To spread malicious gossip with venomous, vicarious delight.
“Ah, there you are, my dear,” Béatrice cooed as Gabrielle strolled across the sunlit parlor to kiss her great-aunt’s cheeks. A familiar spark of rebellious spunk blazed in those deep brown eyes. “You remember my friend Agnès,la Marquise de Josselin.”
Gabrielle nodded politely to the plump, matronly marquise whose powdery white face and pomaded pink cheeks were pinched with haughty disdain. “Enchantée,Madame la Marquise.”
“And Clothilde,la Vicomtesse de Vannes.”
The gnarled knuckles and claw like nails evoked the image of a shrewish harpy as Gabrielle dutifully kissed the extended hand under the gaunt glower of the wiry witch. “It is a pleasure to see you again,Madame la Vicomtesse.”
A rotund woman with a flushed face and sparse white curls—her ample rolls of flesh straining at the seams of her tight blue gown—gawked at Gabrielle with undisguised contempt, as if she were a slug slithering up the petals of a perfect pink rose.
“And Françoise,la Comtesse de Ploudry.” Her great-aunt presented the pompous noble as Gabrielle bowed slightly in politeobéisance. “They have come to spend a few days near the sea in our lovelyChâteau de Beaufort.”Béatrice gestured to a servant, who placed an appetizing platter of French pastries upon the low table as she served steaming cups oftisaneto the pampered guests.
Gabrielle took her seat at her great-aunt’s side, already desperate to escape the stifling, suffocating atmosphere of the Parisian court which aways smothered her soul. She smiled at the timid servant, accepting the proffered cup of herbal tea, grateful for the temporary distraction.
No sooner had she taken a sip than the onslaught of insults began.
“Your father the king is most anxious to see you wed, Gabrielle. I must agree, you sorely need a husband. A strong-willed man to control your impetuous spirit. It is positively improper for a princess to cavort with soldiers and wield weapons like a man.” Her thin lips curling into a downward smirk of disapproval, the harsh rasp of the venomous voice scraped up Gabrielle’s spine like the sharp claws of thevicomtesse.
“Ugolin Cauchon will not tolerate such wanton behavior in his royal wife.” The powdered marquise chuckled cruelly. “He is nicknamedUgolinle Clou—for he is hard as a nail. Ruthless, merciless, and relentless.” Beady black eyes glinted with malicious glee asla Marquise de Josselinbeheld Gabrielle, savoring the sting of her venom. “He might very well lock you in a tower, tocurb your wicked ways.”
As if to defend her beleaguered great-niece, Béatrice remarked affably, “Perhaps another will win Gabrielle’s hand. After all, there are many potential suitors who might excel in the joust.” Encouragement shone in her aunt’s kind eyes as she shot Gabrielle an uplifting, hopeful gaze.
“Ugolin le Clouwould never concede to a loss. If he can’t win Gabrielle’s hand in the Yuletide Joust, he’ll force King Philippe to order the marriage, by threatening to halt all shipments to Paris.” The harpy sipped her tea, a sadistic grin spreading across her sunken, sinister face. “Despitele Traîté Maritime,Ugolin and his father, Robert Cauchon, control the Breton seas.” Greed glimmered in her garish gaze. “If Ugolin becomes King of Finistère, he will control all shipments to Paris, and we…” she crooned to the carrion-loving crones at her side, “will have the finest jewels, laces, and gowns. As well as the most sumptuous, decadent spices and silks imported from the Orient. Just imagine… our royal courts of Bretagne would exceed King Philippe’s in Paris!”
The trio of blistering biddies tittered with titillation.
I must escape. I’ll feign illness and retreat to my room. I’d rather be confined to my royal chambers than subject myself to this slow torture.
Gabrielle raised her arm, placing it against her forehead, and emitted a soft moan. “I’m dreadfully sorry,Tante Béatrice, but I’m feeling quite ill. I shall retire now…and leave you fine ladies to have a lovely chat.” She rose unsteadily to her feet and kissed her great-aunt’s cheek. With a polite curtsey and a formal farewell, she extricated herself from their caustic, contaminating company.
Alone in her room, she gazed out the window at the turbulent sea crashing against the cliff far below.Tomorrow, Bastien and I will explore the cave. A thrilling adventure…and the chance to be alone with him again.
She envisioned his brooding, handsome face. The rugged, bristled chin. The thin, jagged scar. Brute strength seethed from his every pore. Solitary and sullen. Angry and withdrawn. Impossibly irresistible.
Today, when they’d discovered the hidden tunnel in the cave, she’d kissed his cheek with joy. And he had recoiled, as if scorched.
Or repulsed.
And yet… she swore that she’d seen passion blaze in his deep green gaze. The smoldering stare that bore right into her soul.
How she longed to feel his sinewy arms wrapped around her. To taste his full, luscious lips. To feel the length of his hardened body pressed against hers…
Perhaps he loved another. He might very well be betrothed to one of the ladies of the court.
She’d find out tomorrow. He was her personal guard, after all. She’d simply ask him.
And pray that the answer was no.
Because, by the Goddess…she wanted him for herself.
Chapter 5
A Secret Tunnel
The next day, after equestrian lessons, archery practice, self-defense tactics and a strenuous training session with the sword, Bastien and Gabrielle returned to the sea cave hidden in the curve of the cliff.
He led her to the back of the cave where a tunnel, not visible from the entrance of the grotto, veered to the left. Lighting the torch he’d brought and unsheathing his sword, he led Gabrielle—who drew her blade as well—into the dark, mysterious passageway.
