Decision and Destiny (19 page)

Paul’s face remained stern, like a father about to discipline a disobedient child. Apprehension was now a tangible thing, a demon that somersaulted inside her belly and made her ill. The lengthening silence told her she was already condemned. Then he spoke. “I never thought I’d be forced to this, but your conduct, the example you’ve set for the children, leaves me no other choice.”

She was cut to the quick and could not summon the anger needed to refute his claim. Would he dismiss her? At this moment, she didn’t care, for nothing, not even the loss of her position, could cause her greater distress than the censor in his eyes and the rebuke in his voice.

“Have you nothing to say?” he demanded as he pushed away from the door. “Have you no defense?”

“You leave me none!” she choked out.

“I leave you none? You blame me? I wasn’t the one who acted improperly today, traipsing about the island with a man renowned for his debauchery. Your behavior was at best depraved!”

“Depraved? It was an innocent birthday picnic!”

“Come, Mademoiselle,” he snorted in vexation, “don’t pretend you don’t understand. You continue to ignore my warnings and allow John to use you, in front of the children—
and
—by every indication, have very much enjoyed it.”

“How can you say that?” she objected. “You know I’ve tried to avoid him!”

“Forgive me if I no longer believe it. I’m not a fool. I’ve seen many a woman play your little game. But your slip of the tongue?
That
was a major blunder.”

“A slip, yes!” she pleaded through tightened throat. “But you can’t possibly believe what I said actually occurred today! I swear—”

“Miss Ryan,” he interrupted, “you spent the entire day in John’s company.”

“With the children ever present!”

“And—” he held up a hand to silence her “—did not seem to be avoiding him.”

“I had no choice! He insisted the children were my responsibility—that I must accompany them.”

“Exactly. He used you—with your consent. You even let your hair down for him!” he declared childishly, his lips twisted in rueful triumph. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that bit of incriminating evidence when I met you on the road this afternoon. You needn’t deny it, Charmaine, for I know you would never have said what you said this evening if you didn’t feel comfortable with my brother,
very
comfortable.”

“That is not true!”

A shriek penetrated the closed doors of the nursery. When no one answered his knock, John went in. Pierre was playing with the kittens in the middle of the floor, but Jeannette was in the far corner of the room, cowering, while Yvette dangled something above her head.

“Keep it away!”

“Yvette!”

The twins turned toward John’s voice, and Yvette rapidly tucked her hand behind her back. “What have you got there, Yvette?” he demanded as he advanced on the girl, his eyes trained on her reddened face.

“It’s only a spider,” she answered, presenting the creature that wriggled lamely against a trapped leg.

“Throw it down!”

With a click of the tongue, Yvette complied.

John looked about the room. “Where is Mademoiselle Ryan?”

“Paul called her away a little while ago,” Jeannette responded.

“To take her to his dungeon, no doubt,” John contemplated aloud.

“Dungeon?” Jeannette queried. “Does he truly have a dungeon?”

“No, not literally, Jeannie. But when Paul gets his dander up, being cornered by him is tantamount to torture. Tonight we must act as Miss Ryan’s champion.”

“Champion?” Yvette asked suspiciously.

“We must rescue her from his clutches,” he explained. “The question is, who would like to help me with this chivalrous endeavor?”

“I would!” Yvette volunteered excitedly. “How much do I get paid?”

“Paid? Since when do I have to pay you to help me?”

“Oh, all right, I’ll help you for free.”

Charmaine was near tears, certain the worst was yet to come—at any moment Paul would mention Pierre. “I cannot believe you are saying this to me!”

“Do you deny he went swimming?”

“He took the twins into the water, and they were all clothed!”

Paul snorted. “I used to believe you were the epitome of decency.”

“And now you don’t?” Charmaine queried in a tiny voice.

“Now I think you were playing me for an idiot! All these months I’ve respected your wishes, treated you as a gentleman should, have waited patiently in deference to your
innocence
. I was taken in by your professed virtue, until today. Should I have acted differently? Would you have preferred a direct attack? Is that how my brother has succeeded where I have failed?”

“What—what are you saying?”

“Don’t you know? Damn it, Charmaine, I want you—have wanted you from the start. And damn you for preferring to spend the day in John’s embrace!”

“But I told you that didn’t happen! I was angry with Agatha.
She had passed innuendoes at the table, and I lashed out at her sarcastically without thinking. I swear, there is nothing between John and me! Please believe me!”

It was too much! She burst into tears.

“Damn it,” he swore under his breath, his anger flagging, “don’t cry. God, how I hate it when you cry.” He pulled a freshly laundered handkerchief from his dinner jacket and pressed it into her hand, contrite.

Even with his change of mood, Charmaine could not stop crying.

His remorse increased. “He’s done it again, hasn’t he?”

“What has he done?” she heaved.

“Connived and twisted an innocent situation to his advantage. He knew his remarks would lead me to believe the worst—send me on this rampage. He counted on it. I suppose I’m no better than he.” He drove his fingers through his hair. “I’ve asked for your forgiveness before. I do so again, though I would understand why you might not find it in your heart to pardon me.”

His voice was sincere, his eyes just as earnest, and, as he grasped her shoulders, the electrified atmosphere swiftly changed.

Without warning, the door swung open, and Yvette crossed the threshold. “Mademoiselle Charmaine?” she queried in an unusually meek voice.

“Damn!” Paul swore again, oblivious to his sister’s apparent distress.

Charmaine ignored the man’s rekindled temper. “What is wrong, Yvette?”

“Well…” she began reluctantly as she fiddled with her fingers.

“Well and what is it?” Paul barked. “Let’s have it out and over with!”

“Pierre had an accident!”

“An accident?” Charmaine gasped, racing halfway across the room before the girl spoke again.

“In his knickers.”

“Jesus Christ!” Paul sneered. “And did you think this ‘accident’ warranted an interruption, young lady?”

“If you were in our room you’d think so,” she rejoined. “It smells something terrible up there!”

“Then you’ll just have to endure the stench until your governess and I are finished. Now, return to your chambers and do not leave them again.”

“But it’s awfully messy up there,” Yvette complained. “Jeannette tried to change Pierre’s pants, but he only giggled and pulled away from her and…and…he ran into your dressing room. He even locked the door and refuses to come out!” she added, as if on an afterthought.

“My room! What in the name of God is he doing in there?”

“Hiding I suppose.”

“You suppose?
You suppose?
You have two minutes—two minutes to get him the hell out of there. Do you hear me, young lady?”

“But—”

“No buts!” he shouted. “Just do it!”

“Paul—” Charmaine interposed “—I’ve left them unattended for far too long. I really should return to the nursery.”

“No! John is problem enough. I’ll not have the pestering of a passel of brats continually trespass against my time with you.”

He faced Yvette. “Go back up those stairs and get your brother out of my chambers immediately—soiled knickers and all!”

Confident she had presented a convincing act worthy of John’s praise, Yvette strutted from the volatile room. Beyond the doorway, she met him. He was fighting the urge to laugh aloud, biting down hard on a white-knuckled fist.

“You had better make it good,” she warned in a whisper. “He’s fit to be tied.”

John subdued a last chuckle, wiped the moisture from his eyes,
and rapped on the doorframe. “May I come in?” he asked with dramatic courteousness.

“What do you want?” Paul growled.

Charmaine stepped forward. “I shall leave the two of you to speak privately. I must see to Pierre.”

John agreed, clearly entertained. “Having just now spoken to Yvette in the hallway, I would say he is in dire need of Miss Ryan. Yvette is in quite a dither.”

Paul’s scowl blackened, his rancor proportionate to his brother’s delight, and he fired a barrage of French expletives.

“Watch your tongue, dear boy,” John warned as if shocked.

“What will Miss Ryan think, since she doesn’t know the language? Why, it’s like talking behind her back.”

“That’s right, John, you just keep it up!” Paul sneered, teeth bared.

“I fully intend to.”

“You lewd, despicable—”

“How despicable must I be before you storm from the room again?”

“So—you want me to leave? Is that it?”

“I want you to
leave
Miss Ryan alone,” John responded. “We all know why you’ve cornered her this evening, demanding you speak with her privately. I’d call it a brow-beating, and I decided to put an end to it.”

“Since when have you become her paladin?”

“Let us just say I’ve grown fond of her,” John answered.

“Let’s not. Let us get to the real point, John.”

“The point is: you are jealous,” John replied, his voice high with merriment. “So there is no point in trying to uncover your point. Get the point?”

“Fine, John, just fine!” Paul threw up his hands and strode to the door.

“Where are you going?” Charmaine called after him, her turmoil resurrected. Everything she had believed to be reconciled was once again in the balance.

“Out!” he blazed. “To get some air!”

“But Paulie, there’s a hurricane about!”

“Aye, and its company is preferable to yours!” With that, he was gone.

Charmaine turned to John. “He wouldn’t really go out there, would he?”

“I wish he would,” he replied flatly.

Her perturbation spiraled into fury, his cruelty solidifying every misery he’d caused her that day. “Oh, how I despise you!”

“Someday that will be different.”

The statement seemed a promise, and she balled her fists in outrage.

He stepped in close. “Do you realize how dark your eyes become when you are angry? How the tip of your nose wiggles when you rant and rave?” He placed a forefinger on it.

She tried to swat it away, but his fingers deftly encircled her wrist, lowering and then pinning it to the small of her back. He drew her against him until their bodies met in the most agonizing of places. She pushed futilely against his chest with her free hand, turned her face aside, but he grasped her hair at the base of her neck, entwining it round his menacing fingers. Ever so slowly, he pulled her head back, dashing any hope of escape. Insidiously, he lowered his lips to hers until they touched—a gentle, teasing caress—his embrace like iron, demanding, his kiss tender, pleading. His mouth moved on to the hollow of her neck, and she could feel an intake of breath as if he were savoring her scent. She renewed her efforts to break free, stumbling back a step when he decided to release her.

“As delectable as I had imagined,” he murmured.

The sentiment was not reciprocated. Charmaine’s hand lashed
out, but for all her swiftness, John caught her wrist again. “You weren’t going to slap me, were you, my Charm? Not a very kind gift to bestow on the eve of my birthday.”

Twisting away, she glared at him defiantly. “Don’t ever try that again!”

“Saving yourself only for Paul, are you?”

“That’s right!” she retaliated, and she rubbed her forearm viciously across her mouth, proof of her revulsion. Unmoved, his smile broadened. She gritted her teeth and marched to the doorway.

“Where are you off to, my Charm?”

“To see to the children. You’ve detained me from my duties long enough!”

“Duty?” he called after her. “There is none.”

She came to an abrupt halt and eyed him suspiciously over her shoulder. “What do you mean, ‘there is none’?”

“Duty,” he reiterated. “There is no
duty—
or should I say, doo-doo? The story about Pierre was a little ruse.”

“A ruse?” she asked in stupefaction.

“Yes, a ruse. Concocted to rescue you from my furious brother.”

“Saved from his grasp only to fall into yours,” she threw back at him.

“A brilliant observation, my Charm,” he commented rakishly.

“But wasn’t it worth it? After all, now you have a basis for comparison.”

After a brief lull, the tempest raged again. Charmaine remained in the nursery long after she tucked the children in for the night, but when they refused to settle down, she withdrew to her own room, taking Pierre with her. At the girls’ insistence, she left the door open, and slowly, their chattering subsided.

Pierre was asleep in no time. Unfortunately, the arms of Morpheus
evaded her. The house moaned and creaked with each ferocious gale, a mimicking reminder of all that had happened that day. Try as she might, she could not get John out of her mind: his taunting, the awkward attraction, his kiss! Her pulse quickened as she recalled his hard body pressed against hers, his lips—not displeasing—a tender caress. She had made certain he didn’t know how he had affected her. At least he could not say she’d enjoyed it.

She chided herself for her desire to uncover the soul of the man, to figure out what made him tick. She thought about his quarrel with Paul and wondered if the whole of his waking hours were spent trapping and tormenting his opponents. But he had other sides, too. She had never known a person to display such an array of dispositions. Hate—love, and everything in between.

My birth is not a celebrated event in this house…
Had Frederic truly spurned him? What happened to this family so long ago? To the adult brothers?
They were close once…very close…
And where did Colette fit in?
The mistress Colette was a very different woman than the one you have made her out to be…She should never have become Mrs. Frederic Duvoisin
…