Beloved (16 page)

Then she was completely still, her head back, her eyes closed, his thumbs resting against her hipbones as he held her. Gently, Richard’s hands moved up around her waist and slowly pulled her down against him, his fingers lightly caressing her back. Christina slid her arms under his shoulders and relaxed.

“Oh, Richard,” she sighed, “I never knew…”

C’est impossible que cette illusion, acceptée d’autrui, soit en fait La Vérité.

—Sauveterre

It cannot be—this thing which seems to all others Truth.

Mai 1753

Beauvu

There was a barely perceptible change in the patch of sky visible through the high window of the stableman’s room. Richard, accustomed to sleeping for brief periods aboard ship, was awake, aware of the time and determined to get Christina back to the house before she was missed.

He lay with his arms around her, faintly surprised by her passionate response to his lovemaking and pleased she’d been able to give herself to him so freely, seemingly with no regrets that they weren’t yet wed. He smiled, knowing that it wouldn’t be much longer before they were together with the blessings of both Church and family. Today he would take care of the financial problems between her father and Guy, and by tomorrow they would be planning their betrothal.

“Chrissa?”

Christina stirred, reluctant to wake and unwilling to move from the warmth of his body. After a moment she sighed and opened her eyes.

“It’s time to get you back to the house. We can’t have you arriving at the front door for breakfast like this.” He emphasized the last word by sliding his hand slowly along the curve of her hip.

Christina pressed herself against him in response and smiled. He covered her mouth with another kiss and then got up to dress.

Pulling the old coverlet up under her chin, Christina’s eyes followed Richard across the dim room as he lit a straw in the glowing coals of the fire and carried it to the table to light the lamp. She had explored every inch of his body the night before and she no longer felt shy.

Richard slipped on his breeches, then sat down beside her on the narrow bed as he pulled on his boots. He got up again and took Christina’s nightdress from the nail beside the fireplace where he’d hung it to dry. It was still a little damp, but at least the fabric was warm and wouldn’t chill her as they walked back to the house.

Naked before him, Christina felt no shame as his eyes moved over her.

He stepped closer and gently fingered the locket at her throat.“Chrissa, you’re beautiful.” He took her in his arms for one last lingering kiss.

The sun had not yet risen. The sky was still overcast, a pearly grey along the eastern horizon, but it was still difficult to see as they emerged from the stable. The yard was a mire and Richard easily swept her into his arms, carrying her until they reached the gravel drive.

As they made their way quickly to the front of the house, Richard slid his arm around Christina’s shoulders, his cape sheltering her from the damp mist that clung to the ground. And though they passed within a yard of him, neither of them noticed Marco’s body.

At the foot of the front steps, Richard motioned for her to wait while he went on to the door. Finding it unbolted, he opened it quietly and looked in.

Christina waited, concealed at the base of the stairs. A sudden flash of fear caused the elation of the previous night to evaporate. Those hours spent in Richard’s arms had been the consummation of a lifetime of loving. But Guy would still have to be dealt with and her father, as well. While she had every confidence in Richard’s ability to resolve the situation, she feared what the next few days might bring.

Seeing no evidence of anyone on the main floor of the house, Richard motioned for Christina to join him and they slipped silently into the entry.

Christina’s heart was pounding as they stood at the bottom of the huge staircase. She started up, but Richard didn’t release her hand. He sensed the change in her, saw the uncertainty in her eyes when she turned back to him in confusion. He pulled her close and kissed her lightly, hoping to reassure her, then watched as she tiptoed up the stairs and hurried down the hall.

When Richard came back down the stairs again two hours later, his father and his brothers were just coming out of the library. When he saw them he took the remaining steps two at a time.

“Robert! Grégoire! When did the two of you arrive?” They embraced.

“I’ve been here since the first of the week and Grégré came in yesterday,” Robert answered, amazed by the way his little brother had filled out. He looked to be a good inch taller, too.

“Come, let’s go in,” Louis said, beaming with pride and putting his arm around his youngest.

As they entered the dining room, Richard mentioned that he’d come in late the night before and had stayed in the stable. His father scoffed at the idea of not waking the servants, but quickly turned the conversation to business matters. Minutes later they were joined by Guy, and soon thereafter by Antonio.

Richard greeted Guy cooly, barely deigning to pay him any notice at all, and knowing that if he did, his own anger at Guy’s presumptuous behavior might well explode. He was not interested in causing a scene. There would be time enough to confront Guy.

When Christina appeared a moment later, Richard went to her quickly and with great enthusiasm lifted her off her feet, whispering that she must play along and act out their reunion for the benefit of the others, but he could feel her shaking and her acting efforts were less than convincing. Richard was pleased to see the others didn’t seem to notice.

Guy feigned indifference, but he was barely able to suppress a sneer when Richard took Christina’s hand and solicitously led her to her place beside him at the table. Antonio looked on nervously, noting Guy’s reaction and the tension between the two young men. Was it possible Richard knew of Guy’s plans? The older man had a very strong sense of trouble in the making.

As the meal was served, Antonio commented on Marco’s absence, but when Richard mentioned having talked to him late the night before, everyone assumed he’d overslept. Antonio suspected his son may have wished to avoid the confrontation sure to take place at any moment.

Christina’s discomfort was obvious. She picked at her food, hardly looking up. Finally, she cast a furtive glance in Guy’s direction and the expression on his face caused her to drop her fork.

Concerned, but unaware of the real reason for her distress, Richard took Christina’s hand under the table, and continued discussing the shipment of olives and oil he had brought back from his last stop at Corsica.

“Ah, I envy you,” Louis said. “Bonifacio—it’s so beautiful. Your mother, rest her soul, and I used to spend at least two months a year there. Do you remember it? You were awfully young.”

“Of course I remember,” said Richard, laughing. “I was ten the last year we were all there together.”

Their reminiscing was interrupted by Étienne as he bent over and whispered something in Louis’ ear.

“Excuse us,” Louis said abruptly as he rose from the table, suddenly pale. “Richard,” he said as he passed his son’s chair, the command to follow obvious.

Richard looked at Robert then gave Christina’s hand a final squeeze, and followed his father out into the hall. Those still at the table looked at each other in confusion. Guy continued to eat, expressing only mild curiosity. Then Grégoire, noticing a disturbance beyond the window, got up and went to see. The others, including Guy, followed.

When Guy saw the cluster of people, he rushed out into the hall.

The massive front doors stood open and Albert, his knees covered with mud, stood in the center of the hallway, nervously wringing his hat in his hands. He looked up as Louis and Richard entered, but when his eyes met Richard’s, he quickly looked away. Almost reluctantly, Albert went out the door, then headed toward the knot of servants halfway across the drive. Richard and Louis were right behind him.

As Richard and his father approached, the group parted to admit them. They were both stunned by the sight of Marco’s body, crumpled near the hedge that bordered the drive. Louis bent down and gently rolled the young man onto his back. Two of the women screamed when they saw the ankh-handled dagger imbedded to the hilt in Marco’s stomach and the pale, pale face, the agonized expression frozen in death.

Instantly, Richard’s mind flashed to the night before. He had been replacing the dagger in the scabbard when Christina came to him in the barn. But he was at a loss to understand how it could have ended up here, the instrument of Marco’s death.

Louis pulled the shining weapon from Marco’s body and slowly stood up.

“Carry him up to the house,” he said as he absently wiped the bloody blade on his handkerchief. He looked at his son, his face now a mask of disappointment and fatigue. In that moment, Richard saw the full weight of his father’s seventy-four years drain the vitality from his body, and for the first time he sensed the man’s mortality.

“You’d better tell Christina. I’ll talk to Antonio,” Louis said, abruptly turning back toward the house.

Guy smiled nervously as they passed. He was elated at this unexpected solution to his problem. It was obvious there would be trouble between father and son. Guy chose not to think of Marco at all.

The others were waiting in the hall. Richard immediately grabbed Christina by the arm and steered her into the library.

“What is it?” Christina was still trying to catch a glimpse of who was being carried up the front stairs.

He pushed her into the room and closed the doors behind them. After all she’d been through in the last twenty-four hours, how could he possibly tell her her brother was dead?

When Christina saw the look on his face, her heart sank. Something was obviously very wrong.

“Richard? Who is it?”

“It’s Marco.”

“Well…what? Is he hurt?” She tried to pull away from him, but Richard held her tightly.

“He’s dead…murdered.”

Christina froze. “
What?
”

“He was stabbed, sometime last night.”

“But who would want to hurt Marco?”

“Someone who wanted to hurt me. Chrissa, your brother was killed with my dagger.” He pulled her close and felt her arms tighten around him.

“But I saw him leave the stable last night,” she whispered in confusion, her cheek against his chest. “He walked right past me on his way out.”

Outside the library, Guy found himself regretting what happened, regretting that Richard was taking the blame for this horrible accident. But it was sure to force Richard out of the picture. That’s what Guy wanted, afterall. If only Richard would confide in him, or ask for his help, perhaps he could come up with a convincing story to turn the suspicions away from his friend.
If only he would ask.
Guy knocked, almost believing it was possible.

Richard opened the door but the look he gave Guy was not the one Guy had hoped for. It was obvious Richard had no intention of asking anything of him. Christina pressed herself even closer to Richard, seeking to hide herself in the comfort of his arms, and that irritated Guy even more. She acted as though she was afraid of him!

“Your father wants to see you in his study,” Guy said smoothly, doing his best to conceal his anger.

Richard kept his arm protectively around Christina as they went out into the hall. Robert was waiting for them.

“Can you take her to her room? And perhaps you should give her something so she can rest?”

“Of course.” Robert extended both his hands to her.

Richard stood watching until they reached the top of the stairs, then took a deep breath and, followed by Guy, went to the study. As he stepped over the threshold, he turned abruptly, closing the doors in Guy’s face.

Guy stood motionless, examining the exhilaration he felt when he saw the pain and anger in Richard’s eyes. This, then, was what Richard deserved. If Richard was unwilling to turn to Guy, then there was still Christina. Richard would never hold her in his arms again if Guy had anything to do with it.

The study was dark, the drapes drawn. Louis sat alone at the far end of the long trestle table, his head in his hands. He looked up as Richard entered. The room was absolutely silent but for the ticking of the clock on the marble mantle. Richard stopped at the opposite end of the table, waiting.

“You must leave this house. Today,” Louis said wearily.

Richard just stared at his father. “Surely you don’t believe I did this?”

“What I believe is not important,” the older man replied. “The fact is that Marco is dead, he was killed with your dagger…
and
a good number of people saw it.”

Furious, Richard slammed his fist down hard on the table.

“There’s no reason for me to leave. I’ve done nothing!”

Louis stood up slowly, and moved closer to his son, his eyes never leaving Richard’s. With a sudden violent movement, reinforced with surprising strength, he drove the dagger into the smooth finish of the table between them.

“The
Le Bonheur
sails at dawn tomorrow,” he said through clenched teeth. “Be sure you’re on board.”

Richard’s eyes remained locked on his father’s, unable to believe what he was hearing. Then he pulled the blade from the table and turned and left the room, not bothering to close the doors behind him. He crossed the hall in a few swift strides and hurried up the stairs.

Guy watched, smiling.

As Richard passed Christina’s door, Robert came out into the hall. Before he could speak, Robert motioned him to be quiet, then accompanied him to his room.

“Is she all right?”

“She’s sleeping.”

“And Grégré?”

“He’s with Antonio. Richard, what happened?”

“I don’t know. Marco was killed sometime during the night…and with my dagger.”

Richard angrily yanked his saddlebags from the bottom of the armoire where he’d put them only a few short hours ago. He began packing.

“I rode in late last night. Marco found me in the barn. He was very upset and wanted to tell me that Antonio had promised Christina to Guy.”