The Courtesan (61 page)

“It was a token to seal a bargain between us. A pact she forced upon me. I—I always meant to tell you about it, but I—I—”

“You forgot? It slipped your mind?” Remy asked so acidly that she flinched.

The unbelievable truth was that so much had happened during these past days, Gabrielle had nearly forgotten about Catherine’s ring. Between the witch-hunters, dealing with Cass, and most of all, the miracle of rediscovering herself in Remy’s arms, Gabrielle had had little thought to spare for the Dark Queen. But she realized she was going to be hard-pressed to convince Remy of that.

“What kind of pact?” he demanded.

Gabrielle rose and stole up behind him. He appeared rigid and unyielding, scarce inviting her touch. But she ached with the need to do so, to reestablish some intimacy, some connection between them before it was broken forever.

She rested her hand tentatively on his shoulder. He didn’t brush her away, but she felt not the faintest tremor of response either. She said softly, “I was afraid Catherine would seek to harm you. She promised she would not if—if I seduced you and prevented you from rescuing Navarre.”

“Congratulations. I would say that you succeeded admirably.”

“Remy, I never intended to keep my bargain with her.”

“Lied to her, too, did you? I daresay the Dark Queen understands the rules of all these games far better than I do.”

Gabrielle pressed herself in front of him. “Remy, I realize I have made mistakes, dreadful ones, and I will do everything I can to make things right between us. But you can’t for one minute imagine that I only made love to you on Catherine’s command, that I was only trying to come between you and Navarre.”

Remy seized hold of her wrists and thrust her away from him. “It doesn’t really matter what I imagine, does it? The result is the same. You
have
come between me and my king.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Remy shot her a look rife with frustration and anger. “Don’t you? I made a pledge to my queen when she lay dying. That I would look out for her son. I failed him on St. Bartholomew’s Eve. For three years, I have waited for the day I could redeem my honor by helping my king escape from his enemies. At long last, I find the opportunity and now I have to let it go because I am obliged to rescue you instead.”

Gabrielle stumbled back from him, the realization striking her with as much force as though Remy had drawn back his fist and leveled her to the ground.

“My God. That is what you are really angry about, isn’t it? Not that I lied to you, but that I am preventing you from fulfilling your—your precious duty.”

“You don’t understand. You never have. I lost nearly everything on St. Bartholomew’s Eve. My sense of honor, my duty are all that is left to me.”

It was all she could do to keep the tremor from her voice as she said, “I thought you had me.”

“So did I. But apparently I was wrong. I may have possessed your body, Gabrielle, but I don’t think I ever came close to touching your heart. I suspected something was amiss that night of the storm, that you were holding something back from me. I gave you every chance to tell me the truth, to the point where I felt guilty for pressing you.” His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “No, I told myself. If you love a woman, by God, you should trust her. What is love without trust? And the whole time, you looked me straight in the eyes and continued to lie to me. You even let me make love to you, pretended nothing was wrong.”

Gabrielle supposed she could try to explain to him her hope that if she held him in her arms, that if Cass did her worst, the power might strike her down, not him. But what would be the use? Remy was clearly beyond listening to anything she had to say. Besides, it wasn’t the medallion or even Catherine’s ring that was driving them apart. It was because she had come between Remy and his honor and nothing mattered to him as much, not even her.

Gathering up the pride that had long served her as a protective mantle, she said, “If you are troubled about Navarre, you needn’t be. You may go rescue him with my blessing. You are under no obligation to me. I can look out for myself. I have managed to do so for a long time.”

“We are betrothed, Gabrielle. Or is that something else that also slipped your mind? I trust I know where my first duty lies.”

“I won’t be any man’s duty, Nicolas Remy. As for our betrothal, I entirely release you. We were always a rather hopeless match. The courtesan with no honor and the soldier with entirely too much.”

She stalked away from him, head held high, putting the length of the room between them, her haughty demeanor belying the ache inside her, the hope that he’d come after her, seize her in his arms and roughly order her to stop talking like such a fool.

But he didn’t. He said nothing until one of the guards flung open the door to announce that their time was up. Remy strode after the man, only pausing by Gabrielle long enough to mutter, “I’ll be back for you. For once in your life, show some prudence and don’t do anything to provoke that witch-hunter. You will be all right until I can get you out of here.”

“Did you not hear anything I have said?” Gabrielle shot back. “I don’t need your help. I don’t
want
your help.”

“I heard you perfectly, but one way or another, I will have you out of here, get you and Miri safely back to Faire Isle as I promised.”

“And then?”

He didn’t answer, but the hard set of his jaw as he followed the guard from the room said it all. Remy would once more ride out of Faire Isle to do his duty to his king. And this time he would not be coming back to her.

Chapter Twenty-four

S
imon gathered up his portfolio and the box of evidence, retreating upstairs to his inner sanctum with Miri hard at his heels. He didn’t know why he didn’t order his guards to stop her, why he had permitted her to be present at the inquiry at all. His old master Le Vis had been fond of flagellating himself with a stout whip to purify his flesh, an action Simon had always found quite mad. But he wondered if he didn’t subject himself to torture in a far more subtle way. There was no reason why he had to face Miri, endure the sight of her reproachful eyes. But he made no protest as she followed him into his chamber, slamming the door behind him.

Ignoring the girl, he strode over to the huge wooden trunk at the foot of the bed and hunkered down. He took his time about locking away his notes and the evidence, all the while marshaling his forces for this scene with Miri. He knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant. He only hoped she wouldn’t cry. But when he chanced to look up at her, he was startled to find not a pleading maiden but a wrathful goddess. Miri towered over him, hands splayed on the gentle swell of her hips, her fey eyes darkened to the hue of a summer storm, her delicate chin tipped to a pugnacious angle.

“Simon, how—how could you? You told Gabrielle you only wanted to ask her a few questions. Then you would let her go.”

Simon finished locking the trunk. He rose to his feet, dusting his hands. “I said if her answers were satisfactory. Which even you have to admit they weren’t.”

A ripple of uncertainty played across Miri’s features. It was clear to Simon she had been stunned by the contents of that box and had known nothing of what her sister had been up to. But Miri was unwilling to concede that Gabrielle had done anything wrong.

“You never even gave Gabrielle a chance to properly explain,” she said.

“She will have plenty of opportunity to defend herself at her trial. All things considered, I have been more than fair. I could have arrested that friend of yours, too.”

“Martin?”

“Yes,
him.
” Simon was annoyed to hear an edge creep into his voice. He didn’t know what it was about Miri’s companion that raised his hackles. Maybe it was the proprietary way the lad hovered over Miri. Maybe it was simply the boy’s handsome, unblemished face. But jealousy was an unproductive emotion and one that Simon could ill afford.

“Monsieur Le Loup appears to have been heavily involved in your sister’s activities,” he went on. “The lad looks to me like gallows meat if I ever saw it.”

“How strange,” Miri retorted. “Martin says the same thing about you.”

Simon accorded her riposte a taut smile. Stalking over to the hearth, he locked his hands behind his back, adopting a rigid stance to indicate plainly that all further debate on this matter would be useless. “I am sorry if your sister’s arrest has distressed you. I promise you she will be treated decently while she awaits her trial. I will even arrange for you to visit her if you like. But that is all I have to say. So if you will excuse me, I have other affairs that require my attention.”

Miri ignored his hint to be gone. She nibbled her nails, a habit of hers when she was thinking. “What if I were to say that the medallions and the ring belonged to me, not Gabrielle?”

“I would say you were a liar. A beautiful one, but a liar nonetheless.”

She scowled at him. “You are a very strange witch-hunter, Simon Aristide. It is the usual practice of your sort to drag in as many women as possible, especially those of the same family. All tainted by blood, by mere association.” Miri strode toward him, coming so close he could not help but catch her scent, something as sweet and wild as the kind of flowers that only thrived on windswept meadows.

“So why will you not arrest me?”

Because no matter what sort of witchcraft Miri might practice, Simon didn’t think he could ever bring himself to raise a hand against her. He averted his gaze from her lovely upturned face, muttering, “I have made all the arrests that I intend to for today.”

“And what about Cassandra Lascelles?” she demanded. “I would never wish to speak ill of another daughter of the earth. But she is your true witch. Why aren’t you going after her?”

“Never fear. I will deal with Mademoiselle Lascelles eventually. Your sister is my first arrest. She certainly will not be my last.”

“And exactly why is that? You have been gathering your evidence for days. I find it very strange that the first woman you decide to take action against is my sister.”

Miri was far more perceptive than she had once been.

“Why, what is this? Suspicion from Miri Cheney?” he mocked. “You were always wont to be so trusting.”

“I’m learning,” she replied tersely. “Why were you so quick to seize an excuse to arrest Gabrielle? What are you really after?”

Simon stalked over to the table and shuffled through some papers to buy himself time to consider. There was no reason to confide his true design to Miri, except for one. He might possibly be able to make use of her. But he didn’t want to. A part of him quailed at the thought of wounding her trusting heart a second time. But he knew what was at stake, the suppression of an evil greater than he’d ever known. He struggled with his weakness for this strange girl with the fairy eyes before responding.

“All right. I concede that arresting Gabrielle was not my primary goal, that I hope she may be no more than a means to an end of a far greater menace.”

“Menace? What menace?” Miri gaped at him. “Great heavens, Simon. If you are thinking of using Gabrielle in an attempt to trap the Dark Queen, you are quite mad.”

“Not the Dark Queen. Though I admit that I am ambitious enough to hope that I may one day put an end to the Italian woman’s reign of evil. But there is one who I have long regarded as her equal in darkness. Your brother-in-law, the Comte de Renard.”

“Renard. But—but Simon—”

“If you are going to try to convince me I am mistaken in him, don’t. The comte is a devil who should have been brought to justice a long time ago.”

“Justice or vengeance?” Miri asked. Her clear gray eyes seemed to pierce Simon clean through. His hand crept instinctively toward his scar, but he caught himself in time, staying the gesture.

“I try to keep my own enmities and grudges out of my work. The comte is guilty of far greater offenses than splitting open my face. I have seen the extent of his evil influence over your family, watched him slaughter the brethren of my old order.”

“He was protecting me and my sisters from your lunatic Master Le Vis,” Miri protested. “Or have you entirely forgotten that? Renard is a good and honest man—”

“Good and honest men don’t pay out king’s ransoms to acquire something as evil as the
Book of Shadows.
”

Miri let out a wearied groan. “Simon, we’ve been through this before—”

“The
Book
exists, Miri. And your brother-in-law has it. I am so convinced of that, I am prepared to send an emissary to him. Offer him Gabrielle’s freedom in exchange for him coming in alone and surrendering the book. You could help to facilitate this exchange.”

“Me?” Miri stared at him as though he’d lost his mind.

“The comte might well strike down any of my men on sight before he had a chance to deliver my offer. But I know you have extraordinary means of keeping in touch. I once shot down one of those birds your kind bewitches to carry messages.”

“Not bewitches,
trains,
” Miri said indignantly. “Birds possess a remarkable degree of intelligence, much more than some men I have met.”

Her pointed barb was not lost on Simon, but he chose to disregard it. “Send word to the comte. Tell him of my proposal.”

But Miri was already shaking her head.

“You wished to do something to help your sister, did you not?”

Miri cast him a look of blistering reproach. “You expect me to save one sister by breaking the heart of another? Renard is Ariane’s husband. She adores him.”

Simon thought that Lady Ariane would be far better off without such an evil man. Break her heart to save her soul, but he knew he would never convince Miri of that. He toyed with his papers, stacking them in a neat pile. He abhorred falsehood and deception, but Simon had learned long ago that in order to defeat the devil, one was sometimes obliged to resort to his methods. He took great care not to meet Miri’s eyes as he said, “My main concern is not destroying either Gabrielle or the comte, but getting my hands on that book, making sure it is burned.”

“You expect me to believe that?”