Page 37 of The Darkest Oath

Her heart sank when Gabin’s heavy footsteps ran to the door from inside the bakery. Malo’s eyes darted between her and Rollant before Gabin burst into view.

“Élise!” Gabin’s voice thundered beneath the setting sun.

Two of the men Gabin had sent to follow Rollant when he first came toAu Pain Roux, Olivier and Yanis, approached from behind her.

Yanis leaned close to her ear. “Decided to make our meeting, Élise? Glad to see you well.”

She nodded with a tight, polite smile as Gabin pounded closer. He ripped her from Rollant’s arm, yanking her away with a tightening grip just above her bicep.

“Be gone, you snake,” Gabin threatened Rollant. “None of the king’s dogs are allowed here. Be grateful we do not kill you where you stand.” Spittle formed in the corners of his mouth.

Élise had forgotten about the riots and the hatred for anyone in the king’s uniforms. Rollant had taken such a risk coming there for her. She ducked her head to hide the overwhelming flush of gratitude on her cheeks. The tingle in her chest expanded and reached the inner depths of her soul. The quiet burn of welling tears tickled the backs of her eyes. Her gaze rose from his toes to his perfectly chiseled face. He stood upright and folded an arm behind his back, and the other crossed his belly.

Rollant seemingly ignored the threat and began reporting on Élise’s health. “Your apprentice was very ill and worked to exhaustion. Her fever lasted seven days. She would have died had you not allowed me to carry her to Le Marais. The nuns?—”

“Shut it,” Gabin gritted. He stepped toe-to-toe with Rollant. Each man was similar in height and build.

“Shut what, exactly?” Rollant asked with a lifted eyebrow. “I understand times are hard, but if she continues to be treated the way in which I found her ten days ago, your apprentice will be in the grave.”

Élise glanced at the others. Malo’s head dropped. Yves nervously looked around. Olivier and Yanis’ eyes darted between Gabin and Rollant. More citizens of Faubourg Saint-Antoine gathered at the bakery entrance, watching the spectacle before their meeting. Élise forced the growing lump down her throat. None of them had ever helped her as Rollant had. They all saw the bruises. If Rollant could see them, they could too. She was alone, she realized, just as Rollant had told her. Gabin shook her arm and tightened his grip.

Élise grimaced at the pain.

“You’re hurting her,” Rollant interrupted whatever Gabin was saying.

“I am not. I’d never hurt my woman, my little dove.” Gabin’s grip loosened.

The man disgusted her, she realized. Calling a woman—his woman—“a little dove” was supposed to be a term born out of love and honor. Her arm went limp in his grip. He never loved her. Never honored her. And she had thrown away her chance to escape him. She was a fool.

“You all see how I care for her! I’d never hurt her,” Gabin barked at the growing crowd and gestured to Élise as if she were a display of his generosity. “I took her in when no one else would, and this is the thanks I get? Letting a sea rat steal her from me for ten days, leaving me to labor alone for all of you?” He turned to Rollant. “You vagrant, listen here, she’s well now, and you don’t have to worry your pretty head. Get back to the water, sea rat.”

Rollant countered again, and she knew Rollant would only leave on his terms. The corners of her mouth dared to rise at his show of calm power, yet worry etched into her brow. No one trifled with Gabin.

“She had a long walk here and is still not fully well,” Rollant said. “Élise will need rest and assistance in the bakery to fully recover.”

She shook her head slightly at Rollant, hoping to signal him to leave before Gabin turned the crowd against him to take his life. She would survive Gabin, but part of her survival hinged on whether or not she knew there was a possibility Rollant was still alive.

Gabin must have seen her headshake from the corner of his eye, for he growled, “You have something to say to your lover, Élise?”

There was a gasp through the growing crowd. “He isn’t my lover,” she whimpered at the renewed deathly grip he had on her arm.

Rollant broadened his stance. “We are not lovers,” he said with a voice that rose above the murmurs. “And you are hurting her. You should let go of her arm before it bruises.” There was an emphasis on his last word,bruises.It quieted the crowd.

Élise noticed the turned heads and the pressed lips. Again, they silently pleaded guilty to seeing but saying nothing. They all depended on Gabin for bread. They were all trapped as she was. She resented them for doing nothing, but she understood their plight. Rollant was her only advocate there because he did not rely on Gabin.

She had let herself become entrapped, and if she wanted freedom, she had to take it back, just as she told her community the first night she had met Rollant. It wouldn’t happen overnight, but small steps and small actions would eventually allow her to be free of Gabin.

“You are hurting me,” she said in a bold voice, its shake only audible to her ears.

“Shut up, woman,” he said, shoving her away to square his shoulders with Rollant. He pushed a stiff finger into Rollant’s chest. “I know you took three days to bed her at the inn, and she returned to me. So what does that say about you? Are you weak in bed, sea rat? A little limp fish you have?”

Rollant chortled. The high insult brushed past him as if it were nothing. “Oh, Monsieur Roux,” Rollant sighed with an amusement perched on his lips. “I did no such thing.” He shook his head. “She had her own room. If you can spare the hours’ walk, go and ask the innkeeper. Two rooms. She is loyal to you, Gabin, and always has been. There is no need to hurt her. She has no feelings for me. You are the bigger man, the better man. You provide for her, and she admires your generosity.”

The words came out with ease. So much ease, Élise thought they were true and wondered what other lies he might have told her that seemed genuine.

Rollant continued. “Don’t treat her harshly because of me. It is all for naught. She loves you and only you, Gabin. If she didn’t, would she have returned?”

“She knows I’d find her.” His voice lowered as he tried to shove Rollant backward. His face flushed red at Rollant’s rooted stance. “She is mine,” he gritted. “She is my woman! Not yours! And now you know it. So don’t come here again, or we will string you from the street lamp and put your little fish on display.”

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