Page 36

TEN

I didn’t like those men,” Catherine said suddenly. Those were the first words she had uttered since the maidservant at the inn had brought their supper and left their chamber.

Francois sipped his wine. “Who?”

“Those men downstairs in the common room. They reminded me of—I didn’t like them.”

“I didn’t expect you to like them.” He met her gaze. “Did they frighten you?”

The intonation in the question was merely polite.

He didn’t care if they had frightened her, she thought with resentment.

He had deliberately lingered with those horrible men, encouraging their crude jests about brides in general and Catherine in particular until they had progressed from ribald to obscene.

At first she’d only been vaguely aware of them in the same way she’d been aware of the other events of the day.

Then, as Francois had not rushed to protect her from the abuse, she had gradually begun to catch a remark here and there and felt a tiny stirring of indignation and resentment. She repeated, “I didn’t like them.”

“You won’t have to see them again.”

“Thank you.” She looked at her food.

“You’ve not eaten more than a few bites.

Eat your beef. The sauce is quite good. Georges Jacques arranged to have the meal sent over from the Café Charpentier next door.

One of the reasons he began to frequent the café was the food.

” A sudden smile lit his face. “The other reason was the proprietor’s daughter who cooked it. Now he has both.”

She didn’t pick up her fork. “I don’t wish to stay here any longer. May we go now?”

Francois studied her over the rim of his goblet. “No.”

Her long lashes rose. “I’m not comfortable here. I want to see Juliette.”

“You’ll see her tomorrow.” Francois set his goblet down. “Did you understand what I told Jean Marc?”

She shook her head.

“I didn’t think so. You’ve been walking around in a daze all day.” Francois’s hand tightened on the stem of his goblet. “If you didn’t understand, then why the hell did you come with me?”

“Jean Marc and Juliette said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“And how do Jean Marc and Juliette know what I will or will not do?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you going to hurt me?”

“No.” He lifted his goblet to his lips, drained it, and then set it down on the table with a crash. “For God’s sake, stop looking at me like that. I mean you no harm.”

“Then why do you keep shouting at me?”

“Because you drive me to—” He swallowed, seemed to be searching for words, and then said wearily, “I promise I won’t hurt you. You said you’d trust me.”

“But I don’t know you.”

“You know the man I am tonight.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You know the angry Basque, the man who hates aristos and spies for Danton. You know that man, Catherine.”

“You’re confusing me.”

“I mean that we’re all many people.” Francois gazed at her intently as if willing her to understand.

“I can’t help you if you won’t trust me.

” Francois looked down into his empty goblet.

“When the servant comes back to clear the dishes, she must see us in that bed together.” He heard the soft intake of her breath, but he didn’t look up.

“She’ll giggle and then go back downstairs and tell the others.

There will be more jests and winks.” He paused.

“And tomorrow at the barrier those men you found so offensive will remember Francois Etchelet’s pretty little wife and comment on how weary she looks after her romp between the sheets.

” He stared into her eyes. She was clearly alarmed.

“And then they’ll open the barrier and let you go home to your Vasaro. That’s what you wish, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He pushed back his chair and stood up. “Then let’s set about it.” He held out his hand. “Come. It won’t be so terrible.”

She gazed at his hand as if it were a striking serpent and then slowly placed her hand in his grasp.

“You see, it didn’t hurt.” Francois pulled her to her feet. “Now, can you undress yourself or must I help?”

“I can do it.”

“Good.” He gave her a push toward the bed and then sat back down and poured himself more wine. “Call me when you’re in bed.”

He was speaking to her as if she were a small child. Why was he pretending to be gentle when he was not a gentle man? “I don’t believe it’s necessary to do this.”

“I do. If you won’t obey me for your own sake, then do it for your friend Juliette. She’ll also be in that coach, and her risk is greater than yours if she’s captured.” He kept his gaze straight ahead. “Everything.”

“What?”

“Take off everything.”

“I don’t think—”

“Undress!”

The command was so sharp she worked more quickly to unfasten her gown.

She could hear the panicky sound of her own breathing in the quiet room.

Why was she doing this? She should never have come here.

She wanted to run away back to the house on the Place Royale.

Juliette would help her. Juliette would never let this rude, violent man order her about.

Juliette. Juliette had killed a man for Catherine’s sake and must be kept safe.

Was Francois right that this act would help keep Juliette from being questioned at the barrier?

She suddenly realized she was entirely naked and hurried across the room toward the bed, dove beneath the covers, and pulled up the sheet.

Francois continued to look straight ahead, slowly sipping his wine.

Minutes passed, the silence unbroken.

Catherine was suddenly irritated. “Well, it’s done.”

He stood up and her annoyance was submerged in panic.

“It’s all right, Catherine. I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone was no longer sharp but soothing again. “Are you entirely undressed?” He slowly turned to face her.

She sat rigidly upright in bed, holding the sheet to her chin, her gaze fixed suspiciously on him.

He looked at the smooth flesh of her shoulders bared by the sheet. “I see you are.”

He walked slowly toward her.

She tensed and backed against the oaken headboard.

He sat down on the bed beside her. “I’m not going to hurry you. We have time.”

She looked at him wordlessly.

“Are you cold? Should I build a fire?”

She shook her head.

“Would you like some wine?”

“No.”

He had to bend closer to hear her and she froze.

“Sacre bleu!” The curse exploded from him as he jumped to his feet. “Will you stop shaking? I told you there was nothing to fear. Do you think this is easy for me? Mother of God, I—”

“Stop cursing!” His violence suddenly ignited an answering response. She glared at him. “I won’t stand for it. First you let those horrid men say filthy things to me, then you order me about, and now you curse in my presence as no gentleman would.”

He was staring at her in astonishment.

She gestured to the bed. “And this may be necessary but it’s not at all easy for me either.”

“Well, it’s certainly not my fault. I’ve behaved every bit as gently as that fine buck Philippe. I can’t remember ever using such soft words to any woman.”

“That’s quite clear. You do it very badly.”

The anger abruptly faded from his expression as his gaze narrowed on her face. “You prefer me to be rude?”

“It seems more natural. You make me uneasy when you pretend to be something you’re not.”

“Do I?”

“Has no one ever accused you of being rude before? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I believe I’ve just made a discovery.” He gave her a curious smile. “And yes, it’s no secret among my acquaintance that I’m neither sweet-mannered nor a gentleman. Now, since you’re no longer quivering and quaking, may I get you a glass of wine?”

“I don’t rest well if I drink wine before I go to sleep.”

“You don’t look as if you rest well anyway.” He paused. “Do you still dream?”

“Yes.” Her gaze slid away from his and she changed the subject. “That’s why Juliette sometimes brushes my hair at night before I go to sleep. It…relaxes me.”

“Are you suggesting I take over her duty?”

She looked back at him, startled. “No.”

“I think you are.” His smile widened with amusement. “I think you’re angry with me for ordering you about and wish to humble me.”

Was he right? Catherine had not thought she was capable of wishing to see anyone humbled, but there was no doubt Francois’s arrogance had annoyed her exceedingly. “I was merely making a remark.”

He bowed mockingly. “Like any patriotic republican I’m not ashamed to discharge lowly tasks.

” He strolled toward the highboy across the room.

“Tonight we’ll pretend I’m Juliette.” He picked up the horsehair brush on the highboy and turned to face her.

“I’ll even promise not to tongue-lash you as she might. ”

She gazed at him uncertainly as she watched him come toward the bed. Her hand tightened on the sheet. “Juliette doesn’t tongue-lash me.”

“Then she makes you the sole exception.” He began to take out the pins binding her hair in its tight bun. “Why are you trembling? I’m only going to brush your hair.”

She closed her eyes tightly as the loosened hair tumbled down her back.

“I have no desire to touch you.” The brush began to move through her hair in long, deep strokes. For many minutes the only sound in the room was the sibilant whisper of the bristles in the thickness of her hair.

“I like that,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“What did you mean when you said we’re all many people?”

“What I said.” He brushed the hair back from her temple. “Look at yourself. You’re Juliette’s friend and Jean Marc’s meek little cousin. They each see you differently.”

“And how do people see you?”

“They see what they want to see.” He reached up and shifted the heavy swath of her hair over her right shoulder, his warm fingertips brushing her nape and igniting a faint tingling sensation that made her shiver.

Then the light touch was gone and the bristles of the brush were once again moving through her hair.

“How do you see me?” she asked impulsively.

He hesitated in mid-stroke. “I see you in a garden.”