Page 51 of Love Beneath the Guillotine
No man had ever taken such a liberty with him, and Léon hated how good the cloak felt on his bare skin. The garment was lined with black and luxurious fur, and how good the clean end of it smelled, especially compared to the rotten body fluids that were still all over him. It smelled of leather and smoke and soap, and something else. Something particular and elusive. It smelled like Henry. And he hadn’t noticed until now just how good Henry smelled.
Had he? Maybe he had.
He took another sip. Then another.
With words as soft as the fur on Léon’s skin, Henry said, “It gets lonely, doesn’t it?”
Léon’s head tilted down in a sad acknowledgement. He felt the press of Henry’s shoulder, and his cheek moved a little closer to Henry’s, afraid of his closeness, but also craving the comfort, unable to stop himself.
“I don’t want to marry her,” Léon blurted out, maybe because he’d never said it out loud to anyone, and maybe because Henry was a crook and a man he’d never see again once they set foot outside that carriage. “I’m not in love with her. I never havebeen, and I never will be.” It felt good to say it. It felt good to get the pressure of eight long years off his chest. But he finished with, “I will marry her, though.”
He passed the flask over, searching Henry’s eyes for the condemnation he’d expect from anyone else.
Henry watched him, interested, a dark sparkle to his eyes. “Who are you really in love with?”
All the carriage, all the road, and all the rest of France seemed to draw up inside Léon, and it was only Henry and that question that no one had ever asked him. And that was terrifying. Especially while Henry watched and waited for the answer far too intently. “No one. I’ve never been in love. I can’t because…”Because I have a child. And responsibilities. And because I want a man. And I because I want him to be just like you. If only you weren’t so cruel.The thought shook Léon. He blushed under Henry’s keen gaze and tried to hide his eyes. He deflected as best he could. “Who are you in love with? You’re old enough to be married. Why did you never settle down with someone?”
“Because I’m a highwayman.” Henry tapped a hand to the ceiling, and they felt the pull as his sister immediately slowed the carriage. “And because I never met the right man.”
It was like a lightning bolt straight into Léon’s heart. Henry held his gaze, watched the realisation come over him, watched the parting of his beautiful lips, breathed in the taut air that escaped.
Then Henry was out the carriage door, just as quickly as the speed of the slowing vehicle allowed, leaving Léon alone, wrapped in Henry’s cloak, heart beating dangerously fast, wondering what the hell had just happened.
26
IMPASSE
Henry never got back into the carriage, all the rest of the long drive. He rode up top with Catherine, directing her to the brightly lit but isolated inn at which they arrived an hour or two later, night having fallen as they travelled.
Léon, still carrying his axe, was quick to the carriage door, but Henry was faster, pulling it open with all the gallant grace as if Léon had been one of the owners of the carriage, and he his date for the night.
It slowed Léon’s exit to find Henry so close, standing to his right, regarding him inscrutably. There was an undeniable camaraderie between the two now—a strange closeness that they both felt—and one was as curious as the other to know if he felt it, too. But neither, at that time, was about to force the bond further than they already had.
Catherine stood a little distance away, stretching out her back from the long ride, scandalously but carelessly exposed in her white shift, the dried blood that mostly coated the garment up to her midline being the only thing blocking a clear view straight through her dress. She had ridden all the way through the unseasonably frigid air, just like that.
Léon’s fingers grasped Henry’s cloak before he even registered what he was doing. He reproached Henry with a frown on his way past, slipping the garment from his own shoulders to wrap around Catherine’s. But she pushed it back with an easy movement. “Oh, no, I don’t feel the cold.” And hearty she looked too. Her face was blooming with a pink and energetic flush, her hair was wild about her cheeks, fresh from the breeze, as though the flight had knocked all the grime of prison off her.
But her arms were thin, her cheeks not half as plump as they should have been, and the older brother in Léon took over. “Please. I’m appalled I didn’t think of it earlier.”
“Let him,” Henry called over Léon’s shoulder.
Catherine glanced at Henry, registering the meaning of some look he sent her way, then she smiled at Léon, and said with a shrug, “If it will make you feel better.”
“It will.” Léon had just wrapped his arms around her to bring the cloak across her back, when he heard his name yelled in the familiar voice he loved best in all the world.
Émile burst from the briefly illuminated doorway of the inn and bolted straight into Léon’s arms as he leaned down to scoop him up. The overwhelm in Léon’s body was so great he dropped to his knees to hug and kiss the boy.
“We heard the carriage,” said Émile. “I was hoping it was you.”
Léon made no more answer than the kisses on Émile’s warm cheeks. It was over. The whole nightmare, all of it done, and Émile back in his arms, clean, and so happy, after everything.
A soft hand landed on Léon’s shoulder. Souveraine stood behind him, eyes flitting between Henry and Catherine, scared of the one, scared and jealous of the other, having noted Léon’s care of her from the doorway. Léon arose and locked arms around her, pulling her in for a long hug. “I’m sorry.”
Henry’s gaze fell on the pair of them, resulting in a loud clack of his tongue. He might have turned away just then, but Émile spotted him, yelled out, “Henri!” and left his brother’s side for the fine arms of his kidnapper.
Souveraine started forward in horror, but Léon surprised himself and her by saying softly, “It’s okay.” He watched Henry easily haul the boy up with one arm, asking him if he’d been good, and getting a gushing rundown on how very nice his afternoon with Souveraine had been. Distractedly, Léon turned to her and asked, “Are you all right? What did he do?”
Dark eyes on Henry, Souveraine replied quietly, “He told me you’d only get Émile back if I came.”
