When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(42)

Justin threw an annoyed glance at his brother. “I thought you said that no one was out here!”

“I didn’t see her!” Philippe retorted.

Lysette stared at them quizzically. “What are you carrying?”

The twins looked at each other. Justin scowled. “Now she’ll go inside and tell,” he grumbled.

Philippe sighed. “What’ll we do with her?”

Lysette stared at them suspiciously. “Are you stealing something?”

Justin took the heavy object in both arms and gestured to Lysette with a jerk of his head. “Kidnap her,” he said brusquely. “If we make her a part of it, she can’t tell anyone.”

“A part of what?” Lysette asked.

“Shhh… do you want us all to get caught?” Cheerfully Philippe grasped her wrists and dragged her along with them.

“You’re supposed to be studying,” Lysette admonished. “Where are we going? What is in that sack? If you do get into trouble, I want it to be clear that I was an unwilling partner. A victim. Mon Dieu, why is that dripping?”

“It’s from the kitchen,” Philippe said in a tantalizing voice.

Immediately Lysette knew what it was. “You didn’t,” she said. “No, you couldn’t have.” A huge watermelon shipped from across the lake had been soaking for hours in a tub of cold water in the kitchen. It was intended as a special after-dinner treat for the family that night. Stealing it was a serious crime, indeed. Berté the cook would have an apoplectic stroke when she discovered its disappearance. “You must wait until tonight,” Lysette said adamantly. “Stealing it isn’t worth the trouble you’ll cause.”

“Yes, it is,” Justin said firmly.

She shook her head. “Take it back now, before they realize it’s gone. Right away. Philippe, how could you let Justin talk you into this?”

“It was my idea,” Philippe said mildly.

They took cover in the trees and deposited their booty on a large stump. Lysette sat on a fallen tree trunk and watched with dismay as the twins unwrapped the glistening emerald melon. “I’ll do the honors,” Justin said, and lifted the melon, grunting slightly at its weight.

“I can’t look,” Lysette groaned, cringing in dread, and Philippe put one of his hands over her eyes as the watermelon was cracked against the tree stump. She heard a juicy splitting sound, and Justin’s triumphant chortle.

“We’ve come too far to turn back now,” Philippe commented, enormously pleased. Gingerly Lysette pried his hand away from her face and peered at the splendid sight. Appalled as she was by the crime, she could not stop her mouth from watering at the sight of the cold red fruit.

“You should feel guilty,” she said sternly, “for depriving the rest of the family.”

“They should have known what would happen to an unguarded watermelon,” Justin retorted, pulling an ancient but carefully sharpened knife from the kerchief knotted around his thigh and hacking away at the red and green bounty. “Besides, they’ve deprived us of lots of things. This little watermelon only begins to settle the score.”

“It’s not a little watermelon,” Lysette said. “It’s a big one. Huge, as a matter of fact.”

Justin thrust a dripping wedge toward her. “Try some.”

“Are you attempting to buy my silence?” Lysette asked with a severe expression.

“It’s not a bribe,” Philippe cajoled. “Just a gift.”

“It’s a bribe,” Justin corrected. “And she’ll take it. Won’t you, Lysette?”

She was torn between principle and desire. “I don’t think I could enjoy a stolen watermelon.”

“It tastes much better when it’s stolen,” Justin assured her. “Try it.”

Reluctantly Lysette arranged her apron over her lap and took the offering. As she bit into it, the sugary juice ran down her chin, and she blotted it with a corner of the apron. The watermelon was sweet and crisp, heavenly on a hot day. She had never tasted anything so delicious. “You’re right,” she said ruefully. “It is better when it’s stolen.”

For the next few minutes there was no conversation as they concentrated on the melon. It was only when Lysette was comfortably full and the ground around her feet was littered with crescents of rind that she glanced upward and happened to see a tall form approaching.

“Justin? Philippe?” she said slowly. “Your father is coming this way.”

“Run!” Justin said, already on his feet.

“What for?” Philippe countered, watching Maximilien. “He’s already seen us.”

Deciding to save herself, Lysette jumped to her feet and assumed a stern expression. “Now, you two,” she said loudly, “I hope that I’ve made you see the error of your ways. Because if this happens again—”

Max’s arm slid around her front, and his low laugh tickled her ear. “That was a very good try, petite. But your sticky cheeks give you away.”

She grinned up at him, and he brushed his mouth over hers, savoring the watermelon-sweet taste of her lips.

“Traitor,” Justin accused as he glanced at Lysette, but he was laughing with the abandon of a young boy.

Max’s warm gaze traveled over the three of them. “It seems we have a conspiracy.”