"Ah," Jamie fought with himself to keep from pulling her into his arms. "I understand your father only asked for this promise because Laurent had not yet returned from the Colonies. He would have never asked that you be responsible for this estate."
Tears began to flow, "Philippe promises Laurent will be taken away. Even I know the power that some have with the King. My uncle is helping Philippe."
Jamie moved near and stroked her hair. His chin rested on her head, and she moved into his arms. She molded against his body as if she had been made for him.
"Nicolette, do you remember anything else Philippe said? Please lass, this is important," when she didn’t respond, Jamie shook her gently then searched her gaze.
"He threatened that something terrible would happen soon. Laurent will disappear if I do not do as he wishes. I cannot allow that, I must protect Laurent, I promised father," a sob escaped.
Jamie stroked her hair, and Nicolette began to cry in earnest. He picked her up, and walked to the window-seat, "You cannot shield Laurent. I will protect you always and will defend my friend, as well. It is far too late for you to change your mind. You belong to me, we are hand-fast."
"Hand-fasted," Nicolette whispered. Then she hiccupped and her eyes closed.
He cradled her until she fell asleep, then laid her in bed and tucked the covers gently about her.
As Jamie walked down the stairs to the library, his thoughts raged one moment with fury, the next with fear. He sighed with relief. Alec would return soon and many clansmen would be with him. They would help protect Laurent and guard Nicolette.
~ * ~
Philippe walked into the massive doors of the ancient castle he called home. He gave his gloves and hat to the butler then walked to the dining room to join his guest.
He waved the footman away, walked to the sideboard, poured a cup of tea and laced it with brandy, "Well, I hope you are happy now. I did just as you instructed and it was quite disconcerting." He sat across from his guest and looked at him with disgust. John Pierre had not bothered to put on his wig, so patches of black and gray hairs stuck out in wild disarray. There were times when the old man revolted him. He was so busy eating that he barely raised his gaze from the plate, and his lips were greasy. Food crumbs lay on his chin. His jowls shook as he chewed, and for a moment, Philippe wondered if he were going to be ill.
He shook his head then took a sip of tea, "Did you hear me, Sir? I did exactly as you instructed. I am not sure of the effect."
John Pierre’s words were muffled from the food in his mouth.
"It was exactly the right thing. We must keep Laurent off guard. We have no choice now Philippe, not until my plans are complete. My nephew thinks his paltry efforts have thwarted me, so allow him the delusion. Within a day we will put our plan in place, then we will both have the ultimate satisfaction of revenge."
"Oui! That will be quite delightful, I have waited so long to avenge my sweet Madeleine," Philippe laughed. "You still think this will work, do you not? After all, the King has never actually signed your request to become Nicolette’s guardian. What makes you think that you can get him to do so now?"
John Pierre smiled and the sight of his huge, bulbous lips, pink from the hot tea, made him slightly sick so Philippe looked away.
"Worry not, boy, I have my ways. The King still trusts me above everyone else at court. I have proof of Laurent’s recent visits to Lafayette, and have used that information to further incriminate my nephew. I have false statements that he is one of the insurgents responsible for the most recent riots in Paris." John Pierre’s laughter ran out wickedly and echoed around the room, "The King is terrified of those people. He has already signed the Lettre de Cache for the Bastille. He will be easily swayed for anything further, trust me."
Philippe took another sip of tea then sighed, "If that is true why has he not signed the order before now?"
John Pierre shrugged, "You are foolish, my young friend. Everything in life hinges on timing. I have waited for the right opportunity. I cannot appear to be anxious or desperate. I have to convince the King that I make this request from the most noble of reasons, to save my niece."
Philippe laughed, "Noble, you?"
"Noble indeed," John Pierre suddenly sat stiffly in his chair. His eyes narrowed, "You laugh at me? If I were you, I would be very careful right now, Philippe. Very careful."
Philippe instantly realized his mistake, "You know I would never laugh at you. It appears Laurent will go to the Bastille for the purest of reasons, although it has nothing to do with Nicolette, and everything to do with the way he ruined my sister. I only laugh when I am nervous, and this whole plan makes me very apprehensive. I do not think you realize what a fearful adversary you face. Laurent can be quite formidable."
John Pierre smiled, "Your problem is that you have no bravado, no talent for knowing when to act. That’s why I am one of the King’s advisor’s while you are the court jester."
Philippe felt his face grow warm, "You too should be very careful. I will not be spoken of in those terms. Perhaps I have more courage than you know, after all, I have much at stake in this little game."
John Pierre’s eyes narrowed, "Indeed. Well then, I suggest a truce. Now tell me everything that happened."
Philippe dismissed his servants then poured another hot tea and brandy, "Laurent was at breakfast when I arrived, and I joined them. I met Nicolette’s betrothed."
"He was there? Tell me about him."
Philippe began to pace, "His name is MacQueen, an Earl or chieftain, something like that, from Scotland. Strangely, I believe I have heard the name before. He and Laurent met in America during the Colonial War. He returned with Laurent and stayed for the old Marquis funeral. Nevertheless, you would not believe it if you saw him. The man is huge, not only taller than Laurent, but powerfully built. He is so large I thought of a man in a suit of armor when I saw him."
"MacQueen is a very interesting man. I have done my research. Do you know the attaché to the British Ambassador, Colonel Forester?"
"I have often heard that Forester will do anything for a few thousand francs. Perhaps we can enlist his help," Philippe returned to the table. "It would be useful to have more information. You could ask him to use his contacts to learn more of the Scot."
"I have already enlisted him. I’ve known of his hatred for my nephew for some time. Laurent was responsible for Forester being taken prisoner by the Americans. When I spoke to him recently about Nicolette, I discovered that I could use his hatred for my benefit." John Pierre yawned as if supremely bored. "Forester is a wild card, there is madness about him. One can never be sure how he will react to any situation. He hates MacQueen. It seems they have a history, a blood feud or some such thing. Once before, Laurent interfered with his plans to kill MacQueen, so he has agreed to help us with both men. Our plans will begin on the night of the betrothal ball."
Philippe’s cup came down with a crash, "So soon?"
John Pierre laughed, "Yes, you will speak to Nicolette then and beseech her to meet you the next morning. When she does, well..."
Philippe’s hand shook, "Trust me, Laurent will follow the devil himself to find Nicolette and MacQueen will accompany him."
John Pierre rubbed his forehead, "Very good, just as I had hoped. Forester and the waiting guardsmen will intercept Laurent. They will take him, and anyone with him, to the Bastille. That is if they live through the assault." John Pierre laughed. "Forester is most unreasonable about MacQueen and desperate for his death. As always, I can take advantage of this and use his hatred for my benefit. I am sure this favor will encourage him to be receptive to any of my future requests on behalf of the French government."
Philippe shook his head, "What type of requests?"
John Pierre laughed, "Philippe you dolt, you think far to small. He will owe me a debt beyond measure, and I will have access to any information I request on England! Do you not understand?"
Philippe watched John Pierre’s jow
ls shake as he laughed. He was surprised when the man’s mood suddenly changed to anger.
"So you are positive that MacQueen wishes to marry the girl?"
Philippe nodded, "Of course. Nicolette is worth a fortune. The man seems quite determined, as any man would be in his place. She spoke of her love for him. That may present a problem."
A bright red flush stole over John Pierre’s face and his hands began to shake, "she said she loves him?" His voice rose. He stood, and began to pace in front of the window, "It matter’s not at all. He will forfeit his life. I will not have my plans ruined. I want no opposition."
"And you have agreed that the Chateau Noilles will be mine?"
"Indeed. You may have your revenge, as well as the chateau, Nicolette, and three million francs. Satisfied?"
"Indeed."
~ * ~
Jamie poured himself a brandy then walked to the window and looked out, "God’s teeth. What exactly are you up to, you little weasel."
"And what are you complaining about this time?" Laurent smiled as he walked into the room then poured himself a drink.
"Philippe, of course."
Laurent saluted then took a sip, "To an arrogant fool!"
Jamie raised his glass, "I cannot believe that he would waltz in here with that bag of lies and expect us to believe him!"
Laurent sat in the large overstuffed chair, "It is a bit much, still he played the part quite well."
Jamie began to pace, "He has spoken to Nicolette and is trying to force her to marry him."
"What?"
"Indeed. She told me some time ago that she was secretly engaged to him. Now he tells her he can force her into marriage," Jamie walked to the chair opposite Laurent’s.
"What does he intend?" Laurent’s brow furrowed. "Is there a problem between you two? I thought things were going well."
Jamie put a hand through his hair, "Aye, they were, but with this new threat, she is once more fighting the marriage. When she saw him yesterday, she didn’t tell me about it. I had overcome her objections until then, but there is one I can’t seem to conquer for more than a few minutes at a time."
"And that is?" Laurent slowly swirled his brandy in his glass.
"First, let me tell you what happened upstairs," Jamie’s finger traced the edge of his goblet. "I wanted to learn what that arrogant dolt said yesterday. He threatened her and insisted that she keep her promise to marry him. He told her he could give her something that I could not, and promises to give her this chateau." Jamie sighed then took a drink, "Only a few days ago everything was resolved, now suddenly she is concerned for the chateau again. Strangely enough, she seems to think she is responsible to keep you safe as well. He has convinced her that if she marries me that you will disappear."
Laurent bellowed, "Disappear? How strange."
Jamie paced, "She is genuinely frightened. She does not know what he is planning, but I wonder if it has anything to do with what Lafayette said about your uncle, and the Lettre de Cache."
Laurent jumped out of his chair, "This is exactly what I am trying to avoid!"
"There is more to this than Philippe. I feel it down to my bones."
"Jamie, it’s time to tell her of our plans for America, and she must be told about John Pierre. It is past time she knows."
"Good."
Laurent took a sip of brandy. "This means the marriage must take place immediately! I will not feel safe until you have taken her away."
Jamie turned, "I agree."
"I shall tell her what I believe happened to father. I don’t want to frighten her, but perhaps then she will understand why she cannot stay here. You must convince her that she loves you, and that you love her. That will be the best defense against Philippe." Laurent held his goblet in the air. "The last part is up to you."
"God be with us," Jamie stood, then walked to the window to stare out once more. "I need to know about the Bastille. Where is it in Paris? Do you have anything here in the library I can read?"
Laurent laughed, then stood and walked to the shelves, chose a book, and handed it to Jamie, "Of course, ever the warrior, preparing for the rescue already I see."
"Dear God, I hope not," Jamie’s voice echoed around the room. "I must say the one thing my father drummed into my head is that you must be prepared for whatever might come. Let us not forget the one time when I did let my guard down."
"I remember only to well. I only wish that you could let the pain go." Laurent nodded, "Of course you are right. That’s one reason why I intend to have our plans for America completed before my Uncle can interfere. Now what do we have left to accomplish?"
Jamie walked to the door, "Come, it’s easier to explain if you see what has been done already."
Eleven
The paintings glowed eerily in the dim candlelight as Jamie walked quietly through the long, dark hallway. One portrait in particular held him in its grip, as the eyes of the ancient gentleman glared down with concern. For a moment he felt as though he were being watched, then smiled at the ridiculous thought as he continued toward Nicolette’s door. He hiccupped loudly and bumped into a table jostling the candelabra. He grabbed it clumsily before it fell, sitting it gently back in place before continuing his quest.
Jamie shook his head in an effort to weaken the fog that seemed to cloud in his mind. He never allowed himself to get drunk, but perhaps he had one too many tonight. He had spent the time celebrating his men’s arrival, Alec had called it his last night of freedom. Together, they drank nearly a keg of ale before he left them to go in search of Nicolette.
He did not care if she thought him a little inebriated. He had to make her realize she loved him. Jamie hiccupped again and nodded. Aye, and he intended to do just that. He lifted the roses he carried to his nose then sneezed. He laughed, laid them on the nearest table, knocked softly and opened the door.
Nicolette sat in bed, with pillows plumped behind. Her red-gold curls fell loosely about her. White lace fell gracefully across her shoulders, the nightrail tied at the base of her throat in a large white satin bow, and flowing sleeves billowed about her wrists. The soft white silk shimmered, beckoning him to draw nigh. She lay the book she held on the bed and looked up.
Jamie smiled again, then closed the door quietly and walked to the side of her bed. "Good evening sweet Goddess," He watched her face flame and her eyes turn into green chips of fire.
She whispered, "You should not be here. If someone finds you I will be compromised."
Jamie tried to contain his amusement, but did not succeed. His merriment came tumbling out in peals of laughter.
Nicolette rose to her knees then covered his mouth with her hand, "Shhhhh! You’ll wake the entire household."
Jamie continued to laugh then finally pushed the pillow away, "I hate to be the one to remind you my innocent darlin’, but you were thoroughly compromised only last night."
Nicolette looked toward the door. Her eyes grew wide. She put her fingers over his mouth, as if she were attempting to silence him.
Jamie grew quiet then took her hand, "Are you really afraid that there is someone out there, or are you frightened of this?"
He drew her slowly to him, pulled her off the bed, wrapped his arms about her, then held her body close, almost as if he wanted to envelop her. The green depths of her eyes changed to the smoldering deep blue-green, when her passion roused and Jamie smiled. His lips descended to hers, drawn to the full blush of her lips, starving for the sweetness only she could bring. When their lips touched, a bolt of desire as strong and pure as lightning pierced through to his soul. He moaned then pulled himself away from the whirlwind of emotions the touch caused.
He looked down to see the dark lashes of her eyes fan out across her cheeks. Her lips were moist, full, and provoking. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her again and to keep kissing her. He longed to untie the laces of her prim white gown, and trail his lips down the creamy, white velvet column of her neck, over the perfect shoulders, and even mor
e, but not tonight. He could wait for the perfection of her body, and for the promise of her love.
"Tonight is filled with magic, my love."
"Magic or simply too much ale?" Nicolette giggled, "I smell it on your breath."
Jamie grinned, "Aye, I have had a little, but I am not here because of the ale. What I have to say has nothing to do with the drink."
He took her hand then pulled her to the chair by the fireplace, kissing her gently on the forehead. He walked to the hall, then as he came back into the room, closed the door behind him. He walked toward her with his hands behind him.
Her skin had a golden glow, as the embers from the fire still burned. The full moon bathed the room in a silvery light, while flickering candles caused a dancing glow across the cream, watered silk of the walls.
Jamie knelt before her. His hands remained behind his back as he gazed intently into her eyes, "Nicolette, you have captured my heart and rendered me helpless before your beauty. Aye siren, you have cast a spell and I would fight the devil at the gates of hell for your love."
His hand moved behind his back and returned with a rose, "I have heard it said that one perfect red rose represents love. Let this then be the symbol of how I feel. I love you, my darling Goddess."
Nicolette smiled and took the blossom. The sweet bouquet wafted through the air, and she drew it delicately to her nose before holding it in her lap, her fingers curled around it like a treasure.
She started to speak, but he put his finger to her lips in a tender caress.
"Shhhhh," his hand again moved behind his back. "And here, is one white rose, so that you’ll know that my love for you is pure and perfect." He looked into smoldering blue-green eyes again and smiled.
Again he retrieved a rose, "This perfect pink bud was the most gorgeous bloom in the garden. Yet, if I searched to the ends of the earth I could find nothing to compare with your beauty. So perfect Goddess, please accept this rose as an offering to your flawless splendor. Although it is exquisite, it fades when compared to your loveliness."
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