Only With Your Love (Vallerands #2)(104)

Max’s face softened, and a curious smile touched his lips. “Oh? And what does Justin have to offer you?”

“Everything,” she said without hesitation. “I’ve always considered myself a very ordinary woman, but when I’m with him…” Celia paused, staring at a distant point on the horizon. Justin made her feel cherished and beautiful, and so uninhibited that she was free to share everything with him, her heart, mind, and body. And he gave her all of himself just as freely. As long as she had that, she would not care about a conventional life.

“All right, petite bru,” Maximilien said. He had been watching her closely, and seemed to have made up his mind. “I cannot take one son’s part against the other, and therefore I cannot be your ally in this. But neither will I stand in your way. However, I warn you, I do not anticipate that Philippe will be amenable.”

Celia had not expected to be so nervous at the prospect of seeing Philippe again. She didn’t know what she would feel when she looked into his eyes or embraced him. In the past several months she had changed; her life had gone on while Philippe had been imprisoned. For him time had stopped. He was asleep in his room when she and Maximilien arrived at the plantation, something for which Celia was boundlessly grateful.

Lysette scolded and comforted her at the same time, clearly shocked by Celia’s appearance. At first she insisted that Dr. Dassin must be called back to attend to her, but Celia begged her not to. “All I need is a bath and a few bandages,” she said. “Noeline can take care of me.”

“But your poor hands,” Lysette exclaimed, surveying Celia’s burned palms, scraped fingers, and broken nails.

“They’ll heal. Dr. Dassin could not do any more for me than Noeline can.”

“The doctor will be returning tomorrow to see Philippe,” Lysette said. “I insist that you allow him to look at you then.”

“All right,” Celia said reluctantly. She proceeded to ask many questions about Philippe’s condition and his emotional welfare, but Lysette was not able to supply much information.

“Philippe is tired and very thin,” Lysette said matter-of-factly, “but he has been resting, and Berté has prepared all of his favorite foods. I do not think it will be long before he looks like his former self. He seems somewhat dispirited, but Dr. Dassin says that is normal and will fade. All we can do is keep him surrounded by people who care for him.”

“I should have been here to welcome him home,” Celia said.

Lysette frowned, looking just as guilty as Celia felt. “There is something I must tell you, Celia. Soon after Philippe was brought here I…sent for Briony Doyle. I-I did not know what else to do. He needed someone, and you were not here, and…I hope you will not be too angry with me.”

“No, no I…” Celia fell silent, surprised by a twinge of jealousy. She remembered the sight of Briony in the garden with Justin. So Briony had welcomed Philippe home, had kissed and comforted him. I am glad she was able to, Celia thought, feeling terrible for that brief moment of jealousy. Briony had given Philippe her love and her innocence. Somehow Celia felt it was wrong to begrudge the Irish girl a single moment with him. “Did she…help him?” Celia asked.

“Yes, I believe so,” Lysette said. “She was able to comfort him.”

Celia sensed that Lysette would say nothing else on the subject. “Why don’t you rest for a few hours before seeing Philippe?” Lysette suggested.

Although she was exhausted, Celia shook her head. “No, I will bathe and change in the garçonnière and return in a little while. I want to see him as soon as possible.”

After taking a soothing bath, Celia sent for Noeline, who exclaimed over her with dismay and applied herbal salves on her eyes, her hands, and all her cuts and bruises. She produced a bad-tasting but soothing tisane for her throat and made certain Celia swallowed every drop. Celia wondered who was taking care of Justin. Surely Maximilien would make certain that a doctor was brought to the Cabildo to attend to his son. When she tried to interrupt Noeline’s handiwork, determined to find Max and ask him about the doctor, Noeline sat her firmly in a chair.

“Monsieur Vallerand always take care of everyt’ing,” Noeline said firmly. “Now sit.”

She trimmed several inches of Celia’s singed blond hair, cutting it in a straight line across the middle of her back. They pulled it back with a blue ribbon at the nape of her neck. “I still look dreadful,” Celia said ruefully, surveying her red, swollen face in a hand mirror.

“Monsieur Philippe ain’ gonna pay no mind to dat.”

With Noeline’s help Celia dressed in a cream and pale blue gown, long-sleeved and modestly high at the neck, with an overlapping pelerine collar. Deciding there was nothing more that could be done, Celia walked over to the main house and found Lysette in the parlor occupied with some needlework. “Is Philippe awake?” she asked.

Lysette shook her head. “He should be soon. Why don’t you go up to him?”

Quietly Celia went to Philippe’s room and sat in a chair by his bed, watching him sleep. She had thought she was drained of tears by now, but her eyes moistened at the sight of him. He was dressed in a clean white nightshirt, his dark hair ruffled, his black lashes lying in thick crescents on his cheeks. She remembered how Philippe had smiled at her the first time he’d had dinner at her family’s home. She remembered, too, the first time he had kissed her. How overwhelming he had been in his handsomeness and gentleness.