Destiny's Kiss

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “Whatever I wish?”

  He gripped her shoulders and tugged her against him. Crushing her lips beneath his, he claimed every morsel of pleasure waiting for him. His tongue thrust past her lips with his desire to conquer her mouth.

  She sighed as he traced a line of scintillating sparks along her neck. Her fingers clutched his shirt. A soft moan escaped from her as the tip of his tongue traced the curve of her ear. A glow hotter than midsummer lightning flashed through her. When his lips settled on hers again, he cradled her against his arm. She stroked his hard chest and was delighted when his heart raced at the same fevered pace as hers.

  When he released her, his fingers curved along her cheek. “That is what I wish.”

  “Then come with me.” She took a step toward the bedroom and held out her hand to him.

  “No!” Striding to the door, he grabbed his cloak and was gone.

  Lirienne ran to the window to see him walking toward the de Talebot house, where he would find some wine to ease the biting edge of the desire haunting them. Wanting to call after him, she leaned her head against the ice-etched panes. With the crash of the door, shutting her out of his life and his arms once more, the pain began anew. She feared that this time it would never end.

  Fourteen

  “Lirienne, come here!”

  She wiped her hands on her apron as she saw how the cold wind had chapped Philippe’s cheeks, concealing his deep tan. When he motioned to her, a hint of a ruffled cuff appeared beneath the threadbare hem of his navy sleeve. The excitement in his voice could not be disguised, and his eyes glowed with happiness.

  He held out his hand, and she slipped hers into it. The sensation of his fingers around hers was as sweet as a caress. He chuckled and pulled her cloak from the peg. Tossing it over her head with another laugh, he barely gave her time to settle it on top of her skirt before he seized her hand again and threw open the door.

  “It’s cold!” she gasped as the wind sucked the breath from her.

  “I assure you, Madame de Villeneuve, I’ve heard a rumor that spring does come to this valley.”

  “I’m not certain that is true.”

  “You’ve been mighty curious about what I’ve been doing lately.”

  “Yes, for you’ve been mighty mysterious.”

  “Close your eyes!”

  She stared at him. Had he lost his mind? “The ground is rough. I could trip.”

  He framed her face with his gloves that were patterned with holes and pulled threads. “Trust me, ma petite.”

  “Philippe—”

  “Trust me.” Regret resounded through his voice. “Trust me this once.”

  “I trust you.” She put her hands over his and looked up into his eyes. She wanted to hold onto this joy as long as possible. “I trust you all the time.”

  “Then,” he said, his smile returning, “shut your eyes and give me your hand.”

  She tilted her chin upward and closed her eyes. When his broad palm brushed her face, she opened her eyes to find his hand in front of them. She laughed. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “You? Yes. Your curiosity? No!” He grasped her shoulder, steering her to the right.

  The clucking of the chickens told her they were going toward the barn.

  He lifted away his hand and whispered, “Look!”

  Lirienne blinked as light reflected off the snow. The dark blobs in front of her solidified into two fine-boned horses. One was a very round bay with a full black mane and a luxurious tail. The other, slightly larger, was a beautiful white.

  “How lovely!” she gasped. “Where did you get them?”

  “I bought them last week from Yves Suchard’s friend Jacobs.”

  She laughed. “I think Mr. Jacobs is much more Agathe’s friend.”

  Smiling, he said, “Tomorrow I’m going back to get the stallion. By this time next year, we should be on our way to having a line of fine horses.”

  She leaned on the fence. “Is this what you want to do? Breed horses?”

  “Why not? Château de Villeneuve has”—he grinned wryly—“it had a reputation for excellent horses. That may be the single skill I have, Lirienne. I don’t have your knowledge of housewifery or husbandry.”

  “You have wonderful skills as a husband,” she said lightly, but he did not smile. With a sigh, she looked back at the horses. “That bay is beautiful. Does she have a name?”

  “The bay is Soyeux. The white is Cristal.”

  “French names for American horses?”

  He put his arm around her shoulders. “Cristal looks like fresh snow, and Soyeux deserves to be called silky, for that is what she is.” His fingers toyed with a strand of her hair. “Just as this is.”

  “You’re charming today.”

  “I thought I was charming every day.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Most days, you’re intolerable. Some days you are barely tolerable. Occasionally you border on charming.”

  “What a compliment!” He laughed. “I was fortunate to buy Soyeux before she gave birth. Jacobs has several pregnant mares, so he was willing to let me have Soyeux for a good price.”

  Lirienne’s eyes narrowed as she appraised the horse. “She should foal within a month, if I guess right.”

  “That’s what Jacobs said. How did you know?”

  “I was brought up with horses, for Papa often took me to the stables. If you need help when she foals, Philippe, I have experience.”

  “Good. Two sets of hands may be necessary. This is her first.” He held out his hand. “Let’s give them a chance to become accustomed to their new home while I speak with you about something inside.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  He took her hand. “I prefer to speak of private business privately.”

  Her heart leaped in joy for the length of a single beat; then she realized he still was talking only about the horses. Or was he? Putting his arm around her shoulders, he caressed her upper arm. She looked at him in surprise. He smiled as she put her hand over his. As he entwined his fingers with hers, she rested her head against his shoulder again. This was where she wanted to be. In his arms, with his heartbeat beneath her ear.

  Philippe opened the door and ushered her inside. The scent of freshly cooked bread flavored every breath she took. Pushing the cooling loaves aside, he sat beside her on the bench.

  “What is it?” she asked, unable to restrain her curiosity any longer.

  “I’ve made arrangements to buy two additional horses from Jacobs.”

  “Two? You mentioned only one by the barn.” Her brow ruffled. “How can you buy two more horses? We have no money, and I can’t take in enough sewing to pay for one horse, let alone four.”

  He settled her left hand on his palm. He stroked her fingers, pausing on the gold band on her fourth finger. His gaze rose to hers as he ran his fingertip along the ring. Pulling her hand away, she stared at him in horror. Her wedding band was the one symbol of their marriage that had not been tarnished.

  “Lirienne, I’ve already discussed it with Jacobs. He’ll take the ring in trade.”

  “You decided that without telling me? It’s my ring!”

  “It’s the ring of the Vicomtesse de Villeneuve.”

  She stood. “I am the Vicomtesse de Villeneuve. You gave me this ring.”

  “Now I need it back.” He folded his arms on the table and held her with his intense gaze. “When I gave it to you, I had no idea it would be the key to the future. Think of what it can buy for us.”

  “For us or just for you?” With a soft cry, she spun away.

  He came to his feet. “Do you think I care so little for you?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Once I knew that we were working together to save our lives. But since”—she almost choked, but she forced herself to continue—“since I lost the baby, you’ve acted as if I’m an impediment to your dreams.”

  “You know that is not true.”

  “I wouldn�
��t have said it if it weren’t true.”

  “We’ve lied often to each other.”

  “But I’m not lying now.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it. Squaring his shoulders, he said, “Anything I say will sound callous, but I need that ring to pay for the horses. I had hoped you could share this dream. It’s obvious that I was wrong.”

  She wished she could snarl the words which would tell him how heartless he was. She should hurt him as he’d hurt her, but she could not. When Philippe had shown her the horses, he had been happy, as she had not seen him since she’d told him she was going to have a baby.

  He sat heavily and shook his head. “I should have known it was too much to ask. You’re right. The ring was a gift.” With a heart-deep sigh, he looked up at her. “After all, that ring is small payment for the torment I’ve dragged you through since I coerced you into marrying me.”

  “You didn’t coerce me.”

  “I remember your shock when I proposed. You looked as if you thought you had escaped a beating.”

  Before she could halt herself, she blurted out, “I did think that was what you intended.” When his eyes widened with astonishment, she hurried to add before he could speak Madame Fortier’s name, “I was also amazed that a vicomte wished to marry me. I’m still overwhelmed when I think about that day, although it’s now harder every day to remember what life was like in France. Sometimes, it seems as if we’ve lived here forever.”

  “Yes, forever.”

  Lirienne closed her eyes as she heard his pain. Wanting to wrap her arms around him and kiss away his anguish, she instead slipped the ring off her finger. Placing it on the table by his hand, she whispered, “I won’t keep you from having the chance to make your dreams come true.”

  He clasped her hands between his. “Thank you, ma petite. Don’t be sad. When we have established this line of horses, you will have all the gold rings you want.”

  I only want this one you gave me the day we wed.

  “I’m glad for you that you’ll have your dream. I’m glad for me that I could help you.” She laughed, shocking herself as much as him. “And I’m glad for Agathe, because Mr. Jacobs must be planning to ask her to marry.”

  His eyes grew wide. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Some of the gossip in Azilum is true.”

  Philippe said nothing as she went to fold the laundry piled on the bed. He was tempted to throw it and all caution aside as he pressed her into that mattress. Was he out of his mind? No, just yearning for her softness all around him.

  He stared at the ring that had been worn by so many vicomtesses in his family. Maybe he could buy it back before they left for France. He shook his head. Once Jacobs slipped it on Agathe Suchard’s hand, it would be lost to his family forever.

  He almost laughed at the irony. In France, he could have bedecked his wife with gems and gold. Even their plates and goblets would have been gold. Here, they dined on pewter and drank from thick glass. Thoughts of returning to France and avenging Lucien’s death came seldom now, for every day’s labors left him exhausted, and sleep came as soon as he stretched out on the narrow bench.

  Alone.

  He glanced back at the bedroom. The one constant amid all the upheaval had been Lirienne. Her smile, her compassion, her belief in him. Had he traded all those precious parts of his life for an even more uncertain future?

  Setting the ring on the mantel, he turned, pulled his cloak from the hook, and walked out the door. He went to the paddock and stared at the two horses. He hoped they would have an easier time adjusting to Azilum than he had. With his arms dangling over the top rail, he stared at the shadows of the clouds playing across the mountains.

  When slender fingers touched his arm, he smiled to ease Lirienne’s sorrowful expression. She was so beautiful, so desirable, so unbelievably tempting. And so strong, for she had helped him weather what he could not have withstood alone. Stroking her cheek with the back of his hand, he relished its downy texture. She placed her fingers over his, holding them close to her.

  “When I see you staring at the horses,” she said quietly, “I think I understand how important this is to you.”

  Turning her into his arms, he delighted in how perfectly she fit against him. “How can you know so much about me when I’m only discovering the truth about myself?”

  “By listening to my heart.”

  “And what does it say? Does it speak to me as well?” He put his fingertip in the center of her chest. When she gasped at the intimate motion, the need for her pulsed through him. “Does your heart always thump so rapidly?”

  Lirienne shook her head, afraid of the truth calling out from her heart. To speak of love was sure to end this sweet moment. When his finger roved along her bodice, her knees trembled, and she clutched his shoulders. Barely able to breathe, she stared up into his smile as he slipped his fingers beneath the modest kerchief at her bodice.

  She moaned with uncontrollable longing as he loosened the laces beneath it. The sound vanished when his mouth covered hers, teasing her lips into sharing the rapture as he stroked her breast. When he pressed her hips to his, he held her between his hard body and the uneven fence post.

  His chuckle was warm against her ear as he teased it. Lightning-hot need coursed through her when he cupped her breast. She wanted this. She had waited for this for so long.

  “Lirienne!” Agathe’s voice was filled with happiness. “Are you out here?”

  Lirienne pulled away, fumbling to tie her dress back in place. Turning, she called, “Just a moment.” Lowering her voice, she added, “Philippe, what is …?”

  She stood alone by the fence.

  Vachel handed Philippe a glass of wine and smiled. “We soon shall grow nostalgic for the swill we drank in Philadelphia.”

  Downing the wine in a single gulp, he set the glass on the table. Vachel’s house was nearly as large as the Grande Maison, as befit his place as one of the founders of the settlement. The furniture here was well made and comfortable, reminding Philippe of how he owed even what little he had to his friend.

  It meant nothing. That thought shocked him, but he knew it was true. By the barn, he nearly had given in to his craving to make love with Lirienne. He had not thought of the consequences, only his need. If Agathe Suchard had not interrupted when she did, he could have destroyed everything for a few moments of exquisite pleasure.

  “What is bothering you, my friend?” Vachel asked, sitting in a chair by the window that overlooked the common area.

  “Lirienne.” He cursed silently. Why had he let the truth slip past his lips?

  “I told you that you should have left her behind.”

  “Once she married me, even if we had divorced, she was in danger of losing her head to the guillotine.”

  “I meant in Philadelphia.”

  He sat and stared at the fire on the hearth. “She had just lost the baby.”

  “You are beginning to care about this serving wench you married.”

  “She is my wife.”

  “I’ve asked you this before. For how long? Will you take her back to France with you?”

  “I don’t think she will leave here. She loves Azilum.”

  Vachel’s lips twisted. “And why not? These fools here treat her as if she were born to her title.” He spat a curse. “This settlement has given your wife and the Suchards and the rest of them the idea that we are all equal. If you want my opinion …”

  “I do,” he said, although he was not sure he did.

  “Divorce her and return to France.”

  “Divorces aren’t so easy here in America.”

  “Anything can be had for a price. That’s the same the world around.”

  Philippe smiled tautly. “But the price is more than I can afford now.” Even if I wished to divorce Lirienne. For a moment, he feared he had spoken those words aloud. It was bad enough that they haunted him. He did not need Vachel discovering what a fool he was to be consumed with lo
nging for his wife. From the beginning, he and Lirienne had planned for this marriage to be only temporary.

  “Getting a divorce may be easier than you think, my friend,” Vachel mused.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Adultery by your wife will help you gain a divorce.”

  “Adultery? Don’t be silly.”

  Running his finger around the rim of the glass, he said, “I have hesitated to mention this, but it seems you are the only one in Azilum who has not noticed how your wife flirts with every man.”

  “Lirienne? Impossible!”

  “Is it?” He took a deep drink of his wine and grimaced. “Watch for yourself. You may be surprised. Very pleasantly surprised.”

  “That you are mistaken?”

  “That I’m right, and you have a way to rid yourself of your wife as soon as you wish.”

  Fifteen

  Lirienne strolled along the path which smelled of the melting snows and thick mud. She paused to admire small blue flowers peeking through the snow at the edge of the road. The endless winter was really ending, and, if this part of Pennsylvania was at all like France, soon spring blossoms would be cloaking the hillsides.

  She swung the basket in rhythm with her steps. Her fears that the winter would never end had vanished. Life should be taking a turn for the better.

  This morning before dawn, Philippe had shaken her from sleep and told her to get dressed. It was the first time he had come into the bedroom while she was sleeping. She had raised her arms to him, hoping he would come into them, but he had only tossed her dress toward her as he explained he needed her help because Soyeux’s foal was about to be born.

  Philippe had been an anxious father. “Hurry, ma petite,” he had urged as she drew on her heavy cloak against the chill left from the night. “I don’t want to leave her alone too long.”

  “She should do fine.” She tied her cloak closed. “Is it still cold outside?”

  “Spring isn’t here yet. It’s a frosty morning, but it will be a beautiful day.”

  “It’s below freezing.”

  “Now. By midday, it promises to be glorious.”

  “Shall we go and welcome this new baby?”