Only With Your Love (Vallerands #2)(34)

“No,” Maximilien said. “The commanding officer of the naval station has been supplied with new gunboats and men to stop the attacks in the Gulf. You will allow him to take care of it.”

“No military man could ever get to Legare,” Justin sneered. “I’m the only one capable of tracking him down.”

“I cannot lose another son,” Maximilien said, his voice scratchy. “We must talk, Justin. You can’t continue—”

“No time to talk,” Justin interrupted. He turned to the cook, who had been observing the scene with rapt interest. “Food, Berté. Something I can carry off with me. I have to get the hell away from here before I’m caught. I’ll take some of those ash cakes in the hearth.”

The woman waited until she received a confirming nod from Maximilien, then scurried to the fireplace. The cakes, made from flour, buttermilk, and shortening, steamed as they were removed from the hot ashes.

Justin turned his gaze on Celia, who was still wedged in the corner. He scowled and strode to a nearby chair, shoving it toward her with his booted foot. “Sit down,” he said roughly. “You’re about to faint.”

She jerked away from him as he reached for her. “Don’t touch me,” she cried, reeling from the shock and humiliation of finding out that Griffin was Philippe’s brother, his twin. He had taken and used her body, knowing she would have to face his family afterward, knowing she would be too ashamed ever to tell a soul about it. He had betrayed his brother’s memory deliberately. By making her respond to him, he had placed half the responsibility on her shoulders. What contempt he must have for her…almost as much as she had for herself. She had never felt so helpless and outraged. She wished she could hurt him, strike at him, repay him for what he had done to her.

Lysette tried to soothe her. “Celia, we all understand that you have undergone terrible—”

“You understand nothing,” Celia heard herself interrupt wildly. A vision of Philippe’s blood-soaked back flashed before her. She clutched her tattered shirt and pulled it closer around her body, feeling as if she needed protection from their prying eyes. “How could you? How could you begin to understand?”

“You’re right,” Maximilien said, surprising them all by approaching Celia and taking hold of her shoulders. The calm authority of his voice broke through her agitation. She found herself held by his penetrating golden gaze. “The fact that you are here is a miracle, and one of the few decent things my son has done in his life. I can see you are exhausted, petite bru. You will allow my wife to see to your welfare, d’accord? You are part of my family now.” He gave her shoulders an encouraging squeeze and released her. “Everything will be all right. Go with Lysette.”

The way Maximilien spoke was gentle and kind, but somehow he left no possibility of refusal. Celia nodded docilely and went toward Lysette’s outstretched hand.

“Amazing,” she heard Justin jeer. “For the last three days I’ve had to threaten her every step of the way. You do know how to handle women, Father.”

Celia stopped at the door, pausing to look at him, her thin face white with hatred. “I pray to God I will never see you again,” she said stiffly.

“You won’t,” Justin replied, mockery glinting in his eyes. “But you won’t forget me.”

As soon as Celia turned away, Justin’s face was wiped clean of emotion. He stared after her, not accepting the wrapped bundle Berté handed him until Lysette and Celia were completely out of sight. “She’s been through hell,” he muttered.

Maximilien stroked his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully. “How much of that was your fault?”

Justin smiled. “You always did know the right questions to ask, Father.” He lifted the bundle of ash cakes and sent the cook a grin. “Adieu, Berté. Et merci.”

“Where are you going?” Maximilien demanded. “Stay here, dammit.”

Justin shook his head. “You know I can’t. I…” He paused as Berté resumed her work at the stove, her ears twitching.

“Berté, leave,” Maximilien said. She obeyed with a grumbled observation about the inconvenience of men in the kitchen.

“I have to keep moving,” Justin said. “I killed Legare’s brother André while taking Celia out of that hellhole. I’d have killed him too if only I’d had the chance. Now Legare won’t rest until he’s severed my head from my body. I’ll have to get to him first. I’ve already endangered the family by being here.”

“I can protect my family,” Maximilien said grimly. “Including you.”

Justin raised his brows, laughed shortly, and shook his head. “Even if you could handle Legare, you couldn’t keep the authorities at bay. If they knew I was here, I’d find myself dangling from the end of a rope before the week is out. Too many people suspect who I really am. And a host of crimes I haven’t committed have been laid at my feet. Not even your vaunted friendship with the governor could stay my speedy execution.”

Maximilien swore with helpless anger. “Damn you for choosing this life for yourself. It didn’t have to be this way.”

“No? Since the day I was born it was common knowledge I was rotten to the core. I was obligated to prove everyone right.”