La Flamme (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  Sabine pressed her hands over her eyes as her head began to throb. "I have always known the day would come when I would face him. I am fortunate that he does not know me, or recognize me as his enemy. I must bring him down, Ysabel—this I swear!"

  "Again, I would caution you to be careful. He is not a man to misjudge."

  Sabine shook her head. "As La Flamme, I shall draw secrets from him that will later destroy him. I must gain his confidence, and perhaps, if necessary, I shall even allow him to make love to me."

  "Beware, Sabine, that you do not fall in love with him," Ysabel said, shaking her head. "Already he pulls at your heart."

  Sabine wasn't listening. Thoughts of Garreth touching her intimately sent hot waves through her. She was a woman, but she had never allowed those feelings to surface. Garreth had caused wild stirring to awaken in her body, and she could not drive those feelings from her thoughts.

  "Ysabel, through the years my goal has been to one day return Richard to his rightful place. I also swore that I would find justice for the people who died at Woodbridge that night. I have always thought that I would place my claim before our peers. Now, I shall be Garreth's judge, and I shall punish him severely. I must destroy him before he destroys me!"

  "Do nothing in haste that you will later regret as folly."

  Sabine's eyes gleamed. She had obtained fame and adoration, but it meant nothing to her. She now realized that Garreth had always been in her mind, dominating her thoughts, shaping her future. If he had not come to Paris, she would have one day returned to England to face him.

  "Ysabel, like the master of a marionette, I shall manipulate his strings and make him do as I wish."

  "I do not think that will happen, Sabine. But if you are determined to do this thing, I shall help you all 1 can."

  Sabine took in a shaky breath. "I will need your wisdom. Suddenly I feel afraid, and I do not know why."

  "Remember, ma petite, that love and hate are woven from the same tapestry."

  "I have come to realize that, and I will not forget."

  It was a bright day without a cloud in the sky when Sabine and Richard entered the small chapel. The first time she had seen St-Merri, Sabine had become enchanted because it reminded her of the family chapel at Woodbridge Castle. She and Richard seldom attended Mass, but instead came every Wednesday to say their prayers in seclusion. Today, however, there was a celebration Mass, and the church was filled with worshippers.

  Richard couldn't understand all the Latin words that were being spoken, but he found something soothing in the ritual performed by the officiating priest. He imitated his sister as she genuflected, rose to her feet, then knelt to bow her head in prayer.

  Sabine squeezed her eyes together tightly, wishing she could cleanse her heart of this bitterness she felt for Garreth. God had said to forgive one's enemies, but he also said an eye for an eye. Perhaps God would understand her need for revenge.

  After Mass was over and the others had departed, Sabine remained kneeling, so Richard stayed beside her, sensing that she should not be disturbed. She was still in anguish and needed the comfort of this holy place to find answers to her tortured questions and peace for her troubled soul.

  She raised her head to stare at the stained-glass windows. Oh, how she wished that God would give her direction in what she must do. Was it wrong to plot a man's destruction, even if the man deserved to be destroyed?

  She lowered her head and whispered her prayer. "Heavenly Father, give me a sign, show me what I must do. I am lost, and need your guidance."

  Sabine remained on her knees long after Richard began stirring restlessly. She could not say what made her raise her head and glance over her shoulder. There had been no sound and no movement, but she knew that when she turned, Garreth would be there.

  He was sitting just behind her, and their eyes met. She had to tear her gaze from his. She had asked for a sign from God, and he had shown her Garreth. What did it mean?

  Shaken, Sabine took Richard's hand and stood, walking silently out into the sunshine. When she reached the steps of the church, Garreth appeared beside her.

  She looked fragile and ethereal, like an angel with the white filmy covering on her head. Somehow her devoutness did not fit with the picture Garreth had of her, and yet, had he not observed her piety when she had not known anyone was watching? What manner of woman was La Flamme? Why was he so intrigued with her?

  "I did not know, Your Grace," Sabine said, "that an Englishman of high rank would be Catholic."

  "Some are, but I am not. I came here only to see you—you know that."

  She raised her eyes to his. "You would have done better had you come to pray, Your Grace."

  He smiled down at her. "Do you fear that my immortal soul is in danger?"

  "Only you can answer that."

  "I have oft heard that a woman can save a man from his wicked ways."

  She looked away. "Only if the woman is interested in saving the man."

  Sabine gripped Richard's hand so tightly that he pried her fingers loose and moved a few steps beyond her.

  "Will you not introduce your companion to me?" Garreth asked.

  Sabine reached out for her brother and clasped his wrist. "This is Richard. Richard, the duke of Balmarough."

  Garreth dropped down to the boy's level. "I am pleased to meet you, Richard."

  The boy's eyes brightened. It wasn't often that he met someone from England. But he had been trained well, so he spoke in French. "And I you, Monsieur le due."

  "Tell me, Richard," Garreth asked in French, his eyes still on Sabine. "What is your last name?"

  Sabine smiled mockingly at Garreth. She knew that he was shamelessly trying to pry secrets from Richard, but her brother would not betray their secret.

  "Monsieur le due," Richard answered, his face creased in a serious frown, "you may think of me only as the brother of La Flamme."

  Garreth raised his eyebrow. "So you are her brother?"

  In that moment, Sabine realized that Garreth had heard the rumors that Richard was her son. Perhaps it would be safer if she allowed him to believe that falsehood.

  "If you will excuse us, Your Grace," she said, "I have promised Richard an outing in the park. This is our day to spend together, and I never allow anything, or anyone, to interfere with our excursion."

  Richard was so delighted to be in the company of someone from England that he spoke up. "Why do you not come with us?"

  "I do not believe his grace would care for a day of frivolous amusement," Sabine said quickly. She turned, hoping to dismiss Garreth, but his words stopped her.

  "You are wrong, Mademoiselle La Flamme. It would be my deepest pleasure to stroll through the park with you and your ... brother."

  Sabine looked into Richard's eyes and saw his happiness. To keep him safe, she had isolated him, and she was aware that he was lonely. He had never been allowed to run and play with other children. He was forced to deny his own name and country and exist in a false world where nothing was real. All this she had done because of the man who now stood before them. Dare she expose her brother to Garreth Blackthorn?

  "Very well," she said at last. "But I'm sure it is not the kind of recreation to which you are accustomed, Your Grace."

  Garreth smiled down at Richard. "Your sister hasn't learned that all men have some of the boy still in them— has she?"

  Richard nodded eagerly. "When I am old like you, I will still want to run and play games."

  Garreth arched his brow and smiled at Sabine, while she burst out in amused laughter. "I'm sure the duke is not yet in his dotage, Richard."

  "I suddenly feel old." He smiled at Richard. "I am not certain that I was ever as young as you."

  It was apparent to Sabine that Richard liked Garreth, and she thought that might be dangerous. Without telling him why, she must warn him to be careful.

  After Garreth had dismissed his driver, they climbed aboard Sabine's coach and were soon on their way. Garreth wa
s seated beside Richard, who pointed out locations of interest.

  Sabine sat silently, her eyes trained on the window as if she was hardly aware that Garreth was there—but she was very aware of him. Then she turned to him and found him watching her. Their eyes locked in silent battle.

  Garreth saw no warmth in La Flamme's amber eyes. He could only wonder what had happened to make her so distrustful of men. Perhaps Richard's father had hurt her so deeply that she punished every man for his treatment of her.

  He wanted to win her trust. What would it be like to see her smile, to hear her laughter—to crush those full lips beneath his?

  Suddenly her eyes were no longer cold—it was as if someone had lit a candle behind them—or as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. Damn! She was the most maddening woman he had ever known.

  Sabine dragged her gaze away from Garreth's and glanced out the window again. While she knew little about men, Garreth knew exactly how to make a woman ache inside. He made her very aware that he desired her.

  Garreth deliberately turned back to the boy, who enthusiastically pointed out Notre Dame Cathedral.

  "Your Grace," Richard asked, "did you know the conception of that church dates back to 1163? But it was not completed until 1345.1 love to hear the bells ring. You can hear them from our house."

  Garreth couldn't keep from smiling at the young boy. "Richard, while my French is passable, I would better understand you if you spoke in English."

  "I can speak English very well, Monsieur le due."

  "You are very advanced for one so young, Richard. You cannot be over—"

  "I am in my ninth year, Your Grace."

  "I know of no young man your age who would be so well versed. What is the source of your education?"

  "My sister taught me when I was younger and now I have three teachers. I have seventeen books, which is quite a lot, is it not?"

  "Indeed it is, Richard."

  "My sister makes me read. But it is no hardship because I like books." Richard smiled at Sabine. "But I do not like it when she insists that I learn politeness, chivalrous ways, and how to behave in courtly society. Why do you think I must learn those things?"

  "I suppose because your sister deems it so. It would be wise to please her in this, Richard." Garreth was thoughtful for a moment. "I cannot recall when last I had leisure to read. I am kept very busy in the country."

  Richard's eyes sparkled with curiosity. He was always interested in hearing about England. "What is the name of your estate, Your Grace? Perhaps I have heard of it."

  "Wolfeton Keep."

  "No, I have not heard of it. Are there any children there?"

  Sabine pretended to be observing something out the window, but she waited for Garreth's answer.

  "I have no children, Richard."

  "A wife, perhaps?"

  Sabine turned her head, her eyes colliding with Garreth's. She knew from Stephen that he had not taken another wife, but she wanted to know if he still considered himself married to her, or if he now believed she was dead.

  "Only myself and my mother live at Wolfeton Keep, Richard," he answered, artfully sidestepping the question.

  "Tis a pity," Richard said. "When I am older and have to marry, I want many children so they won't be lonely."

  "As you have been?"

  "I have always had my sister, Your Grace," Richard hastened to assure him.

  Shamelessly, Garreth plodded onward, questioning the child, hoping to learn about his mother—for he was now certain that La Flamme was indeed Richard's mother. "What of your mother and father?"

  "I never knew my mother, and my father died when I was but a small child."

  Sabine's voice was cool. "You can see. Your Grace, Richard and I have only each other."

  "Tell me more about England," Richard said, settling back against the seat.

  "Have you never been there?"

  Richard paused but for a moment. "Oui. But I was too young to remember much about it."

  "What shall I tell you?" Garreth asked. "Let me see—do you want to know about King Charles?"

  Garreth watched the boy's eyes darken with distaste. "I do not like your king—he's a tyrant! I support the cause of your Parliament. King Charles has only one redemption—he married a French Catholic."

  "I am astonished by your knowledge of my country, Richard." Smiling, Garreth looked at Sabine, who gave him an innocent look. "Who has kept you so informed about English politics?"

  Richard giggled at Sabine. "My sister has taught me that those who blindly follow your king are fools."

  "Oh?"

  Much to Sabine's relief, they had reached their destination. Her coachman helped her to the ground, and she took her brother's hand. "What shall we see first, Richard?"

  His voice was filled with excitement, his eyes gleaming. "I want most to see the boat races. May we?"

  "Richard, you know the races are only on Saturday mornings, and even if we came then, we could not get close enough to see them. Many people spend Friday nights camping near the river so they will have a have a good view of the races the next morning."

  Richard looked disappointed. "I love boats." He spoke to Garreth. "I have heard that you English have boat races on the River Thames—is that so?"

  "Indeed it is. And it is not difficult to see the races from any vantage point."

  "Some Friday night," Richard said, "I shall sleep along the river so I shall have a good view of these races."

  "Come along, Richard," Sabine said. "Choose what you would like to see."

  He quickly forgot his disappointment. "I want to see the fire-eater and the trained dogs and the acrobats. Then can we see the marionettes?"

  Garreth saw La Flamme's first genuine smile. "Let's away to see the fire-eater. I hope, Monsieur le due, that you will not find this all too tedious."

  There were many stalls, and Richard visited them all. First he had a cream confection, an orange drink, and a bag of hard candies.

  To Sabine's surprise, Garreth seemed to be enjoying himself. He laughed with Richard when a small dog leaped in and out of a rolling hoop. Later, Sabine stood to the side, watching as Richard and Garreth seemed captivated by the marionettes.

  She could not help but think it was a pity that Garreth did not have a son of his own, for he seemed to have a genuine fondness for her brother. She remembered how uncomfortable he had been when visiting her as a child. When she watched him with Richard now, she wondered how he could have once planned her brother's death. Suddenly she decided to walk between the two of them and take Richard's hand, which she held for the rest of the day.

  When the sun was going down, Sabine announced that it was time to leave. On the ride home, Richard lay with his head against her shoulder, his eyes closed drowsily. Lovingly, she touched his cheek as he drifted off to sleep.

  "He is a very exceptional child," Garreth said, finding that he meant it. "You must be proud of him."

  "I am often in awe of my brother's brilliance," she said, ready to further bait the trap. "But then it is not surprising that he is so intelligent—his father was a most exceptional man."

  "You said his father."

  "I meant to say our father," she corrected, pretending contrition.

  Garreth stared at her through half-closed lashes. "I can see that he resembles you. But his light-colored hair he must get from his father."

  Sabine tensed at the mention of her father. How could she have forgotten, for even a moment, that Garreth was the enemy? "No," she said abruptly. "It was our mother who had light hair. Father's hair was like mine."

  Garreth's eyes rested on her flaming head, and he wondered what it would feel like to touch the shimmering curls.

  "Where would you like my driver to take you?" Sabine asked, her voice suddenly cold.

  "You could invite me to sup with you and Richard."

  "I'm afraid, Monsieur le due, that will not be possible. I must hurry as it is, to make the evening's performance."

&nbs
p; "Then dine with me afterward."

  She was silent for so long that Garreth thought she might accept.

  "I am sorry, I never dine with gentlemen."

  "You have dined with Stephen," he said.

  "Ah, Stephen is different. He is my friend."

  "And what am I?"

  "That is for you to say, Your Grace. I do not know you."

  She gasped when he reached out and took her hand in a firm grip. His eyes never left her face as he brushed his mouth against her fingertips.

  "You will know me well, this I promise. And do not expect me to be one of the milksops that are content to worship you, nor merely your friend." His eyes were bold, his manner insolent. "I want more than that from you."

  He wrenched open the door and stepped out, disappearing in a swirling mist.

  Oh, yes, she thought, taking an unsteady breath, they would know each other intimately before she brought him down from his lofty perch.

  18

  When Stephen entered the breakfast room, Garreth had already eaten and was having a second cup of tea. "You look like hell, Stephen," he observed cheerfully.

  "Damn," Stephen groaned, as he waved the serving girl away with her platter of food. "I drank too much wine last night." He glanced at Garreth, who was immaculately dressed as always. "Where were you yesterday?"

  "I went to the park and watched trained dogs jump through hoops."

  "What?"

  Garreth leaned back in his chair. "I accompanied Mademoiselle La Flamme and her brother on an outing."

  "You jest. I don't care how irresistible you are to other women, she certainly was not charmed by you."

  "She still isn't, but she invited me along nonetheless."

  Stephen looked at him suspiciously. "I happen to know that she protects her brother from all outsiders. I have seen him only once, and then by accident when I was at her house and the boy came back from taking the dogs for a walk. I was not introduced to him, because Ysabel hurried him upstairs."

  Garreth eyed his friend over the rim of his cup, then set it down and folded his hands together. "I am compelled to ask you something, Stephen, and I want complete honesty."