Chapter Two

ADALENE TURNED to her mother as more protests erupted from Louis.

“She isn’t going to be a willing wife, Rene! See that?! I told you I wanted a wife who knows how to please a man! Have you given me a virgin?”

“What?” her mother hissed beside her husband. “What does he mean? Of course, my daughter is a virgin! Rene, tell him we’re not going through with this arrangement. Rene!” her mother asked her husband in the ugliest voice she had ever used on him.

“We need the money for the fields, Mama!” her father protested.

“Oh, you stupid…”

“You cannot back down. I have already handed over the bride token,” Louis Didier protested, and turned to the priest to hasten with the ceremony.

She held on to her mother for dear life, so engrossed in the horrible unfolding of her worst nightmare that she was not aware of new voices amongst the crowd—male baritones that were certainly not those of her relatives. One voice was most authoritative of them all. Her mother began to tremble as she held her, muttering unintelligible words that she was only able to understand in the end.

“The Baron. The Baron’s here. Ah, la vache! He’s really here!”

The Baron?

Adalene turned and saw huge horses, bigger than any horse she had ever seen in the fields. And there were equally daunting men riding them. They all looked formidable—men and beasts—wearing the coat of arms of the Baron.

As she adjusted her eyes to the height of the man atop a black stallion in front of the procession, she instinctively felt he would be the one to look out for. He was talking in low tones to one of her uncles. He was the owner of the voice she heard while she cried.

Baron Fabian Deschamps wore a blue surcoat over a gray shirt. She could see his leather boots as they rested on the stirrup, of high quality and so finely crafted. His surcoat was simply cut but it was obvious that expert hands sewed it. Sewing, embroidery, and weaving were the activities that Adalene most enjoyed, and on the few occasions when the aristocracy deigned to venture out to visit the village, all she could notice were the expensive clothes and how beautifully they fit their owners. She attributed this more to the seamstress’ craftsmanship than to any other, and she had wished she could acquire the same skill one day. It was her greatest dream.

But she only had seconds to notice the Baron’s clothes because the man himself was more magnetic.

He had the widest shoulders and broadest chest, as if he worked hard labor all the time like the men here in the fields. The rich did not look that broad, or what she could remember of them, which was reasonable because they had many servants doing the hard work for them.

The Baron looked very manly. When she dared look at his face, she beheld a very handsome man. No wonder she heard excited murmurs from the women around her.

But it was his eyes, coppery and light enough that they were almost gold. They were as piercing as a cat’s eyes but were also strangely kind. She did not know she was stupidly staring at him until her mother poked at her ribs and she hastily brought her eyes down.

She had not ever seen such a handsome face! She felt her face getting hot.

She became aware of Louis complaining in his wheezy voice to the Baron about how her father had played him for a fool that he paid a price for a bride that did not appear to be what was promised. And it appeared she would not continue with the marriage now that the money was in her pere’s greedy hands!

She was doomed. One look at her and the Baron would know she was indeed resisting her marriage. She still had tears on her face. She had not even realized that Louis had been holding on to her shoulders, frozen from prying her away from her mother.

What sight must they look!