Claimed By Chaos (6 page)

“I'm sorry.” She said softly. “I’ve been alone for so long, I'm not used to planning around anyone else. And you have a new life, I didn't want to interfere.” Gilles sighed as he squatted in front of her.

“We're family, Giselle. It would hurt me greatly to lose you again. You don't have to stay in London if you don't want to. But please, stay in England. You can live at Longwood with Elise and I. She has an estate close by that she's never going to live in, you're welcome to it if you'd like. You're one of the wealthiest women in Europe, you can live anywhere you like in England. Please, stay. I need to know that you're close and that you're alright.” His eyes pleaded. Giselle softened and leaned forward to kiss his forehead.

“Very well. I'll stay.” She smiled as Gilles nodded and rose. Mirabelle noticed that Alastair relaxed as well. “I will do this the right way and find enough proof and then we will consider what to do with this traitor. I think that Lucien would like him to have a trial.” She smiled up at him. He nodded. “I already have some evidence. I found letters from our traitor to LeVan. He doesn't include his name, obviously, but the writing might be distinctive and he uses an usual seal.” All three men became alert.

“You didn't mention these letters earlier.” Gilles’ voice was low and tight. Giselle grimaced.

“Sorry, it slipped my mind while we were arguing.” She apologized. Gilles nodded stiffly.

“Could you get them?” He asked. She smiled and hurried from the room. A few minutes later Giselle skipped back in and handed Gilles, Alastair and Lucien two letters each and they began to examine them. As soon as Alastair looked at the letters in his hands he gasped and shut his eyes. His head twitched from side to side and his eyes flickered beneath their lids. Mirabelle knew he was looking for something in his memory, trying to pick out something particular from the vast library within his mind. Like her, Gilles and Lucien waited quietly, eager to see what he found. After a few more moments he cursed beneath his breath, shaking his head as he opened his eyes.

“I’ve seen this seal somewhere. I can picture it in someone’s hand but it’s not clear enough. Perhaps I’ll be able to place it once we have names of possible suspects.”

“Once I have names to investigate, it should be easy to search their homes for any corresponding letters or documents with the same seal.” Giselle said as she dropped onto the couch. Alastair looked up.

“You can't believe that you’ll be doing this alone.” He stood and went to the sideboard to trade his wine for scotch.

“I had hoped that Gilles might introduce me to the ton so that I might look for this traitor and get close to him. I don't want to implicate or put anyone else in danger.” She looked to Gilles and he opened his mouth to say something but Alastair cut him off.

“I'll be with you.” He crossed his arms as he waited for her to protest. Mirabelle almost gasped. She had a plan. It was just too perfect, really. She had to wait for the right moment. Giselle started shaking her head.

“No. I won’t put you in danger. I don't plan on restricting myself to ballrooms and parlors.” Gilles and Lucien doubled over laughing, Giselle looked confused.

“I'm certain I can handle myself.” Alastair said flatly. Gilles walked to him and put his arm around his shoulder.

“I assure you, Alastair is far more comfortable in the slums and docks among criminals than he is in a ballroom and he isn't afraid of a little violence.” Gilles said before delivering a playful blow to Alastair's stomach. He shook him off. Lucien chuckled.

“He’ll gladly blow a man’s brains out. In fact, he did not too long ago.” Once again, Mirabelle felt her skin prickle. It was as if they were talking about someone she didn't know. Giselle was staring at Alastair, Mirabelle was sure she wasn't imagining the intrigue she saw in her eyes.

“He may be a genius at deciphering documents and planning strategy but he's never been good at sitting back and letting everyone else do all the work.” Lucien added. Mirabelle felt like she was going to explode, waiting for the opportunity to set her plan in motion.

“Very well.” Giselle conceded. “Gilles and Alastair can introduce me to the ton.”
Finally!
Mirabelle thought.

“Gilles can't go about with you! It will have to be Alastair most of the time. We could come to Town in a few weeks but you'll have to make do with Alastair for most events.” He became very still and he let his head fall to the side and she knew he was already one step ahead of her, weighing outcomes. Gilles winked at her. Giselle missed it. She looked at Mirabelle, waiting for an explanation. “Gilles and Elise rarely attend ton events. No one told you?” Giselle shook her head and looked at Gilles. His smile softened as he thought of Elise.

“Elise is blind. It's too difficult for her to go places she isn't familiar with. Aside from the opera, a ball and a few musicales at Clerendon House, she doesn't go about. I attend events on occasion but I generally stay home.” Giselle was stunned.

“I'm so sorry! I didn't know. Of course, you must stay with her, I wouldn’t want to take you away.” She whispered.

“Elise is quite clever and strong, there's no need to feel sorry for her. I think you'll be very impressed.” Alastair said as he took the seat opposite Giselle. “I will go about with you. The ton won't care who introduces you, from all I've heard.”
This is too easy!
Thought Mirabelle.

“You’ll have to court her, Alastair.” All eyes turned to her. Giselle's mouth fell open just before she shook her head frantically. Mirabelle faced her. “It's the only way it will work, hear me out. Alastair has shunned society his entire life. If he suddenly starts showing up at balls with you, they will assume he is interested. But if he isn't obvious about courting you, you'll risk a scandal if you're seen to be spending too much time together. Also! If he is very assertive in his courtship and you appear to welcome his attentions, it will cut the pack. You're going to be mobbed by suitors but only the most determined will persist if the ton thinks you're engaged.” Mirabelle took a deep breath and sat back. Giselle was still shaking her head.

“But one of us will eventually have to cry off. For the sake of his honor, it will have to be me. It would still expose him to gossip and I wouldn't want to effect his future chances with another young lady.” Again, Lucien and Gilles laughed. Alastair shook his head and waited for them to subside.

“As I have never been interested in the society’s opinion of me and will not be seeking a bride within the ton, it is of no consideration. If it is assumed that an announcement is imminent, I will be able to remain close to you and shield you from some unwanted attention.” He rose and looked around the room. “I'll leave you all to discuss my expected level of discomfort, I'll see you at dinner.” He strode from the room. Mirabelle looked at Lucien and Gilles and felt her lips quiver. Giselle looked at the three of them and frowned. The room erupted with laughter. Mirabelle laughed until her stomach ached. When she finally caught her breath she sighed.

“Don't worry, it will do him some good to suffer a little.” She teased. Gilles smiled as he took a seat and crossed his ankles.

“He’ll be miserable but it's no more than he deserves. He's stubbornly refused to go about with The Mothers and Mirabelle his entire adult life. He has some serious penance to pay.” He chuckled as he took a sip of his drink. Lucien smiled as he raised his glass.

“If it weren't for the whole Double Capet business, Alastair making his debut could be the most notable event of the season.” He declared. Mirabelle couldn't help but giggle. And giggle.

Chapter 11

Much later, Giselle stared up at the canopy of her bed and tried to clear her mind. Her discipline was failing her. Every time she tried to push her thoughts away, Alastair filled them. She scolded herself. She was meant to be contemplating her next move, finding the man he referred to as “the last traitor”, not reliving every moment they spent alone or anticipating the next.

Everyone parted ways shortly after Alastair left them in the study. Giselle settled into her room and got aquatinted with her maid, Jane. A clever but mild mannered girl, Jane had been shocked at Giselle's selection of gowns, lingerie and weapons. Otherwise, she was competent and quick as Giselle bathed and dressed for dinner.

When she stepped into the hallway she heard a door open at the far end. Alastair stepped out and his eyes found her. He paused for a moment before he prowled toward her. Giselle remained still despite the shiver that spilled down her spine. His eyes were hooded and his face taut. Heat and hunger met her before he took her face in his hands. He tilted her and set his lips to hers as he backed her against the wall. She opened for him and his tongue swept in and attacked hers. Giselle felt heat flood her body and her limbs melted as he angled his head and scattered her wits. Alastair pressed against her, as solid as the wall at her back. He tensed for a moment and she waited until he took a breath. She slid her hands up his chest and gripped his shoulders as she pulled him closer. He growled as his hands circled her waist, lifted and pinned her against the wall. His hips settled between her thighs and she could feel him, hard and pressing against her womanhood.

Giselle pulled her lips from his and gasped as he ground against her. She wrapped a leg around him and he nodded as he set his lips to her throat.

“Why can't I control myself around you?” Alastair groaned against her skin. She felt his teeth graze her flesh and she bit her lip.

“I don't know, but I don't want you to control yourself.” She confessed and she fisted her hands in his hair and arched against him. He cursed and his lips drifted down her neck. Giselle looked at her bedroom door and wondered if he would follow her if she went back. Was there time?

“When I think about everything that happened to you, I want to kill someone. I can't let anything like that happen again.” His voice was hoarse and urgent. She felt Alastair's hands span her waist and slide up her stomach. He cupped her breasts and squeezed, they became heavy and ached. She begged his name as she felt his tongue brush her cleavage. His thumb brushed her nipples through the silk of her gown and she moaned. Giselle felt him buck against her, electricity shot through her, starting between her thighs where they touched and her eyes rolled back into her head.

“Please, don't stop!” She begged. She felt her skirts lift and his hand on her thigh and she gasped in delight. Suddenly, Giselle was standing on the floor and Alastair had his hands on her shoulders. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply, his jaw twitched and his posture was erect.

“I think we should go down now.” His voice was hard, strained. Stunned, Giselle nodded. Alastair held out his arm and she blinked rapidly as she placed her hand on it and he steered her toward the stairs.

Once in the drawing room, Giselle found herself out of sorts. Alastair retreated to the sideboard and was quiet as he pondered his scotch. Mirabelle was full of questions, mostly about French fashion. Giselle did her best to keep up. When the butler came and announced dinner, Lucien took Giselle’s arm and she heard Mirabelle laugh softly as Gilles took hers.

“I think I'm a miserable failure as a chaperone!” She declared. Alastair said something under his breath that no one was able to comprehend.

Dinner was an awkward affair for Giselle. Seated across from Alastair, she found it hard to focus on the meal or conversation. His eyes tormented her, focusing on her mouth or breasts, making both warm. When she tried to talk, his focus would be so complete, so penetrating, she felt as if she was drowning in his turbulent silver gaze. Every now and then, Giselle would shudder and wriggle her shoulders only to look up and find him shifting in his seat as he stared at his plate.

When the party retired to the sitting room, they kept drifting toward each other only to dash apart when Gilles would clear his throat and look pointedly at them. Eventually, the men left to play billiards and Mirabelle peppered her with questions about France and Gilles’ time there. When the men returned and Lucien summoned Mirabelle, Giselle felt anxious and brittle. She nearly moaned as Alastair pressed his lips to her fingers when she excused herself for the evening.

Which brought her to her current predicament. Giselle sat up and punched her pillow before she flopped back onto it. She'd never met a problem she couldn't set aside until the next day. Not that Alastair was a problem. She wanted to pour all of her energy into exploring him and wanted him focused completely on her. It was disturbing, just how little of her attention was on her mission. Giselle grimaced. She'd never put her desires before her duty. She grimaced again. She'd never truly had desires before.

The next morning, Giselle was in a surly mood as she stepped off the stairs into the hall. Never in all her time in France (even when she was recovering from being shot) had she slept so poorly. Every time she was close to drifting off, she would remember Alastair's hands on her breasts or she'd imagine what might have happened if they had gone into her room. She was frustrated and tired.

As she continued down the hall she heard the deep rumbling of Alastair's voice. He was in the library and wasn't alone. Giselle approached quietly and listened.

“This should do, my lovely! I'll read and you can sit on my lap.” His voice was soft and warm. Giselle stifled a gasp and felt rage surge within her.

Was it one of the maids? Did they have a longstanding arrangement? He was often at Winthorpe, it wouldn't surprise her if he had any number of maids waiting to do his bidding. Why would he toy with her, then? Giselle sensed that he was insatiable and experienced but she couldn't imagine he would require more than one woman. Ready to confront him, she swung into the library and nearly tripped when she saw who his paramour was.

Alastair stared up at her, one brow raised as he reclined in an overstuffed chair with a book in one hand. On his lap, supported by his other hand, sat a very petite, red haired angel. She looked to be a little more than two months old. He set the book on the table and cradled the cooing, gurgling baby as he stood.

“Giselle, allow me to introduce Lady Charlotte.” Alastair said gently as he lowered his face to the bundle in his arms. She made a “Gah!” sound and he laughed softly as he playfully nibbled on her tiny, waving fist. Giselle felt dizzy and lowered herself to the couch. His entire demeanor had changed. Alastair was relaxed and joyful, holding his niece. Everything about him had softened as he adored her.

Giselle felt something within her ache and an emotion suspiciously similar to jealousy overwhelmed her as realization bloomed. He loved children. He wanted to be a father. The idea that someone might give him a child and that he would love that child and worship the woman that gave it to him made her want to set something on fire, to tear things apart with her hands. She swallowed loudly and smiled as he sat next to her.

“Mirabelle and Lucien are out riding and I offered to watch Charlotte.” He murmured. “Would you like to hold her?” He asked as he leaned close. Giselle felt her eyes grow wide as panic filled her. She had never held an infant before, she'd barely seen one this close. He looked at her expectantly and she was afraid to decline. She looked into his eyes and saw that he was waiting, assessing. She nodded weakly.

“I've never held a baby, Alastair.” She confided. He smiled softly as he lowered the bundle into her arms. She gasped as she adjusted. Charlotte was so tiny and light, she felt so fragile. Giselle looked up in alarm.

“Just relax. They're very flexible and remarkably forgiving.” Again, his voice was soothing and low. “I find that as long as you remain calm and talk to them gently, babies are very easy to handle and quite enjoyable.”

Giselle nodded and sank back against the couch. Charlotte looked up at her with large, unblinking eyes.

“Pffrrtz!” She declared as she devoured her fingers. Giselle looked up at Alastair and laughed. His expression made her stomach flip. His eyes were so intent, they flicked rapidly over the two of them. She sensed his yearning. Something within her wanted to answer. She shook her head inwardly and turned back to Charlotte and was shocked at how perfect she was.

What if I had one of my own?
The thought came from nowhere and Giselle pushed it away quickly.

“You should take her. I'm afraid I'll upset her.” Giselle lied as she passed Charlotte back to Alastair. He frowned slightly as he took her. He held her comfortably in both hands and lifted her to his face and inhaled before leaning back and settling her against his chest. Giselle rested her arm on the back of the couch and watched him. “You’re very good with her.” She said. He shrugged as he rubbed Charlotte’s back soothingly.

“Children aren't difficult to understand at this age. They are either tired, hungry or need to be cleaned. At the moment, Lady Charlotte is clean and has recently been fed. All I have to do is entertain her until she falls asleep. She will remain pleasant or asleep until she soils herself or becomes hungry. When either of these occur, I will merely summon someone more capable than myself to see to her needs.” Alastair reclined and looked content to remain as long as Charlotte was. Giselle couldn't help but smile.

“What do you do with her when she isn't sleeping?” She asked quietly. Alastair's head tilted.

“Anything I wish, really. As long as you keep your voice low and reassuring, you could read crop reports and she wouldn't complain. But I believe infants are rather like vessels.”

“Vessels!” Giselle laughed softly. He nodded.

“They are waiting to be filled with anything you wish to pour into them. So many people fill their offspring with dribble and they end up useless and boring. We were fortunate to have parents that were more selective.” He made a shushing sound as Charlotte squirmed against him. Giselle leaned and picked up the book he had selected. She looked dubious.

“Goethe? Isn't Faust a bit dark for an infant?” She whispered as she at back. Alastair shook his head gently.

“I am confident that she doesn't understand German yet and as long as I read it as if it were about princesses and fairies, she doesn't object.”

“You're quite knowledgeable.” Giselle teased.

“I have spent a great deal of time with Ethan and he is quite similar in his needs and temperament. I find both to be much easier to comprehend than most of the adults I encounter.” With that, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back. It was inexplicably the most arousing scene Giselle had ever witnessed. She opened the book and pretended to read it for the better part of an hour while her entire being was focused on Alastair and the baby in his arms.