Written on Silk by Linda Lee Chaikin Read Free Book Online Page B

disoriented and was sitting with her head resting on her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs.
    Rachelle stood unmoving as the sound of the horses broke the uncanny stillness.
    The questioning voices around her quickly turned from dismay to anger. “Are they coming back to kill the rest of us?” someone cried.
    The horses drew nearer.
    Could it be? Marquis Fabien rode slowly forward with several men, whose faces she recognized from the last time they had been at the château.
    The wind ruffled the white plume on Fabien’s broad-brimmed hat and the full sleeves of his linen shirt-tunic overlaid with a vest and sur-coat of velvet and gold. The horse jerked its head up, its nostrils flaring, as if the smell of battle was recognized.
    Rachelle watched Fabien as his gaze inched over the scene of death and woe before him. He did not move or dismount. His knuckles turned white as he held the reins, and his jaw flexed.
    His chief page, Gallaudet, turned his fair head toward him with open dismay.
    Rachelle stood in silence, and it seemed the moment was frozen in time. The blowing wind, the smell of charred wood, the restless whinny of horses, the creak of leather saddles. Then, as if awakening, there was movement, voices, rage.
    Marquis Fabien swung down from his mount; there came the crunch of boots, a pause, an intake of breath, and then an uttered exclamation. Rachelle’s bruised emotions found solace in the possessive but tender enfolding of his fingers around her arm. He drew her closer. “You are not hurt, belle amie ? You escaped injury?”
    “Oh, Fabien, I thank our God you have come back — ”
    He embraced her so tightly that she could hardly breathe. “If anything had happened to you — ” he whispered.
    He drew her head against his chest, stroking her hair. She heard his soothing voice, yet rage was just beneath his veneer, struggling to break forth over the scene of carnage before him.
    “Come, I will have Gallaudet take you to the château, while I search for any yet alive. Where are your sisters?”
    She clutched his arms and turned her head toward Idelette seated near Avril’s body. She felt his muscles harden like granite beneath her palms as he recognized them.
    Rachelle’s gaze rushed to his eyes filled with outrage as they took in Avril’s disfigured face, and the blood that had smeared onto Rachelle’s silk dress.
    “ Who? ” he demanded in a gritted whisper. “ Who did this?”
    Rachelle trembled, hating the Duc de Guise so much that she wished to spit out his name as though it were venom; and yet loving Fabien as she did, she remained mute. What if he rode after the duc and his men?If she revealed her utter loathing, would she not encourage such revenge that he would seek the duc’s life?
    Her emotions made her ill and weary. She must not think of this, she must not —
    The death of the Duc de Guise by Fabien’s sword would bring the wrath of the whole House of Guise and their powerful alliance upon his head.
    Rachelle dropped her forehead against his chest and held on to him tightly.
    “Do not ride after them. Do not go. Stay with me! Please, Fabien!”
    He cupped her chin, his eyes warmly searching hers, and placed a brief, solacing kiss on her forehead.
    “Who led these murders against the Huguenots, Rachelle?” he asked again, quietly.
    She shook her head. She was well aware that Fabien believed his own father was assassinated upon secret order of Duc de Guise at the battle of Calais.
    Several others knew that Guise led this attack: Idelette, Hudson, Bertrand, Jolon the gardener, and the boy Philippe — his mother was dead. Even Madame Clair would have heard his name spoken by Philippe when he ran to warn her. Thank God Guise had not turned his men loose on the Château de Silk! He would know, of course, that the château belonged to the Macquinets. Was that why he had not done so?
    Was it possible he had not known they were in the barn, thinking that all Huguenots were simple