‘Nothing could make a difference to my love for you,’ she said, gazing up into the face that she had thought never to see again.
‘And yet you told Henri you were leaving me.’
‘Only because of Elise. Because of what I heard the Abbé say.’
‘And so you would ruin Elise’s happiness, as well as mine and Henri’s, all for a few overheard words?’
‘I wanted to preserve Elise’s happiness.’
‘Then let her marry Henri, for she desires nothing else.’ His voice thickened. ‘And I desire nothing else but you, Marietta Riccardi.’
He bent his head and kissed her and then, eternities later, Raphael said, ‘I have a horse for Marietta.’
‘She doesn’t need one,’ Léon answered. ‘We’ll leave Evray as we did before, only this time will be the last.’
‘And the Inquisitor?’ Marietta asked as she mounted Léon’s horse behind him. ‘ What of the Inquisitor?’
‘You need have no further fears of him,’ Henri said grimly. ‘He thought you a genuine witch sought by the King himself, an idea I have disabused him of.’
‘And all those men? I thought it was Louis’ army, the way they charged up the hill.’
‘They are in a way, for they are some of the men I can always call upon to fight for me in the King’s cause.’
‘Where are they now?’
‘Doing what soldiers always do. Enjoying themselves.’
From the village came the distant sound of carousing and female laughter. Gently he spurred his horse into movement, and Henri and Raphael followed them down the hillside and once more into the forest where he had first found her. The moon rode high and the sky was thick with stars, the night air warm and heavy with the scent of wild rosemary and jasmine. Her arms were around his waist, her head against the reassuring broadness of his back.
‘I shall have to start another lace gown when I return to Chatonnay,’ she said dreamily.
In the darkness Léon smiled. ‘You’ll have no time for such fripperies. I intend to marry you immediately, even if it means you wearing nothing but your shift for the ceremony!’
She giggled, her arms tightening around him. ‘That wouldn’t please her at all! She wants a gown of pointe de Venise lace. A full length gown of point de Venise lace.’
‘Who does, sweet love?’ he asked in an amused voice as fireflies danced a farandole in the darkness around them.
‘Oh, just someone,’ Marietta said, her lips curving in a secret smile as she thought of their merry-faced granddaughter with the dimples in her cheeks. ‘Someone who would be most indignant at having only a shift for her wedding gown.’ And she closed her eyes in contentment as they cantered steadily southwards.
Copyright
First published in 1981 by Mills and Boon
This edition published 2013 by Bello
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Copyright © Margaret Pemberton, 1981
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