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But it hadn’t been nothing. His touch seemed to burn through the thin layers of muslin that comprised her undergarments. Even though she could not feel his skin on hers, heat flashed through her, traveling straight to her lower abdomen where it settled and pulsed. The sensation made her legs weak, but she managed to step away from him and finish removing the panniers herself.
She gathered the garments from the floor, looking about for a hook to hang them so the material would not be soiled.
“Leave it,” Daventry said.
But she needed something to do, something to take her mind off the heat pulsing through her. “This gown is new, and I’d rather—”
“Leave it!”
His voice erased any warmth remaining. She swung around to stare at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring out of the stable at the twinkling stars that had appeared.
“What is it?” But he didn’t need to answer because she saw. The twinkling lights she’d thought were stars weren’t stars at all but...torches. And the people carrying those torches were nearing, coming closer.
“Mon Dieu,” she whispered.
“Yes.” He turned to her. “I was afraid of this.”
“What is that?”
“More peasants are coming to burn the château.”
“No.” She shook her head. She couldn’t believe they would burn her home. “I don’t understand. The villagers here have always been treated well. Most serve at the palace or in the households of the courtiers—”
“I don’t think those are the villagers from Versailles. I think those are men and women from Paris. They must have come and turned your servants against you. Now they’re here to burn the symbols of the upper classes to the ground.”
“But we can’t let them. This château has stood for hundreds of years. The art inside is priceless. We have to stop them!”
“We have to run or we’ll both be murdered.”
She wanted to argue. She’d never felt so completely impotent in her life. This was her home. This had been her husband’s home. Almost all of her worldly possessions were inside—keepsakes and mementos she cherished. She could never replace the lock of hair Georges had given her or the drawing her sister had made of their baby brother who had died in infancy. But all of these items were merely things. They weren’t worth her life.
“We go out the back,” he said.
She didn’t argue. She followed him through the empty stable and out the back door. As he stepped out, she noted he’d donned a spare pair of riding boots, leaving his dancing shoes in their place. Behind the stable lay the paddocks and a wooded area where she often rode.
“We’ll head for the safety of the woods and the cover of the trees,” he said.
“But the palace is that way.”
“And so are the peasants with their torches. We’ll have to make a wide flank around them and proceed with caution, as we can’t be certain they haven’t also attacked the palace.”
The wordsdon’t be ridiculouswere on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t speak them. Nothing was too outrageous to be believed. Not after what she’d seen tonight.
“I suppose there’s but one way to find out.”
He nodded. “Stay close.”
She glanced at the dark woods and needed no further encouragement. She threaded her fingers through his and followed him into the unknown.
