Prologue

Saint Bartholomew’s Day - Paris, France - August 23, 1572

Andre Raison bolted awake. Sleep evaded him. It was far too quiet. He tossed for a few moments and almost toppled the candlestick holder from the night stand. His wife, Eugenia, stirred beside him. She would be mad if he woke the baby. He gently slipped from under the covers, crossed the room, and pulled on his pants underneath the nightshirt. He poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the fancy hotel counter and eased open the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony.

The midnight was shrouded with fog. The air was humid, stifling almost. There was no wind. Clouds hovered over the moon, letting streams of moonlight through in intervals. Below, the streets of Paris appeared empty, but Andre knew thousands of wedding guests were stuffed into hotels, sleeping on the streets, or making their beds in the palace courtyard at Versailles.

Andre propped a foot on a bench and leaned forward, resting his forearm on his knee. He guzzled the rest of the water from his glass and set it firmly on the floor. Their first night in Paris occurred after the grand wedding between Henry Navarre and Marguerite Valois, a historical wedding between a Huguenot King and a Catholic Queen—a strange phenomenon unheard of in Catholic France.

Andre and Eugenia were young parents in their twenties with a small baby girl of nine months. They had followed the great Huguenot leader, Admiral Gaspard Coligny, to Paris to experience what all the French people longed for—peace. Far too many had died over the past two decades in the wars between the Huguenot and Catholic factions.

Andre sighed. He was a skeptic. He didn’t believe this peace would last, but for Coligny’s sake, he prayed it would succeed.

The clamor of boots on the street below caught Andre’s attention, and he shrank away from the balcony’s edge. Two soldiers from the French guard took shelter beneath Andre’s balcony and talked in whispers. The smell of tobacco rose with the air and drifted past as Andre stood frozen in the night. He shouldn’t listen to their private conversation, but he feared the consequences if they discovered him.

“There has been a change in plans,” one soldier said, his voice deep and mellow. He handed his partner a long strip of white linen and a white cross. “Put these on. These are identifying tags to prove you are of the Catholic faction. They will keep you alive.” He watched as his partner tied the white armband around his forearm and pinned the white cross to his hat. “We no longer have specific targets. Instead, the King has commanded that they all be killed—men, women, and children.” More tobacco smoke drifted upward. “They will ring the bells of Saint Germain L’Auxerrois at two o’clock in the morning—that is our signal to attack.”

Andre looked down between the cracks in the balcony floor and saw the soldier squish his cigar into the pavement.

The soldier said to his partner, “Take your regiment and begin blockading the streets. No one must escape.” He and his partner rushed from the cover of the balcony and disappeared into the dark streets.

Andre flew into action as fury poured through his veins. He must get Eugenia and the baby out of Paris now! He flew inside the hotel room. He kissed Eugenia on the cheeks until she opened her eyes. She shoved him away, “It is too early, Andre. Let me sleep.”

“We must go! If we stay here, we will die!”

Eugenia stared at him. She saw the fear in his eyes and opened her mouth to scream, but Andre clapped a hand over it. “Get the baby ready. I am going downstairs to the stable to harness the horses to the cart. Meet me downstairs.” Andre stopped. “Make as little noise as possible. No one must see us leave.”

Eugenia nodded and got out of bed, splashed cold water on her face, and donned a simple blue dress and shoes. She picked the baby up; the child whimpered. Eugenia felt the child’s bottom; she was wet and needed to be changed. Eugenia panicked. If she left the child wet, she would cry. She couldn’t risk the screams of a child drawing attention to them as they left town. She located a fresh diaper and changed the baby.

She talked in a low, sweet voice to the baby as she hurriedly changed her. “Sweet Gemma Raison, the light of my life. I cannot let you go on a journey with wet diapers. What would your father think of me if you were wet when he held you?” She tickled Gemma’s belly. Gemma grinned. Eugenia removed the wet diaper and placed a dry one beneath the baby, and as she pinned the diaper into place, she talked to Gemma. “Look at this. You have the sweetest little birthmark just here, next to your navel. It looks like a red heart. My gracious, only a princess could boast of such a beautiful birthmark.” Eugenia penned the diaper into place and wrapped Gemma in a blanket. Gemma squirmed and smiled. Eugenia pinched Gemma’s cheeks, making her laugh again.

Andre appeared in the doorway. He waved her down the stairs. “We must go. Now!” She took the baby in her arms just as Andre grabbed her and pushed her towards the stairs. They rushed down the steps and Andre lifted her onto the cold seat, throwing the satchel containing their clothes into the back of the cart.

Once Eugenia was seated on the driver’s bench with Gemma in her arms, Andre walked the horses through the deserted streets, their hooves barely clicking against the cobblestones. The waning moon cast shadows in their path.

They were almost to the city gate when Andre spotted French soldiers carrying heavy chains used to block the gate. He quickly pulled the cart into a side street to avoid being seen. He moved the cart nearer to the gate when the soldiers went to gather more chains. Finally, on the soldiers’ third trip to gather chains, Andre guided the cart through the gates and out into the open fields surrounding Paris.

The fields were desolate, for everyone was housed inside the city gates. About a mile out of Paris, Andre jumped onto the cart and whipped the horses into a steady gallop. He headed north to the Huguenot stronghold of La Rochelle. They would be safe there.

As the couple neared the seaside, the wind picked up. Eugenia held Gemma closer to her chest as Andre coaxed the horses into a slower pace. Raindrops the size of bullets thundered around them as they struggled to make headway towards the coast.

Suddenly, a troop of French soldiers surrounded them. Andre prodded the horses forward, but was soon forced to stop. The soldiers, covered in blood, encircled the cart.

Then the captain of the troop appeared—his body drenched in rain. Amid flashes of lightning, he struggled to hold his horse steady. He shouted to Andre. “Where are you going, monsieur? Shouldn’t you, your wife, and child be in Paris enjoying the celebration? It is not safe here in the open fields.”

Andre sputtered, “The child took ill, and we are headed home.”

The captain rode to Eugenia’s side, bent over, and pulled the blanket from Gemma’s face. He looked at Eugenia and said, “You have a beautiful child. What is his name?”

“Her name is Gemma.”

The captain smiled. “A girl. Gemma is a beautiful name.” The captain straightened and rode back to Andre’s side. “You look familiar to me. I saw you with Admiral Coligny and his company of Huguenots. Am I right?”

Andre hung his head. “Yes, I am here with the Huguenots.”

The captain sighed. “You are here with the heretics. My orders are to kill every man, woman, and child who are heretics.” He hesitated. “I am feeling generous today. I will spare you and your wife. You may be on your way, but you must leave the child with me.”

Andre protested. “You can’t take her. She is my child!”

The captain pulled his sword and placed the tip on Andre’s cheek. “Leave me the child, or be killed.” The captain waited as he held fast to his horse’s reins to keep it from bolting in the storm. He looked at Eugenia who squeezed the child to her breast. She trembled as cool rivulets dripped down her neck.

As if to pacify her, the captain moved closer to Eugenia. She cowered beneath his gaze. “I will take good care of your child, milady. She will have a good home and she will be brought up in the true faith—as a Catholic. I cannot in good conscience let her become a heretic. She will have a happier life with me.” He reached down to take the child, but Eugenia held fast to her daughter.

“Andre don’t let them take our child!”

Andre squirmed on the driver’s bench. He looked at Eugenia whose eyes dripped with tears of terror. “Let them have the child, my love. She will come to no harm and we will be free.” Andre leaned closer to Eugenia and whispered in her ear. “If you refuse him, they will kill us and baby Gemma. Give them the child and we all will live. You must let her go.”

The captain reached down and pulled the child from Eugenia’s arms. Tears of anguish streaked her face. She stared the captain in the eyes. “Don’t take my baby; please don’t take my baby!”

The captain held Gemma in his arms as he reached into the cart and took the satchel containing the family’s belongings. He signaled to his men to release the young couple. He turned and rode in the opposite direction along with his troops. He never looked back as the cart rumbled away into the night, nor did he hear Eugenia’s banshee screams split the air, for he was mesmerized with Gemma’s sparkling dove gray eyes and auburn curls.

Chapter One

Paris, France - 1592

In the Vincennes forest, just outside Paris, near the Fontaine Manor House, two men on horseback were talking in the early morning dusk as a thin mist rose from the earth and drifted across the pink and gold sky. Birdsong chattered in the trees. The forest was just waking up to face the day.

The two men were meeting in secret. If caught, they would be hanged. Yet, they persisted in meeting here each month to exchange vital information.

Raoul Rousseau pulled his golden palomino, Aya, close to his partner’s side. He ran a hand through his wavy, tawny hair. Like a lion, his eyes scanned the surrounding area for signs of the enemy who might interrupt the clandestine meeting at any moment, but nothing moved.

His partner, Nicolas Jansen, held the reins of his black bay horse taut in his hand. “What have you learned about the Spaniards’ next attack?”

Raoul whispered, “They plan to attack Antwerp in two months. They are gathering troops as we speak. Tell Princess Juliana she must recruit as many reinforcements as possible and train them for a fierce attack. King Philip of Spain hopes to catch the Huguenots in the Netherlands unprepared. He wants the Huguenot union of the northern provinces destroyed to let the Catholics retake Antwerp and reclaim the Netherlands with its thriving trade.”

Nicolas grunted. “That is not good news. The crown is low on troops, leaders, and finances. We cannot withstand the full force of the Spanish army, nor can we gather supplies and troops on such short notice. What does King Henry say about the attacks? Can we expect any help from him?”

“He knows about the Spanish plan but hasn’t offered aid to the Huguenot faction. I hate that I cannot be in Antwerp to help you. My orders are to remain in France and search for the art thief that has stolen three priceless paintings from the Louvre. The thief is enriching himself with the funds.”

“Can King Henry thwart the Catholic plan to invade the Netherlands?”

“I don’t know. France is low on funds, but King Henry hopes to discover who receives the money from the stolen paintings. He thinks that one of his top aides at court is the thief. If I can find the thief and recover the paintings and the money, King Henry can supply Princess Juliana with the funds she needs to withstand the Spanish attacks. But until I do, the princess will have to find another source of money with which to defend our country.”

Suddenly, the bird chatter ceased and the forest fell silent. Something was wrong. Raoul held up one hand to silence Nicolas’ next words. In the mist, he heard an ominous, deep-throated growl like that of a large predatory animal.

“What is that?” Nicolas whispered.

“It is a black panther roaming the woods. I heard one had been spotted further south near Avignon. It is unusual for one to roam this far north.” Aya became skittish. “He draws closer. We must leave now before he spots us.”

Raoul pulled Aya around and talked to her in a soothing tone. “Calm down girl. We are heading home—”

A woman’s scream pierced the air.

Alert to the danger, Raoul hesitated. Soon, a woman with auburn hair flew past him, her gray gelding out of control. More screams resounded behind him.

Raoul said to Nicolas, “Take the group behind us. I’m going after the woman.”

Raoul kicked Aya into action. He lay low on the horse’s back, whipping her to increase the speed. Slowly, he gained on the gray gelding. The woman held tightly to the reins and the saddle pommel. Her headdress blew away in the wind, and her long auburn hair flew loose, slapping her face. Suddenly, the gelding halted, and the woman flew over its head and landed on the ground. The gelding, free of its rider, whinnied and ran off into the forest.

Raoul jerked Aya to a halt and jumped down next to the woman. She lay still and unconscious. He retrieved his water pouch from his horse and gently poured water over the woman’s lips and face. It took a few seconds before she finally responded.

She raised her head and groaned, rubbing her head with one hand. “Oh, that hurts.”

Raoul took his hand and forced her head back to the ground. “You must lie still until the dizziness goes away. You have hit your head on a rock. It will take a few minutes to regain your balance.”

The woman grunted as she tossed her head from side to side.

Raoul poured a few drops of water on her lips, which she drank readily. He wet his hands and ran them over her satiny face to revive her and to keep her awake. He retrieved a blanket roll from his saddle bag and placed it under her head. He held her arms, forcing her to relax.

“You’ve taken a nasty fall. I heard the panther cry. He rattled your horse. Skittish, he ran into the forest. As soon as you are able, we will look for him and then take you home.”

“My friends . . . are they all right?” the woman asked.

“I don’t know. My friend Nicolas has gone to help them.”

The woman raised her head, but Raoul gently forced it back onto the blanket roll. “Just relax. You are safe. Your horse couldn’t have gone far. We will find him and your friends.” Raoul noticed life returning to the woman’s dove gray eyes. They sparkled with blue highlights and a smile formed on her face. Her blue dress was elegant and refined. She must be a lady from Queen Margot’s court that was just a few miles away.

“What is your name?” he asked, wanting to test her alertness.

The woman responded, “I am Gemma Marseau and a lady-in-waiting at Queen Margot’s court in Auvergne.” She raised her head and sat up. This time Raoul didn’t stop her. “And who are you, kind sir?” she asked as she brushed her fingers through a mass of auburn curls and straightened her dress.

“Raoul Rousseau, a knight to King Henry IV of France.”

“Ah, a nobleman. Thank you for helping me. Now, I must find my friends.” She struggled to stand. Raoul steadied her with his hand. She wobbled.

“You are still dizzy. Here, hold on to Aya’s reins and I’ll help you into the saddle.” Raoul moved to the left side of his horse and swung himself into the saddle. He reached down a hand to Gemma and swung her up behind him. Gemma encircled his waist with her arms and lay her head on his back for support.

Raoul smiled. It had been a long time since he had felt a lady’s embrace. He had almost forgotten how exhilarating a beautiful woman’s touch could be. I’ve been too long a knight. Raoul immediately resolved to add more romance to his life. He placed his hand on hers to reassure her. Then he felt the ring, and his heart sank. She was already betrothed, untouchable. Gently, he removed his hand and focused on guiding Aya to Gemma’s horse, which now appeared a few feet away grazing in the grass.

Raoul jumped from the horse and helped Gemma down, and then he examined the run-away horse. He felt Gemma behind him, watching him over his shoulder. The horse squirmed. Gemma caught the reins and held the horse steady as Raoul checked his legs for injuries. As she petted the horse, she talked to it in a low tone. “Sweet Brandy, that old panther scared you and me too, but we are fortunate this gallant knight has come to our rescue. We will be home soon.”

Raoul checked all four hooves. “She has thrown a shoe on the right front. It will have to be replaced before you can ride her. Hold her still while I look in my saddlebag for some padding to protect her injured hoof.” Raoul searched his saddlebag and soon returned with a wad of thick padding, a small brush, and some string. He brushed the horse’s hoof to remove any thorns or debris, stuffed the padding in place, and secured it with string. He tied Brandy to the back of his horse and pulled Gemma up behind him.

Gemma said, “I was going to the Fontaine Manor House when the horse panicked. We have a barn there where you can shoe the horse. My friends should be there too, unless one of them was hurt.” Gemma pointed the way to the Fontaine Manor House.

When she and Raoul arrived at the house, Gemma’s two friends, Karla and Angelique, were waiting for her. They ran up to greet her.

Raoul handed Gemma down to them and watched as the girls hugged Gemma. They exchanged stories and soon the conversation turned from terror to giggles and laughs. They whispered and pointed at Raoul.

Raoul smiled at Gemma and said, “I will be in the barn shoeing the horse. She will be ready for you to ride home.” Raoul rode his horse with the wounded filly behind him. He met with Nicolas and together they disappeared into the barn.

***

The barn at the Fontaine Manor House was spacious and clean. It consisted of ten horse stalls, a long work bench on the end wall, and a blacksmith’s forge. The walls were filled with farm tools such as rakes, harnesses, bridles, and other necessary tools used to run such a huge estate.

Nicolas fired up the forge, while Raoul cleaned Brandy’s hoof and used the nippers to trim the sole. It appeared that Brandy walked with more weight on the left side of her right front leg. Raoul grabbed a rasp and leveled the hoof to give the horse a steadier gait.

Nicolas used tongs to retrieve the horseshoe from the forge, and then he hammered it into shape and took it to Raoul who compared it to the horse’s hoof.

“It needs to be an inch wider on the right side,” Raoul said.

Nicolas again placed the horseshoe on the forge and hammered it into shape. This time the shoe fit perfectly. While Raoul nailed the shoe in place, Nicolas said, “I see you met the future lady of the house, Mademoiselle Gemma Marseau.”

Raoul grunted. “Are you sure? She is too beautiful and sweet to marry that scoundrel Fontaine.”

Nicolas laughed. “You’re impressed? It is unbelievable that the toughest knight in the King’s regiment has fallen prey to a beautiful woman.”

When Raoul didn’t respond to the teasing, Nicolas sobered. “You are right. She is beautiful and sweet. What could she possibly love about Sir Jay Fontaine?”

Raoul finished shoeing the horse and tied her to a post. “It couldn’t be about love, Nicolas. Sir Jay Fontaine is not what he seems to be. He disappears from court for weeks at a time without disclosing to the King where he goes or why he cannot be present at court. He takes wild risks like the time he killed Sir Ashton in the joust for no reason. I hate to see Mademoiselle Marseau get hurt.”

Chapter Two

Fontaine Manor House, Paris, France

The Fontaine Manor House appeared decrepit. Gemma, Angelique, and Karla stood frozen before the sad house whose glory days had faded. Traces of that glory were evident in the perfect symmetry of the house—a white, two-story mansion with a central entrance and tall windows on either side. A balcony with an iron railing highlighted the second floor and a faded, cerulean blue roof featured two dormers. The dormer windows were shattered, and many roof tiles were missing. Gemma sighed and stopped when they reached the doorway.

“This is terrible. Are you sure you want to live here?” Angelique said. “I could not marry a man who wanted me to live here. It is too cruel.”

Karla stared at Angelique. “Hush Angelique. I am certain Gemma will restore it to its former glory. It will be more beautiful than ever when she finishes it, right Gemma?”

Gemma glanced over the house and estate. The house was dark and foreboding. “The task is daunting. To restore it would require lots of money. I don’t think Sir Jay understood that when he suggested we live here.”

“What are you going to do?” Karla asked.

“Let’s go inside. Maybe it is in better shape.” Gemma opened the front door and the girls followed her. Once inside, Gemma viewed the great hall.

She was looking up at the ceiling when Karla grabbed her and pulled her back. “Look!”

Gemma looked down at the floor which was splintered into pieces.

“You almost fell into that hole,” Karla said.

“Well, the ceiling is in good condition except for the shattered chandelier lying on the floor, and the fireplace is in good shape.” Gemma moved towards the staircase. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Taking careful steps, Karla and Angelique followed Gemma up the curved stairway to the second floor. Gemma moved into the main living area where sheets covered the furniture. Gemma removed the sheets, shaking off the dust, now she could view the furnishings.

Angelique started to cough. “Oh, it is too dusty in here.” She opened a window and stuck her head outside to breathe in the fresh air. She jerked her head back and started to cough again. “I’m going outside. I cannot breathe in all this dust.” She flew downstairs, her blond wavy hair bouncing behind her.

Curious, Gemma pulled back the curtain and looked outside. “Come look,” she said to Karla. Karla came and stood beside her. Below, Raoul and Nicolas were walking her horse, Brandy, from the barn to the hitching post near the house. They saw Angelique run up and begin talking to Raoul. She slipped her arm through his as he walked towards the hitching rail.

A sting of jealousy warmed Gemma’s face. Angelique was shameless when it came to men. She was always the first of their trio to make a play for any handsome man they encountered. Karla looked at Gemma. “What’s wrong, Gemma? You know Angelique always pounces on every handsome man we meet.” Karla put an arm around Gemma. “You’re crying. Can you tell me what’s wrong? Did Angelique say something mean to you?”

“No. I’m all right.” Gemma took a sheet and wiped the tears from her eyes and face. Her heart ached, but why? Forget about Raoul. I am not free. I am betrothed to Sir Jay Fontaine.

Karla yelled from across the room. “Let’s explore the bedrooms on the other side of the Great Hall.” She waved her hand, and Gemma reluctantly followed her.

Karla chose the larger room near the front of the house while Gemma examined the smaller room near the back of the house. The furnishings were all covered in sheets. Gemma removed each one, shook them out, folded them, and laid them in a stack on the sofa. The fireplace in this room wasn’t as elegant as the other ones in the house: it featured a plaster fireplace with a wooden mantel, instead of marble. Gemma wondered why it was different from the others. She moved closer to examine it. When she unintentionally hit the mantel edge, it jumped forward revealing a hidden passageway. Shocked, Gemma couldn’t move. What was this? She moved closer to peek into the rather small opening. Behind the fireplace was a hidden room. She took a step into the opening when Karla yelled to her from the other room. She didn’t want Karla to see the hidden room. She would return later to explore the hidden room. But curiosity burned within her. She returned to the front of the fireplace and pushed on each edge until the mantel shifted back into place. She rushed to see what Karla was doing.

Karla was standing near the window next to a painting on the floor. When Gemma got closer, she saw the painting. “Look, Gemma. It’s a painting of the original house. Gorgeous!” Gemma looked closer at the painting. “You are right, Karla. This house was gorgeous. I will use this painting as a guide to restore the house. Sir Jay will love it when he sees the painting. Let’s hang it up.” They gently moved the painting and hung it in its old position on the wall beside the four-poster bed.

“Perfect,” Gemma said.

Someone yelled from outside.

Karla ran to the window. Nicolas was waving them outside. Karla turned to Gemma. “We must be going. I see Raoul and Angelique riding away and Nicolas waits for us downstairs.”

“Of course. I will return in a few days to examine the rest of the house.” Gemma joined Karla as they walked down the stairs. “I feel better about the house. It will be fabulous, that is, if Sir Jay agrees. He is scrupulous about money.”

Gemma and Karla met Nicolas outside. Gemma mounted her horse, and Nicolas boosted Karla into her saddle. Gemma winked at her. Karla smiled. Nicolas led the way as Karla and Gemma rode along whispering. “I think he likes you,” Gemma said.

“He is one handsome man. I like him, too.”

“That’s great Karla. If only I were free.” Gemma teased.

“You don’t want Nicolas. I think your heart burns for Raoul.”

“Don’t talk like that. You know I am betrothed to Sir Jay.” “I think you are having doubts. Besides, Sir Jay Fontaine is a hard man to love. Have you forgotten how he killed that Englishman, Sir Ashton, in the joust last spring? He slayed him. That was brutal and unnecessary. If I were you, I would think again before I married that brute.” Karla kicked her horse and rode up to ride beside Nicolas.

Gemma tilted her head backward and took a deep breath. She hadn’t given Sir Jay’s personality much thought since he proposed, that is, not until she met Raoul Rousseau. Was she making a mistake? Oftentimes, Sir Jay talked rough to her and she felt belittled in his presence, but she thought he didn’t mean what he said. He must be preoccupied with his duties at court.

Then she remembered Raoul’s fawn colored eyes gleaming above her when she had awakened from her fall. His eyes burned with compassion, yet his strength was that of a warrior knight fresh from the battle. She closed her eyes for a moment and shivered as she recalled his hand covering hers when they were riding together. Warmth from his touch had made her shudder. Then his hand had discovered the ring and he turned cold and polite.

How she wished he had held on to her.

Chapter Three

Louvre Palace, Paris, France

The next day, Gemma awoke in a guest bedchamber of the Louvre Palace. She lay in a four-poster bed under jade silk curtains trimmed in honey-colored lace. The sheets smelled of orange blossoms. Her head rested on silky pillows as fluffy as the white clouds on a summer’s day. The luxurious surroundings made her smile. Soon she would be Madame Fontaine, and she anticipated spending many hours here at King Henry’s lavish court.

Sir Jay had been too busy assisting King Henry to ride to Auvergne and discuss their plans for redecorating the Fontaine Manor House. He had arranged a room for her here at the Louvre. Gemma had arrived early yesterday evening. Sir Jay had met her at the door and greeted her with a quick kiss. She hadn’t seen him since. He did not join her for dinner or try to sneak into her bedchamber. Instead, he had sent a note asking her to meet him in the Great Gallery at noon today.

Gemma wanted to lie in bed a few more hours, but two maid servants entered the bedchamber at ten and helped her dress for the day. Sir Jay must have planned the routine for me. She rose from the bed and turned herself over to the two maids. After she had lingered in a warm, orange blossom scented bath for an hour, the maids stripped off her nightgown and dressed her in a raspberry and cream high-collared gown, which was trimmed in matching raspberry and cream ruffles. The gown had matching tight sleeves, which ran down to the wrists and were edged with ruffles. A high-necked solid raspberry bodice and raspberry petticoat formed a triangular shape visible beneath the split in the front of the gown. They placed her feet into a pair of raspberry velvet slippers. The maid plaited Gemma’s long auburn curls and crowned her head with a headdress of raspberry and cream lace.

When Gemma gazed into the mirror, she gasped.

One maid looked at Gemma in the mirror and said, “You look beautiful, milady.” At noon, the chambermaids gathered their things and left the room.

Feeling beautiful after being pampered, she went downstairs to wait for Sir Jay in the Lescot Wing. The wing was a grand space with rosy diamond-shaped floor tiles and ivory colored pilasters spaced at intervals around the room. The main highlight of the wing was a balcony supported with four ivory caryatids, female columns carved in ivory marble. The balcony held a musicians’ gallery where the performers could play without being seen from below. Even now, a lively dance tune drifted through the air.

Gemma hummed along with the lute composition as she moved around the room surveying the artwork of the masters. She couldn’t help but notice three empty spaces among the pieces. Where were the paintings?

Suddenly, Sir Jay was behind her, his hands on her shoulders. He kissed her cheek.

Gemma turned to caress his lips, and then she turned back to the wall. “Some of the paintings are missing. I can’t recall which ones.”

Sir Jay stood apart with his hands behind his back. “Giovanni Agostino da Lodi’s ‘Christ washing the feet of the Apostles’ used to hang in this particular space.”

“I remember, but where is it now?”

Sir Jay took her elbow to move her away from the wall. “It is probably being cleaned, or it might have been moved to another gallery.”

Gemma looked back at the wall. “Surely, you know where it is.”

He tightened his hold on her elbow. “It is of no consequence. The maintenance people are responsible for the upkeep of the gallery.” He guided her to a bench in the center of the gallery. “What have you decided about the house?”

Gemma frowned. “It needs extensive repairs—the exterior foot walk is crumbling, the interior floors have rotted, the roof is missing tiles, and the windows need to be replaced with larger ones to filter more light into the house. The first floor and the upstairs bedchambers must be refurbished as well.”

His jaw tightened. “That sounds expensive.” Anger flashed in his coal black eyes.

Sir Jay’s displeasure settled over her like a thick cloud. Should I tell him about the hidden room behind the mantel? No. Surely, he knows of its existence. Besides, he was already complaining about the repairs. She sensed that beneath his smooth exterior lay a cynical and selfish penny-pincher. Maybe he would respond to reason. Gemma softened her tone. “The house is unlivable. If it is to be our home, we must make the repairs.” She stiffened as she waited for his reply.

Sir Jay frowned. He removed his black captain’s hat and ran a hand through his curly black hair. For a moment, his deeply set eyes burned with anger, and then he relaxed. “Of course, you are right. You may make the repairs and decorate the house to your taste, but leave the upper bedchamber with the wooden mantel alone. I want it for my private office and I will decorate it myself.” He stood to leave. “Now I must return to work. I will inform my banker about your plans. He will provide you with the funds to repair the house.” He placed a quick kiss on her cheek and turned to walk away.

Gemma jumped up. “What about the date for the wedding?”

Sir Jay stopped. A muscle in his chiseled cheekbones twitched. “You set the date. I must go.” He hurried out the door to the courtyard.

Gemma ran through the door after him, but he had disappeared. She froze. She bit her lip as she fought back tears. Sir Jay had no interest in helping her plan the wedding. Does this marriage mean nothing to him? I think not.

She rushed upstairs and began packing her things. Was his disinterest because he had no parents with whom to share his happiness? His parents had perished in a ship wreck when Sir Jay was only ten. He found it difficult to express his feelings. Her heart softened at the thought, for her own parents were cool towards her. She understood how Sir Jay felt.

Gemma feared having to ask her mother to help with the wedding plans. She dreaded hearing her empty excuses. Ever since she was a child, her parents had always been awkward towards her. She had never understood why neither of them were able to relax around her. Something stood between them, but no matter how hard Gemma tried to bridge the gap between them, her mother always distanced herself. She must depend on her friend Karla and Karla’s mother to help her. How sad that her family was always deserting her when she needed them the most.

She finished packing and called for a page to bring a carriage to the front of the palace. The page took her bags, and Gemma followed him downstairs to the portico to wait for the carriage. Soon, the carriage arrived, and Gemma gave her hand to the page to assist her into the carriage. After she was seated, she pulled her black velvet mask from her pocket and waited for the others to board.

Gemma wasn’t the only passenger going to Auvergne. A young woman with blond hair waited with her five-year-old daughter on the portico. In a few minutes, a young knight dressed in a French uniform rode up on horseback. The young woman hugged her daughter and then handed the child up to the knight. He must be her husband. How tender he was with the child. Gemma’s eyes glistened with tears. How she wished Sir Jay was like the knight. She wished that her mother would hold her like the young woman held her child.

A wistful sadness descended like a cloud upon Gemma. When the young mother boarded the carriage, Gemma covered her face with the black velvet mask to hide her anguish.

Chapter Four

Usson Castle, Auvergne, France

Queen Marguerite Valois stood amazed at the lush green plains and brown barley fields visible from the window of her ivory tower. Usson was a magical place. After nine years of imprisonment here, the view still created in her a sense of awe. Staring upon it soothed her soul. Would she ever be free?

The rectangular plains led to the village of Usson, which was composed of black stone cottages with red tile roofs. The cottages were built along the single paved road that wound upward through the village and along the cliffs of the volcanic dome to the fairytale castle at the peak of the site.

Queen Margot, as her friends called her, was heartsick and restless.

Karla, one of her ladies-in-waiting came to stand beside her. “Milady, we have almost finished the tapestries for your bedchamber. Come and look.” Karla placed an arm around Queen Margot’s shoulders and gave her a slight hug.

Queen Margot smiled and followed Karla around the room viewing each lady’s completed embroidery pieces. She praised the ladies for their work and the bright colors of violet, yellow, and blue that were chosen to enliven her dreary bedchamber.

Suddenly, a key turned in the lock and a young maid entered the room. She had come to clear away the breakfast dishes. As she passed Queen Margot, she slipped a note into her hand. Queen Margot didn’t flinch but held the note tightly in her fist as her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

Queen Margot slipped behind a large screen used for dressing, and opened the note.

“My love, meet me at the bottom of the basaltic organs. Must see you. Henri.”

Queen Margot gasped, and her hand flew to her chest. Henri is here. She must go. Her heart burned with anticipation.

Henri Guise was her one true love whom she had met when she was a child. They grew up together, but her parents, King Henry II and Catherine Medici, feared the Guise family because they were wealthy, powerful, and favored among a great majority of the French people. Because of their influence, the Guise family often contested the King’s will. Henri’s father was a champion of the Catholic population because of his opposition to the Huguenots. After his father’s death, the young Henri took up the Catholic cause and formed a new Catholic League to oppose the Huguenots. Henri was charismatic and eloquent. He was descended from the great Charlemagne and carried the royal blood of the Capet line in his veins. Catholics viewed him as a hero and destined to be the next King of France.

Margot groaned. She recalled the first time they had made love in her bedchamber at Fontainebleau Palace. Henri had slipped into her room and caught her unawares. He was breathtakingly handsome with his chestnut brown hair and his flashing seductive eyes. His valiant aura was irresistible, and she succumbed to his heroic charm.

Unfortunately, a servant was watching and reported them to her parents. King Henry II and Catherine appeared in the bedchamber and pulled them out of bed. Catherine grabbed Queen Margot’s hair and dragged her across the floor, while King Henry pounded Henri with his fists. They sent Henri away and forced Queen Margot into a political marriage with her present estranged husband King Henry IV. How she hated and feared them.

But that had happened years ago. Her father King Henry II had died, and now Queen Margot’s brother, King Charles IX, ruled France. At first, she and Charles shared the duties of governing the realm, that is, until her younger brother Francis, Duke of Alencon, discovered that she was still seeing Henri Guise. He was concerned that she might reveal state secrets to the Guise family who opposed her family’s rule. He encouraged Charles IX to exclude Queen Margot from his confidence. King Charles and the Queen Mother, Catherine, agreed; they excluded Queen Margot. They treated her with coldness and distrust. Queen Margot felt alone and ostracized.

Because of her family’s coldness towards her, Queen Margot chose a promiscuous lifestyle and brought shame on the monarchy. She couldn’t understand why they abhorred her for having many lovers. Both her brothers and her husband had mistresses and illegitimate children. Why couldn’t a woman do the same? Besides, Margot was a queen now and could do as she pleased, but she paid a great price for that choice. King Henry IV, her husband, had her banished to the castle of Usson in Auvergne. Queen Margot was a paradox. On one hand she faithfully observed the rituals of Catholicism. On the other, she flaunted her licentious behavior publicly, to the embarrassment of her family. Queen Margot’s beauty and sense of style mesmerized all who met her. Unable to leave the village, Queen Margot charmed her jailors and was permitted to see the lover of her choice—if she stayed away from the court in Paris.

Formerly, her parents had strongly opposed the Huguenot faction and considered them heretics who had abandoned Catholicism, which was once considered the “one true faith.” But times had changed. The century long fight between the two factions was tearing France apart. The people wanted peace. Catherine decided that a marriage between Queen Margot, a Catholic princess, and Henry of Navarre, a devoted Huguenot leader in the line of succession to the French crown, would bring a lasting peace to the country.

Queen Margot sighed. How she wished things had been different. She reread Henri’s note. He wanted to see her. He was unhappy too. He had been forced into an arranged marriage as well to keep him from seeing her, but true love cannot be denied. They must meet.

Queen Margot called to Karla. “Can you cover for me for a few hours?”

Karla grimaced for she had watched the maid pass Queen Margot the note. She suspected the note was from Henri. Queen Margot acted crazy when he was near. Karla’s heart ached for such a love in her own life. She would not deny Queen Margot her chances to see Henri.

“Of course, milady. Take all the time you need.”

Queen Margot’s eyes glowed with relief. She kissed Karla on the cheek and, in seconds, Queen Margot disappeared down the staircase on her way to meet her gallant lover.

She followed her usual path down the steep pavement towards the village. The basaltic organs were just fifteen minutes away down the road. The organs were a fantastic creation of nature that were formed from volcanic lava deposits over several centuries. As a result, the lava rock solidified into long pipe-like strips that resembled organ pipes. The strips decorated the cliff and created a discreet space near its base where she was to meet Henri.

She trembled in anticipation of seeing Henri. Her thoughts wandered, and her eyes left the path. Suddenly, her foot slipped from beneath her. She caught hold of a rock and steadied herself and then continued down the road. She felt like a young girl meeting her lover for the first time—foolish and giddy. She jumped up and slowed her pace until she reached the basaltic cliff face. She saw no one. She looked around and walked across the front of the cliff. A hand reached out and pulled her into the shadows.

Instantly, she melted into the strong arms of a warrior. Henri pulled her head back. He captured her lips and pulled her down and laid her on a soft blanket. They reveled in their lovemaking, lost in time and drowned in ecstasy.

Henri had thought of everything. When she sat up, there was a basket of red apples, figs, and chocolates awaiting her. He opened a bottle of white wine and poured her a glass. Between bites of fruit and chocolate, he lavished her with kisses. He whispered in her ear. “I have missed you, my love.” He kissed her forehead and left a trail of lush kisses along her cheek.

“And I long for you, Henri, every day of my life.” Queen Margot kissed his lips.

“You are the loveliest and most enticing woman I have ever known. How I wish you were mine.” Tears glistened in his eyes as he caressed her hand.

Queen Margot sighed. “I get lonely here. Sometimes, I think I would die for the love of you. All the others mean nothing to me. My heart belongs to you, Henri, and it always will. That is, if I don’t go mad first.”

Henri pulled her down to lie beside him. “Margot, you are the prettiest queen in all of France. The courtiers praise your beauty at court, and their seamstresses copy the clothes you create. You should show off your sense of fashion. Have a formal ball and invite the dignitaries, courtiers, and artists to attend. It would occupy your time and reveal your talent. Then you might not miss me very much, and I would have a reason to see you more often.”

“My husband would never allow me to entertain such guests. He wants only to make my life miserable.”

“Your husband, the King, wants to see you. He asked me to request your presence at court. He has a favor to ask of you. I quickly accepted because I wanted to see you again.”

“What is the favor?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“That means I have to go to Paris.”

“I will take you. I have arranged for a private carriage and we will have four nights along the journey.”

Queen Margot leaned towards him, bracing herself on one elbow. She gazed into his eyes as she stroked his wavy hair. “I am wary of the King’s motives for seeking my presence, but I cannot resist sharing four nights with you, my darling.”

Henri smiled and drowned her with kisses.