Destiny's Kiss Read Free Page A

’s deep voice and his compelling eyes. Each time, he had drawn her into his arms and kissed her until she whispered of her delight in spending her days—and all her nights—with him.
    â€œWhy do you wish to marry me?” she asked.
    â€œI have no wish to marry you.” His finger tipped her chin back, and she gasped to discover his face close to hers. “Do not take insult, for I wish to marry no one now.”
    â€œI understand.” That much was the truth, for she guessed his heart was Madame’s. As long as Monsieur Fortier remained alive, much to his wife’s irritation, the vicomte would wait for a woman he believed loved him. If he knew the truth …
    â€œYou are a maiden, aren’t you?”
    â€œYes, mon seigneur .” She yearned to turn away, but his cobalt gaze held her captive.
    â€œDo you find me distasteful?”
    If she spoke of her dreams, he would find her infatuation amusing. “No, mon seigneur .”
    â€œBut you cannot understand why a vicomte would propose marriage to a serving wench?”
    She squared her shoulders. Mayhap she had been right from the first. She would not be a pawn in their heinous games. “Only moments ago, you asked my name. I find it unlikely fondness for me has grown in your heart since then.”
    â€œYou are right.” He shoved her to sit on the bench. “And you shall answer me. Will you marry me?”
    â€œBut why do you ask this?”
    â€œI offer my name in exchange for your assistance in saving my head.”
    â€œYour … head?” He was mad.
    â€œCan you be so isolated you have not heard of the punishment for being well-born in France?” He slashed one hand against the other. “The guillotine is a lord’s reward these days.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œYou ask too many questions. Listen!” He gripped her shoulders so she could not escape his intense gaze. “That I marry a serving wench shows my approval of this new equality.”
    She nodded. This house was not so sequestered that she had not heard of the horror of those who, like the king, had died beneath the guillotine. “Why do you ask me?”
    â€œYou are unbetrothed. You are not so stupid you would reveal the truth.” He pushed her hair back from her face. When she winced, he frowned. “Save for that bruise, you are not unpleasant to look at. What do you say?”
    Standing, Lirienne edged away. “No.”
    â€œNo?”
    â€œThat is my answer, mon seigneur .”
    â€œThat is not the answer I wanted.”
    â€œI realize that.”
    Lirienne was not sure if he heard her soft answer, for he strode to the door to the antechamber and swung it open. She frowned as it crashed into the wall.
    â€œPhilippe, what has happened?” cried Madame, rushing in.
    When he slammed his fist against the wall, gouging a hole, Lirienne backed toward a corner. He whirled to face her and took a step toward her.
    Madame put her hand on his arm. “Philippe, mon cher , calm yourself. Losing your temper will solve nothing.”
    â€œEverything is lost already. Find me a wench, Charmaine, who will not refuse!”
    â€œShe refused you?”
    â€œYes, odd though it may seem to you, who never has.” Philippe took a deep breath and released it. He did not need Charmaine warning him to govern his temper, for he was well aware of its strength.
    The serving wench—What was her name?—was trying to make herself small. Too much was at stake to jeopardize his family’s honor through the whims of a silly lass.
    Charmaine raised her hand, and the lass stiffened. When Philippe stepped forward, she lowered her hand to pat his arm. He saw the frustration in her eyes, and he shared it.
    Quietly, Charmaine said, “You shall not refuse the vicomte his wish in the matter, Lirienne.”
    Lirienne. That was her name !
    Lirienne said, “Madame, he wishes—”
    â€œI know