War Zone

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

She knew that he spoke the truth, but it was impos sible to answer him for his mouth was on hers and his arms held her so tightly that he seemed to squeeze the very breath from her.

She had been content to rest her head against his shoulder, to feel his passion sweep over her like a flood-tide, leaving her limp, exhausted and happy be yond expression.

But now she found herself wondering about him. Where had he lived? What had he done? Whom did he know?

It was not that she was curious in any social sense, as the Duchess might have been. It mattered not wheth er Armand de Ségury's father was a blacksmith or a prince, she would still love him.

If she was curious, it was because everything about him was dear and precious to her. There was nothing too trivial that she would not treasure about him, there was nothing too great or too important that she would not want to share it.

Suddenly there was a snapping of a twig as if a foot had stepped on it, the rustle of someone approaching, and instantly the colour came to Rêve's cheeks as she

was on her feet, her heart beating wildly. Armand was coming to her. Her eyes searched the shadows of the trees along the narrow path by which he

had come to the Temple the two previous evenings. But there was no one in sight. Then, as she looked for him, believing that any sec

ond would reveal his tall figure, a voice spoke from behind her. Startled, she turned round and to her as tonishment saw that it was not Armand who stood there but another man.

He was young and fashionably dressed, and in his own way was not without good looks, but to Réve, disconcerted and half alarmed by his unexpected appearance, he appeared both evil and menacing. "Rêve de Valmont?" the stranger inquired, and she noted that he had bold dark eyes which looked her

Although she was taken by surprise, her voice was perfectly cool and steady as she replied coldly:

over appraisingly.

"I am the Comtesse Rêve de Valmont." "I was told at the Château I should find you the newcomer said, "but let me introduce myself. I am here,

Paul de Frémond."

"Indeed! And you desired to see me?"

Rêve had for the moment no recollection of having heard the name before. She was wondering what she should do. At any moment Armand might arrive and find this unexpected visitor. "Indeed I had an urgent desire to see you, little

Rêve,"

Rêve raised her eyebrows. "Might I inquire, Monsieur, why you presume to ad

dress me in such familiar terms?"

"You may indeed," Paul de Frémond replied, "and when you hear my answer you will understand. I have heard you spoken of so often that I feel I have known you for a long time." "Spoken of by whom?" Rêve inquired, bewildered.

"By your step-brother, Armand d'Augeron." "" "My brother! Then he has arrived at the Château?" Paul de Frémond shook his head. "Let us sit down, for I have a long story to tell you."

"Perhaps, Monsieur, it would be wise to return to the Château," Rêve suggested, but the stranger answered quickly: "No, I would rather talk here. I need no audience

for what I have to impart."

Rêve would have protested, the words were on her lips, then she decided to be silent. Perhaps this new comer would say what he had say quickly and go. She disliked and distrusted him on sight and her instinct warned her to be careful. He had a bumptious, almost buccaneer air about him; and his eyes wandered from her face to her low cut evening gown, felt as if she were mentally undressed, and she flushed at his impertinence.

She seated herself on the cushion which she had just vacated, and he sat down beside her, stretching out his legs in a manner which proclaimed him to be irritating ly at his ease.

Indeed there was, Rêve felt, almost an insolence in the way he made himself comfortable, in the bold man ner in which his eyes appraised her and in the faint smile on his thick lips.

The very tone of familiarity in which he addressed her was an insult, and yet there was nothing she could say, nothing she could do but wait until he revealed the reason for his visit.

"A charming spot," he said at length condescending ly.

"You have something to tell me, Monsieur," Rêve

prompted. "A lot, my dear," he replied, "but first let me explain who I am. I am your brother's greatest friend and his companion these past five years. We have lived together, hunted together, drunk together, and if any man knew your brother, it is I."

"Then my brother sent you ahead to tell us of his

arrival?" Rêve asked. "We have been expecting him

these past two months."

Paul de Frémond looked away from her for a mo

ment, then once again his eyes sought hers. "Your half-brother is dead, little Rêve."

"Dead!"

Rêve repeated the word almost tonelessly. For the moment she could hardly take in the meaning of what he said. It was so unexpected. Almost with a sense of re lief she realised that she felt nothing, not even a sense of shock at this announcement.

"Yes, dead," Paul de Frémond repeated. "He died a fortnight ago in Amsterdam. We were staying there for a few days while our horses rested. We have taken, I must admit, a somewhat long time to reach here, but your half-brother had a considerable zest for life. He denied himself little, and if a place was amusing and its women pretty, he saw no reason to hurry his de parture."

Rêve's lips tightened for a moment and she said

quietly:

"Kindly tell me exactly what happened and the cause

of my brother's death." "If you are not too squeamish to hear it." Paul de Frémond gave a short vulgar laugh which

echoed across the lake, seeming to shatter the peace

like a violent blow. "I would like to hear the truth," Rêve said steadily.

"Well, I was never one to mince words," he replied. "We were staying in Amsterdam and your brother became enamoured with a certain lady whose name would mean nothing to you. She was, in fact, the wife of a respected Burgomaster. She was pretty enough, but hardly to my taste.

"Anyway, your half-brother courted her and I can assure you she was not loth to be courted, very much to the contrary. Her husband was away on business, so she told us, supplying Napoleon's army with boots. In his absence we gave a party in his house.