Authors: Cidney Swanson
Tags: #Romance, #Science Fiction, #Young Adult, #Fantasy
Chameleon (24 page)
Will shrugged. “With Sir Walter? Who knows. Maybe he has a nuclear arsenal at his disposal.”
Mickie joined us and together we enjoyed croissants, coffee and hot chocolate. I was clearing off the table when we heard voices outside.
Mickie froze beside her brother. “Don’t answer the door,” she whispered.
“They’re going for the woodpile,” I said, recognizing the sound of the creaking door enclosing logs for the fire. I looked through the sheer curtains.
“It’s just Sir Walter and some friend,” I said.
Mickie crossed to the window beside me. “Wow. A very
buff
friend.”
Will chuckled. “Maybe he’s hired you a bodyguard, Sam!”
“Very funny,” I said.
A moment later, when Sir Walter and the stranger entered carrying logs, Sir Walter began introductions. “
Mesdemoiselles
Mackenzie Baker and Samantha Ruiz,
Monsieur
Will Baker, allow me to introduce
Monsieur Chrétien Sebastien FitzWaldhart de Rochefort
.”
The young man with the long name executed an extremely deep and complex bow. Mickie snorted. Will and I raised our eyebrows in tandem.
Chapter Twenty–Eight
LONG LOST
“It appears,
Mademoiselle Samanthe
, that my cousin Girard and later his daughter Helga, have been after you for a quite interesting reason.” Here, Sir Walter blinked several times. “It would seem that my dear Elisabeth has a descendant yet alive, of whom I have remained in complete ignorance. However, the book that Will and Sam so imprudently removed from Helga’s possession has led me to this discovery. My very dear Samantha.” Here Sir Walter crossed to me and knelt on one knee, taking my hand. “You are descended in a straight line from my cousin Elisabeth de Rochefort.”
I sat, stunned.
“What?” asked Mickie. “Sam’s like, your great–granddaughter?”
Sir Walter, now with tears freely streaming down his wrinkled face, laughed. “Well, more like a cousin some twenty times removed. But no less dear than a granddaughter.”
I took his hand in mine. “That’s why they want me?”
Sir Walter nodded. “I am afraid so.”
“That’s why my mom died?”
“I am so very sorry, my dear,” said Sir Walter.
I nodded. Tears would come later, perhaps. Now I just felt …
relief
finally knowing why she’d been targeted.
“And, this is also the reason you must allow me to offer you what protection I can,” said Sir Walter, his voice faltering.
My eyes found Chrétien.
“He’s your son, isn’t he, Sir Walter?” asked Will.
His son?
I thought to myself.
“That’s my brother,” mumbled Mickie. “Pulling crazy ideas out of his—”
“Yes, my friend.” Sir Walter’s reply cut across Mickie’s expletive. “His mother and I never married as you must have deduced.”
“Was she Anglo–Norman?” asked Will.
“She was.”
Will turned to me and his sister. “When ‘fitz’ is put before someone’s name, it means ‘son of,’ so FitzWaldhart means Walter’s son. Generally a title given when the child was fathered out of wedlock. Back in the day.”
“Chrétien,” I began. “May I ask how old you are?”
Sir Walter’s son drew himself up to his full height of perhaps five feet, ten inches. “I am a man, full–ripe.”
Mickie turned her snorting–laughter into a bad cough.
Sir Walter spoke softly. “His birth was in 1638.”
“Same as the
Roi–Soleil
,” said Will. “Louis the Fourteenth of France.”
Chrétien bowed his head in acquiescence.
Sir Walter spoke again. “He would be of great service. Chrétien has generously volunteered to act as your bodyguard.”
***
“Your bodyguard?” asked Gwyn, not even attempting to keep her voice low as we shuffled through the Paris/Charles de Gaulle airport.
“
Shhhh
!” I whispered. “He’s my cousin, okay?”
“He’s my new hot boyfriend, you mean,” said Gwyn, checking out his
derrière.
“Will you look at those melons?
Choice!
”
Gwyn kept up a steady stream of remarks like this as we inched forward to check our bags. Beside me, Will held my hand like his life depended on it. Sir Walter stood to one side with Chrétien and Mickie, deep in conversation.
“So, wait,” said Gwyn. “Sir Walter is Will and Mickie’s uncle, right? And now he’s your uncle too? Aren’t you and Will concerned about … Well, I mean, that’s awkward.”
I rolled my eyes and whispered back. “Sir Walter isn’t Mick and Will’s
real
uncle. And even if he were, there are so many generations between me and Sir Walter that I don’t think it would count anymore.”
“Okay,” said Gwyn. “If you’re sure.”
“Trust me on this one,” I said.
Beside me, Will chuckled quietly.
“Oh. Wait. That means it
would
be wrong if you hooked up with your bodyguard, huh?” asked Gwyn. “So that makes me first in line! Perfect!”
“Please,” I replied, tugging at my roller–bag.
We arrived at the airline counter.
“‘Ow many of zee bags?” asked a cheerful and elegant
Parisienne
.
“Just one,” I said.
Will hoisted it onto the platform.
My bag deposited, it was finally time to say goodbye to Will. My moon and my stars. The person I didn’t know how I was going to live without.
“It’s just for a little while,” he whispered into my ear.
“I know,” I said. I pressed against him as if to gather the warmth of his body so that I could carry it all the way back to California.
“I don’t know how to say goodbye,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “We can’t have you disappearing.”
My stomach squeezed. I’d forgotten! We wouldn’t be able to share one last, lingering kiss. I held him tighter.
“Ah!” he grunted. “Left chest and arm!”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, releasing him on that side.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, smiling, tracing my lips with his forefinger. “We’ll say goodbye like the French, shall we?”
“
Au–revoir
you mean?”
“No,” Will chuckled. “Well, I mean, that too. But what I really meant is like that—over there.” He tilted his head to Sir Walter who was kissing Gwyn farewell on alternate cheeks: one–two–three–four times.
I smiled. “It didn’t work to my advantage, the last time I kissed you on the cheek.”
Will’s mouth pulled into a heartbreakingly beautiful smile. “Ah, but I’ve learned a thing or two since then.”
We kissed one another one–two–three–four times and then a few more.
Chrétien bowed to Will. “Upon mine honor, I shall shield her from harm.”
“You do that,” said Will. To me, he whispered as he held me once again, “
Au revoir, mon couer.”
Somewhere in the warmth and sweetness of his breath upon my skin, I found the courage to reply. “‘Til we meet again, my love.”
THE END
Ready for more Will and Sam?
The Ripple Trilogy
Begins with
Rippler
(Book One)
and continues in
Unfurl
(Book Three)
Plus, coming Summer 2012
The Official Ripple Trilogy Cookbook
(Will’s Killer Pizza, Bridget Li’s
Double Chocolate Cupcakes,
and much, much more!)
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I have several people to thank for my twin interests in travel and language which hugely informed the writing of this tale. As a six–year–old, I fell in love with Spanish thanks to my Grandmother, Dorothy Rose, who opened the door into this lifelong fascination. For a bit of help with Chinese, I’m grateful to Lynne Yang. For a lot of French help, I am deeply grateful to Donna Evans, my high school French teacher.
To all my Pampered Chef buddies: you guys rock! Thanks for getting me to France so I could visit Château de Chenonceau, thereby fulfilling a lifelong dream.
My parents, Bill and Adele Rose, made sure I experienced a wide array of language and culture through annual summer trips, and I can never say thanks enough for those travels.
Isabel, Toby, Rachael, and Katie: you are my rock–star beta–readers. I can’t imagine taking this writing journey without you! Jacob, thanks for making sure everything looked good, and Ryan, thanks for helping make sure things didn’t sound too lame.
Natalie, you make me work harder than I think I want to, and it is always soooo worth it! Lastly, to my husband Chris, thank you for believing in me. What more could anyone ask for?
Table of Contents
Table of Contents