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Authors: Elizabeth Kales
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where the ledge dropped off. At first, it was fun as she floated on the waves. How-ever, she suddenly became aware of a strong current dragging her away from the shore faster than she could swim. Having spent much time in the river on the farm, she was a good swimmer; however, she had never experienced anything like the pull of these ocean waves.
Panic gripped her, clenching her muscles. “Marc, Marc. I can’t get back,” she cried. As she thrashed about, her strength waned. She could no longer fight the tide, and felt certain she would drown.
“Hold on,” Marc called to her, “it’s a riptide. Stop struggling. Just tread water.”
Then he was beside her, his muscular arms around her, guiding her along the shoreline and away from the current. He was an excellent swimmer, and finally they were free; however, he kept his arm around her until they reached the safety of the sand.
In spite of the heat of the sun, she started to tremble. With his arms still around her, he turned her until she faced him. Her wet chemise clung to her the curves, and she felt almost naked. He drew her against him, so she could feel the warmth emanating from his body.
“Dieu Merci, you are safe, my darling,” he whispered. “I was so afraid of losing you. I couldn’t bear it if anything should happen to you. My beautiful Louise, I need you now. What if I never see you again?”
He took possession of her mouth in a way that made her tremble even more than the fright she had received. In his arms, she no longer felt cold. Her whole being seemed to be slowly melting from some fire deep within. For a moment, her conscience smote her, yet she could not resist him. The feelings he awoke in her betrayed the years of principles her mother had tried to impart. All awareness of right or wrong left her, and she had no thought of anything save the sound of the surf and the pounding of his heart against hers.
Later, they swam again, staying close to the shore, and when they were exhausted they dressed in their dry outer clothing and ate their picnic lunch, sitting on the steps of the little grey building.
“Louise, sweetheart, I am truly sorry about this,” he said. “I honestly didn’t mean for that to happen yet. I wanted everything perfect for you. You should have had a magnificent wedding. However, we are truly one now. In the eyes of the Catholic Church, you are my wife; and I promise, no matter what your father says, the minute I get back to London we will make it legal. You’ll be old enough then to make your own decision.”
“I can never be Catholic, though, Marc,” she whispered. “Even if I have disobeyed my faith, I could never stop being a Huguenot.” She had begun to feel guilty and slightly bereft.
“Then it will definitely be England where we will settle. I have no problem with that and my family will at least be happy we are together. It is what they have always wanted. In the meantime—you have made me the happiest man alive.”
The ride home passed quickly. As he dropped her off at the servant’s entrance of the house he said, “Tomorrow I must help father supervise the loading of the merchandise for the trip south. We have to make sure everything gets aboard the ship safely. However, I can’t bear not to be with you once more before you go. You leave after midnight Saturday, so the family won’t be astir very early. Meet me here again, an hour before midday. We’ll have our last day together. Be careful, though. I fear your father will be watching to keep us apart before you sail.”
Louise lay a long time awake that night debating whether she should go on Saturday morning or not. She knew what would happen if she did. There could be no turning back now. And, even if Marc did not think so, she realized her father would say that what they had done was morally wrong. She had begun to feel a degree of remorse, and had not been able to face her parents at dinner. Instead, she pleaded a headache and
Panic gripped her, clenching her muscles. “Marc, Marc. I can’t get back,” she cried. As she thrashed about, her strength waned. She could no longer fight the tide, and felt certain she would drown.
“Hold on,” Marc called to her, “it’s a riptide. Stop struggling. Just tread water.”
Then he was beside her, his muscular arms around her, guiding her along the shoreline and away from the current. He was an excellent swimmer, and finally they were free; however, he kept his arm around her until they reached the safety of the sand.
In spite of the heat of the sun, she started to tremble. With his arms still around her, he turned her until she faced him. Her wet chemise clung to her the curves, and she felt almost naked. He drew her against him, so she could feel the warmth emanating from his body.
“Dieu Merci, you are safe, my darling,” he whispered. “I was so afraid of losing you. I couldn’t bear it if anything should happen to you. My beautiful Louise, I need you now. What if I never see you again?”
He took possession of her mouth in a way that made her tremble even more than the fright she had received. In his arms, she no longer felt cold. Her whole being seemed to be slowly melting from some fire deep within. For a moment, her conscience smote her, yet she could not resist him. The feelings he awoke in her betrayed the years of principles her mother had tried to impart. All awareness of right or wrong left her, and she had no thought of anything save the sound of the surf and the pounding of his heart against hers.
Later, they swam again, staying close to the shore, and when they were exhausted they dressed in their dry outer clothing and ate their picnic lunch, sitting on the steps of the little grey building.
“Louise, sweetheart, I am truly sorry about this,” he said. “I honestly didn’t mean for that to happen yet. I wanted everything perfect for you. You should have had a magnificent wedding. However, we are truly one now. In the eyes of the Catholic Church, you are my wife; and I promise, no matter what your father says, the minute I get back to London we will make it legal. You’ll be old enough then to make your own decision.”
“I can never be Catholic, though, Marc,” she whispered. “Even if I have disobeyed my faith, I could never stop being a Huguenot.” She had begun to feel guilty and slightly bereft.
“Then it will definitely be England where we will settle. I have no problem with that and my family will at least be happy we are together. It is what they have always wanted. In the meantime—you have made me the happiest man alive.”
The ride home passed quickly. As he dropped her off at the servant’s entrance of the house he said, “Tomorrow I must help father supervise the loading of the merchandise for the trip south. We have to make sure everything gets aboard the ship safely. However, I can’t bear not to be with you once more before you go. You leave after midnight Saturday, so the family won’t be astir very early. Meet me here again, an hour before midday. We’ll have our last day together. Be careful, though. I fear your father will be watching to keep us apart before you sail.”
Louise lay a long time awake that night debating whether she should go on Saturday morning or not. She knew what would happen if she did. There could be no turning back now. And, even if Marc did not think so, she realized her father would say that what they had done was morally wrong. She had begun to feel a degree of remorse, and had not been able to face her parents at dinner. Instead, she pleaded a headache and
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