Chapter 6: Léonie - Crushing His Mountain Flower

“Léonie?”

A shadow fell across the doorway.

And for a moment, one precious and fragile moment, I met his eyes, and I felt that thread pull tight between us. For a moment we were husband and wife again and the rest of it was a nightmare.

“Are you in labor?”

Was it my imagination or was he breathing heavily?

This was my chance. My chance to convince him.

“Running to greet me?” he bit out before I could say anything. “Trying to convince me you still love me? That you’re still a faithful wife?”

“Of course I still love you, Étienne!” I cried, desperation and hope warring inside me. “It doesn’t matter what happens, I’ll always love you!”

I fell into his arms and he didn’t stop me, as I landed on his chest, his heartbeat pounding in my ear, not caring that my belly was bumping into him, that there wasn’t any room with how swollen and big I was.

He smelled so delicious, so perfect, that I could only hold him tight, and whisper, in a voice that was breaking with emotion,

“I love you so much, please believe that I have always been faithful to you! Take me back home, please don’t leave me here!”

Étienne tipped my chin up so he could look directly into my eyes. His were coal-black, darker than anything, framed with those dark lashes and brows, the strong slash of a mouth.

“No matter what happened, you’d love me?”

“Yes, yes,” I cried eagerly.

For a moment he said nothing, his big hands spanning my face, pressing into my flesh.

Then he snorted, and those hard hands were on my arms, unwinding them, and carefully, firmly, setting me aside.

“Your lips are full of lies. I can’t believe anything you say. You aren’t even in labor. That was a bunch of bullshit.”

“Please, I have proof! It was the only way I could get you here, get you to listen to me!”

“Don't listen to her,” Placidie put in as she and Faustine came up on the porch. “She's just trying to manipulate you.”

“Hear her out,” Hugo said and Étienne’s lips curled up as he saw his brother.

“Stay out of this. If I want input on how to handle my own wife, I’ll ask.”

“You're a fool,” Hugo said, straightening up to his full height. “Hot-headed, barbaric Frenchman. You’re so anxious to get the Bastides involved in a family feud you don’t realize you’re the one being manipulated.”

I squeaked as Étienne crossed the deck in two strides, his hands around his brother’s throat.

“Shut your mouth about things you don’t understand.”

“Please, listen!” I begged, trying to get in between the two of them. “Your whole family hates me! Your Mme even admitted that she didn’t want us to get married. The whole thing was a setup.”

Étienne shoved his brother away, and his distance was like a physical punishment, like my energy was all getting drained out of me, like my essence was getting leeched out and spilling onto the ground.

I needed him to pull me out of this nightmare.

“It’s true I married you over the objections of my family. And how have you repaid me, Léonie?”

He pointed at my belly.

“Are you going to tell me who you let in your cunt?”

“Nobody, I swear no one! You have to believe me! Someone else must have messed with the test!”

“I did not touch your paternity test,” Placidie said coldly. “You have not needed anyone’s help to shame yourself, Léonie. But I see that your brother here is sympathetic to your plight.”

Étienne shrugged. “It does not matter what he thinks. He’d love to see me raise a bastard.”

“I asked the doctor,” Faustine put in. She was standing close, way too close to my husband, and I couldn’t help remembering all those days before he chose me that they’d been close, that he’d had an arm around her, a hand on her ass, their mouths meeting in a passionate clash of tongues and fingers and bodies. . .

“He said of course there is no truth to the conspiracy theory. No one tampered with the test.”

“You should ask the doctor yourself,” Hugo put in. “Think about who has a motive to split up your marriage.”

But Étienne, nothing was getting through to him!

“And Mano—he set me up,” I said desperately.

“And for what purpose? What would he have to gain by that?”

Now was the humiliating part. Now I would have to confess what Mano had done, how he had looked at me.

“I think he—has an interest in me.”

“An interest in you? And what the fuck do you mean by that? Stop speaking in riddles.”

“A s-sexual interest.”

My face was flaming in embarrassment and humiliation as my husband stared at me.

Faustine laughed, the tone cold and brittle in the silence.

“You’re delusional. Mano is interested in me. Has been courting me for a while. Everyone knows it.”

“Did you see anything?” Étienne demanded of Hugo.

Hugo glanced over at me. Would it help or hurt my case to explain that he’d seen Mano kissing me?

“I have seen him here, a—more than I might have expected. More than is necessary.”

“He’s been accompanying me,” Placidie put in.

She shifted her handbag to the other shoulder, and her eyes were cold and hard. Your move, her body said.

“I believe Léonie,” Hugo said in a tight voice. “If you weren’t such a fool you’d see she’s telling the truth.”

Étienne scoffed. “You’re soft. That’s all this is.”

“Won’t you—isn’t there any way—please⁠—”

Étienne shrugged, breaking into my incoherent babbling. “What would you have me do? Disbelieve all the evidence in front of me?”

“And what is she wearing?” I burst out. “Did you give her my ring?”

He didn’t answer the question.

“If I had, could you blame me?”

“Yes, yes, I could! Because you refuse to believe me!”

I was fighting panic. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Faustine’s smile was unendurable, and she deliberately put a hand on my husband’s arm, fingers splayed over his biceps. I wanted to fly at her—claw her eyes out. But that wasn’t how I had been raised.

Fighting was for boys and men.

Girls were supposed to be the soft ones.

“That’s my ring. You gave it to me. We’re still married.”

His strong shoulders shrugged, the muscles clearly visible underneath his thin shirt.

“Not for much longer. I won’t stay married to an unfaithful wife.”

My husband turned to go.

“You never loved me! You can’t have loved me, if you’d believe these lies!”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Étienne snarled, pointing a finger in my face. “I gave you plenty of attention. More than I should have.”

“Please, put your hand on my belly,” I cried, grabbing for his shirt, desperate for anything that would change his mind. “Then you’ll see. I promise. You’ll feel the connection, you’ll feel blood calling to blood. He’s your son, Étienne. If you turn your back on me, at least don’t turn your back on him.”

But his shirt slipped through my fingers, like my husband was removing every trace of me, like he couldn’t even bear my touch.

“I don’t want anything more to do with you or that bastard child. If you enjoy my brother’s company so much, let him leave the Bastides and take care of you. But there will never be a place for you again there.”

After that, everything was gray.