La Flamme (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  Finally he raised his head and held her at arm's length, smiling at the rosy tinge to her cheeks. "If I didn't know better," he said, "I would think you were as innocent as you pretend to be."

  She said nothing, allowing him to lead her across the room, where the candles had burned low. She turned from him and moved to the window, where bright moonlight spilled into the room, lighting the darkened corners.

  He came up behind her, and his hand moved up her arm.

  "I should go," she said in a voice that denied her words.

  His hand gently moved to her hair, and the silken strands sifted through his fingers. "Do you really want to leave?"

  "Non ... oui—I am confused. I do not know."

  He groaned and pulled her against him, and she could feel his body tremble. "What are you doing to me?" he asked in an agonized voice.

  He wanted her, and her woman's heart told her that it would take very little to make Garreth Blackthorn love her.

  "You want to possess my soul, you flaming-haired enchantress," he muttered, his lips gliding sensuously against her arched neck. "Indeed, it may be too late for me because I believe you already hold my heart captive."

  It wasn't supposed to be like this, Sabine thought, trying to pull away from him, but he turned her toward him and his kisses drained her resistance. He was seducing her with words and with the touch of his hands and the feel of his male body.

  Sabine had acted in plays where she was supposed to love a man, but she had not known that love was such an all-consuming emotion that would leave her aching and uncertain. She wanted Garreth to touch her and go on touching her. She closed her eyes when his hands slid down her throat to the hook on the front of her gown.

  "I must leave," she said, her voice trembling. "This is not right." But a small voice inside her head reminded her that this man was her husband.

  "Would you leave me in torment?" he asked, his mouth touching her skin each place he unfastened a hook.

  Suddenly her mind cleared, and she spun away from him, attempting to regain her composure. She had been so sure that she could control him, and instead she was in danger of losing control herself. She knew nothing about the act of love between a man and a woman. But tonight was not the time to learn that lesson.

  "You go too fast," she said laughing. "That which is worthwhile should be savored, non?”

  Garreth towered over her. "The ways of the French mystify me. What would you have me do, beg for your kisses?" His hand drifted once more through her silken hair. "I'm begging," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "I know you will not believe me, but I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you. I knew the first night I saw you onstage that I would have you. If not tonight, then another time—but make no mistake, you will be mine."

  Sabine leaned toward him, her hand touching his arm. "If you know anything about the French, you know that we are not easily fooled. You would have me believe that a man like you has never desired a woman before me?"

  "I have desired many women, but I have never had one that muddled my reasoning to the point of madness, as you have."

  She blinked her long lashes and turned back to the window, while silvery moonlight played across her face.

  "I suppose I am the most beautiful woman you have ever seen?" she challenged skeptically.

  "I have known some women that were as beautiful, perhaps one or two even more so," Garreth admitted, "but what I feel for you goes beyond the beauty of your face and beyond mere desire."

  Sabine saw the amazed expression on his face as he realized what he'd said.

  "I never thought this could happen to me," he admitted, taking her hand and placing it against his heart. "I have no words to describe what I feel for you." He shook his head as if to clear it. "The most maddening thing in all this is that I don't know how you feel about me.

  "Does it matter?"

  "Yes, damn it, it does! For some reason, it matters a great deal."

  Sabine moved her body in such a way that drew his eyes, and she purposely allowed her unfastened gown to slip off her shoulders. His breath caressed her cheek as his lips moved to her neck. She tried to remember Ysabel's warning, but it was swept from her mind as Garreth's lips nestled at the curve of her breasts. So this was what it felt like to have a man make love to you, she thought as delightful feelings engulfed her.

  In the moonlight, it seemed to Garreth that La Flamme's skin was silver, while her hair gleamed as if it were spun from glistening fire.

  "Garreth, this should not be happening," she whispered in a tight voice.

  A tear slid down her face, and he touched his lips to it. "Of all the moments in my life that I would like to cling to and remember, I believe this is the one I would choose above all others."

  How could any woman resist him? she wondered. He was ripping her heart out, and she had to free herself before it was too late.

  "You are frightening me, Garreth," she whispered.

  He heard the fear in her voice, and immediately released her and stepped back, dropping his arms to his sides. His breath came out raggedly. "To frighten you is the last thing I would want to do."

  She buried her face in her hands, and he wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but he dared not touch her for fear he wouldn't be able to let her go again.

  Garreth fought to bring his own emotions under control. When she raised her face to him and he saw confusion in her eyes, he knew she was not acting.

  He was beside her in an instant, turning her into his arms. "Do not be distressed. I will make no more demands on you. It is obvious that you still love Richard's father."

  She was stunned by the mention of her father, which brought her back to reality. The words she uttered next were like a knife in Garreth's heart. "Oh, yes, yes, I'll always love him."

  Garreth steeled himself against the pain. "Do we still play the game of questions?" he asked.

  "What? I... yes."

  "Did you think of me when I was kissing you, or were you thinking of Richard's father?"

  Sabine saw how unsure he was of himself, and there was no mistaking the anguish reflected in his eyes.

  "No," she said at last, "I did not think of Richard's father when you kissed me."

  "I don't know what's happening to me," Garreth whispered. "I tell myself that I should forget you and return to England, yet I cannot go a day without seeing you." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Tell me that you feel something for me."

  Sabine threw her head back, wishing she did not feel such pain in her heart. She was betraying her father by welcoming the touch of the man who had slain him. She tried to pull away, but his lips were on hers once more, rendering her helpless.

  As her father's face swam before her, she tore her lips from Garreth's. "Don't touch me!" she cried, backing away. "I don't ever want you to touch me." Sabine was unaware that she had spoken in English, with no trace of a French accent.

  There was a bewildered expression on Garreth's face. "Who are you? It's almost as if you're two women. One is soft and loving, and the other . . . hard and angry— perhaps even cruel."

  Sabine's hands trembled as she attempted to fasten the hooks on her gown. "You should not have brought me here."

  "Do not reject me until you have given me a chance to win your love."

  She buried her face in her hands and great sobs escaped her lips. "I don't want to love you."

  Tenderly, he pulled her head to nestle against his broad shoulder. She had not expected such compassion from him. Somehow a feeling of peace descended on her, and she wanted to stay in his arms forever, for his hands were consoling as they glided up and down her back, not evoking passion, but soothingly as if to comfort.

  "Have you suffered so much?" he asked.

  "Oh, yes," she replied, thinking how her life had been destroyed that terrible night her father was killed. "There are events in my life that have guided my footsteps on a path I must tread. Be warned, Garreth, that if you stay near me, my past will surely reach o
ut and destroy you."

  He raised her face up to the light. "Don't you know it's too late to warn me? Have you not guessed that I love you? If you are in danger, I will protect you and ask nothing of you in return."

  She shook her head so vigorously that her auburn hair swirled out about her. "You do not have the right."

  He brushed his lips gently against her tear-wet face. "Oh, but I do. I would fight the world to keep you safe. Come back to England and give me the right to protect you."

  Suddenly, Sabine raised her head, staring at him. "Are you asking me to become your duchess?"

  His eyes reflected sorrow. "No, I cannot do that."

  There were threads of anger in her voice. "Of course not. It would never do to have an actress as the duchess of Balmarough, would it?"

  He captured her chin and held her gaze. There was pain in his voice. "I don't expect you to understand how I feel, but I shall try to explain. If I were free to do so, I would not hesitate to make you my wife and hold you up with pride for all the world to see."

  "You can say this while you are already married—that is your protection, is it not, Your Grace? And most convenient. How many times have you used your poor wife to keep some ambitious lover from expecting marriage from you?"

  He looked stricken. "Do you think that of me?"

  "Are you asking me to become your mistress?"

  "Do we play the question game again?"

  "Oui, if that is your wish."

  "Then I will admit that I would take you as my mistress if that is the only way I could have you. But this is not in my control."

  "Why not?"

  "Because of the sad little girl that I once stood with and pledged my protection."

  "Your wife?"

  "Yes." His shoulders slumped. "If she is dead, the blame is mine. If she is alive, I must find her."

  Sabine could not speak for a moment. She was confused. Raising her hand to her mouth, she suddenly felt sick inside. "I am not well, Your Grace. I want to go home now."

  "Don't withdraw from me," Garreth pleaded.

  All she wanted to do was escape. "I need time to think."

  "Will you think about us?"

  "Oui—that and other things."

  Garreth took her face in both his hands and tenderly pressed his cheek to hers.

  "For so many years I have been empty inside, but the moment I saw you, I came alive again. I don't know why—I cannot explain it, even to myself. I never again want to feel the loneliness."

  "I do not believe you and I are suited to one another. And I shall never be any man's mistress."

  "Even if that is so, I still want to be near you. For all your renown you are not happy. I want to take care of you and Richard."

  He drew her tightly against him, and they stood there for a long time. Oh, how she gloried in the feel of him, and it terrified her. She tried to remember that he was devious and manipulative, and she must not trust him.

  "I am capable of taking care of Richard." Her voice was suddenly without warmth. "I have done so most of his life."

  "But he has no father."

  She pulled away. "No, his father is dead, and no one will ever take his place. Never again imply that you want me for your mistress."

  He stepped away from her. "At this time, I can offer you nothing more."

  She turned her back on him. "I want nothing from you, Garreth, but one thing. And one day you will know what that one thing is."

  He let out an exasperated breath. "Tell me now—why do you keep me waiting?"

  Tears gathered in her eyes. "Know this, Monsieur le due, I will be no man's whore." Before she lost her nerve she moved quickly toward the door. "I must leave. I shall ask your coachman to take me home."

  He moved toward her—she was pale and did not look well. "I will accompany you."

  "I would rather go alone."

  He watched her move away from him, wanting to call her back. God help him, he loved her. There had been moments when he had felt she loved him too—he couldn't be wrong about that. Whatever was troubling her was also robbing them of happiness. He intended to discover what devils haunted her.

  Seated in the coach, Sabine stared into the darkness. It had taken all of her willpower to leave Garreth. It was not supposed to happen like this—she had lost control tonight. The next time they met, she would be prepared. And the time and place would be of her choosing.

  21

  When the coach stopped in front of Sabine's house, all the lights were blazing. As the footman was helping her from the coach, Ysabel came hurrying through the door.

  "It's your brother!" she cried in distress. "We have searched everywhere and cannot find him. I did not know where you were, so I sent for Jacques and Marie."

  Garreth's coachman bowed to Sabine. "Is there something I can do to assist you, Mademoiselle?"

  Sabine was so fearful for Richard that she could not think clearly. "No. You may leave." Frantically, she hurried into the house and flew up the stairs to her brother's room.

  "Richard," she called, opening the door to his bedroom. "Richard, answer me!" His two hounds came to her, licking her hand and wagging their tails, but Richard was not there.

  Ysabel entered the room, puffing to catch her breath. "As you see, he has not slept in his bed."

  Sabine stooped to pick up a toy soldier, held it in her hand for a moment, and then placed it on his trunk. "Have you questioned the servants?"

  "That was the first thing I did. No one has seen him since early evening."

  "He has no friends. Where could he have gone?"

  Ysabel was so frantic that tears filled her eyes. "1 have tried to think where he would go, but I cannot imagine."

  Panic was building up inside Sabine. "He would not do this to me. Richard understands that I would worry. Someone has taken him—I'm sure of it."

  "No one could get into the house without our knowing. And the dogs would not have allowed an intruder into this room."

  Sabine frantically looked around for some clue, anything that would tell her what had happened. "Is it possible that Garreth found out who we are, Ysabel? Could he have deliberately distracted me tonight while someone took Richard?"

  "It would make no sense. He had you and let you go."

  "I must find Richard. I'll report his disappearance to the authorities, and they will help us."

  "Jacques and Marie have already done that and a search has begun."

  Sabine was not aware that she had begun to pace. "I cannot just do nothing." She went to the window and stared out into the inky darkness. Her brother was out there somewhere, alone and frightened. "Oh, Richard, I pray that God will keep you safe."

  * * *

  On returning to the chateau, the coachman asked to see the duke, and was shown immediately into the salon, where Garreth was answering his correspondence.

  "Ackerman," Garreth said in surprise, "did you deliver your passenger safely home?"

  "I did, Your Grace, but I thought you might like to know about her brother."

  Garreth frowned. "What about Richard?"

  "Mademoiselle was told that her brother was missing, and she was most distraught."

  Garreth stood, his face creased with worry. "La Flamme is famous, so some deranged person might have taken the boy, although I think that is unlikely. It's more likely, with his adventuresome nature, that the boy struck out on his own." He looked at the coachman. "Where would you go, if you were a young boy looking for adventure, Ackerman?"

  "I can't say that I ever had an adventure, Your Grace."

  Suddenly Garreth smiled. "I believe I just may know where to find him. Have you unhitched the horses?"

  "No, I came directly to you, Your Grace."

  "Then let us hurry."

  It was raining when the coach reached the park where Garreth had spent the afternoon with La Flamme and Richard. Now the park was dark, and the empty stalls cast grotesque shadows in the misty rain.

  Garreth hurried toward the r
iver, where several people were camping beneath makeshift tents, so they would have a good view of the boat races at sunrise.

  He called Richard's name and questioned several people, but no one had seen the boy. Garreth was just about to give up hope when he saw a lone figure huddled against the side of a statue, trying to keep dry.

  "Richard," he said, bending down to the boy.

  "Monsieur le due," Richard said with relief, "I was praying that someone would find me, and you came. I was so frightened, and I am so cold." He threw his arms about Garreth's neck, and Garreth lifted him up and hurried toward the waiting coach.

  "Your sister is worried about you, Richard," Garreth said, as he placed the boy inside the coach and covered him with a lap robe.

  "How did you know where to find me?"

  Garreth looked at him sternly. "I merely thought as a young boy would think, and I remembered how badly you wanted to see the boat races."

  Richard looked up at Garreth searchingly. "My sister is going to be angry with me, is she not?"

  "I believe you worried her a great deal. You know you did wrong?"

  Richard nodded, his face full of misery. "I would do anything to see the boat race, but I am sorry if I caused my sister distress."

  "You must promise her that you will not do this again. Will you promise, Richard?"

  He nodded. "I only want to go home."

  Marie had returned, but Jacques was still searching. Sabine paced the floor, often going to the door to listen. "1 hear a coach," she said hopefully.

  "Perhaps Jacques has returned with news of Richard," Ysabel said.

  Sabine rushed into the entry with Ysabel and Marie, just as the door opened to admit Garreth, who was carrying Richard in his arms.

  Sabine snatched her sleeping brother from him, looking him over carefully. When she was sure he was unharmed, she hugged the boy tightly.

  "Richard, what happened to you?"

  "He will tell you later," Garreth said. "He's wet and tired—you should get him into some warm clothing as soon as possible."