The Courtesan by Susan Carroll Read Free Book Online Page A

our knight to kneel at our feet and swear eternal devotion and service.”
    She spoke with forced playfulness, never expecting Remy to comply with her request. But to her consternation, he stepped in front of her and began to slowly lower himself.
    “Oh, Remy, I was only jesting—” she began, but Remy went down on one knee, the effort obviously costing him some pain from his recently healed wound. He flinched.
    “Remy, stop,” she said. “The game is over. Do get up.”
    But he remained where he was, even though he had paled a little. “Nay, milady. You suggested this. Now we will see it through.”
    “Don’t be an idiot. Stand up before you hurt yourself.” She tugged at his sleeve, trying to force him back up. But he captured her hand, imprisoning her fingers in the warm strength of his own.
    Gabrielle attempted to tug free, but when Remy tilted his head to look up at her, she stopped, held spellbound. The sun spilled over him, turning his hair to burnished gold, accenting every line worn by pain and hardship on his beard-roughened features. But his eyes seemed to shine with a light of their own, strong, steady, and honest.
    “Milady, my sword is ever at your service,” he said, gathering her hand close to the region of his heart. “I vow by my life’s blood to serve and protect you forever.”
    It was as though the embodiment of every maiden’s dream had sprung to life at her feet. The battered knight, after much toil and care, fighting his way to his lady’s side, to sweep her off on his charger and into the shelter of his arms.
    A man of complete honor, integrity, and courage, traits that she had once mistakenly supposed belonged to the Chevalier Etienne Danton. But Danton had only borne the title. He’d been no more a knight than Gabrielle was any longer a maiden.
    Only Nicolas Remy was real and true. Unfortunately he’d arrived on her island much too late.
    “Remy . . .” A husky voice breathed the name with a sorrow that might have come from Gabrielle’s own heart. But the sound had emanated from Cass. Gabrielle opened her eyes and stared uneasily at the other woman.
    “Remy,” Cass murmured again. Her head was flung back, a succession of strong emotions chasing across her pale features. One moment her lips were parted with a dreamy sensuality, the next they tightened with despair.
    It was almost as if . . . as if Cass was stealing Gabrielle’s memories of Remy, draining them from her through her fingertips. Gabrielle instinctively fought to pull her hand free, but Cass’s fingers tightened around Gabrielle’s wrist like an icy manacle. Cass’s head snapped forward and Gabrielle ceased her struggles, too paralyzed to move as Cass transformed before her very eyes.
    Gone was any trace of the inebriated woman or the pale recluse. Cass threw back her shoulders and arched her neck, appearing to grow in stature until she resembled some legendary sorceress of old, a Circe or Morgan le Fay.
    Glowing in the intense white light of the candle, her skin was translucent, a strong contrast with the bloodred of her gown, the ebony tangle of her hair. The candle’s flame reflected points of light in her dark eyes, sharp and cold as some distant star.
    “Nicolas Remy,” Cass rasped. “I summon you back from the realms of the dead. Follow the sound of my voice and come to us. Gabrielle is waiting.”
    She groped for the bowl with her free hand, sweeping her fingers across the top of it. The water in the basin began to roil, vapor rising from the surface until it became a vessel of mist. Cass leaned forward eagerly, her lips parted. The more the water clouded, the clearer her eyes became, the sharper their focus. As Cassandra stared down into the water, Gabrielle realized with a jolt, the blind woman could see.
    “Nicolas Remy,” Cass called again. “Gabrielle has traveled a long way to find you. She is wearied and sore of heart. Do not disappoint her. Part the veil of the dead and let her look upon