When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(79)

“Why didn’t Bernard mention it to me?”

“I have no idea.”

He lifted her out of his lap and set her on her feet.

“What are you doing?” she asked warily.

“I’m going to get an explanation out of him.”

“There’s no need.” She tried in vain to make peace, reluctant to cause further trouble between the brothers. “It is all over now, and I—”

“Hush.” Gently he took her arm, holding it in order to inspect her wrist. He uttered a curse that made her ears burn. “I want you to go to Noeline. She has a salve for bruises.”

“But it is nasty,” she protested. “I was there once when she was putting it on Justin. The smell of it made me ill.”

“Go to her now. Or I’ll see that you do later.” He paused meaningfully. “Believe me, you would prefer to do it now.”

A few minutes later Lysette sat glumly in the kitchen with Noeline, focusing her attention on the kettles bubbling merrily in the fireplace while the housekeeper tended to her wrist. A housemaid stood at the huge wooden table, cleaning the iron chandelier. Deftly Noeline smeared the mustard-green salve on Lysette’s arm. The noxious odor caused Lysette to jerk her head back. “How long must I keep this on?” she asked in disgust.

“Until tomorrow.” Noeline smiled a little. “You’re not going to make babies with monsieur tonight, I think.”

Lysette raised her eyes heavenward. “Bon Dieu, I’ll be fortunate if he ever comes near me again!”

Justin appeared at the doorway of the kitchen. Keeping his hands in his pockets, he wandered over to them. “What is that smell?” he asked, and clutched his throat, pretending to gag.

Silently Lysette vowed to wash her wrist as soon as she escaped from Noeline.

Justin grinned at her consolingly. “It smells like the devil, sans doute. But it does work, Belle-mère.”

“He knows for certain,” Noeline said, wrapping a length of cloth around the arm.

“I know what you put in your salve, Noeline,” Justin said. He squatted on his haunches and murmured confidentially to Lysette, “Snakes’ tongues, bats’ blood, toad hairs…”

Lysette scowled at his teasing. “Why don’t you go find Philippe? He can help you with some of the Latin lessons you’ve missed.”

Justin grinned. “There is no need to bring Latin into this. I will leave. But…” He glanced at her bandage. He was silent, as if he wanted to say something but was uncertain of the right words. Raking his hand through his black hair until it stood on end, he looked at the floor, the ceiling, and then his gaze met hers.

“What is it?” Lysette murmured, surprised by his sudden shyness.

Noeline went to check one of the pots over the fire.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, belle-mère,” Justin muttered, gesturing to her wrist. “I’m sorry.”

“You helped me, Justin,” Lysette said gently. “I am very grateful for what you did. I might have been badly injured otherwise.”

Seeming relieved, Justin stood and dusted his breeches unnecessarily. “Did you tell Father what happened?”

“About your saving me from falling? Yes, I—”

“No, about Uncle Bernard, and how strange he was this afternoon.”

“Oui.” Lysette smiled wryly. “Your father seemed to think it was not unusual. He told me your uncle has always been a bit peculiar.”

“Bien sûr, that’s true enough.” Justin shrugged. “I’ll go now.”

Lysette watched him as he left, thinking that the boy had changed since the duel and his confrontation with Max. He was friendlier, less sullen, as if his dark nature had been tempered by new understanding. Noeline sat down beside her again, shaking her head with a smile. “That boy was born for trouble.”

———

“And what is their complaint?” Bernard asked, looking wounded and upset. “That I did not move quickly enough? I was startled, Max. By the time I recovered my wits, Justin had already pulled her to safety!”

Max’s frown did not ease. “Your manner seems to have been rather belligerent. Why is that?”

Bernard hung his head with an ashamed expression. “I didn’t intend to lose my temper, but all I could think of was how it would upset you, knowing they had been combing through relics of the past. You’re my brother, Max. I don’t want you to be troubled with reminders of that horrible time. I tried to tell them that it was better to let things be. I suppose I expressed myself far too strongly.”

“Corinne was Justin’s mother,” Max said. “He has a right to look through her belongings anytime he wishes.”

“Yes, of course,” Bernard replied contritely. “But Lysette—”

“Lysette is my concern. The next time you object to something she does, take the matter up with me. Bear in mind that she is the mistress of this house, and more of a wife to me than Corinne ever was And…” Max paused to give his next words emphasis, staring hard at his brother. “If you ever raise your voice to my wife again… you’ll take up residence somewhere else.”

Bernard’s cheeks flushed with suppressed emotion, but he managed to nod.