Gabriella looked at Etienne, and suddenly, he knew he could not let her go, not this way. In the face of his undeniable love, everything he had accomplished was ultimately worthless. His titles, his estates, even his dignity — all were nothing if he did not have Gabnella.
“Gabriella!” he cried with heartfelt anguish, his voice revealing the passion he had tried unsuccessfully to conquer for so long. “Gabriella, I left you because I was afraid. Afraid of you — and the power of the love I felt for you. I…I was afraid to submit to it, to even acknowledge that I could love. Nor have I wanted to, until I met you. I had no one to teach me how to love, until I met you.” He paused, searching for the way to show her that he cared for her far more than for himself, or anyone else. “Your family may have your home back. I return this castle, this estate. It means nothing to me. Nothing I possess means anything to me if you leave.”
Then the proud, the strong, the infamous Baron Etienne DeGuerre sank to his knees in front of Gabriella, her brother and everyone else watching. “I love you, Gabriella,” he said, all the restraint of years vanishing as he spoke, taking her hand in his. “My life will be empty without you. Please, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
Chapter Seventeen
Gabriella’s gaze searched the baron’s imploring face, seeking the truth.
She knew his admission made here, in front of everyone, cost him dear No other confirmation did she need to gauge the depth of his feeling than that, and the love looking back at her from his blue eyes.
“How dare you!” Bryce cried, slapping her hand away from the baron and glaring at him. “You cannot marry my sister.”
“Bryce!” Gabriella cried, reminded only now of his presence. “It is not for you to make any decisions about my life. You gave up that right when you left home before our father died.”
“I love her,” Baron DeGuerre said in his calm, deep voice as he rose, once more in command of himself, yet looking at her with eyes full of love and need.
“That’s impossible!” Bryce growled before she could respond. “You took away our home.”
“Bryce, be quiet, ” she said, trying to silence him. “You don’t understand.”
“I forbid you to even speak my sister’s name again, you base bastard!” Bryce declared, drawing his sword from its sheath. “As for understanding, I understand well enough,” he said scornfully. “I have eyes. I can see how low he has brought you. Wife? Don’t be a fool, Gabriella.” He stared at her with all the intensity of his passionate nature. “He only wants you in his bed, and once he has you there, I daresay all talk of marriage will disappear. This grasping, ambitious lout claims he will return our property — and you believe him? You have suffered much, Gabriella, for which I blame myself, but you cannot love the man who has taken away our home, treated you like a servant and who is surely lying, saying whatever he thinks you want to hear to lure you to his side.”
“She loves you still and you deserted her,” the baron observed coldly.
“Please, be quiet, both of you!” Gabriella cried in exasperation, stepping to stand between the two men she cared for above all else. “Bryce, you are the head of our family, and as such, I should respect your opinion.”
He began to nod in agreement, but she held up her hand. “That does not mean I intend to abide by it. You have been gone a long time —”
“I didn’t know —”
“I understand. But you cannot appreciate what has happened, or Baron DeGuerre, either. Yes, he took possession of our home, but it was lost before he was given it.”
“Chalfront, that weasel —”
“Had nothing to do with it, either. He tried to prevent it.”
“Has he fooled you, too?” Bryce demanded.
“You won’t concede that you could be wrong, will you, or that perhaps Chalfront was right? I know you disagreed with him, but you disagreed with Father, too. I thought as you did, until I learned otherwise. The baron’s steward examined the records and found nothing, absolutely nothing, amiss.”
“I’m not taking his steward’s word for anything,” Bryce replied, jabbing his finger toward the motionless baron.
“Then take mine. We both misjudged Chalfront. Father was too extravagant and too lenient. Surely you must agree with that. ”
“Too lenient, yes. As for extravagant, perhaps. But that is no reason for you to marry this man. I can support us both.” He flushed and swallowed hard, then planted his feet defiantly. “I have long dreamed of coming home again. Now that home no longer exists, except in you, my dear sister. We can find a new home together.”
Gabriella saw his regret and loneliness beneath the bravado. Then she looked at Etienne. To a stranger, he would have been unreadable, but she saw the hopeful yearning and almost hidden dread in his eyes. She loved both of these men, and had no wish to carry on this painful discussion in public; nevertheless, she knew this was the time to make her decision. “I have a home, Bryce,” she said quietly, reaching out to take the baron’s hand. “It is here, with this man, because I love him.”
“Gabriella!” Etienne pulled her into his arms and held her tight. The back of his tunic was cold and damp, as if he had been sweating, and his heart was beating wildly. With fear? That she would not stay with him? She drew back and looked into his face. “I would not leave you, my love.”
The baron smiled, a broad smile of great joy such as she had never seen him make. She looked beseechingly at Bryce. “You cannot understand, Bryce, I know. But you will have to trust that I am making the right decision.”
He didn’t answer at once, but stared at her with disbelief for a long moment before he shrugged his shoulders. “I will try,” he said with no sincerity before he turned on his heel and marched away.
Etienne gently turned her to face him. He didn’t speak, but his worried gaze searched her face.
“I have made my decision,” she said with a wan, yet defiant smile. “Surely someday he will understand.”
If Etienne doubted that a man like Bryce Frechette would ever sympathize with the choice his sister had made, he kept it to himself. All that truly mattered was that Gabriella was going to be his wife.
“I don’t understand it,” Donald said pensively several days later, surveying the village from the ridge. Castle Frechette was abloom with pennants and flags in a manner that took Donald’s breath away. It was quite unlike Baron DeGuerre to go in for such frivolous display.
Seldon nodded his head in agreement. “It’s not market day, or a saint’s day, or any festival that I know of. Where’s all the villagers going? To the castle?”
“Perhaps someone of importance has arrived,” Donald mused. “Or maybe the harvest was better than the baron hoped and he has decided to celebrate.”
“I hope so, since we don’t return with good news,” Seldon replied. “Well, I suppose we do, in a way. The baron will be relieved to hear that Philippe de Varenne won’t trouble him anymore. And maybe that was Bryce Frechette in Dover, after all.”
“I would like to think we could trust the tavern keeper’s description,” Donald said. “The young man he spoke of certainly sounded like Bryce Frechette.”
“Maybe it’s him come here, eh?” Seldon asked hopefully. “Maybe that’s why the flags are flying.”
“I don’t think Baron DeGuerre would do that for the late earl’s son, do you?”
“No, no, I suppose not.”
“Well, we had better not sit here all day,” Donald said, stifling a sigh. “Might as well make our report and get it over with.”
“Stop fidgeting, my lady!” Mary admonished as she tried to tie the lacings at the back of Gabriella’s wedding dress.
It was a lovely gown of blue velvet trimmed with gold and silver. Her hair hung loose about her shoulders, crowned with a garland of dried red roses and baby’s breath that Mary had made for her. Josephine had sent a slender gold necklace, and a shift of soft thin silk that was almost transparent. Gabriella had blushed d
eeply when she put it on, until she realized that after what had happened in the chapel, there was little cause for maidenly modesty with her future husband.
“Hold still, or that garland’s going to fall right off and land on the candle and start burning!” Mary chided. “Holy heart of Saint Agatha! You’re as jumpy as a flea.”
“I’m…excited,” Gabriella explained unnecessarily. “I’ve never gotten married before.”
“No!” Mary cried in mock astonishment. Then she grinned. “I understand, although I’ve never had the pleasure of being a bride myself.”
“You may yet,” Gabriella noted.
Mary snorted derisively. “Small chance of that. As if I’d let a man lay his hands on my money — or anything else!” she said firmly. “Big hulking brutes, the lot of them. Or sniveling babies wanting a mother, not a wife.”
“Which would you say the baron is?” Gabriella asked innocently as she suppressed a smile.
“Big hulking brute,” Mary replied matter-of-factly. Then she blushed beet red “Of course, he’s a rich big hulking brute.” A wide grin slashed her careworn face.
“Are you sure I can’t persuade you to come to the castle to work?” Gabriella asked.
Mary shook her head. “No, that Lady Josephine would be lost without me to help her. She’s beautiful, all right, and knows how to give orders, but she hasn’t ever had to do any work herself, poor creature. You should have seen the mess she made of the washing!”
“She does that?”
“Enjoys it, she says. Makes her feel more useful than she’s ever been in her life. They’re very happy, those two, I must say. I had my doubts, I don’t mind confessing.”
“I’m so happy myself, I’m glad others are as fortunate.” Gabriella stepped to the window of the apartment she had occupied since Etienne had asked her to be his wife.
She hoped Bryce would come. Yesterday she had asked him again to attend her wedding, but his response had been sullen and noncommittal. She knew he blamed himself for being absent at a crucial time, and she had tried and tried in the past several days to show him that it was all right. He refused to be consoled, despite her obvious happiness.
Now, and to her considerable relief, she spotted Bryce walking along the road toward the castle. He must have realized at last that she truly loved Etienne and had changed his mind about seeing his sister married.
She watched him striding across the courtyard with his head lowered in thought, his sword striking his thigh. He was a head taller than most of the people already assembled there, and it suddenly struck her that her brother looked as alone and isolated as she had ever felt. Or as Etienne had appeared that first day when he rode into the courtyard of the castle.
Nor did he look happy, as would befit the brother of a bride marrying the man she loved. He looked stubborn and determined, the way he always did when he was prepared to fight.
She would not allow Bryce to destroy her happiness this day, Gabriella vowed as she turned away from the window, her expression identical to that she had just seen on her brother’s face.
“My lady, what is it?” Mary cried, hurrying to look out the window. “What’s happened?”
Gabriella didn’t answer as she hurried from the room. She was too busy focusing all her energy on what she believed would be a catastrophic argument. She rushed through the gaily decorated hall and paused on the threshold of the courtyard to survey the waiting crowd. Many smiled and voiced their good wishes, which she acknowledged with a curt nod. Then she saw him.
“Bryce!” she called, getting his attention. She turned and went inside, where she waited for him to join her. Once he did, she took a deep breath and faced him. “I hope you have come to give me your blessing,” she said, her words a challenge.
“I couldn’t allow my only sister to be married without me to give her away,” he said grimly. “You were always stubborn, Gabriella. I just hope you will be happy with the choice you have made.”
“I will,” she assured him.
His expression softened into one of concern. “Are you sure—”
“Absolutely,” she said firmly.
Suddenly his gaze faltered. “I do mean it when I say I hope you’ll be happy. I will see that you are never unsure of my whereabouts again.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “If he ever hurts you in any way, you must come to me at once. Give me your word that you will.”
“Although I seriously doubt that I will ever need to seek you for a refuge, Bryce,” she replied, “I am glad that you will let me know that you are safe and well.”
She reached out and took his hands in hers. “Won’t you stay here? We could be a family again.”
“No. You and your baron belong here more than I do, now,” he said with a shake of his head. He raised his eyes to look at her again. “I don’t blame anyone but myself for that. I chose my course when I left.” He smiled wryly, and she was finally convinced that he was resigned to her marriage, if not delighted by it. “You know I have no gift for hiding my thoughts from others. In time, I might say or do something to make you regret your invitation. So, thank you again, but I will not stay.”
She nodded reluctantly. “But do I have your blessing on my wedding day?”
“Of course you do. You are the only sister I have.” He put his arm around her and pressed a brotherly kiss on her cheek. “I hope he is deserving of you,” he whispered huskily, with suspicious moisture in his eyes that Gabriella knew he would deny.
“And I of him, Bryce. And I of him”
Baron DeGuerre stood in his bedchamber, anxiously surveying his clothing. George, leaning against the wall languidly with an indulgent smile on his genial face, said, “You look quite fine enough, Baron DeGuerre. I don’t recall you ever fretting about how you looked in all the years I’ve known you.”
Etienne put on a frown at the astute observation. “You are a fine one to chid about vanity, George. How much did that tunic cost you?” He nodded toward the elaborate scarlet-and-gold brocade garment George wore.
“Too much, I fear,” he replied, attempting to look downcast and failing miserably. “I thought I should look good, for the pride of my lord.”
“People will think you’re the bridegroom,” Etienne observed, wondering if he should wear something more colorful. He had worn black for so long, he had thought he would feel like a jester in anything brighter, so he had chosen another black tunic, albeit one of the finest wool.
“Oh, I don’t think there will be much confusion on that point.”
Etienne brushed his shoulders with his hands. “Why?”
“The expression in those usually inscrutable orbs of yours leave no doubt which man here is in love.”
“You are getting to be a most impertinent fellow,” Etienne warned, his tone serious.
“You cannot tell me you don’t like impertinence. Why, you’re marrying the most impertinent woman I’ve ever met in my life.”
“She’s a lot prettier than you,” Etienne noted gravely.
George threw back his head and laughed. When he sobered, he said, “By God, this is wonderful.”
“What?” Etienne asked suspiciously.
“With all due respect, my lord, I don’t recall you ever making a joke under duress. I believe this marriage will be the making of you.”
“I heartily agree,” Etienne said with a warm smile.
The murmur from the courtyard had been growing steadily since Etienne had come to dress for the ceremony, and it was now quite noisy. He went to the window and glanced out. “It must be nearly time. God’s wounds, I haven’t been this nervous since… I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous. My hands are sweating!” Such a reaction had never occurred before his other marriages, but perhaps, Etienne thought, that was because he had never been in love before.
“Have you seen your betrothed’s brother today?” George asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“No.” A cloud appeared on the sunshine of Etienne’s wedding day. “I hope
he comes for the ceremony, for Gabriella’s sake. He’s made it very obvious that he still doesn’t approve.”
“It hasn’t changed her mind any,” George observed.
“No, thank God.” Etienne straightened his shoulders. “Well, let’s go.”
“No need to look so worried,” George said, clapping his hand on the baron’s shoulder in a friendly gesture he never would have attempted before. “All will be well. There’s a little time yet. Why don’t you wait here and try to regain your customary calm. I shall see if the wine has arrived.”
George strolled from the room, leaving Etienne staring thoughtfully out the window. He was almost unbearably happy; nevertheless, he could not rid himself of the fear that he would somehow find his joy obstructed before the day was out.
Donald and Seldon joined the people heading through the gates of the castle. They rode under the portcullis into the courtyard, halting their horses as close to the stable as they could get because of the boisterous crowd before dismounting.
“Donald!” George called out, sauntering toward them with a bright smile. “And Seldon. How was your journey? You’ve timed your return impeccably.”
“What is happening?” Donald asked, his gesture encompassing the waiting crowd.
“A wedding,” George replied cheerfully. “The baron’s getting married to Gabriella Frechette.”
“Truly?” Donald asked, obviously shocked and skeptical. “Or is this another one of your jokes?”
“It can’t be,” Seldon scoffed. “She’s too skinny.”
“Truly,” George replied, his serious tone adding credence to his words. He gave Seldon a slightly disgusted frown “Today, at noon. Here, come to the kitchen and have some ale before we go for the ceremony, and the feast. The baron’s spent a fortune on the food and wine, Chalfront says. The poor man looks to have a fit every time he leaves the castle, but the baron said money was not to be spared.”
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