sirenssong_132-Xe3.htm

by Siren's Song (lit)

  "Aye, they are good. They played a special tune Lass, one just for we two," Jamie smiled.

  "How very sweet of them, I liked it."

  Jamie whispered, "Aye, and I love you. You are as beautiful as a Goddess."

  She blushed and dipped into a graceful curtsey, "Thank you kind sir." The dance was over as quickly as it began.

  Jamie brushed a kiss against her bare shoulder, "I have seen you lovelier only once, Lass. There is a glow about you."

  Nicolette lowered her eyes, "When was that?"

  Jamie whispered in her ear, and the warm breath sent a shiver of anticipation down her arms, "It was when the fiery Goddess of the dawn, rose from the deep blue depths of a lake one fine morning."

  She blushed, "Jamie!"

  He took her hand, kissing it, and again led her onto the floor. As they danced, Nicolette glanced around, thrilled with the results of her hard work. The normally barren, white and gold ballroom had changed into a magical scene. Fresh flowers filled it to overflowing. Their delightful fragrance filled the air. Brilliant candlelight from hundreds of candelabra illuminated the huge space. Light overflowed, spilling out the windows and showering the darkness beyond with a bright glow. Gold and crystal chandeliers glittered above the room like diamonds. Couples danced on the pale golden oak floors, while the bright gowns of the women reflected as a rainbow of colors in the radiant shine.

  Unlike most great houses, the ballroom was on the lowest level of the chateau. Double glass doors opened directly onto the large verandah, leading to the gardens and down to the lake. The spring breeze kept the room refreshingly cool.

  Nicolette gazed into the blue depths of Jamie’s eyes, fascinated as they changed to a darker, sultry shade.

  "Is that dreamy look for me?"

  She laughed, "Perhaps it is simply the candlelight."

  "What, you do not call me barbarian? Have you come to care for me then?" Jamie reached for her hand and kissed her fingertips. "You are dressed as a princess tonight, all in white and gold. Yet, the diamonds sparkling at your neck can not compare with the brilliance of your beauty." He pulled her near, "Aye, my lady. You are truly my Goddess. I intend to worship you for the rest of my life. Perhaps we might go to the garden so I may begin."

  He kissed her and she opened her mouth to his touch. It was not chaste but the carnal kiss of lovers. People surrounding them stopped dancing to clap again.

  "You remind me of the petals of a rosebud, each day unfolding a little more with the warmth of the sun," Jamie whispered.

  Nicolette broke away, ashamed by the lack of decorum. With a flick of her wrist she snapped her fan wide, hiding her face. Her embarrassment grew as everyone laughed. Hoping for an escape, they walked toward the glass doors, but were stopped abruptly.

  "Nicolette, sweet child. Please introduce me."

  "I am sorry sir, do I know you?"

  The man smiled, "Of course, although it has been some time. I am John Pierre. Do you not remember me?"

  This man was her uncle? She searched his features hoping for a flicker of recognition but found none. Inexplicably, Laurent’s earlier comments echoed in her mind and she stepped back. Jamie put his hand protectively on her waist.

  "Uncle." Nicolette hesitated. "Of course, please forgive me, it has been some time since we have seen you," she leaned firmly against Jamie as she spoke.

  She stared at her uncle in disgust. Never had she seen such a strange looking man! He was taller than she was but much shorter than Jamie. She could not keep her gaze from moving back to his stomach. He was extremely large around the middle, yet so slender everywhere else that he almost looked emaciated. She glanced at his thin, bony legs and wondered why he did not topple over since it appeared that they were far too weak to support him. His powdered wig held two large sausage curls on either side of his face, and emphasized his huge, bulbous nose. He wore gray satin breeches and a heavily embroidered waistcoat. His clothes were of the highest quality, yet even the cut of his long jacket could not hide his unusual shape. Each time he looked at her, his large painted lips opened and a huge tongue darted out to lick his lower lip. His jowls shook when he spoke and she found it difficult to look at him without laughing.

  A gray satin eye patch, trimmed with diamonds, covered one eye and the other was a lusterless pale blue, which held little emotion. Pink painted patches dotted his cheeks, and he wore a small, black beauty mark at the corner of his mouth like, she had heard, many at court seemed to favor. Nicolette had rarely seen anyone who repulsed her more. She wondered how he and her father could have been brothers. Her father had blue eyes that sparkled and were full of love. Then she noticed his gaze lower and fasten on the bodice of her dress. He licked his lips again, and her stomach turned. It took him so long to reply that his coarse, deep voice made her heart jump.

  "Of course, my child. Circumstances have made my presence here impossible. You see, I am one of the King’s closest advisors. Unfortunately that has caused our relationship to wan, but I have decided to remedy the situation."

  Nicolette briefly wondered if he were attempting to impress her by mentioning his relationship with their sovereign. Suddenly, loathing for her uncle began to build.

  Jamie squeezed her waist gently, "How kind of you to come to our betrothal celebration. Now if you will excuse us?"

  She could not help noticing the edge in Jamie’s voice. Her uncle seemed to look at him as if he were taking his measure.

  "MacQueen, is it not? I must get to know you just a bit before you two lovebirds disappear. I believe that your clan is from the Highlands, is that correct?"

  "Yes," Jamie replied. His voice clipped, "We are from the Isle of Skye. My clan has lived there for hundreds of years." Jamie pulled Nicolette closer to his side.

  "Indeed," John Pierre rubbed his chin. "And quite unsuccessfully, no great fortunes have been made."

  She gasped, "Uncle, you are rude." She turned to leave, but John Pierre’s hand reached toward her and she recoiled in horror.

  "Nicolette, forgive me my darling! I did not mean to insult your betrothed." he smiled. His grotesque lips looked like huge sausages on his long, slender face.

  "I am terribly sorry. I assure you I meant no insult. I have had a long journey, and too much to drink on an empty stomach. You know how that can affect an old man."

  John Pierre’s gaze moved slowly from the top of Jamie’s head to his feet, "I would never have insulted you in such a way Sir, not with all your men here."

  There was an audible gasp from someone nearby. Jamie suddenly took a step forward then pushed her behind him and stood in battle stance, with his legs braced wide, and his hands curled into fists at his side. Nicolette stood on her toes attempting to see over his shoulder.

  "Perhaps the clan system we live by is completely foreign to you. These men are my friends. They are here to celebrate our future together, not for any other reason, especially not to enforce a betrothal desired by both parties."

  Nicolette took a deep breath. Sparks, as sharp as daggers, flew between the two men. Jamie’s arm became as inflexible as iron. She jumped when her hand was gently squeezed. Alec was at her side, and she found herself completely surrounded by Jamie’s clansmen, each with an equally threatening demeanor.

  She peaked at her uncle and noticed his pallor had become a sickly white. His hands shook as he took a snuffbox from his waistcoat, withdrew a lace handkerchief from the sleeve of his coat, and dabbed his huge, bulbous nose. For a moment he looked like a frightened old man and she felt a flicker of sympathy until she gazed into his remaining eye and found a look of pure, maniacal hatred.

  "I beg to differ with you, Sir. One who is in the service of the King knows about respect, much more so than the Chieftain of a tiny dominion," his weak voice shook, but he stood straight and looked directly into Jamie’s eyes.

  Nicolette noted that everyone had stopped dancing to watch the emerging drama and wondered if she should intervene, then realized Jamie would be furious with
any attempt she might make.

  Laurent suddenly appeared, breaking through the crowd, "Uncle, what a surprise! So you have decided to join us on this happy occasion." He paused for a moment, his voice icy. "Even without an invitation!"

  There was another gasp from onlookers, then a ripple of laughter.

  "I believe this is the first we have seen of you since long before father died," he shrugged. "No matter, welcome to my home." Laurent walked to Jamie’s side then put his hand on his shoulder, "You have met my dearest friend, Laird Jamie MacQueen, and the man that I personally endorse."

  Nicolette watched as the hatred she had noticed earlier in her uncle’s gaze, transferred to her brother, and she shivered.

  "Laurent, you should have come to me when you needed help finding an acceptable husband for Nicolette."

  Another collective gasp came from people surrounding them. Now it was Laurent that stood straight and rigid. A steely composure replaced his earlier friendly demeanor. She had never seen her brother appear so fierce.

  Laurent smiled but his eyes were implacable, hard and deadly, "Uncle, this betrothal has been arranged for some time. Jamie is the right husband for Nicolette. I admire and respect him. It was father’s last wish that I protect her from...Do you question my choice?" He moved his hand to the hilt of his dress sword, "It would be highly insulting."

  John Pierre did not reply.

  Laurent shrugged, "I really do not understand your concern. If you have objections simply remember this betrothal could not be more appropriate. It will indeed keep Chere safe, if you know what I mean," he smiled again.

  John Pierre seemed incensed, "I would never wish to be the cause of distress to Nicolette."

  Laurent moved to within a foot of John Pierre, looking down into his face. "No? I am afraid that I heard some vicious gossip about you in Paris."

  "Pray tell me about those depraved rumors," John Pierre waved his lacy handkerchief.

  "I understand you have threatened to have anyone that makes an offer for Nicolette thrown into the Bastille. Therefore, I thought my solution best."

  Again whispers raced across the gathering.

  Philippe approached to stand at her uncle’s side. For the first time John Pierre seemed to notice the attention they were attracting. Surprisingly, it was Philippe who answered Laurent’s question, almost as if the look from John Pierre had been some sort of an order.

  "I can assure you that gossip can be quite brutal in Paris. Indeed, if anything, John Pierre has been concerned because of Nicolette’s lack of suitors. I myself was in Paris and asked your uncle for her hand in marriage, in the erroneous assumption that he was her guardian. Unfortunately, as we have learned tonight, it was far too late."

  "Indeed? Why would you have assumed my uncle was Nicolette’s guardian and not myself?"

  Philippe smiled urbanely and waved a hand through the air in a flourish, "I do not know why I made such a senseless mistake, but there is no need for your anger. I assure you. Nicolette is engaged and all of this discussion is needless. We should all celebrate, not argue. Come, let us dance."

  Laurent nodded, "Of course. Jamie, I believe that Nicolette promised me the next minuet. Do you mind?"

  "Of course not, after all you are her brother," he looked pointedly at Philippe. "I would only object if she were to dance with another." The menace in his voice was unmistakable.

  Her uncle laughed, the sound was wicked and shrill. Then he pulled out his snuffbox again. His loud sniff reverberated across the room, and Nicolette almost laughed at the absurdity. She stood on tiptoes, and touched Jamie on the shoulder.

  "There is not enough snuff in the world to fill that nose," she whispered. Jamie burst into laughter, and the booming sound filled the nearly silent room. Suddenly the situation seemed to defuse. People parted to allow the brother and sister to pass, then slowly drifted away or followed them to the floor.

  Philippe watched them walk away. "Soon Laurent, very soon my revenge will be complete." He softly whispered.

  ~ * ~

  "Jamie, you are besotted with the woman." Alec laughed and the men surrounding him did the same, "Look at him, have you ever seen such a look of sheer ecstasy."

  "Aye. I have never seen the like. While on the ship ye would have thought he was coming for an execution, and now he seems to want nothing more than this marriage," Ian smiled.

  Alec shook his head, "If he is not with her, he moons for her. Look, even now all he can do is stand and watch her."

  Ian laughed, "So yer that afraid that someone will steal the wee lass away from you."

  "Nay, but who would not want too? Her loveliness diminishes the room, every other women seems like a faded rose."

  Laurent approached, "Jamie, I am sorry to interrupt, but I need to see you in the library. I have just received an urgent message from Lafayette." Laurent nodded to the others, "Alec would you join us as well."

  Once they entered the room, Laurent poured them a brandy. Jamie took his and walked to the fireplace.

  "Lafayette believes the King will sign an order for guardianship in favor of my uncle, it is imminent."

  Jamie paced, "How much time do we have?"

  Alec looked from one to the other, "What is this order?"

  Laurent took a sip of brandy. "It gives my uncle guardianship over Nicolette. I believe there will also be a Lettre de Cachet, which gives the barrier absolute power. It has been used to have the party named thrown into the Bastille."

  "Good God!" Alec looked bewildered. "For how long?"

  "For eternity, some people are never heard from again," Laurent shrugged. "Yet, I assume we have at least a week or so, especially since my uncle is here."

  Jamie nodded, "What do we do now? Will Lafayette know when it is signed and send a messenger?"

  Laurent walked back to the sideboard and picked up the decanter then poured them each another drink. "I hope so. We must complete our plans sooner than expected. Tomorrow I will go to Paris. Jamie, you must ready the ships. I will announce our departure at the tenant’s betrothal party three days hence. We must be ready to leave immediately, within a week."

  Jamie walked to the window, "That soon?"

  "Oui, events have overtaken us. Thank God we are nearly ready. I have had the ships moved from Calais to St. Malo." Laurent smiled. "Well then, to America!"

  ~ * ~

  Philippe’s eyes narrowed as he watched Jamie and Laurent leave the room. Nicolette was now the prey and he the hunter. She could never escape him. He smiled. Laurent would soon understand the pain of her loss, just as he had known complete despair when Madeleine died. He searched the room for his victim, and for a moment, as he watched her, he felt a twinge of guilt, even regret. Why did the innocent have to be the ones to suffer? Yet, he had vowed revenge, and he would have it.

  He walked toward Nicolette then made an elaborate bow. "May I have this dance? Since you have left me with a broken heart I should have compensation, should I not?"

  The women surrounding her laughed.

  She noted his wicked grin then glanced around the room for Jamie, but could not find him. A helpless feeling encompassed her when she noticed that Laurent and Alec were missing as well. She sighed, "I think not, Philippe."

  Philippe laughed, "Ladies, I beg for your help. I am the clumsy lout who waited too long to make Nicolette mine. Do you not think she owes me something for a broken heart? Please, offer me your assistance. I only seek a simple dance."

  Someone pushed Nicolette from behind and she was thrown against Philippe’s shoulder.

  He took her hand as he helped her balance. "Aha! Perhaps all is not lost. Did you not see her throw herself at me?"

  Again laughter came from the women. Then Philippe took her hand and kissed her fingertips and Nicolette felt a fissure of disgust ripple in her stomach.

  He raised his gaze to hers, "I beg of you, my lady." Then he glanced at the women surrounding them once more.

  "Nicolette, you really must dance with
him!" One of the ladies offered her encouragement.

  "How could I deny you, Philippe?" She sighed, "But only one dance."

  The orchestra played a minuet, and Philippe led her to the far end of the room near the verandah.

  "Why do you look around? It is quite insulting. Are you afraid your betrothed, the savage that he is, might see us?" Philippe sneered.

  "It is you who should fear."

  Phillipe laughed, "Indeed?"

  Nicolette thought the ordeal would soon be over when suddenly Philippe made a wide turn, then forced her out of the glass doors and onto verandah. He gripped her waist and covered her mouth with his hand then pulled her down to the garden.

  She jerked away, "Philippe, stop at once and leave me alone! Let me go back to the ballroom."

  "Not until we have spoken. You have much to explain. I thought I made myself clear yesterday. Remember? I told you that you must honor your promise."

  "I cannot. Perhaps circumstances would be different if you had not insisted that we keep our engagement a secret, but things have changed. The betrothal to Jamie is for the best."

  "Of course, my dear, the blame is entirely mine." His hand clamped painfully around her arm. "Tell me, I must know, were you forced into this betrothal?"

  What should she say? True, in the beginning she was forced, but no longer. She looked up into his fanatical gaze.

  His eyes narrowed, "Were you forced?"

  Nicolette shook head, "No, I..."

  "Indeed, just as I thought! He did force you! You are afraid to answer me. First Madeleine and now you. I will not allow this slight. Laurent will pay with his life!"

  Her voice rose and she tore away, "No, it is not true! Laurent did not force me. At first I was simply surprised with the news, but since then I have fallen in love with Jamie."

  "Impossible, Chere. He is little more than a peasant, far below your station, and therefore completely unacceptable. Why else would your uncle be so concerned? The only reason for this betrothal is your brother’s hatred of me."

  "No, Laurent did not know of your offer. Remember? You insisted that we keep it a secret. How could this be an insult if he did not know?"