Only With Your Love (Vallerands #2)(43)

“You are tired,” Celia observed, but her gaze was still upon Justin.

“Max insisted on staying up with him all night—and I can never sleep when Max is not with me.” Lysette changed the cloth on Justin’s forehead. “He is with the children now, explaining that we have a guest who has taken ill.”

“Will they try to see him?”

“No, I do not think so. And if they do, I doubt they’ll suspect who he is. It has been five years since his last visit, and he was here for only a few minutes then.”

“Philippe…” Justin moved until he had dislodged the pillow from beneath his head. His words were almost too slurred to understand. “My fault…don’t punish…Philippe didn’t…”

Lysette replaced the pillow and checked the bandage around his eyes. Celia forced herself to stay in the doorway, although every nerve in her body demanded that she go to him. You’ve taken leave of your senses, she told herself, but the feeling remained. Justin continued to mutter, his hands moving restlessly across the mattress as if searching for something to hold on to.

“He seems to be recalling incidents that took place when he and Philippe were boys,” Lysette said, easing back in the chair. “Sometimes they would both be punished for trouble that only Justin caused. Philippe never complained, but I am certain Justin felt terribly guilty.”

Celia could not imagine Justin feeling guilty for any reason. “Alors, there was rivalry between them?” she asked.

“Oh, yes.” Sadly Lysette looked at Justin’s bearded face. “I am afraid that throughout their childhood they were often ignored by their father. Max cared about nothing after his wife Corinne died. Aside from disciplining his sons he had little to do with them. Everyone in New Orleans considered Philippe to be the good brother and Justin the bad one. It was a burden for both of them.”

“I suppose Justin was jealous of Philippe.”

“Oh, they were jealous of each other. Yet I am certain they would have defended each other to the death.” Lysette stood up and put a hand to her back, obviously feeling the effects of many hours spent at the bedside.

“I will watch him now,” Celia offered.

“Non, merci, I could not ask that of you. I will have Noeline attend to him.”

“It would be no trouble,” Celia said in a brisk tone. “Remember, my father was a doctor. I am no stranger to the sickroom.”

Lysette threw a glance toward Justin’s halfnaked body. “But what must be done for him—”

“I am—was—a married woman,” Celia said evenly. “I will not be shocked. And Noeline will be of more help to you in running the plantation, whereas I have nothing to do today.” She gestured for Lysette to leave the room, as if the matter were settled.

Lysette paused, staring at her strangely. “I’m aware of your feelings about Justin, Celia. I know how distasteful it would be for you to take care of him.”

“We Frenchwomen are practical. I will not allow my feelings to interfere with what must be done.”

Lysette still stared at her, then shrugged. “Very well. Noeline and I will be attending to household tasks. If a problem arises, send Carrie or Lena to find one of us. Thank you, Celia.”

“It is nothing.” Celia sat in the chair. “Lysette, why did he run away when he was young?”

Lysette stopped at the door and considered the question for a long moment. “Part of it was the family, and part was Justin’s nature. He resented authority of any kind. Especially his father’s.” She left with a sigh.

Celia could not explain why she was so determined to be with Justin at this moment. She only knew that she had to stay. She stared at him, remembering how that powerful body had covered hers, the savage force of him driving deep inside her. What should she feel for him? He had hurt and humiliated her, but he had also saved her life.

“You are a most unpleasant sight,” she told him. “Fearsome monster, Griffin…the name suits you. I may be able to believe you are Philippe’s brother, but not his twin. You have his eyes, but that is all the likeness you can boast of.” She touched the bandage over his face. “And perhaps not even that, not anymore.”

She let her fingers drift lightly over the bandage. He stopped moving his head, as if he sensed her touch. A low groan escaped his lips.

“I can well believe you were jealous of Philippe.” Celia hesitated before touching the rumpled mane of his hair. It was barbaric for a man’s hair to be so long, but it was thick and smooth against her fingertips. “Philippe was everything a man should be,” she continued, “and you are everything he shouldn’t. How could the two of you have been brothers? Philippe was so gentle, so civilized, but you…there is not a thimbleful of decency in you.” Her gaze turned distant. “I know all about jealousy. I have younger sisters. They are pretty girls who have always charmed men without effort, while I…” She paused and smiled ruefully. “You already know about my lack of charm.” Her smile disappeared. “You wanted me because I was Philippe’s wife, n’est-cepas? You think of me as an object to be stolen, then discarded at will. But Philippe desired me for myself. You will never understand that. You will never feel such a thing for a woman, and because of that you’ll never know what it is like to be truly loved. Even for a little while it is worth—”