“Forgive me. I tried to fight it.” His voice rasped. “I didn’t want to love you, not this way. I love Mathew like a brother, and I hate that I may be hurting him. Non, with Mathew’s good intentions and noble pursuits, I love him more than I did my own brother.”
“You have a brother?” I sniffed.
“Had. Had a brother, oui. He was killed.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss. I—”
“I don’t want to waste time talking about him.”
“But can’t I still be your confidante? For this little amount of time I’ve got?”
“Ah, chére, you are torturing me, you know?” His grip softened, but remained glued to my arms.
“No, I don’t know. I want you to tell me everything. I want to know every tiny detail, so I can carry that with me when you leave me. I haven’t asked for one thing, not even rain when I needed it. I asked you to stay, but you won’t.”
As tear slid down his cheek, he clutched at his heart with one hand, like I had inserted a dagger through his breastbone. He shook his head and we swayed, as if the earth had forgotten how to hold onto its gravity—back and forth, hither and thither. Jacque held his breath, and when he finally inhaled his face was mere fingerbreadths from mine.
He whispered, “Forgive me . . .”
I opened my mouth, but could not offer any words, as I realized his face was lowering to mine.
“Stop me, Violet. Stop me. Hit me again. Please, stop me.”
I didn’t.
His lips softly landed on mine. A miraculous warm breeze shuffled all the white, pink and lavender wild blossoms, creating a soft vortex to shelter us in our kiss. They sky wasn’t gray. It was white and pink. All of nature was in love—the oak’s green branches reached out to embrace us, the weeping willow ceased its crying, and the pine trees stood as sentinels for our kiss.
Jacque caressed my lips with his own, softly feathering mine, until I submitted and began to move my own lips with his. We melded our lips, then our tongues. It was me that forced my tongue in his mouth. In our kiss he clutched at my waist, at my back, pulling me tighter against him, as I pushed my body to his.
Suddenly he pulled away, huffing on my face. “What are you doing?”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry at his question, the absence of his lips on mine. “What am I doing? What are you doing?”
He looked baffled, bewildered, but he answered all the same. “I’m being selfish and taking from you and . . . I’m in love with you. I fought it as best as I could—”
“As have I,” I blurted, feeling wild and brave. So that was what a Noreastern storm might feel like. I did feel powerful for finally admitting my feelings, but I also knew what destruction I could wreak.
He blinked. His head jerked, then tilted, then jerked again. He began to shake his head as his eyebrows drew together.
“Non . . .” He let go of me completely and stumbled away. Recklessly, I followed but allowed him a couple feet’s distance.
“Non . . . Serait-ce vrai?”
I nodded just once. “’Tis true. I fought my . . . love as well. But, I love you, Jacque. I do.”
I touched my lips. They were raw and swollen. His gaze took in my mouth too. Blazing blue eyes turned molten as I licked where he peered.
He fell to his knees. “The gods are cruel.”
I bumbled to my own knees in front of him.
He reached for my face, my cheeks between his hands, looking at me like a man who had just been told he was going to die. “I didn’t believe in love like this.”
I chuckled, despite my pain. “Neither did I.”
He wiped at my tears with the pads of his calloused thumbs. “I don’t know what to do. I never thought you’d love me in return.”
“I didn’t know there was anything to do.” Tentatively, I covered his hands with my own, and closed my eyes, savoring his touch to my touch. Moist heat surrounded us, the soft earth under us, the smell of dewy forest, his breath on me.
When I opened my eyes, I saw another tear fall and find a way down his face through his black whiskers that I wished I could caress with my own cheek. He held a tiny smile.
“Of course there is nothing to do. Of course. I . . . Runaway with me. I live in Marseille. It is very much like Boston—the people are hearty and love much, passionate people, like you. I live by the sea, where some days the ocean waves are filled with the same green color as your eyes. Would you like to live by the sea, chér? With me? I could buy more land for you so you could farm, if you wanted.”
He sniffed as he wrapped his thumbs around my hands and guided them to his face. When my fingertips touched that sandpaper-like cheek, there was electricity around us, like a burgeoning storm.
“Are you serious?” My voice sounded unfamiliar, raspy.
He shrugged as he moved my palms to caress his neck too. “Non . . . yes. I don’t know.” He let two more tears fall from his face before he ventured on with a quaking voice. “I never knew of this kind of love I feel for you. I’ve lived for what feels like forever some days, but I never knew this. My heart, I didn’t know my heart could feel like this. I always pitied the people who acted on their passion. It always ended badly.”
“I did too.” I softly laughed. “I remember reading Romeo and Juliet and thinking to myself, what complete idiots!”
“Oui, idiots.” Then his voice lowered, “And now I’m the idiot. I love you, Violet. You’re what I think about as soon as I wake up, and you’re what I dream of at night. I had no ill intention when I asked you to meet me to talk of philosophy. Truly, I thought it would be so nice to talk to you more. Within one day’s time, I knew I was falling. I should have stopped meeting you, for Mathew, but I couldn’t resist.”
“For Mathew,” I agreed, “I should have stopped too, but I couldn’t as well. For Mathew I shouldn’t have fallen in love with you either. I’m very angry with myself for falling in love with you. I—I thought I could talk myself out of it. I thought it was just an infatuation. I thought . . . mayhap it is all just a dream.”
I plopped down on the damp wood’s floor. Fallen leaves were perforated in minute designs, reminiscent of doilies. As I sat on the forest’s lace, Jacque scooted to sit next to me, an arm around my shoulders. I turned toward him, threading my arms ‘round him, hugging him closer. But he pushed me away, barely touching my arms, while shaking his head. His eyes had grown insanely lucid. “Non, I cannot be that close to you.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He softly chuckled. “I am too.”
What could we do? Runaway, making me the shame of my family? My sister might never be able to marry if I did something like that. And Mathew? I could never hurt Mathew. Could Jacque and I keep our love secret? Torturous and too much a risk. Again, if we were caught, my sister would have no future, and I knew I couldn’t do that to Mathew, betray him. I knew my love for Jacque was betrayal enough. The choices were clear for us: we could hurt others or ourselves.
Jacque said into my ear, “I’ve never met a truly honest man. All men lie, except for Mathew. He talked about you minutes after our introduction, and I thought him some lovesick boy. But I grew to admire him and respect him—his passion for justice and you.”
I pulled away enough to look at Jacque. His eyes lost that glow and were misted with moisture.
“My own brother despised me, but I loved him anyway. He was older than me—illegitimate. My father raped his mother, my father’s chambermaid. Ah, nobility. It is grand, non?”
I blinked. His voice sounded like metal cutting metal.
He looked away, his frown growing. “I would never do such a thing. I never raped. I could not stomach the dungeons. I hated even the branding and the cutting off of fingers for silly, petty crimes. When I became marquis, I no longer permitted torture. Strange too, the crimes ceased. My father would never have believed it, if he had survived.” He turned to me, pride growing in a small smile. “I have a small senate and a dem
ocracy in my lands. You would love it. Mathew loved it when I told him how I came from nobility but had become elected to rule my people. My people chose me.”
“Why did you not tell me any of this?”
He shook his head and looked down at our touching hips. “I was already in love with you, and I was afraid you would think less of me because I was born of nobility.”
“Silly man, I would love you if you were a pauper or a king. Of course, oddly enough, I think I’d be more comfortable if you were a pauper, but . . .”
He laughed and sniffed his nose then sighed. “You love me? I can hardly believe it. I am elated and in more pain than before.”
“I do love you,” I whispered as I tugged on his black satin ribbon that was already hanging in a loose knot at the back of his head. His black wavy hair danced into my hands once I freed it. “I love you. I love you.”
He kissed me again. Within seconds the earth shook, but then Jacque pulled himself away. “I must halt. For once in my life, I worry that I will not be able to stop if I let you kiss me more.”
I nodded, but still let his hair tickle the palms of my hands.
He hooked a finger under my chin. “I was trying to tell you about my brother, so you would know why I would rather live with this pain than hurt Mathew. Mathew is loyal and true. And my brother, Gérald, was not. I don’t blame him for hating my father or me. And he did hate me.
“Long ago, I was betrothed to another, Josephine. I had been engaged to her since I was but three years of age. The night before we were to wed, my brother raped her. I think he was planning on killing her, had her maid not stopped him.
“Her brothers and father were in the manor, and by the time I woke and raced to the hall, I saw just in time, one of her brothers run Gérald through with his sword. My father, for his first and last act of love toward my brother, tried to defend Gérald, but was run through too. Josephine stopped her brothers from killing me also. I have not told another of my brother and father in so long.” He paused, holding his breath for a beat, more than likely holding his painful memories as well. He finally exhaled and continued. “Josephine gave me my life, and I in turn gave her whatever she wanted. I don’t think she ever wanted to be married, especially to me. I was young and liked fast horses and gave too much money to artists, poets, and philosophers. She was pious and pure. She wanted to become a nun. She was so happy living in the convent. She took care of orphans. She said she always wanted to be a mother, and being a nun she became a mother to hundreds. Such a happy woman, despite all that happened to her. She could have buried herself in the convent, but instead she lived, lived so happy, in love with all those little children.”
I hated that I was jealous of the sweet, kind woman, but I was. “Josephine? She’s still raising orphans in France?”
“Non, no, she died long ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Now I felt ridiculous about my green, covetous tint.
“The point is, through all that, I learned how to cherish people who are good and kind. I thought, before I knew that you loved me in return, that it was better to wound myself than Mathew. So, I would leave, and Mathew would never know of my betrayal. I am enraged with myself for loving you as well.”
I smiled as more tears threatened to fall from my eyes. “There is nothing for us to do with our love. If I left Concord, I would ruin my sister’s future, and injure Mathew as well. If we did anything at all, we would only be hurting others.” I laughed as tears spilled down my face. Jacque quickly swept them away. “I had no idea that love could be this malicious.”
Jacque nodded and let his own tears fall, and I caressed them away with my hands. Somehow the weight of the conversation was too great, and we fell on our sides, lying beside each other, staring into each other’s eyes, smiling and crying.
“Utterly, with all my heart I love you,” he whispered.
“For the rest of my days, I know I will love you.”
He smiled as he played with a strand of my hair that curled around his fingers, while another tear escaped one of his eyes and traveled over his long perfect nose. “May I cut a curl of your hair? To remember you by?”
It was that request that was my undoing. I moaned while I cried. He clutched me, pulling me closer. “I think it best if I leave, don’t you, hmm? I cannot hide my love for you now.”
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I did try to stop my wailing. My face pressed against his neck and shoulder. I lifted my leg, letting it slide up one of his. He startled and tried to push me away. Hefting my head from him, I laughed as I retrieved the sgain dhubh, a Scottish small, sharp dirk within my boot.
“You thought me trying to seduce you?”
He smiled and nodded as I lent him the dagger. “Oui, I thought . . . your leg,” he panted, “mon Dieu. And you were just handing me a knife.”
I softly giggled as I watched his smiling face. He cut a strand of my hair and then carefully placed the curls into his breast pocket. He gave me my knife, which I put back into my boot. Looking up at him, I noted how serious he had grown. His eyes were glowing that dark blue color, his nose flared as he looked down at my leg tossed on his hip. His hand trembled but slowly reached for my knee. I assumed he would force my leg down, but instead he closed his fingers around my knee, then let his hand slowly climb up my leg. I stopped breathing when he glided past my mid-thigh. A breeze began to softly encompass us again, fluttering white wild petals around, and carefully Jacque slide one of his legs between my own.
Our lips met again. With his other hand he cradled the back of my head. Slowly, we rotated. I pulled on his shirt, his shoulders. We rolled with what gravity had given us, until I was lying on my back with his body almost completely on me. Oh, the weight of him was enough to burn through my body with ecstasy. But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
“I love you, chér.” Then he kissed and bit down my neck. His hands caressed down my arms, finally finding both of my hands in his, interlacing his fingers between mine.
I arched my back, craving his lips and teeth, hungering his taut body on mine. The bliss—could this be real? “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
And like a dream, he was gone. I didn’t hear his feet fall on the forest’s floor. I didn’t catch sight of him retreating. Vanished, like a ghost, like a myth, he was no longer anywhere to be seen.
Had it all been a dream? A nightmare?
I clutched at my sides with a hoarse cry. A rock had gotten lodged in one of my fists, and I slammed that fist to the ground cursing love, nature, and anything else that I could think of. Finally, I opened my hand, noting how the rock had cut into my palm, then I saw the fine silver chain and the dark color of the gem smeared with my blood. I gasped. The jewel was the exact color of Jacque’s eyes while he had timorously kissed me. I wiped at my tears and let the salty water wash away my red stains. Threading my head through, I strung the necklace ‘round my neck. The gem hung in the valley between my breasts, over my heart. Yes, over my heart.