Read Online By Fire and by Sword by Elaine Coffman - Free Book Online
Authors: Elaine Coffman
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him to broach the subject again.
“And your name, mademoiselle ? You have not introduced yourself, and I cannot help wondering if that was intentional or an oversight.”
“I do apologize, Your Grace, but I am in a quandary, and I hope you will understand. I can tell you that I left Scotland for personal reasons, and cannot, therefore, divulge my name, or the reason I came here. I can give you a false name, if you like.”
The duc laughed, and his silvery eyes held a spark of delight.
Alexandre was smiling, but it was the duc who said, “I do believe that is the first time anyone has asked my permission to tell a lie.” He could not manage to say more, for at that moment he was overcome with laughter. “I would like to call you something other than mademoiselle , but I respect your decision to keep your identity secret. It is something I have been forced to do myself, from time to time.”
“I appreciate your honesty and indulgent understanding, Monsieur le Duc.”
Silence engulfed the coach; everyone was lost in their own thoughts, but there were no visible clues as to what direction those thoughts were taking.
After a short while, Kenna allowed her curiosity to get the better of her. “I am puzzled as to why the three of you are traveling on Christmas Day, instead of being home with your families.”
“We had plans to be back in Paris four days ago, but our carriage overturned south of Dunkerque,” the duc said. “We managed to set it upright, and made it to the next post stop. We sent for a blacksmith, who told us the good news, that we needed a new axle. We were forced to wait there until he could make a new one.”
“A terrible inconvenience, it was,” the vicomte said, but the worst part is spending Christmas in a coach.”
“Yes, it does not seem like Christmas at all,” she said.
“And yet, life goes on, does it not?” the duc said.
“I do believe de Lorraine has fallen asleep,” the vicomte noted. “We haven’t had a shriek from him for some time now.”
The Comte de Lorraine was, indeed, asleep, and after a few more miles of nodding, the vicomte joined him.
“I am afraid that leaves only the two of us to carry on the conversation,” Kenna said, but she noticed a short time later that the duc had joined his friends in slumber.
It was not much longer before the carriage clattered over the cobblestones of Paris, and everyone began to wake up, all, save the poor vicomte , who took a turn at pulling back the curtain to find familiar landmarks.
“We are near Rue de St. Denis,” the vicomte said, and turned to ask de Bourbon, “Is this not the street where your physician lives?”
A few minutes later, Kenna bid her three traveling companions goodbye as the carriage set off down the street once more, taking her to the home of Madame Guion.
Kenna had acquired Madame Guion’s name almost two years ago, from Sophie, the same Sophie Victoire de Bourbon that Philippe, Duc de Bourbon, had spoken of in the carriage earlier.
It happened after Lord Walter was sent to prison, and the Lennoxes returned to Lennox Castle. When Kenna went to bed that night and opened the shutters in her room, she glanced at the moon and saw a halo encircled it.
Kenna knew what that meant: a ring around the moon was a bad omen.
If the moon shows like a silver shield,
you need not be afraid to reap your field,
but if she rises haloed round,
where you stand is cursed ground.
It was confirmation that the curse Lord Walter had placed upon her was real. In his mind, Kenna was to blame for his misfortune. Instead of enjoying the Lennox wealth, he would spend his life in prison, thanks to her. He would take great pleasure in his revenge, and that twisted mind would demand nothing less than a horrible, painful and torturous death for her. A simple murder would not do. He would want bloodcurdling revenge.
Since that night, Lord Walter had become her nemesis, the man who would stop at nothing to bring her down. He
“And your name, mademoiselle ? You have not introduced yourself, and I cannot help wondering if that was intentional or an oversight.”
“I do apologize, Your Grace, but I am in a quandary, and I hope you will understand. I can tell you that I left Scotland for personal reasons, and cannot, therefore, divulge my name, or the reason I came here. I can give you a false name, if you like.”
The duc laughed, and his silvery eyes held a spark of delight.
Alexandre was smiling, but it was the duc who said, “I do believe that is the first time anyone has asked my permission to tell a lie.” He could not manage to say more, for at that moment he was overcome with laughter. “I would like to call you something other than mademoiselle , but I respect your decision to keep your identity secret. It is something I have been forced to do myself, from time to time.”
“I appreciate your honesty and indulgent understanding, Monsieur le Duc.”
Silence engulfed the coach; everyone was lost in their own thoughts, but there were no visible clues as to what direction those thoughts were taking.
After a short while, Kenna allowed her curiosity to get the better of her. “I am puzzled as to why the three of you are traveling on Christmas Day, instead of being home with your families.”
“We had plans to be back in Paris four days ago, but our carriage overturned south of Dunkerque,” the duc said. “We managed to set it upright, and made it to the next post stop. We sent for a blacksmith, who told us the good news, that we needed a new axle. We were forced to wait there until he could make a new one.”
“A terrible inconvenience, it was,” the vicomte said, but the worst part is spending Christmas in a coach.”
“Yes, it does not seem like Christmas at all,” she said.
“And yet, life goes on, does it not?” the duc said.
“I do believe de Lorraine has fallen asleep,” the vicomte noted. “We haven’t had a shriek from him for some time now.”
The Comte de Lorraine was, indeed, asleep, and after a few more miles of nodding, the vicomte joined him.
“I am afraid that leaves only the two of us to carry on the conversation,” Kenna said, but she noticed a short time later that the duc had joined his friends in slumber.
It was not much longer before the carriage clattered over the cobblestones of Paris, and everyone began to wake up, all, save the poor vicomte , who took a turn at pulling back the curtain to find familiar landmarks.
“We are near Rue de St. Denis,” the vicomte said, and turned to ask de Bourbon, “Is this not the street where your physician lives?”
A few minutes later, Kenna bid her three traveling companions goodbye as the carriage set off down the street once more, taking her to the home of Madame Guion.
Kenna had acquired Madame Guion’s name almost two years ago, from Sophie, the same Sophie Victoire de Bourbon that Philippe, Duc de Bourbon, had spoken of in the carriage earlier.
It happened after Lord Walter was sent to prison, and the Lennoxes returned to Lennox Castle. When Kenna went to bed that night and opened the shutters in her room, she glanced at the moon and saw a halo encircled it.
Kenna knew what that meant: a ring around the moon was a bad omen.
If the moon shows like a silver shield,
you need not be afraid to reap your field,
but if she rises haloed round,
where you stand is cursed ground.
It was confirmation that the curse Lord Walter had placed upon her was real. In his mind, Kenna was to blame for his misfortune. Instead of enjoying the Lennox wealth, he would spend his life in prison, thanks to her. He would take great pleasure in his revenge, and that twisted mind would demand nothing less than a horrible, painful and torturous death for her. A simple murder would not do. He would want bloodcurdling revenge.
Since that night, Lord Walter had become her nemesis, the man who would stop at nothing to bring her down. He
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