When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(96)

Painstakingly, Vallerand parted his swollen lips. His voice was a mere scratch of sound. “Lysette…”

Severin frowned. “I shouldn’t worry about your wife, Vallerand. I suspect she’ll rejoice at being rid of such a cold-blooded bastard as you.” He motioned for Tomas to release the horse’s reins. “Now, while he’s still awake.”

All of a sudden, they heard a woman’s desperate cry. “Nooo!“

From a distance they saw one of the Sagesse carriages, its wheels mired in mud, and a woman stumbling across the field toward them. Tomas raised his hand to slap the horse’s hindquarters, but Severin stopped him with a curt command. He had just seen Renée emerge from the carriage. Stormy anger appeared on his face as he watched his wife and Vallerand’s sons follow.

———

Lysette fell and picked herself up quickly, hurrying across the soft, sinking earth. Terror seized her as she saw that no one was holding the reins of the horse. There was a noose around Max’s neck, secured to the tree limb above him. He was badly beaten, and his eyes were closed. Ripping her gaze from the sight, she spoke to Severin Dubois in a shaking voice. “You’ve made a mistake.” She held out the letter to him. “Look at this— please— don’t do anything until you read it.”

Tentatively Tomas reached for the reins of the horse, but the stallion flinched, walleyed, ready to explode with movement. Lysette thrust the letter at Severin and stared at the horse, mesmerized, realizing that her husband’s life was hanging by a fragile thread. A thousand prayers flashed through her mind. The paper rustled as Severin turned a page, and the stallion tossed his head impatiently. Max no longer seemed conscious, and she expected him to slide from the horse’s back at any moment.

Suddenly she was aware of Justin’s quiet voice behind her. “I’ll cut the rope. Don’t move.”

The boy’s thin, dark form moved behind the horse to the oak tree. He began to climb, a knife held between his teeth.

“Stop, boy,” Severin Dubois said, pulling a flint-lock pistol from his breeches. Justin continued shimmying up the tree trunk as if he hadn’t heard. “Boy—” Dubois said again, and Lysette interrupted.

“Put away the pistol, Monsieur Dubois. You know that my husband is not guilty.”

“This letter proves nothing.”

“You must believe it,” Lysette said, staring at Max’s slumped form. “It is written in your own brother’s hand.” She had never thought she would feel such agony in her life. Everything she held dear, her only chance at happiness, was poised precariously before her.

“A hand that was none too steady, by the look of it,” came Severin’s reply. “Etienne was drunk when he wrote this. Why should I accept a word of it?”

Renée confronted him. “Stop tormenting her, Severin! For once be man enough to admit that you are wrong.”

A breeze caught the folds of Lysette’s cloak and caused it to flap. The movement was enough to make the stallion jerk and run. Lysette heard a hoarse scream— her own— as she saw her husband’s body fall from the saddle with nightmarish slowness.

But the rope was no longer tethered. Justin had sawed through it.

Max’s body hit the soft earth and was still. A chilling breeze ruffled his black hair. Lysette reached him at once, falling to her knees beside him with a sob of terror.

Chapter 16

After glancing at the prone form on the ground, Severin turned back to Renée. “And if this letter is true, Renée?” he asked with a sneer. “What if Bernard was indeed the one who killed Corinne? That still doesn’t change the fact that Maximilien murdered your brother because Etienne could not leave his pretty little wife alone.”

“Why would Maximilien have resorted to murder if he desired Etienne’s death?” Renée demanded. “Etienne gave him every opportunity to do it honorably! Maximilien could have killed him at the duel— but he did not. He could have demanded satisfaction at the Leseur ball and ended it with a sword right then, and no one would have thought the worse of him. But he did not. Severin, be reasonable for once!”

After prying the rope from his neck, Lysette pillowed Max’s head and shoulders in her lap. His shirt was in tatters, his clothes wet and muddy. She searched beneath his jaw and found the weak rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You’re safe now,” she whispered, using a fold of her gown to wipe the blood from his face. There was an annoying trickle of hot liquid over her cheeks, and she wiped at it impatiently, but the salty tears continued to leak from her eyes. Max groaned faintly, and she reassured him with a murmur. “I am here, bien-aimé.“

His shaking fingers clenched in her velvet skirt. Instinctively he strove to bury himself deeper against her warm body. “Lysette…” He tried to roll to his side, then recoiled in shock and pain.

“No, no, be still,” Lysette said, cuddling his head against her br**sts.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Yes, I know, ma cher. I love you, too.” She glanced at Justin, who was standing just a few feet away, seeming dazed. Her expression hardened with determination. “Justin, tell Monsieur Dubois that we are taking your father home now.”

Justin nodded shortly and went to Dubois, who was still quarreling with his wife.