I have told you before that no one opposes my will."
"And I have said I will not accept you, nor this betrothal! You are nothing more than a barbarian!"
Laurent shook his head, "Nicolette, you are speaking to my friend and your future husband. You will beg forgiveness."
"I will not apologize!"
Surprised at how easily she could fuel his anger, he stood with his legs braced slightly apart and his body taunt as a strung bow. Towering over her and glaring into her gaze, his fingers dug into her softness. "You need not, Lass, but I warn you, be careful with what you say. In your eyes I am a barbarian, but it matters not. I will have you as my wife. Remember, what you want is of little consequence to a savage. I shall be the victor, I always am." He shook her slightly, "Do you understand?"
Tears shimmered in the emerald depths, causing a seductive sparkle, and muting the deep green chips of fire to the sultry, warm color of the siren that lived in his dreams.
"Very well, say nothing my little vixen. For the choice is already made." He felt a tremor race through her, and gazed into eyes so full of sorrow he expected her sadness to overflow, but she held her emotions in check.
She looked toward her brother, "Laurent, how could you be so ruthless?" Her voice shook, "You knew I would refuse. I cannot marry him!" She jerked away, cringing as if his touch were poison, then ran toward the door.
Jamie’s voice thundered through the library, "You will be my wife!"
When she turned to look at him, teardrops flowed down her pale cheeks like a highland stream after a rainstorm and he wondered how he could earn her trust. He never lost control, yet each time she came near that was exactly what happened and he knew a moment of regret.
Laurent pleaded, "Chere, you know well of my love for you. I would never do anything to hurt you, but you will accept my edict."
"I shall never forgive you, Laurent! I will never marry him!" Nicolette screamed. The door boomed like thunder as it slammed against the wall.
Jamie walked into the hall and watched her run up the stairs, then turned, "Pray tell me, exactly what were you thinking? You should have spoken to Nicolette."
Laurent shrugged then walked to the sideboard, "I did not have your answer until now, and much has happened to divert my attention. However, I regret the distress I have caused you both."
"Thank you for that sentiment at least, but had she been prepared this would not have been so tragic. How can you expect her to accept me now?"
Laurent sounded tired, "Tragic or not, she will marry you. She does have a bit of a dramatic flair, but you will become accustomed to it. She often threatens, but in time her anger cools. She forgives me easily, and will do so again. Furthermore, I know you two will suit."
He poured them another brandy, the brown liquid sparking in the small crystal snifters. "Nicolette will soon accept the situation. This is the best solution for her and for us all."
Jamie was not convinced that she would ever accept the betrothal, or him, not that it mattered, for he had never felt like this about a woman, and would never allow her to escape. He would have her, body and soul. Even if it meant he had to be a true barbarian, toss her over his shoulder and steal away into the night. Yet, he had hoped for a more willing bride. He paced back and forth. "I do not wish her to run from me, as Mother did," his whisper went unnoticed.
Laurent drained his glass, "Come, it’s been some time since I tested your skill with the sword, and there is something else I wish you to see."
Jamie received yet another gift, a beautiful Arabian stallion, as black as night. Then, from the stables, Laurent led him into the chateau to show him a special room.
Sunny and bright, Jamie found it inviting. Ancient weapons surrounded the walls and colorful medieval banners hung from the ceiling. Coats of armor stood in each corner. There were racks of swords from the most ancient to the modern. Spears, daggers, pistols and muskets were encased in glass cabinets.
Laurent reached for a foil then threw one to Jamie, "It has been so very long, no?"
"Aye, many years. We were skilled at this once. You were the master and I the student. I learned much, but I must share a secret. I have been practicing every day since."
Laurent laughed, "Indeed."
Jamie smiled, "And you?"
"I drill with the best swordsman in France. Come, let us practice until he arrives," Laurent walked about the room opening the full floor length glass doors, then took off his coat, cravat, and opened his shirt. He turned, smiled, and then saluted, "On guard."
The sound of steel against steel reverberated around the room with the first clash as Jamie engaged. The practice began in earnest, and between parries and thrusts they talked, "This certainly brings back memories."
"I must tell you why I fear for Nicolette." Laurent’s sword sliced through the air with a flourish then stilled and was held at his side. "Indeed you have improved," he laughed. "Well, where do I begin? Ah, the family secret I suppose," he paused for a moment. "When I returned from America my father lay on his deathbed. Remember?"
Jamie nodded.
"He insisted then that I never allow Nicolette near my uncle, John Pierre." Laurent paused, then took a deep breath, "I wondered about his strange request, but now I understand his reasoning all too well. Recently, I learned that John Pierre has been embezzling money from our estate since before Father’s death. An enormous sum is missing, and he has done this with permission of the King. I am powerless to stop his thievery, but with the help of our banker and one of Father’s closest friends, I have opened an account in London in your name and removed our funds from his control. I have been very discreet. You and Nicolette will be extremely wealthy." Laurent laughed, re-engaged then stumbled, "Sorry, looks like I need more practice."
"You? Next to you I really do feel like a barbarian, slashing away to fend off your thrusts!" Jamie smiled then ask
ed his next question, "Is this account in addition to the one you opened in Edinburgh?"
"Indeed, I trust you implicitly, and I had to take the liberty before things worsened," Laurent thrust again. "Don’t worry. We are not bankrupt. Our money here remains untouched, only the funds in Paris were in danger," Laurent stopped with his sword high in the air, meeting Jamie’s rapier and pushing him back. "Unfortunately, that is not the only issue. I could have ignored the loss, but now I understand he has told the King of my ill health, and imminent death. Think of what that means. He would inherit the title, chateau and lands. If I were eliminated, he would become Nicolette’s guardian."
"No one could possibly believe that you are ill. Have your friends in Paris seen you recently?"
"Of course. Do you remember the Marquis de Lafayette? I introduced you to him in the Colonies. Our friendship remains strong even now. The ship that brought you to France belongs to him," Laurent sighed. "Lafayette heard a most disturbing story. For the last two years John Pierre has made it known that anyone making an offer of marriage to his niece would meet with a violent end, and she has had no suitors. It disturbed me until I remembered the odd promise I made before father died, and the story he told of John Pierre. It seems my Uncle loved my mother, but she despised him. Shortly after my parents wedding grandfather banished John Pierre. I never learned why, but now I think I understand Father’s fear." Laurent began making circles on the floor with the tip of his sword, "I believe John Pierre is obsessed with Nicolette, just as he was with my mother. Nicolette is her very image."
"I see the need for the betrothal now."
The sound of rapiers echoed across the room when Laurent suddenly re-engaged, and Jamie countered, "Perhaps he simply wishes the estate."
Laurent sighed, "I really don’t know what he is planning, but when I saw him last in Paris, he spoke of nothing but Nicolette, and that worried me."
"I need a drink of water," Jamie walked to the window.
Laurent took a seat at a bench then rang for the servant.
"Does your uncle realize your suspicions?"
Laurent shook his head, "I am positive he knows nothing. There is one other thing. Father had a box at the bank, secured in my name. John Pierre did not know of its existence. Inside, there were letters with a seal." Laurent raised his hand, "This ancient ring with our family crest holds that seal. I inherited this one from my father. There is only one other. The letter was sealed with my uncle’s ring. It was a letter to Madeleine."
Jamie nodded, "Who is Madeleine?"
Laurent stood and looked out the window. "Remember in America on the day we met? Do you recall it?" Laurent whispered, "We must finish this later, the master comes."
~ * ~
Nicolette stretched languidly, then sat up in bed as the delicious memory of her dream drifted away. Slowly, she recalled her brother’s threat, and the outrageous thought of marriage to a stranger made her stomach churn. "Betrothed to that barbarian?" she whispered then hugged her knees. "This is absurd. How could Laurent think I would leave home?"
Agitated, she quickly got out of bed and walked toward the dressing room, only to stop and wrap her arms around the bedpost. She leaned her head against the cool, smooth wood, and closed her eyes. Just for a moment Nicolette wanted to stay in bed, safe and well hidden as she had the evening before when she refused to dine.
Avoiding Jamie became foremost in her mind, as first the thought of the betrothal and then thoughts of the lake lingered. The circumstances of their encounters made her dread seeing him again. It would be so very embarrassing, but cowering alone in her room seemed just as unacceptable.
She walked to the dressing room, splashed water on her face hoping to cool the confusing emotions she felt, then dressed in a deep green, velvet riding habit and matching leather boots.
Nicolette returned, sat at the dressing table, and then looked in the mirror. Furiously, she began to brush her hair, attempting to tame the unruly curls. Finally in surrender, she tied the long tresses with a matching ribbon. She pulled on gloves and suddenly began to pace around the room. "Betrothed! I am already betrothed. Philippe will be angry!" she whispered. "What am I to do now? How will I fulfill my promise to father, and at the same time, how shall I ever appease Laurent?"
Nicolette walked to the window. Normally she reveled in the beauty of the dawn, but today she became lost in thought. Her fingertips caressed her lips very slowly as she remembered the lake. She had dreamed of Jamie, of his daring kiss, and her response. She thought of his tall, strong body, and his perfect smile, one that could tease one moment and entice her the next.
Refusing to dwell on those memories, she rushed out of the room, hoping to escape the rapidly shifting emotions that seemed to be tearing her apart. She hummed while she walked, but immediately her thoughts returned to him when she realized it was the same tune she had been singing at the lake.
"Jamie," she whispered. He reminded her of a violent thunderstorm arriving unexpectedly and reeking havoc with her heart. She felt ravaged by the tempest of bewilderment left in his wake. Like the storm, he brought a tumultuous whirlwind, but she would not allow him to destroy her plans for a future with Philippe. Her mind wandered again, and her fingertip moved involuntarily across her lower lip. Why did the memory stir her so? She must stop the wanton thoughts that haunted her, but how?
Pebbles crunched beneath her feet as she walked toward the stables. Where would she ride? Normally, the destination would be the lake but today she wouldn’t go there. Perhaps she would never go there again! Nicolette shook her head in confusion.
"Will I never forget those moments?" she whispered. Jamie, when had she started thinking of him that way? The thought disturbed her, two days ago he was only the stranger at the lake, and today he was Jamie. Nicolette entered the stable deep in thought, but her head snapped up when she heard a deep voice.
"Good morning, sweet siren."
She stood perfectly still, the breeze from the door lightly tossing the curls around her face that had escaped the ribbon.
Jamie grinned, "Will you not join me? I was about to explore the estate and will need a guide."
"No, I cannot ride with you and especially not alone!" her heart began to pound wildly.
"And why not, my lady?"
She felt his gaze, that mesmerizing, fascinating gaze. When she looked up she found his eyes filled with blue fire from the early morning light. "I do not wish your company!"
"Why would that be lass, are you afraid of me?"
He stood quietly watching her and she shivered. Her chin came up and she gave a defiant toss of the head. "I am afraid of no one! I simply do not care for your company," her voice wobbled, ruining the brave pretense.
"You are afraid!" he never took his gaze from hers.
Nicolette shook her head, "No, I am not!" She stepped back.
"Indeed? If you do not fear me, then it is something else. What could that be?"
"I don’t understand..." her voice trailed off, and Nicolette felt her cheeks burn.
"Oh, I think you do. We both do. You have not forgotten our tryst. Could it be you are afraid of yourself?"
His deep voice sounded like a caress, and her forefinger once more traced her lower lip, moving slowly back and forth as thoughts of her wanton behavior at the lake surfaced. Perhaps she was more afraid of herself than of him.
"Zut!" Nicolette stomped her foot, then picked up an empty bucket and threw it at him.
He ducked, "Come now, nothing will happen. Or are you afraid you cannot control yourself?" He laughed then suddenly became completely serious, "We will ride, my lady."
Soon Jamie lifted her effortlessly into the saddle. The moment he touched her, a wild rush of emotions flooded back, and she felt her face grow warm. The man was far too appealing. His strength, the way he towered over her, or the hair that could be seen through the open neck of his shirt, all enticed her. Excitement, untamed and ferocious claimed her, and she felt strange, thrilling sensati
ons begin. Her cheeks grew warm and she raised her face to the sun, hoping that the fresh morning breeze would cool her racing thoughts.
Jamie wore a white linen shirt laced down the front, with large flowing sleeves and no jacket, just as he had at the lake. He rode slightly ahead of her. Fascinated, Nicolette watched the muscles ripple across his back and his powerful thighs as he controlled the horse. His stallion was barely broken to the saddle, yet he commanded the animal with ease, as if it accepted his superior strength and mastery.
She smiled. The stallion would not dare disobey! No one would have that much audacity! She wondered where she had found the strength to defy him. Yet, she would not marry him and he could never convince her otherwise! She almost laughed with the thought. She would find a way to defeat her brother’s ridiculous scheme.
Soon they stopped high atop a tall hill nearly enclosed in woods. The ancient mansion stood below. The old and weathered granite stone with the pitched roof of dark gray slate, looked as if it been there forever. Starkly simple, it rose three stories above the surrounding countryside. From here she could see the verandah, centered in the middle of the second floor. A sweeping, circular staircase encased each end, leading to a courtyard that opened to terraces below.
The garden always reminded her of a meadow in a lush green forest, with beautiful flowers in all colors scattered about. A white stone path led from the courtyard, gracefully flowing downward from one level to the next, like a waterfall. A lake at the bottom of the path mirrored the chateau perfectly in its deep blue depths. Two identical summerhouses in shining white marble pillars stood on opposite sides of its width. If it were a painting the scene could not have been more perfect. Did Laurent truly think she would ever leave?
"Why does the King of France not live here? It is certainly grand enough for royalty," Jamie dismounted and walked toward her.
Her gaze met his, and she took a deep breath, hoping to resist his overpowering magnetism. She raised her hand as if to stop him, "I will remain here while you enjoy the view."
"You will come with me, lass," he lifted her to the ground without waiting for a reply, and held her hand tightly as they walked to the edge of the bluff.
sirenssong_132-Xe3.htm Page 7
