A Daughter's Destiny (13 page)

As his mouth descended toward hers, he murmured, “You can trust me on one thing. I will never hurt you, honey.”

When he kissed her again, she wanted to pretend she was as angry as she had been moments ago. It was useless, because she clutched his upper arms while sweet desire resonated through her. Her mind shouted for her to push him away, but her hands refused to heed the inner voice as his tongue blazed a searing path through the dark cavern of her mouth, setting her afire. Her breasts caressed his iron-hard chest with each swift breath she took.

Her fingers rose to comb through his thick hair as he brushed his lips along her throat. His face's sandy texture rubbed against her, augmenting her craving as he found her mouth again.

The tender kiss lasted only a single heartbeat before the horse shifted beneath them. With a shriek, Brienne grabbed Evan's sleeves. He laughed as his arms closed around her, keeping her from falling.

“Did I not tell you I would not let you get hurt?” he asked, laughing.

“You should not expect me to be too trusting of you too quickly.”

He smiled and drew her nearer. “'Tis getting damned cold out here, and the horse wants to get back to its stable. I think we should think about doing the same.”

“A stable?” She sat straighter, but bounced back against him as the horse picked up speed along the road which was empty except for the cloying mist. “If you think I will spend the night with you in a hayloft, you are a fool!”

His laugh rumbled through his chest. She was glad the darkness hid the telltale heat climbing her cheeks as he leaned her head on his shoulder and murmured, “You suggest the most charming fantasies, but I have already arranged for rooms at the inn where I rented this beast.”

“The Fox and Swan?”

“Hardly. How did you know about that horrible place?” He chuckled and answered his own question, “That is where you met Marksen, isn't it? Brienne, you have to be more leery of the ones you so unwisely choose for allies.”

“Like you?”

Tightening his arm around her, he asked, “So am I your ally at last? 'Tis about time you realized we are both on the same side.”

“Of what?”

“That is a question I think would be best answered inside, where it is warm.”

On that, Brienne could agree. As she relaxed against him, she found sleep oozing over her like the fog. Relentlessly she fought it. Each time her head rested against Evan's chest, she forced herself awake. Her eyes watered with fatigue, and she did not dare to blink, for she found it more and more difficult to open her eyes again.

She did not realize she had lost the battle to stay awake until she heard Evan call softly, “Wake up, honey. We are here.”

Bright light came from a lantern in a stableman's hand. In his other hand, he held the horse's bridle. When Evan helped her out of the saddle, she swayed with exhaustion.

His arm curved around her shoulders after he had unhooked her bag and handed it to her. “Let's go inside. I think you could use something to eat and a good night's rest.”

“Yes,” she mumbled. Letting him guide her toward the inn, she stumbled beside him as she fought off sleep. Something to eat might wake her up and ease the cramp in her stomach.

Her curious gaze swept across the entrance of the inn. Except for a small desk with a lamp glowing on top of it, the hallway was bare. A rough staircase led up to the left, and several doorways opened on the opposite wall.

A round woman appeared, her apple red cheeks as full as her shelf of bosom. Folding her arms in front of her, she planted herself firmly between them and the doorway to the public dining room. The aromas wafting from inside made Brienne's mouth water.

“We allow no vagabonds here,” the woman said. “There be other places fer ye if ye want her with ye, sir.”

Brienne was startled until she looked down at her filthy gown. No wonder the woman thought she was a beggar.

She sensed Evan's irritation, but his voice was filled with his most endearing tone as he answered, “I stopped earlier to arrange for a room for a friend of mine. Unfortunately, as you can see, her carriage was upset when it was rammed by another vehicle on this devilish night.”

Instantly the woman cooed, “Poor lamb. Take her up, sir. I will send some water to ye so she can clean herself. Will ye be needing some bandaging, miss?”

“No, I am fine.” Brienne wished Evan had not made her the focus of his lies.

“Brave, isn't she?” Evan asked with a smile. “Hungry, too. Could you have some food brought upstairs for us? I am sure you can understand that she does not want to be seen in such a state.”

“Of course, of course.” The woman's smile was as broad as his.

Brienne could not decide if she abhorred the woman's fawning or Evan's lies more. “May we go up now?”

The innkeeper opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a pair of keys. “As you requested, sir. Two rooms with an adjoining door.”

Brienne whirled to look at Evan. “Adjoining—?”

“Thank you.” Evan took the keys and swung Brienne toward the stairs at the same time. Pushing her ahead of him, he said lowly, “Behave yourself, or I shall give her back the key to the second room. Of course, I will be glad to give her back the key if you want me with you all night.”

Silence was the only answer that would not cause more trouble. Brienne let him hold her elbow as they walked to her room. He opened the door and motioned for her to enter the chamber which was lit only by a fire on the hearth.

“My key?” she asked, holding out her hand.

“Go in. We can discuss this and everything else inside.”

“I have no intentions of discussing anything with you in a room of an inn!”

“Then, you can listen to me.” A gentle shove propelled her into the room. After closing the door, he lit a candle and placed it on the table by the window on the other side of the broad bed. “Having you listen to me would be novel. Why don't you take off your damp cloak and relax?”

Wondering how she could relax when she stood with him in this rented room, she put her bag on the table and struggled with her trembling fingers to undo the ties at her throat. Folding the muddy cape over the room's only chair, she shivered. The night's dampness had gnawed into her bones. She went to stand by the hearth. When a blanket was draped over her shoulders, she glanced back at Evan.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Gently he untied her ruined bonnet. Her hair cascaded atop the blanket in a sable shadow. His fingertip grazed her bruised cheek. “This looks better already.”

“It does not hurt as much, if that is what you mean.”

“If I could find the ones who did this to you, it would take them a lot longer to heal.”

“Evan!”

His grim expression became a smile. “You do not want me to be your friend or your hero, and I cannot be your enemy. It makes for a very peculiar relationship,
duchesse
.”

“What did you call me?”

A knock kept him from answering. When he opened the door, a maid brought in steaming water. She poured it into the ewer on the washstand next to the bed. The young girl stared at them as she dipped in a curtsy and rushed out of the room.

Evan grimaced at Brienne, and she began to laugh. Something about the servant's silent awe struck her as hilarious. Hungry and tired, she was too weak to control her own laughter. When a second knock announced the arrival of their meal, she wiped tears from her eyes and fought the quakes of laughter.

Evan took the tray and carried it to the table. “You need not wait to be invited to eat, Brienne.” He held out a spoon and a dish.

She savored the beefy scent of the soup. Steam billowed into her face as she took an eager sip. “Wonderful.”

“Your soup is better.”

“But I have never been so hungry when I ate mine.”

His hand on her wrist halted her from taking a second spoonful. “When did you eat last?”

“Dinner at your house.”

“You mean you have not eaten all day?”

Easing her hand from beneath his, she gulped another mouthful of soup before saying, “I need my money to get to France.”

His eyes became a deeper blue as they narrowed with the fury she had come to recognize. “Don't you know how upset Madame LeClerc is?”

“I left her a note explaining I would be back as soon as I could.”

“Along with enough money to pay rent on a room and buy food and fuel for the rest of the winter.” He grumbled a curse as he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her to sit on the bed. “You thought of everything.”

She tried to shrug off his hands, but it was impossible. “If you know all that, then you know that I promised Maman that I would go to France and find Papa's grave.”

“Why would she ask you to do something so addlewitted?”

“I do not know.”

“Didn't she realize the danger she was sending you into?”

Brienne sighed. “I am not sure. She was not completely lucid at the very end, I fear. She warned me to be careful of a door.”

“A door? What did she mean by that?” Another knock sounded, and he frowned. “Who the blazes can that be?” He went to the door.

Peering past him, Brienne saw the woman who had greeted them downstairs. They spoke lowly, but Brienne heard the woman ask if the rooms were suitable. Evan's voice was calm, instead of heated as when he argued with her. She was awed by how easily he governed his emotions. No wonder she could not tell when he was being honest and when he was lying.

After he had assured the innkeeper that all was well, he closed the door and pulled out the key and locked it. He put the iron key beneath his coat, then took his soup bowl from the tray. Pushing her cloak onto the floor, he sat on the chair and ate as he regarded her with a strange expression she could not decipher.

“You should eat,” he said as if there were nothing unusual about them sitting together in the room of a wayside inn.

“I shall do what I want when I want!”

With a snort, he chuckled. “You sound like a
duchesse
already.”

“What are you talking about?”

He did not answer as he dipped his spoon into the chipped bowl. He reached for the bottle of wine on the tray and poured a glass for each of them. As he handed her one, he mused, “They could use your cooking skills here,
duchesse
.”

Putting her bowl on the table, she rose. “Evan, why are you calling me that?”

He stood and put his arm around her waist. Drawing her to sit on the bed, he laughed. “If I am going to tell you a fairy tale, it might as well be a bedtime story.”

“If you think I would—” His mouth grazed hers, but she pushed him away. “You are making a mistake, Mr. Somerset. This is my room and my bed.”

“Paid for by me.”

“I will be glad to repay you if you would leave.”
Before I let your kisses seduce every bit of sense from my head
. She started to stand, but his arm around her kept her on the bed.

“I do not want your money. I want you to listen to me while you eat before you faint from hunger.” He pressed her bowl in her hands.

“Evan, you should leave.”

“After you finish your supper and listen to me.”

Brienne nodded, knowing that he would not go and let her sleep until she agreed to listen to whatever he had to say. She hoped it was interesting because the weight of exhaustion was heavy on her eyelashes again.

“That is better,” he said, leaning his elbow on the curved footboard. “Once upon a time—”

She frowned. “I am too tired for this skimble-skamble.”

“It is not silliness. It is something you need to hear.”

With a sigh, she said, “All right, but make it a short story.”

“Once upon a time,” he repeated with a taut smile, “not too long ago, a little girl was hidden away by two fairy godmothers so she would not be found by the ogre who wanted to steal her father's castle. For years, the little girl lived in a cramped cottage in a distant city, but the ogre never forgot her. He knew the godmothers' magic would not protect her forever. He waited and planned and waited some more while the little girl grew up into a beautiful woman, not knowing about the ogre.

“The ogre became tired of waiting. Using sorcery, he convinced a good-hearted lad to go on a quest for him. In exchange for finding what he sought, he would give the lad a casket of gold. If the lad failed, he would be given a casket of wood in the earth. Not trusting the lad, the ogre sent his evil henchmen to seek out the little girl who was not so little any longer. They—”

“Enough!” Brienne cried, carrying her empty bowl to the tray. “Why don't you just say what you are trying to say?”

His eyes twinkled. “All right, honey. To begin with, your name is not Brienne LeClerc.”

“No? And what is it?”

“Brienne Levesque.”

She shrugged. “Many of the
émigrés
changed their names when they fled France. LeClerc and Levesque are common names. Whether my name is Brienne LeClerc or Brienne Levesque makes no difference.”

“It makes a great difference when your father was not Marc-Michel LeClerc, but Marc-Michel Levesque, the
Duc
of château Tonnere du Grêlon.”

“A
duc?
”

He stood and seized her shoulders. “Don't you realize the truth, Brienne? You are the
duc's
heir, mayhap his only living heir. Your grandmother told me there was a son—your brother—but he was killed when your father was taken to die on the guillotine.”

She stared at him. If only she could be sure he was not lying, but it was impossible to discern that with Evan. He lied so easily. “And if I am the
duchesse
as you say, how do I prove it? I cannot go to the château, knock on the door, and say, ‘This is mine.'”

“The vase taken from the château by Madame LeClerc when you fled would identify you. If you still have it, honey, we can turn it into a château and a magnificent title for you.”