The Rose Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

forehead and enormous, flinty eyes. Like her mother, she wore a black cloak.
    Black became them well.
    “When Laurent learned of your mother’s tragic end,” Ombrine continued, “he collapsed on the road. Some huntsmen found him and brought him to me. They thought he was dead, but I revived him. He lay in a stupor for nearly four months.”
    “Four months is a very long time,” Desirée said.
    “I devoted myself to his care, day and night, and I nursed him back to health. My own husband . . . my
previous
husband . . . died more than a year ago, and so it seemed . . . perfect. . . .” Her voice caught, and she lowered the handkerchief to her lap.
    “There, there, Mother,” Desirée murmured as if she were bored. “You have suffered so.”
    Ombrine glanced sharply at her daughter. Then she turned her attention back to her handkerchief.
    “I am not complaining. I
told
him to stay abed. I told him he could send a messenger to let you know what had happened and to say that he would be home as soon as he was well enough to travel. But he wouldn’t have it. ‘No time for delay,’” she said, mimicking Laurent’s deep voice. “He was extremely worried.”
    Ombrine turned her gaze to Rose. “Worried about you.”
    You are loved
. She could almost hear the purple roses whispering the words to her.
    “About me,” she whispered.
    “
Oui,
” Ombrine declared. “He was
very
worried about you. He said you were high-strung and not very ... resourceful. He was fearful that you’d let the estate go to rack and ruin.”
    Crushed, Rose slumped against her pillows. The room rocked crazily. Hot tears clouded her vision. Had that truly been his only concern? The estate?
    Ombrine shifted in her chair and fingered the nearest creamy rose hanging, narrowing her eyes, seeing something there that Rose did not.
    “I see that the deterioration has begun.” Ombrine snapped. “Or perhaps it was never quite as grand as he described it.” She gave the hanging a flick of her fingers.
    “It’s not bad,” Desirée ventured. Then, at a look from her mother, she cleared her throat. “Although, not quite as grand as my stepfather said.”
    Ombrine continued, sitting straight on a spine of iron. Her face floated in the dull light, her features blending with the shadows.
    “So. Dear Laurent insisted on coming here with all due haste. He was still so weak. . . . When you were found this morning on the mountain pass, sick and in a faint, he thought you were dead. We all did. It was too much for him. His heart gave way.” She began to weep. “And now
he’s
dead.”
    “There, there, Mother,” Desirée purred.
    Rose burst into heavy sobs.
    “Non, non, ma petite,”
Elise said, enfolding Rose in her arms. “It was not like that. He came because he loved you so and couldn’t wait to see you.”
    “I killed him!” Rose moaned.
    “Oui,” Ombrine replied. “It is so.”
    “Madame,
please,”
Elise entreated.
    “It’s better to have it all out at once,” Ombrine retorted. “And I will not have impertinence, do you understand?”
    Elise pressed Rose hard against her bosom and raised her chin. “Madame, with all due respect.” Her voice shook and she held Rose so tightly that Rose couldn’t breathe. “I was told her father died in the afternoon. On the road, before the search party found Rose.”
    “`Are you calling me a liar?” Ombrine asked in a cold, dangerous voice.
    “She is, Mother,” Desirée assured her.
    Rose clung to Elise, drowning. A tiny part of her knew that Elise was in trouble and she was afraid for her. If indeed this was her stepmother . . . but how could her father have a new wife? Less than half a year of mourning . . . how could he?
    It was all wrong. Everything was wrong. False . . .
    “For the love of the gods, give her the wine, if it will help to calm her down. In fact . . .” Ombrine reached into an inner pocket of her cloak and pulled out a small gold vial studded with rubies. She flicked open