Page 69 of A Fierce Wind

“Was it very frightening?”

“Zack Barlow and I thought so. I was seventeen and Donet was about to be attacked by a revenue cutter. My sister was still aboard his ship when he sailed away. I didn’t see her for months and, by then, she had married him!”

It was afternoon when they arrived at Perelle Bay. The turquoise waters were as beautiful as she remembered them, the house equally as lovely.

Nothing had changed since the first time she’d been there except that now there were servants. First, Freddie introduced her to the stable boy who led the horse and buggy away. Inside the house, she met a young footman, who promptly carried their small pieces of luggage upstairs, a housemaid, and a couple in their middle years. Timothy and Martha O’Brien, Freddie explained, would act as housekeeper, cook and butler.

“If ye need anything, madame,” said Mrs. O’Brien, “just let me know. Yer bed’s been turned down and the chamber already attended to when we arrived a few hours ago.”

Zoé wondered what the woman meant by that last comment but decided not to ask. She would see it soon enough. “Thank you, but I think we’ll be fine for today.”

The housekeeper curtsied and shuffled her husband and the maid out of the room. The footman remained by the door.

“We may need additional servants as we go along, Pigeon, but for now, with our voyages to France, a skeletal crew seemed best. The O’Briens live nearby, so only the footman, stable boy and maid will stay the night.

“In other words,” she teased, “we’re practically alone.”

He returned her a sheepish look. “Well, yes, as much as is possible.” He offered her his hand. “Shall we adjourn to our chamber, Mrs. West?”

The day had already been full of excitement and Zoé did not want to retire so late she would immediately fall asleep. Besides, Freddie was looking at her in that way that made her knees weak. She placed her hand in his. “Oui, Mr. West.”

When he opened the door, Zoé paused on the threshold, surprised at what she saw. “Oh. Did you do all this?”

The red bedcover had been sprinkled with white rose petals, perfuming the air. On the pedestal table between the two wing chairs in front of one window looking out on the bay, a tray set with fruit, cheese and bread rested next to a bottle of wine and two glasses. In the fireplace, a fire had been laid, ready to light.

Freddie put his arms around her waist and leaned over her shoulder. “No, but I think I know who did.”

“Your sister?”

“Aye, Jo’s the only one who knew where our home is located.”

“Now that I think of it, she may have enlisted Isabeau’s help,” suggested Zoé. “The girl has been giggling overmuch these last few days.”

Zoé turned in Freddie’s arms and placed her hands on his shoulders. “I think it was sweet of them to do that for us. It will make our wedding night that much more special.”

He kissed her, taking up where he’d left off at the church. Raising his head, his brandy-colored eyes had turned dark. “If you say so, Pigeon, but as for me, all I need is you.”

Why she should suddenly feel shy, Zoé had no idea. After all, she had been the one to suggest he make love to her the first time she had come to this room. But that was before Tante Joanna had told her what to expect. “Perhaps a glass of wine and some cheese?” she asked.

He chuckled and walked toward the small table. “Of course.” He poured two glasses of wine and handed her one. She drank it down betraying her nerves then took a seat in one of the wing chairs. He sat in the other. “You have nothing to fear, Pigeon. I love you and I will be gentle.”

“I know,” she said, feeling like the biggest fool. “It’s just that what your sister told me sounded… painful.”

“Ah, so I have Jo to thank for this sudden reticence on your part.”

“She was only trying to help.”

He pushed out of the chair and came to stand in front of her. “Forget what she told you. I will teach you all you need to know, Pigeon.” He reached for her arms and gently pulled her up. “Allow me to act the lady’s maid, as I did in Rennes. Only this time, we’ll be taking off our clothes.”

She turned her back to him and kicked off her shoes. He loosened her laces. The stays she wore beneath her gown were not much of an obstacle and he adroitly removed them. “You seem to know what you’re doing,” she said, noticing he had draped her clothing on one of the chairs.

“Recall I grew up with two sisters, Joanna, who you know, and Matilda, whom you’ve not yet met as she lives in London. Growing up at The Harrows, it was impossible not to hear their conversations about a woman’s frippery and all they wore underneath it. And then there were my youthful dalliances.”

“Which we won’t discuss,” she said.

“Which we won’t discuss,” he repeated.

Once she was down to her shift, stockings and garters, she faced him, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Your turn.”