The Return of the Prodigal

In his mind, did he feel her flesh beneath his lost hand?

If there was a God, yes…

RIAN LAY ON HIS BACK, staring up at the canopy above his head, consciously trying to regulate his breathing.

She had been wild in his arms, and now she was quiet, collapsed against his side, her blond hair splayed out, a sweet-smelling lock tickling at his chin.

What would he do without her? It was only when she came to him, made love with him, that he could even pretend to be whole. Awake, aware.

If only they could stay here, like this, forever. He longed to be a simple man, with simple needs.

All his life had been a struggle. Well-cushioned, yes, but as with all of the Beckets, circumscribed by the past, a life spent always with one eye looking for the reappearance of that past. Always knowing theirs was an uncertain future.

He’d wanted excitement, adventure. He’d wanted to be away from the constraints of Becket Hall, from the people who all carried the shadow of the past with them.

Secrets to keep. Always, secrets to keep.

Had Fanny run home to those secrets they both hated? Had she taken the Earl of Brede with her after the battle? Had she seen what he, Rian, had seen growing between them—that the love Fanny believed she’d felt for her adoptive brother had been a pale thing when compared to the love of a man for a woman? Brede loved Fanny, that had been obvious, and Rian had been glad, hopeful that the earl would take her away from Becket Hall, keep her safe.

He wished Fanny well. He wished her happiness, and a quiet conscience.

If he returned to Becket Hall? What would she feel then? A responsibility to him?

Of course she would. She was Fanny, his sister of the heart, his twin of the heart, as they’d sometimes joked. She would feel responsible for him, insist on clinging to him, mothering him, protecting him…as if he were a child needing protection.

He couldn’t let that happen. Life moved on. Didn’t his adoptive father always say that? Whether we wished it or not, life always moved on. Rian needed Fanny to move on with her life, find her own happiness, and not feel obligated to her maimed brother.

And now there was Lisette.

Lisette, always eager to help, eager to please, yet never maudlin in her sympathy for him. Lisette, the only real thing in his comfortable world of fantasy. Lisette, who wished to leave this place, this mindless, beautiful Limbo. He couldn’t remember all that she’d said, but he remembered the fear, very real in her beautiful blue eyes. She wanted to be gone, she wanted him gone.

“Lisette?”

“Hmm? Don’t bother me, Rian Becket. I am floating here, and I rather like the sensation.”

Rian smiled. “A pity, for it’s time to come back to earth. This afternoon? You said something about the man who owns this grand house. My benefactor. Your benefactor as well. You’re really afraid of him?”

She pushed herself up onto one elbow. “I’m not afraid, Rian Becket. Your lost hand does not make you a cripple. But fear makes us all cripples. I won’t allow myself to fear anything or anyone.”

“Yes, well, thank you. That was quite profound, and you may consider me thoroughly chastened and ashamed. Now tell me again about this man, now that my mind feels clearer.” He kissed her cheek. “You do that to a person, you know. Wake me, feed my fantasies. But now to be serious. What is his name?”

“He is known as the Comte Beltrane. Neuveille Beltrane. He offered to make me his ward when my parents were killed, but I insisted upon limiting his largesse to becoming my employer. He—”

“Yes, unbelievable as it may seem, I remember all of that. But now you’re grown, and he’s looking at you in ways that displease you?”

Lisette pulled a face. “He looks at me like this…” she said, narrowing her eyes and then opening her mouth in a small smile, licking her upper lip. “Like a dog, eager for a fat loin chop to fall off the spit at his feet.”

Rian threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, surely he doesn’t look all that obvious, Lisette. Does he drool, as well?”

She shrugged, again that wordless but so meaningful Gallic shrug. “I find excuses to go back to my work. I don’t tarry long enough to see if he drools. And I won’t see him at all when he returns in a few days, because I won’t be here.” She snuggled back against him. “Will you miss me terribly, Rian Becket? They will send Voleta to tend you in my place. She is fat, and smells always of garlic. And she has this huge mole on her chin. With hair in it. Will you like that?”

He ignored her question for one of his own. “Where will you go, Lisette? Do you have any family left, either here or in England?”

Again a shrug. “My maman’s family disowned her for marrying a Englisher. To them I am English. I know nothing about my father’s family, but I will go to England, because France is no longer my home. Perhaps I will go to London and work in a fine shop, selling bonnets, yes? It will be better than here.”

Rian was quiet for some minutes, and feared that Lisette had fallen asleep before he asked her, “Would you be willing to help me get back to England?”

She remained still for the space of three of Rian’s heartbeats, and then sat up straight, pulling the sheet up over her breasts. “All Heaven and the saints be praised—the man does listen from time to time. You will leave? Break free of this hidey-hole you seem so willing to remain in forever?”

“I’m curious about your Comte, but yes, I think I’ve more than overstayed my welcome, whatever the reason behind that welcome. My father will forward our thanks, as well as remuneration for the man’s care of me. Your care of me, Lisette.”

“But you know that you still need me, Rian Becket,” she said with determination in her voice, tilting up her chin. “I will button your coat if it is cold, cut your meat when you are hungry, guide you when your French fails you. Do not argue, for you know I am right.”

“I’m not that helpless, Lisette. I can button my own coat. And I do speak and understand some French.”

“Yes. Filthy words. They are not enough.”

Rian smiled, remembering the days he would sit with some of the Becket crew who spoke French, and the words he had learned. Like merde. Gautier had invoked that word often as he attempted to untangle fishing nets snarled in the frequent storms off the coast of Romney Marsh. “Perhaps you’re right, Lisette. I only know how to insult the French.”

“Your English victory insulted us enough,” Lisette said, sliding from the bed to retrieve her night rail, slip it over her head. “But I am happy now, Rian. I will take you to your family, see you safely there. It is agreed.”

“It is agreed. I’ve already asked you to come with me, remember? Before you began arguing with me. You could stay with us for as long as you like. Indefinitely,” Rian said, coming to a decision even as the words left his mouth. The Beckets were careful who they invited to live at Becket Hall. The outside world had been given very limited access to their stronghold for almost twenty years.

But Lisette? No one had anything to fear from her.

And he would miss her, if she were gone.

“Stay with you?” Lisette pulled a face again. So comical in such a pretty face. Almost delicious. “As your servant?”

“Only if you wanted to, Lisette. Nobody at Becket Hall forces anyone to do anything they don’t wish to do.”

“Then this Becket Hall of yours must be tumbling down around its own shoulders. Do you all laugh and sing and play the grasshopper, Rian? There are no industrious ants?”

It was a simple question, but Rian ignored it, as he had learned to do concerning any question about Becket Hall or the people who lived there. “Once we’re there, you can decide if you want to stay.”

“And if I wanted to leave?’ she asked, her head cocked to one side.

“Then I would miss you,” he told her, realizing it was true.

“Thank you, that is very nice.” She lowered her gaze, as if unsure of how to respond to his statement. “The Comte will be in residence before the week is out. I told you this, yes? We should go now. Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Rian laughed. “I don’t think so, Lisette. Tonight I want you here, beside me. We’ll leave tomorrow.”

“No!” She rushed back to the bed, climbed in beside him. “They watch in the daytime.”

“What? Who watches?” Suddenly Lisette didn’t seem to be an asset to him, not if she believed such nonsense. She spoke like a child living in a fantasy world, or one who saw bogeymen where there were none.

“I tried to leave, months ago, just before you came here, you and the other soldiers. They stopped me, said I was ungrateful. They took all my wages that I had hoarded, and no longer pay me. I so want to be far away from here.”