When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(4)

“Mon Dieu, it’s not necessary to hurt her,” Philippe said.

“I didn’t hurt her,” Justin replied indignantly. “I just squeezed her a little.” He gave Lysette a warning glance. “And I will do it again if she doesn’t make up her mind now.”

Numbly Lysette looked from the imperious dark face of the boy who held her to the lighter one of the boy nearby. They were identical twins, she realized. The one called Philippe seemed a little gentler, and there was a trace of compassion in his blue eyes that she sensed was absent in the other. It was possible that she could convince him to release her.

“You,” she said desperately, looking at Philippe.

“Him?“ Justin scoffed, letting her feet drop to the ground. He shoved her toward his brother with a contemptuous snort. “There, Philippe, do as you please. I didn’t want her anyway.” He scooped up the bundle on the ground and searched through it, discovering a handful of coins tied in a handkerchief, a rolled-up dress, and an amber comb.

Unable to stop her momentum, Lysette staggered against the other boy. His steadying hands came to her narrow shoulders. “What is your name?” he asked.

His voice was unexpectedly kind. Lysette chewed the insides of her cheeks and shook her head, while her eyes stung with sudden tears. She despised herself for the moment of weakness, but she was exhausted and starving, and she was nearly at her wits’ end.

“Why were you taking the pirogue?” Philippe asked.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. Let me go— I won’t bother you again.”

Philippe’s gaze took a detailed tour from her head to her feet. Lysette withstood the inspection with resignation. Even at her best, she had never been called a great beauty. Now, after her sojourn through the swamp, she was muddy and strongsmelling.

As the boy gazed at her, he seemed to come to a decision. “Come with me,” he said, grasping her wrists. “If you are in trouble, we may be able to help you.”

Lysette was filled with instant alarm. She suspected the boy intended to bring her to his parents. Then it would only be a matter of hours before she was delivered to the Sagesse household. “No, please,” she begged, pulling at her imprisoned arms.

“You have no choice.”

She shoved at him as hard as she could, jabbing with her elbows and knees. He defeated her with humiliating ease. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Philippe said, swinging her over his shoulder and locking his arm behind her knees. She gave a scream of mingled rage and despair as she flailed helplessly against his back.

Justin watched his brother with a sardonic frown. “Where are you taking her?”

“To Father.”

“Father? What are you doing that for? He’ll only make you let her go.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Philippe said matter-of-factly.

“Idiot,” Justin muttered underneath his breath, but he followed reluctantly as his brother carried their new acquisition from the bank of the bayou.

Lysette went limp halfway up the incline, deciding it would be wiser to save the strength she had left to face whatever fate was in store for her. There was no way she was going to escape the clutches of these two arrogant boys. She closed her eyes, feeling sick.

“Don’t carry me upside down,” she said thickly. “I will be ill if you do.”

Justin spoke up from behind them. “She does look rather green, Philippe.”

“Really?” Philippe stopped and let Lysette’s feet slide to the ground. “Would you like to walk?”

“Yes,” Lysette said, stumbling a little. The brothers each took an arm, guiding her forward. Dazed, she looked from right to left, realizing the boys must belong to a family of great wealth. Like other plantation homes in the exclusive bayou district, the house faced the Bayou St. John, a finger of water that extended from Lake Pontchartrain to the Mississippi River. The lazy afternoon sun glared on the main house’s white and pale gray exterior. All three stories of the home were surrounded with wide shaded verandas framed by sturdy white columns. Abundant groves of cypress, oak, and magnolia trees had been planted around the chapel, smokehouse, and what appeared to be slave quarters.

Lysette’s stomach churned unpleasantly as the boys propelled her up a flight of steps leading to the main door of the house. They passed through a dark, cool entrance hall lined with narrow mahogany benches.

“Father?” Philippe called, and a startled darkskinned woman gestured to a room just beyond one of the twin parlors bordering the hallway. Smugly the boys paraded their charge into the library, where their father sat at a massive mahogany desk. The room was splendidly furnished, the chairs upholstered with rich yellow silk that matched the yellow and lapis lazuli print on the walls. Heavy swags of scarlet wool moreen framed the windows.

Lysette’s attention moved from the room to the figure at the desk. He faced away from them as he worked. He wore no waistcoat, and his white shirt clung damply to the outlines of his powerful muscular back.

“What is it?” came a deep voice that sent an unsettling thrill of awareness down her spine.

“Father,” Philippe said, “we caught someone by the water trying to steal our pirogue.”

The man at the desk shuffled papers into a neat pile. “Oh? I hope you taught him the consequences of tampering with Vallerand property.”