bowl. Jules took a piece and dipped it into her goblet. “I’m told this is His Majesty’s favorite way to break the fast each morning. Bread dipped in diluted burgundy. But of course, you know this, having traveled with him,” he teased and brought the wine-soaked bread to her lips.
She had no choice. She took a bite and forced herself to chew with a frozen smile even though her stomach balked at the thought of food.
His usual sensuous smile tilted the corner of his mouth. He placed the bowl on her lap. “I’ll leave you to your morning meal. We’ll be leaving for Maillard soon.”
He rose and walked away, toward the group of men.
Thank God. Now at least she could think without his scrutiny. Or his presence clouding her mind. The silver couldn’t leave. Not without her. She’d not gone through all this for nothing .
Helplessly she watched, sickened by the fact that one of Jules’s carts was now empty.
Feeling someone watching her, she glanced to her left and noticed Raymond observing her a few feet away. Fear fisted in her belly. Had the horror she felt inside reflected in her eyes? About ten years Jules’s senior, Raymond appeared to be a perceptive man. His hazel eyes looked sharp. And he was loyal to his commander. He wouldn’t hesitate to report any peculiar behavior to Jules.
Carefully schooling her features, she offered him a small smile, dunked another piece of bread into the wine, and placed it in her mouth.
Somehow she forced her gaze to the bowl of bread on her lap, focusing on her meal instead of the goings-on near the carts.
What was she going to do now?
Three chests of silver.
By the time Sabine had finished forcing the food down her throat, the men had removed the chests from Jules’s last cart and were now loading provisions onto it. From her furtive glances, she was sure there were three chests still on one of Jules’s carts.
Three chests of silver would be enough to live like royalty. An immense fortune. Her family would be safe. They’d want for nothing. She’d have everything she once had.
Except Isabelle.
With her ’Sabelle, she’d feel whole again. And alive.
All she had left of her sister were memories she couldn’t bring herself to dwell upon, the stories they’d written together, and Isabelle’s precious journals. She’d left the journals behind when she’d gone to work at one of the Moutiers’ country mansions. She’d asked Sabine to hold on to the journals for her, promising she’d return one day, for she’d never abandon Sabine or her treasured journals for good.
But seemingly, she had.
Logic told her that after all these years, if Isabelle was alive, she’d have contacted her.
Yet something inside her undermined logic. And it stemmed from the special bond she and her twin shared. If Isabelle was dead, shouldn’t she feel it?
Why didn’t it feel as though she was dead?
Was it wishful thinking? A desperate longing? Or was the feeling right?
With the silver, she could hire an army to search for Isabelle. To hunt down every former servant the Moutiers had, and question them about her sister. About what happened the day of the fire.
Raymond approached.
She put down her bowl, giving him her full attention. He had a cloth folded over his arm.
“Mademoiselle, please follow me,” he said, and walked away.
Sabine’s stomach dropped. He was heading out of the camp. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay near the silver. Where she could watch it. Guard over it. Make certain it didn’t go away. Glancing at Jules, she noted he was still involved in conversation with some of his men.
Raymond stopped some distance away, turned, and waited.
What on earth did he want? Couldn’t he leave her be? If she balked in any way, she’d raise suspicions. And that was something she couldn’t risk.
She rose. Her legs didn’t feel as shaky as they had when first she awoke. But worry over the chests of silver—her chests of silver—still gnawed at
She had no choice. She took a bite and forced herself to chew with a frozen smile even though her stomach balked at the thought of food.
His usual sensuous smile tilted the corner of his mouth. He placed the bowl on her lap. “I’ll leave you to your morning meal. We’ll be leaving for Maillard soon.”
He rose and walked away, toward the group of men.
Thank God. Now at least she could think without his scrutiny. Or his presence clouding her mind. The silver couldn’t leave. Not without her. She’d not gone through all this for nothing .
Helplessly she watched, sickened by the fact that one of Jules’s carts was now empty.
Feeling someone watching her, she glanced to her left and noticed Raymond observing her a few feet away. Fear fisted in her belly. Had the horror she felt inside reflected in her eyes? About ten years Jules’s senior, Raymond appeared to be a perceptive man. His hazel eyes looked sharp. And he was loyal to his commander. He wouldn’t hesitate to report any peculiar behavior to Jules.
Carefully schooling her features, she offered him a small smile, dunked another piece of bread into the wine, and placed it in her mouth.
Somehow she forced her gaze to the bowl of bread on her lap, focusing on her meal instead of the goings-on near the carts.
What was she going to do now?
Three chests of silver.
By the time Sabine had finished forcing the food down her throat, the men had removed the chests from Jules’s last cart and were now loading provisions onto it. From her furtive glances, she was sure there were three chests still on one of Jules’s carts.
Three chests of silver would be enough to live like royalty. An immense fortune. Her family would be safe. They’d want for nothing. She’d have everything she once had.
Except Isabelle.
With her ’Sabelle, she’d feel whole again. And alive.
All she had left of her sister were memories she couldn’t bring herself to dwell upon, the stories they’d written together, and Isabelle’s precious journals. She’d left the journals behind when she’d gone to work at one of the Moutiers’ country mansions. She’d asked Sabine to hold on to the journals for her, promising she’d return one day, for she’d never abandon Sabine or her treasured journals for good.
But seemingly, she had.
Logic told her that after all these years, if Isabelle was alive, she’d have contacted her.
Yet something inside her undermined logic. And it stemmed from the special bond she and her twin shared. If Isabelle was dead, shouldn’t she feel it?
Why didn’t it feel as though she was dead?
Was it wishful thinking? A desperate longing? Or was the feeling right?
With the silver, she could hire an army to search for Isabelle. To hunt down every former servant the Moutiers had, and question them about her sister. About what happened the day of the fire.
Raymond approached.
She put down her bowl, giving him her full attention. He had a cloth folded over his arm.
“Mademoiselle, please follow me,” he said, and walked away.
Sabine’s stomach dropped. He was heading out of the camp. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay near the silver. Where she could watch it. Guard over it. Make certain it didn’t go away. Glancing at Jules, she noted he was still involved in conversation with some of his men.
Raymond stopped some distance away, turned, and waited.
What on earth did he want? Couldn’t he leave her be? If she balked in any way, she’d raise suspicions. And that was something she couldn’t risk.
She rose. Her legs didn’t feel as shaky as they had when first she awoke. But worry over the chests of silver—her chests of silver—still gnawed at
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