"So you are the friend he spoke to me about. I believe you are a duke, non?"
Garreth smiled slightly. Perhaps La Flamme wasn't so different from other women after all. "Yes, does that matter?"
"Not to me, Monsieur. I know many dukes."
"What if I told you that my great-grandmother was French, would you then agree that we have something in common?"
"Then you have very little French blood in you, Monsieur le due, therefore that gives us very little in common."
This man was her enemy, and he had invaded her sanctuary. Even though he had not realized who she was, she didn't want him here. She had suggested that Stephen bring Garreth to Paris—but not to her home!
"Please excuse me, Monsieur," she said. "I must see to my guests."
Sabine hurried inside, feeling safer once she entered the brightly lit salon that was filled with familiar faces. After her encounter with Garreth, she was trembling, and thought surely everyone would notice.
In the corner of the room, the harpist and flautist played their music, but she did not hear. Her pose was rigid, her eyes wide with terror when she realized that Garreth was standing beside her.
She deliberately turned her back on him to greet one of her guests. "Monsieur Rabaut, how kind of you to attend my little soiree for Madame Marie." She moved away from Garreth, talking to guests as she went. Her smile was forced, and she pretended a cheerfulness she did not feel. She moved from one gentleman to another, dulling their amorous advances with laughter. She was aware that Garreth watched her from across the room, but she refused to look in his direction.
Sabine raised a glass and offered a toast to Marie. She went through the motions of the perfect hostess, but she felt as if the evening would never end.
At last, the moment she had dreaded had come. Stephen approached, with Garreth at his side.
"La Flamme, I haven't been able to get near you all evening," Stephen said, smiling. "Would you permit me to introduce my friend from England, His Grace, the duke of Balmarough? If you will remember, I have spoken often of him."
Garreth bowed before her mockingly. "Will this satisfy you as a proper introduction?"
Sabine pressed her lips together tightly against the angry retort that begged to be spoken. When at last she did speak, there was an edge to her tone. "Such an illustrious person. Will my heart ever be stilled from beating?"
Garreth arched a brow at her, and Sabine stared coldly into his eyes. In that moment, they each issued the other a silent challenge.
"What would you have me do, Mademoiselle La Flamme? It seems that I have offended you without intending to, and I would like to make amends."
She linked her arm through Stephen's. "You are of course my welcome guest, Your Grace, since you are a friend of my friend." She smiled brightly at Stephen. "And a dear friend he has been to me."
Stephen looked pleased, and Garreth was puzzled. No matter that her words were courteous, she was angry for reasons that eluded him.
"If I have offended you, I can assure you it was unintentional," he said. "With regret, I take my leave of you."
"Adieu," Sabine said.
Garreth stared into her golden eyes, trying to read her thoughts, but she was too complex. "We shall meet again, I think, Mademoiselle La Flamme."
She turned deliberately to Stephen. "I will see you soon, Stephen," she said, trying to catch her breath and appear unaffected by Garreth's presence. "You have been away from Paris much too long."
By now, Stephen was aware that something was wrong between La Flamme and Garreth. "I will be here for several more weeks," he replied. "Although I am not certain that I can convince Garreth to remain—he insists on returning to England."
"Then you must use your persuasion to make him stay." Her statement sounded as false as she intended. She kissed Stephen's cheek, gave Garreth a weak smile, and moved away, her back straight and her chin high. She would never again run from Garreth Blackthorn—no matter how frightened she was.
With relief, she caught Jacques* arm as he came by. "Let us find Marie and drink another toast to her," she said, feigning a cheerfulness she was far from feeling. "Have you told her that you purchased the house she has been wanting?"
Jacques smiled down at Sabine. "Remember when she would not give up her wagon?"
"She was most insistent, was she not?"
"Now, she will have the home she deserves," Jacques said with feeling.
"Oui. The house you both deserve," Sabine said, kissing his cheek.
On the coach ride home, Stephen was bemused. "What did you say to La Flamme to make her so angry? I have never seen her react to anyone the way she did to you. She is usually so agreeable."
"Lofty, I'd say. Perhaps too aware of her own worth." Garreth's eyes sparkled with anger. "I like her not."
"But surely you did something to offend her. Why else would she have reacted so coldly to you?"
"I neither know what I did, nor do I care."
Stephen was clearly disappointed. "I had hoped the two of you would like each other. She is lonely, and I thought with your knowledge of women that—"
Garreth interrupted him. "Surely you don't intend to play matchmaker."
"I suppose that was in my mind at first. But as we saw, she did dislike you."
"Let's forget about her," Garreth said.
They were silent until the coach made the last turn before coming to the chateau. Then Garreth spoke. "What are La Flamme's habits?"
"I don't understand what you mean by that."
"Where does she spend her days?"
"I don't know. She seldom goes anywhere without her brother. Of course, she always takes him to the church on Wednesday afternoons. But at those times, she will not allow anyone to approach her. She's very protective of him."
"If he's her brother," Garreth said, doubt lacing his words.
Stephen looked uncomfortable. "I believe that the boy is her brother. She would not have told me so if it were not true."
"You have this saintly vision of her, and if the boy is her son, that would refute your insistence that she is pure."
"You were there tonight and saw that she singled out no man."
"Except you, who received a kiss on the cheek."
Stephen smiled in triumph. "So I did."
"At what hour does she attend church on Wednesdays?" Garreth wanted to know.
"I'm not certain. I recall that she once told me she goes there after luncheon to avoid the crowds that might recognize her and intrude on her privacy." Stephen eyed his friend suspiciously. "Surely you would not disturb her at prayer. No one would be so bold."
"I would," Garreth said with determination. "She is a mystery which I intend to solve. She also issued me a challenge that I cannot refuse."
"What challenge? I saw only that she cut you dead, Garreth."
"Then you do not know women, Stephen. There was something between us that I cannot explain. It's strange, but I could almost believe that she fears me. I wonder why?"
Stephen felt the need to defend her. "La Flamme fears no man."
"And yet, for some reason I do not understand, she fears me."
Sabine was relieved when the last guest had departed. Her encounter with Garreth had so shaken her that it had been difficult to speak of trivial matters and make polite conversation for the remainder of the evening. She grew weary of constantly having to sidestep some gentleman who insisted that she was the love of his life. She had no love to give to any man. Her heart was barren, but for her brother and her close friends. There was room only for one other emotion—hatred for Garreth Blackthorn!
She stood in the doorway of the salon, watching the servants busily tidying the room. She had been content in this house, thinking it was a haven for her and Richard. Now it had been invaded by her adversary, and it was no longer her sanctuary.
Ysabel came up beside her. "I found Richard's dogs running loose in the garden and took them to his room. I cannot imagine who let them out and
then forgot about them."
"It is of little consequence. Was Richard asleep?"
"Oui. He was sleeping like an angel." Ysabel could feel that something was wrong with Sabine. "You have been acting distracted all evening. What has happened, ma petite?"
Sabine's voice sounded strained. "My husband was here tonight." Fear trembled in her voice. "It was like living in one of my nightmares—I could not escape him!"
Ysabel looked concerned. "Was he the dark gentleman—the handsome one?"
"Oui."
"I saw that he could not take his eyes off you." Ysabel tensed. "Did he threaten you?"
"Our encounter was very curious." Sabine moved toward the stairs and Ysabel followed her. "1 believe that Garreth does not know my identity. But, how can that be?"
"If he is the one who caused the death of your father, he is a dangerous man, and you should never be alone with him or underestimate him."
"I have feared him for so long, that when I saw him tonight, all I wanted to do was take Richard and flee. I now know that would be a mistake. I am weary of living with fear, Ysabel. This time, I will not run, and I will not let Garreth Blackthorn defeat me."
"Have a care, Sabine. You have often told me that he is a powerful man."
"Perhaps in England," Sabine said defiantly, "but not in France. Here, I know the people with power, and I will not hesitate to use my influence."
"You are not alone; I am here for you and Richard," Ysabel assured her.
Sabine smiled and patted the old woman's hand. "I need your friendship and support. I cannot fight Garreth as an equal, for he would destroy me. But it is said that everyone has a weakness, and so must he. I will find his weakness, and use it against him."
They were almost at the top of the stairs, and Ysabel paused. "1 do not like this bitterness in you, Sabine. Do not let this man spoil your sweetness."
"How would you have me feel about him? He had my father and many of our people killed. And he tried to kill Richard and me."
Ysabel saw the determination in Sabine's eyes and knew that she was prepared to strike at her husband. "So the time has come to begin reclaiming your past?"
"I don't know ... yes, I must."
Ysabel reached out and laid a hand on Sabine's shoulder, forcing the young woman to look into her eyes. "It is said that no man is immune to the charms of La Flamme, and after all, your husband is but a man."
Sabine looked horrified. "Are you suggesting that I try to make Garreth love me?"
"A man will seldom harm that which he loves. You are a beautiful woman, and your beauty may be your only weapon against him. Throughout history, beautiful women have had wars waged for them and kingdoms have tumbled because of their power over men. But to use your allure against a man can be the most dangerous weapon of them all, for it could destroy you along with him."
"I don't know what to do," Sabine said, plainly distressed. "I do not play games. I would not even know how."
She opened the door to Richard's bedroom, where moonlight streamed across his bed. He was sleeping soundly, and both dogs lay on the foot of his bed. They raised their heads and wagged their tails when they saw Sabine.
Richard was safe for now. No one could gain entrance to his room without rousing his dogs.
Closing the door softly, she turned back to Ysabel, who had waited in the hall to pick up the threads of their conversation.
"When I married Garreth, he loved another—he may still love her. She was very beautiful," Sabine said with uncertainty.
"And how old would this woman be now?" Ysabel asked with a chuckle. "Besides, I do not believe that a woman could hold a man if you decide to be her rival. Any man in Paris would leave his wife if La Flamme would have him."
"I do not know how to entrap a man, Ysabel."
"Then I shall help you."
"Tell me how to act when I meet him again."
"Aloof, cold, and disinterested. Nothing captures a man's desire more than a woman who is unobtainable. Of course, you must never see him alone."
Sabine's mind was troubled as she crossed the hallway to her bedroom. "I will think on what you say, Ysabel."
When Sabine was alone, she sank down on her soft bed and stared at the overhead canopy. She could admit to herself that the most frightening aspect of her meeting with Garreth was that he had excited her. How could it be that she still harbored some semblance of love in her heart for Garreth Blackthorn? That realization made her sick, and she despised herself for it.
Her mind was filled with bitterness as she tried to think of ways to maneuver Garreth into her trap without falling into that trap herself. Dawn tinted the sky before she fell asleep.
17
The moment Sabine walked onstage she knew that Garreth was out there in the darkness. She could feel his eyes on her, and it made her nervous and tense. Once she even stumbled over her lines, which caused Marie to give her a puzzled glance.
Gathering her courage, and determined that Garreth would not make her cower, Sabine raised her head and swept around the stage, playing her part for him alone. She had never performed better, and she knew it. She was coquettish, provocative, and flirtatious. She seemed to glow with a hidden fire, and Garreth, along with the audience, was caught by her magic.
Jacques, who was playing the part of her father, watched her in amazement. Although she was a good actress, men came to see her more for her beauty than for her acting. Tonight, she had reached for and obtained greatness, and everyone on the stage and in the audience could feel it.
After the final scene, Sabine went to her dressing room and waited, pacing the floor.
Ysabel looked at her, frowning. "Why do we not leave? The usual crowd departed long ago."
"He'll be out there waiting, I know he will."
"If you are talking about Blackthorn, he sent a note asking to see you. As you instructed, I had Henri give him your regrets. He will have already gone."
Sabine reached for her cape and flung it about her shoulders. "I suppose you are right. Let us go home."
They walked through the darkened theater, then out the door, where Sabine hurried toward her waiting coach.
She stopped in her tracks, quivering with fear when Garreth appeared beside her. She gathered her courage and prepared to face him calmly.
"You were magnificent tonight! I couldn't take my eyes off you," Garreth admitted, surprising even himself with his ardor.
"You are too kind, Monsieur le due," she said mockingly, acting as if his praise meant nothing. In truth the blood was pumping madly through her veins, and she felt lightheaded, as if she were going to swoon at his feet.
She must fight this attraction—this feeling that drew her to him, for it was dangerous and it was wrong!
Garreth stood between Sabine and her coach, determined to make her listen to him. "I suppose you are accustomed to receiving compliments, so they are of little value to you."
She stiffened her spine. "Oui, I am. I usually find them wearisome. But I suppose a compliment is better than insults, non?"
"I spoke sincerely," Garreth said, frustrated because he could not make her believe him. "You had me so enchanted that I believed you were the person you played onstage."
Sabine lifted her chin. "That is what I do. I make people believe the illusion."
"So they will not know the real you?"
Her eyes locked with his. "Perhaps. Are any of us what we appear to be?"
She could feel the tenseness in him. "My carriage is waiting," Garreth said. "I wonder if you would agree to a ride through the park?"
"Non. I am weary, and it is late."
His expression hardened. Sabine could imagine that he was not accustomed to a woman's refusal. Ysabel had been right with her advice. To act indifferent to a man only deepened his interest.
"Then perhaps you would allow me to take you home?" he persisted.
"I regret, Your Grace, that I must refuse."
He bowed to her, his eyes probing hers all
the while. "Perhaps another time."
She climbed into her coach before she answered him. "I think not, Your Grace. I hardly know you. And I do not believe that we shall ever know each other."
She watched the slow smile of assurance curve his lips when he reached out, placing his hand on hers. "I think we shall know each other very well indeed, Mademoiselle."
Sabine pulled her hand away from his as if the contact had burned her. "Adieu, Your Grace."
She signaled her coachman to drive away. When they were some distance, she turned back to look at Garreth, who still stood there, watching her departure. She was so badly shaken that she was forced to take several steadying breaths to calm herself. It had begun to rain, and she glanced out the window at the wet cobbles that glistened under the passing coach torches.
"Garreth will not give up so easily, Ysabel."
"He seemed surprised that you did not accept his invitation. I think he will be persistent."
"What shall 1 do next time, Ysabel?"
"Refuse him again, ma petite."
"How long will he keep coming back if I keep sending him away?"
"Until he decides it is futile. I watched him tonight, Sabine. He does not know who you are. But I'll tell you a little secret: your husband is beginning to love you."
Sabine closed her eyes. "There was a time when I ached for his love. Now there must only be enmity between us."
"Have a care, Sabine. I not only observed the duke tonight. I also watched you."
"Ysabel," Sabine admitted, "against my will, I began to think of him as a man—even while a small voice reminds me that he murdered my father."
"Your king exonerated him from the crime. Is it possible that he was innocent? I detect in him a man who does not surrender to defeat. I also sensed in him deep sadness, and asked myself, what could be the reason?"
Sabine had learned long ago to trust Ysabel's judgment, for she had an uncanny insight. "I do not know about his feelings, but what would he do if he discovered that the woman he is pursuing is his own wife?"
"You can stop this now, Sabine, and take this thing between you and Garreth Blackthorn no further. If you refuse enough, he will soon grow discouraged and pursue you no more."
La Flamme (Historical Romance) Page 13
