sirenssong_132-Xe3.htm

by Siren's Song (lit)

  "Can you not guess, my dear?"

  Nicolette turned to run, but he grabbed her by the upper arm and swung her around. She stumbled and fell to the ground. He laughed and pulled her up. She kicked him, and he swore when her foot made contact with his leg. Soon he overpowered her then dragged her toward the coach. Nicolette fought, kicking and screaming until he finally slapped her across her mouth.

  She stopped struggling when she noticed Marie running toward her. Realizing Philippe had not seen her, Nicolette struggled with renewed strength hoping to distract him. Marie struck Philippe across the back with a large branch. He yelped, shock evident on his features, yet he did not loosen his grip. He started toward the coach again, and Nicolette fought every step, kicking and screaming. Marie hit him again yet he continued.

  "Run back to the chateau! Hurry."

  Marie did not leave, but followed fearlessly, continuing to strike Philippe, but it did little good.

  "Mon Dieu, you bitch, stop that immediately!"

  Suddenly the coach door opened and someone stepped down. Strangely everything stopped. Marie ceased her attack and Philippe stood still.

  "Help me, Uncle!" Nicolette’s voice was filled with hope. "He is demented and intends to abduct me." Her uncle smiled, and Nicolette felt an ominous shiver race through her.

  "Philippe, I have asked you to do one simple task and you fail? How can you expect to be entrusted with anything more important than a woman?"

  "Please help me."

  His wicked, shout of laughter burst around them, "Indeed, Nicolette. I am helping you."

  "Marie, run!" Nicolette’s piercing scream brought forth a maniacal laugh from her uncle.

  He reached into his pocket, then taking out a bottle he marched toward her. His hand moved toward her face. Nicolette continued to struggle as the bottle was shoved into her mouth. Finally, unable to move she coughed and choked, she fought a moment longer then slumped. Philippe picked her up, and placed her in the coach.

  "Nicolette!" Marie backed away, her face etched in white. She turned and ran. She was halfway across the meadow before the coachman caught her, wresting her to the ground.

  "No!" Marie fought like a wild woman, her loud scream echoing though the trees, until finally the man hit her.

  "What should I do with this one, my lord?"

  John Pierre was silent a moment, then he moved to examine her face, "Very pretty, very pretty indeed, bring her as well. After all, we wouldn’t want her body to be found so near your estate Philippe. Would we?" John Pierre laughed again, and the bottle was shoved into Marie’s mouth as well.

  Nicolette roused a short while later, confused and frightened.

  "Awake I see. Well not for long. I hope the ropes are not to tight on your delicate skin," John Pierre smiled. "Your friend is still unconscious, but she is bound as well."

  He laughed, "To answer the question I see in your eyes, I am taking you to Paris as I should have done many years ago. No, do not thank me. I have arranged everything. I will be your guardian and you will answer to me."

  Her eyes grew large as she shook her head in denial.

  "Yes my dear, I am your guardian now, and you will obey me. Indeed, you will submit to my every wish."

  John Pierre grabbed her face, while Philippe poured more liquid into her mouth, and soon there was blessed darkness.

  Fourteen

  Nicolette drifted in and out of consciousness. Vaguely, from what seemed a very far distance, she could hear a conversation. Her head pounded unmercifully. She nearly moaned, but something deep inside warned her to remain silent. She peeked beneath her lashes to see two men and the seed of recollection began to grow.

  "Well, Philippe, that seemed to be less difficult than I imagined."

  Philippe grimaced then leaned down to rub his shin, "Of course you would think so, you were not the one on the end of that vicious little bitch’s temper."

  The other man laughed. Philippe was there, and so was someone else. Who? Her mind drifted. Never had she felt so drowsy, so numb, and she slept. Laughter stirred her awake again then she heard a deep voice.

  "No, indeed not, but look at it this way, there are ways to make this little one pay for her sins."

  Vaguely, she had a memory of the other man, but it was illusive. Her gaze followed a walking stick as it crossed the coach to trace the outline of Marie’s low cut bodice then pushed the scarf tucked into her blouse away. It flew out the open window of the carriage, and Philippe laughed.

  "It seems that she has assets we may have overlooked."

  John Pierre! Nicolette quickly closed her eyes. He had helped Philippe! The shock stung as she remembered his involvement.

  Then Philippe laughed, "Indeed. I do admit that I enjoy a little pain with my pleasure. She might be quite a good diversion."

  Nicolette inwardly cringed. He was disgusting! I hate you. Her mind screamed and she bit her tongue to keep from speaking. Desperation overwhelmed her, and only one thought remained. Jamie! Please find me. She repeated the words like a litany.

  "And what of your marriage to Nicolette, do you not wish that above all things?"

  Philippe smiled, "Of course. I will marry her, then send the lurid details of our wedding night to the Bastille. When Laurent hears the degradation I have planned, and that I am the master of all he holds dear, he will die a thousand deaths. Perhaps then, in some small measure, he will understand the anguish I felt at Madeleine’s death. That is all I have lived for the last few years. Yet, may I not enjoy other pleasures? I delight in a healthy peasant woman."

  She peeked again when John Pierre laughed. His remaining eye turned to ice, and the maniacal hatred she had seen there at the betrothal ball for Jamie was now transferred to Philippe.

  He sounded menacing, "I do. In fact, I have seen the things you do to women, and it seems quite extreme, but I am never one to judge."

  Nicolette watched, fascinated by the exchange. They did not realize that she was awake. Perhaps they would continue to believe that she was unconscious and she could escape.

  "Of course, I would never treat a member of the nobility in such a way. You understand." Philippe cleared his voice. "It will give me pleasure simply to embellish the story and taunt Laurent with obscene details, whether they are true or not."

  John Pierre seemed distracted. His cane moved to Nicolette, the tip slowly trailed down her neck, and over her breast, coming to rest at the juncture of her thighs, and every fiber in her being screamed as the shock of his touch permeated her drugged state. She wanted to jerk away, but somehow she remained perfectly still.

  "Yes, a sweet virgin, and so much like my Genevieve."

  "Genevieve?"

  She could hear the shock in Philippe’s voice.

  "John Pierre, remember she is your niece!" John Pierre quickly removed his cane.

  What am I to do now? Nicolette wondered bleakly. Her thoughts returned to the vow that she had given her father, and she finally understood the reason for her promise. He had feared John Pierre! He had not expected her to protect the estate. No, he had planned for the remote estate, and their people, to shield her. Even then he realized that there was something terribly dissolute about her uncle.

  "Genevieve was my brother’s wife. She died years ago, but Nicolette is her image. Genevieve refused me and accepted my brother. You see you are not the only one who seeks revenge."

  "Tell me John Pierre, what will you do when Laurent follows us?"

  "Do you believe me an idiot? Of course I made plans for that happening? Only you would be stupid enough to think it would be this simple."

  Philippe’s voice sounded furious at the insult, "I had not thought our plan would begin so soon. So, you have a strategy then?"

  John Pierre’s cane again moved to stroke Nicolette’s breast.

  "Indeed. I have taken care of my nephew, and that popinjay from Scotland with one brilliant stroke," his wicked laughter rang across the coach. "The rest of the plans are quite mundane. I ha
ve fresh horses, and rooms at the Inns arranged. It is an inconvenience to stay in such low country places, yet we can hardly take Nicolette to Paris by horseback."

  The cane moved to circle her breast again. She could not contain her disgust and gagged.

  "She is waking."

  Nicolette opened her eyes and began to struggle as they put the bottle into her mouth and forced her to drink. Instantly she drifted into darkness.

  ~ * ~

  The last vestiges of the sunset splashed across the sky in deep purple streaks as Jamie rode slowly back to the chateau. He noted the dark, ominous clouds that covered the sky and made the dusk seem foreboding. At the crest of the hill overlooking the chateau he stopped. The last remnants of the sunset silhouetted the old fortress.

  "To bad the pipers have gone, they would have made this a lively party," he shrugged. It could not be helped. Laurent needed them to help prepare the way for their imminent departure. "Aye, a pity. They would have enjoyed this celebration, and I would have delighted in their company."

  "Alec!" his voice was much louder than he realized, and the stallion pranced about, surprised by the outburst. "At least he will be here tonight!" Alec had ridden with him, but came home the first day with a lame horse. He wondered how much time Alec had spent in the cozy warmth of his bed with Marie in his arms, and for a moment he thought of Nicolette.

  Jamie scratched the stubble across his chin and yawned. Weariness seeped into his bones, and his tired muscles ached from the damp chill. He rubbed his eyes and wondered if Laurent had returned from Paris. He suddenly realized that darkness was quickly arriving. "Come boy, I’m late for my own party."

  Soon he arrived and quietly entered the chateau. He requested a bath as he walked through the nearly deserted kitchen then moved up the back stairs. Jamie leaned against his door jamb for a moment then walked to the window, opened it wide and took a deep breath. Cool evening air filled the room with a sweet, fresh, fragrance. He yawned and stretched, then walked to the wardrobe swinging the door wide. He tore the clothes from his body leaving them in a sodden, unkempt pile on the floor then noted himself in the full-length mirror. He smiled lazily as he thought of Nicolette.

  "Tell me Goddess, have you looked in the mirror today?" The thought of their last night together caused an instant reaction. He gazed back into the mirror and laughed, "Sometimes I worry about you Jamie boy." The jealousy and anger he experienced the night of the ball had forced him to acknowledge his love for her was boundless. Once more he looked into the mirror and shook his head, "How could you be such a besotted fool?"

  Soon the bath arrived and the warm water soothed away the soreness from his muscles. Jamie had never felt so tired, or ached so badly. He had ridden nearly two full days to get back here in time for this celebration. Now, he relaxed with a French brandy in one hand and a cheroot in the other. Jamie smiled again. In a few minutes he would go downstairs to Nicolette. The jealousy he felt only two evenings before had floated away with the night air during their lovemaking, and blessed reason returned. He could not wait to see her again, to touch her, or see a smile light her features.

  There was no moon. The sky remained overcast, only candles filled the verandah. He closed his eyes as he thought of Nicolette bathing in the low flickering light. His thoughts drifted and he dreamed of her reclining at the lake, the early morning sun touching her long curls with sparks of fire and kissing her wet glistening body with shining diamonds.

  Jamie was startled by the loud sound of voices below. He looked at the open window with longing as the sounds of the music drifted through the air. The delicious aroma of roast pig caused his mouth to water, "I am starving, and I am hungry for more than just food!"

  In a few days they would be on their way, and she would be his forever, "Aye, she haunts my every dream, my every moment. She is the treasure I have sought." He laughed again when he caught a glimpse of his outline in the water, "Sweet Siren, what you do to me. I hate to admit this, but I love you, Goddess. Even to the depths of my soul."

  She was his from the first moment they were hand-fast, yet he would wed her officially in the church. Then their union would be sanctioned in the eyes of all men, including her uncle and Philippe.

  "To my darling Goddess," he saluted with the tiny goblet, then took a sip of brandy. As soon as he closed his eyes his mind drifted to a vision of Nicolette bathing in a deep blue lake in an American forest glade with a tiny little girl, a miniature beauty, the very image of her mother, "one day I will see you thus."

  Jamie stood, dried quickly and dressed. He had just pulled his shirt over his head when Henri rushed into his room.

  "Sir, your home at last! I have been terribly concerned, much has happened in your absence," Henri shuffled toward him.

  Jamie smiled, "You shouldn’t have worried, nothing could have kept me away from this celebration."

  "That’s just it Sir, we must cancel the festivities."

  Suddenly Jamie realized just how concerned Henri seemed, "Why would that be? I can already hear people downstairs, and what an aroma! My mouth is watering even now. This will be an evening to remember, so let’s hear no more."

  "But Sir..."

  "Quiet Henri." he turned and combed his hair.

  Murtagh entered the room, his grim face reflected in the mirror. Jamie closed his eyes then took a deep breath, "All right. Which one of you two is going to tell me?"

  "Nicolette’s missing."

  Murtagh’s words hit him like a blow to his midsection, "Missing?" Jamie’s head snapped up.

  "She has been gone since the day you left, and Marie with her. We didn’t discover their absence immediately. The Marquis and Alec are searching for them."

  "Henri, cancel the celebration. Tell the people downstairs what is happening," he commanded.

  Henri shuffled away.

  "She ran from me," his voice was bleak. "Just like Mother, she ran away."

  Murtagh put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder, "What’s this about your mother, lad. Do you still mourn her?"

  "Aye, and why should I not?" Jamie whispered. "She ran from us, from me."

  Murtagh cleared his voice, "She didn’t run, Jamie boy." He looked at him, searching his eyes, "Do ye not know?"

  Jamie jerked around to face him, "Know what?"

  Murtagh walked to a chair, "Yer father ne’er spoke to ye lad?"

  "Told me what?" Jamie was still whispering.

  Murtagh looked toward the window, "We found yer mother, not long after ye left for America. I thought he wrote ye."

  "I never heard from Father after I left for America, not one letter, and he died before I returned."

  "Aye," Murtagh whispered. "We found yer mother Jamie. She’d been dead for some time."

  "Dead?"

  "We found her in a cave near the sea, in one of the far tunnels. Ye know the one where the children often play. She had been murdered, Jamie." he paused, his voice quiet, "When we get back to the ship ye should ask Kirick, he knows much more than I. He told me never to speak of it, and I have honored my word," Murtagh cleared his voice. "I can tell ye that yer father nearly went mad with guilt because he thought she’d left him. He burned with shame because he didn’t punish the man who killed her."

  Murtagh placed his hand on his shoulder, "How did ye think that ye got the ring Jamie? The one ye placed on yer betrothed at the celebration? It was the MacQueen jewelry, given only to their brides."

  "Of course. I assumed that she left it when she ran away." Ran away! The words echoed in his mind. "She did not run, she was torn from us, murdered," he whispered. "Murdered," Jamie said again. "Why did my father never write?"

  "He died soon after that and didn’t have time to make peace with her death himself. We buried them together." Murtagh shrugged, "It’s no fair to blame him. Aye, do not forget that yer mother was sassenach. She left her family for your father, and he never forgave himself for causing her pain. He believed she went back to them until we found her."

 
Murtagh stood, "Kirick told me yer parents had a foolish argument the day she disappeared. It started when the Englishman moved into the estate next to ours. He came to visit one day, and that was what caused so much trouble between them. Once we found her body, your father accused him of the crime. It was strange. He came home from that meeting, and told us never to mention her again. We have honored his request. He died soon after. The trouble stopped then and the Englishman left the Highlands."

  "There is much more to this story than murder," he paced a moment. "Jamie, yer mother was betrothed to an Englishman when she married yer father. We heard he was a cruel man, and she was forced into the engagement."

  Jamie nodded, "Aye, it’s true. Father once told me that she was sold to this man like we would sell a flock of sheep."

  "That Englishman forced himself on her when he found out about your father. She was with child when she married."

  Jamie gasped, "What?"

  "It was nay ye. Yer a highlander, nay ta worry about that. The Laird brought her home and she had the child. Some months later, the English blackguard stole the baby away in the night. Your father wanted to go after him, but your mother wanted peace. She feared for his life, and begged him not to follow for the good of the clan. He did as she asked."

  "I have never heard this story. Does the entire clan know about this? Everyone but me?"

  "Nay, lad. Only Kirick, Robert and I knew that the baby was nay yer father’s child, no one else. They told the clan the baby died."

  "I’ve seen the grave," Jamie started to pace. "Mother and I were very close, she would have told me I had a living brother."

  "True it is lad, yet there is nothin’ in the ground." Murtagh put his hand on his shoulder, "She never spoke about the baby. It was if she could not bear the pain. Your father would have fought the hounds of hell for her, but she begged him not to fight the man. They never learned what happened to the boy." Murtagh walked back to the window. "No man ever loved a woman more. That’s why we were baffled when he did nay search for her."