Chapter Ten #2
Lainie sank to her knees, wincing when her bruised hip bumped the trunk, and peered inside.
She carefully lifted out more clothing and put them aside.
She let her hand rest on them, as if they carried the essence of Christien in them.
Like all the other clothes, they were made of natural fibers, but instead of the tailored garments she found in his dresser and closet, these were roughly made, hand sewn with large stitches and rough thread.
The colors were dull, the white more of an ecru, the reds more of an orange.
Reaching back into the trunk she accidentally knocked the pile over. Cursing under her breath, she scooped them up and was about to refold them when her eyes fell on a blue dress.
Using the trunk for leverage, Lainie stood and held the dress up.
At one time it had probably been a vibrant blue, but had faded to a dull purple. It was simply cut with no ornamentation. Hand sewn but sewn better than the others in the pile. When she held it up to her, it reached past her toes and trailed on the ground.
Something flashed through her mind, a memory there then gone.
Christien hated leaving Madelaine alone, but was damned if he would put off this visit any longer. His tightly held fury was fraying and he had every intention of taking it out on someone.
He strode through the front doors of Lucheux Limited, bypassing the reception desk and ignoring the receptionist who stood in surprise.
“Excuse me, sir. Sir!”
He punched the button for the elevator as she lifted her phone and spoke into it rapidly. Good. Let her call security. He was itching for a fight. It’d been a long time since he had one.
Damn modern times.
In the old days rivals fought it out with battle axes. Later they dueled. The prohibition of dueling led to the softness of modern man, in his opinion. Nowadays people wanted to talk things out.
He snorted.
Talk was the last thing he wanted to do, but because these were modern times he would try it first. If talking didn’t work he would resort to the old way.
The elevator arrived and he stepped in. The door slid closed just as building security entered the reception area. He grinned, his muscles twitching. Too bad he didn’t have his sword at his side or a dagger in his belt.
The grin faded fast when he thought of Madelaine and his near terror when he received the call that she’d been hit by a car, or his fury when she told him she’d been pushed. His hands closed into fists and he had to breathe through clenched teeth.
He was not going to lose her so soon after finding her again.
He’d do what it took to protect her even if it meant he had to put her under lock and key.
Thank God she hadn’t argued about coming home with him.
Modern woman or no, he would have thrown her over his shoulder and carried her away which wouldn’t have endeared him to her, but he didn’t care.
Better alive and mad as a wet cat than dead.
The elevators opened to another desk with another woman behind it. She looked up at him, her mouth opened in an O of surprise.
“Where is Etienne Lucheux?”
Her hand inched toward the phone. Christien slammed his hand over it and leaned forward. “Tell me where he is.”
She snatched her arm back. Her eyes darted to the left.
“Thank you.”
He pushed Lucheux’s office door open with the force of only part of his anger. Lucheux’s head jerked up. Giselle, standing at the side of the desk, jumped.
Christien closed the door quietly. “Call your pitiful security force and tell them to leave us alone.”
“What are you doing here?” Giselle spit out.
Christien had never liked Giselle, finding her too driven for her own good. She tended to act before thinking, to grasp what wasn’t hers and to demand when she was undeserving.
“Call them,” Christien said to Lucheux.
With a nonchalant shrug, Lucheux picked up the phone, dialed and spoke quietly into it. When he hung up Christien approached the desk, placed his hands on it and leaned forward.
Giselle moved closer. Christien swung his head toward her and narrowed his eyes. “Not another step.”
She stepped back, the twisted expression on her face telling him how much she hated him. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know.
He turned back to Lucheux. “Whatever game you’re playing, I want it stopped.”
Lucheux leaned back, his expression shrewd, appraising. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Christien pushed away from the desk. “I’m talking about Madelaine Alexander. I know your intentions.” He looked at Giselle, her face curiously expressionless. “And they won’t work. However, since you sent Ms. Alexander to me and she is an innocent in this, she is now under my protection.”
“I assure you, Chevalier, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Christien eyed his nemesis, searching for deceit in him. While it was coming off Giselle in waves, he was unable get a good read on Lucheux. “She was hit by a car yesterday.”
Lucheux jerked. His eyes narrowed, then jumped to Giselle who glared back, her lips pressed tightly together.
“Is she hurt?”
“Yes,” he bit out, his dormant anger resurfacing.
Lucheux schooled his features so no emotion showed. Even his eyes were curiously flat. Frustration welled in Christien. The man was impossible to read, always had been.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lucheux said. “Please be assured we had nothing to do with it. And please tell her to take as much time as needed to recover.”
He had to consciously restrain himself from grabbing Lucheux’s throat and informing him Madelaine would not be returning to work ever, but he knew that could possibly drive her away from him so he held his tongue.
“You are being warned,” he said between clenched teeth. “If Madelaine is harmed again, I will come after you.”
Giselle sneered. “You can’t kill us.”
He took a step toward her, satisfied when she stumbled back. “There are things worse than dying.”
Lucheux was rich and powerful, but Christien was much richer and much more powerful in ways a mere mortal would never understand. Not that Lucheux or Giselle were mortals.
Lucheux’s way of life, his businesses, his livelihood, could be wiped out at a word from Christien.
His entire world would collapse faster than even he could fathom.
There hadn’t been a need to ruin Lucheux in the past, for his search for the treasure had been benign and, Christien admitted, entertaining.
Now there was a reason. Little did he know but Lucheux was too close this time.
The blood drained from Giselle’s face, leaving her even paler than normal. Christien had touched on her one weakness. Giselle was power hungry and loved the money associated with it. To take it away would be worse than any sort of death he could conjure.
The tables had certainly turned in the last seven centuries.
He headed for the door but before he left he turned back. “Do not think I jest. I will destroy you if she so much as stubs her toe.”
As soon as the door shut behind Chevalier, Lucheux swung on Giselle, his fury nearly beyond control. “What have you done?”
“Merely what we planned.”
He had to stop himself from vaulting over the desk and strangling the calm look off her face. “We never planned to hurt her.”
Giselle’s eyes narrowed. “We planned to do what it took to bring the two together. To distract Chevalier. Or did you forget?”
“I forgot nothing. You have forgotten what a formidable foe Chevalier is. Hurting Madelaine will incite his fury and that’s the last thing we need.”
Giselle hesitated.
“Damn you,” he said softly. “Think, woman, before you act.”
Her lips thinned and her eyes flashed. “What was I supposed to do? You certainly weren’t acting.”
“I was being patient. A trait you apparently lack.”
She took a step forward, her face so twisted with anger he barely recognized her. “I don’t believe you. I think you have feelings for this woman.”
He laughed.
She straightened her shoulders. “What has become of you, Lucheux? It never bothered you to hurt her in the past.”
His fury leapt from him. In a red haze he rounded the desk and grabbed Giselle’s shoulders.
Her eyes widened in shock and fear. “You watch your mouth.” He punctuated each word with a shake to her shoulders until her head wobbled.
For a wild moment he thought about snapping her neck.
It would be so easy. Just a slight pressure.
But it would do no good. None of them could die. Or at least not die so easily.
He was stuck with her for the rest of eternity.
He dropped his hands from her shoulders and stepped back. The red haze clouding his vision slowly dissipated. Giselle stared up at him, a mixture of anger and fear in her expression.
He ran a hand down his face and turned away, disgusted with himself and her.
“My God, Giselle, do you realize what you have done?”
“What needed to be done, because you are doing nothing. You’re so besotted by her you can’t think straight.”
He shook his head, but he didn’t know what he was denying.
Giselle’s words? Could he in good faith say she was wrong?
He thought he would do anything to see Chevalier destroyed.
He hated Chevalier with a passion transcending everything else.
When he found the woman who looked like Chevalier’s love, he knew he’d discovered the perfect weapon to bring Chevalier to his knees and to possibly free the treasure and receive the gift he’d been promised centuries ago.
But when he heard Madelaine had been hurt, he’d felt sick.
He, a man destined for chaos and destruction, quivered over the thought of a woman harmed. ’Twas beyond intolerable.
Giselle stepped in front of him, her eyes snapping with anger. “You follow her. You obsess over her. It’s as if she has the same power over you she had before.”
His control snapped. He swung his fist. At the last minute he opened his hand and slapped her.