Evan raised his brows, skeptical. “How?”
“Wine merchants know whom they can trust.”
“I see.” Evan smiled, relieved. “You will borrow from your old friends.”
“Bankers favor vintners, did you not know? We always earn good money and pay any loan with interest.”
The three men chuckled.
Luc’s good humor died. “I will depart, change my name, buy a few new clothes and perhaps a horse.”
Rafe whistled. “You must have very generous bankers.”
“I made the best wine in the Loire—and wine, no matter the king or emperor, is always in fashion.”
“We will not meet again, then,” Evan said, “until you come to us in London.”
Rafe inhaled, still unhappy with their plans. “Or the country.” He narrowed his black eyes at Luc. “Do I save the lady of the winds foryou?”
“Do I love Zeph?” Luc looked surprised at the question. “Oui.I hope to God she survives and lives a full and happy life. But do I love her as my darling? No. Sadly, I lost my only love years ago. I have not found one to replace her.” He curved his full lips in a small smile. “If you discover that she is the one you adore, and she reciprocates, then keep her, treasure her. She is brave, wild, and deserves a man who cannot breathe without her.”
Rafe seemed humbled by Luc’s sentiments. “I will. I promise to be good to her.”
“I have seen it,” Luc said, and put out his hand to shake. “Do it.”
#
Inès regretted so much. So much. A sob escaped her and she bit it back, unwilling to awaken Zephora and prolong her friend’s recovery.
There was so much she had done wrong. She should have never bought the poison or asked her maid to buy it for her. She should have confided in one of her friends—Amber or Gus or Giselle. Any of them would have found a way to help her. She should have told Evan what Vaillancourt demanded of her…but she had not trusted her husband enough to reveal the deed she was being forced to do.
She had not trusted anyone. Not even the man she adored.
Another sob threatened, and this time, she let her tears drip down her temples. He had loved her. From the start, he had shown her his interest, his devotion, his passion. And what had she shown him?
Nothing to equal the glory of what he granted her each time he cast his eyes upon her.
No. She had been so consumed with René Vaillancourt’s threats. So terrified the man would kill her brother. So caught inher own web of lies and counter-lies, espionage that destroyed her mind and savaged her soul.
She felt her belly shake. What was…?
She put a hand atop her rounded stomach. Here—yes, here—lived her answer. Her child.Theirchild. One made of mutual desire and honorable regard. This being had come to its quickening because of long minutes of delight and lasting love. And he or she had endured the horror of his mother abandoning his father, the blessed failure of his mother to take the life of another, the shock of defeat, the joy of reuniting, the journey across the rough and treacherous Channel, and the frightful plan to regain his uncle from the clutches of Vaillancourt.
She would leave France now. Soon, and most likely forever. That sat well with her idea of her future and her husband’s…and their child’s. She would leave this room, this tiny place that allowed her time to reflect and repair the tangled threads of her integrity. She would go with Evan and plan a future. She would live with him, laugh with him, dance and ride and skate with him through all the days left to her.
She patted her stomach and promised to begin to be the cherished mother her own had been. Aware, watchful, hopeful, and devoted.
Then she pushed back her rough wool blanket, slid her legs over the edge of her bed of straw, gathered up the blanket to put around her naked body, and went to open the door to find her husband.
From this day, she would not be parted from him. Nor from her true self, either.
She saw him at the table with his two companions, his good friend and colleague Rafe, and her brother Luc.
“And so…tonight?” Rafe faced Evan. “Will you leave here?”
“I will arrange it for tomorrow night. The best carriage I can find. A hamper of food.”
“I am able to travel,” Inès told him in the loudest voice she dared manage.
