Chapter 19: Léonie - Crushing His Mountain Flower

Hugo sucked in his breath so hard he almost stumbled, white-knuckling the iron gate.

“You’re a liar,” he rasped. “You’re just desperate for any leverage to get to Léonie. I won’t fall for it. I hid Romy’s tracks. Even from myself. I made sure no one in our family could find her.”

“I am desperate,” Étienne growled. “But I’m not a liar. Open this door and let me in and I can show you proof. All I want is a chance to convince my wife I’ve changed. And in return you will have a chance to find the woman you lost.”

I could have strangled my husband. How dare he play with Hugo’s emotions in this way!

My brother-in-law was already shaking his head and refusing to listen.

“Fuck no. I’m not falling for that.”

But looking at Étienne’s face, I had the horrible, sinking realization.

He wasn’t lying. He was telling the truth.

“I have all the information you need to find her,” Étienne said, holding up a pack of folded papers. “Your true love is within a few days’ reach.”

His words were for Hugo, but his eyes were on me.

“You’re a liar,” Hugo said.

“I’ve verified it’s really her. And she’s not that far away.”

“Romy is married.”

“But what kind of a man is she married to?” Étienne countered, and I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“You manipulative little shit!” I snarled, stalking up to my big husband, my hand around his throat even though I couldn’t have strangled him if I wanted to. I wanted to tear him limb from limb so he felt a fraction of the pain Hugo had for years.

Étienne’s breath caught in his throat as my angry hands closed around his neck.

“Choke me!” he insisted fiercely, his hands on mine, trying to tighten my hold. “Take what you need—punish me how you want—do what you need to forgive me!”

“My forgiveness isn’t something to be bargained for! And how dare you come here and taunt Hugo like that! Get the hell out of here!”

My husband’s face was white with jealousy, the carved léger on his forehead standing out in stark white lines.

“Oh, so you’ll fight for Hugo?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I shot at him. “Hugo has always been there for me. Are you scared he’ll take me away?”

“No one could ever take you away from me!”

“Oh, really? I guess that’s true. You lost me all by yourself.”

His high cheekbones under the tan were almost bone-white, and he was pressed against the gate, every tendon in his arms standing out as he yanked at the bars.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing for me,” Étienne demanded.

I took a step closer and looked right up at him, trying not to breathe in his familiar scent.

“You’re right. I don’t feel nothing. I feel absolute loathing for the way you treated me.”

“I fucked up, I⁠—”

“And Hugo,” I added, as he tore at the bars like a panther. “You imprisoned him for years.”

“Léonie—” my brother-in-law said, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder, to encourage me to come away from where my husband and I were in a bitter standoff.

But I wouldn’t let him sacrifice himself for my happiness when his own was in reach.

“Hugo,” Étienne put in quickly. “I apologize for what I did. I shouldn’t have listened to Mme. Truthfully, I was too ready to be persuaded that you were a liability to the family. I was too jealous of my position, too willing to do anything to solidify it. That was the cause of everything I fucked up.”

Hugo frowned.

“You saw me as a liability, yet you came frequently to where you imprisoned me, to get my help with the Bastide business. You are a bâtard.”

“I apologize,” Étienne said again. “Unreservedly. I am trying to make it right.”

“No, you aren’t!” I countered.

How had this been a man I was willing to follow blindly?

“All you care about is manipulating everyone to make me take you back.”

“I told you I would use every tool at my disposal,” he retorted, a muscle throbbing in his jaw. “I will stop at nothing to get you back.”

“All right,” I demanded, holding my hand out impatiently. “The proof, if you please.”

“Open the gate and promise to come home with me.”

I hated the shiver that went through my body at the low, gravelly tone in his voice.

“No. The proof first and then we’ll see if I open this gate.”

“That wasn’t the deal,” he frowned.

“I know, but it’s my deal. And Hugo will walk away from this. Take it or leave it.”

Étienne scanned my set face.

“Who are you, Léonie? I crave so badly to know who you are. The woman I knew would never have spoken to me like this. I want every bit of your fire. Let me in and fuck me up if you need to. I don’t care as long as you let me in.”

“If I take this deal, it’s about Ciel only. Not the two of us. The two of us are through.”

“Léonie, we will never be through. I made a vow in front of the ancestors. You belong to me in every lifetime.”

“I never belonged to you.”

“You’re lying to yourself,” he growled.

The memories intruded on me, the hard but careful feel of his fingers on our wedding night, the way even when he came in late, he would do a little work on the nursery, the way he would shower and crawl into bed beside me, smelling like mountain soap.

And sometimes he’d sing me a little song. Mostly when he thought I was asleep already. Just snatches of old French folk songs, nursery rhymes, lines that sounded almost like poetry.

I ripped the proof from his fingers, my own burning, and I scanned the documents.

They confirmed exactly what I had suspected. Étienne was a manipulative bastard but he wasn’t lying about this.

“This will give you everything you need to find her,” I said to Hugo, handing him the information.

“No. No. It’s not worth it, Léonie. I don’t trust him.”

But I only looked at Hugo, at his kind, intelligent face, the dark lock of hair over his eyes, the way he no longer looked exhausted and drawn. At the ache and longing in his eyes. He at least should get a happy ending.

“You have to try.”

I glanced over at Étienne.

“If you’re lying about any of this, or if this is a trap, I’m going to make damn sure you never find me again.”

“I am not a liar,” my husband said through gritted teeth, his heart pounding through his torn T-shirt. “Never again. You don’t understand how much I regret every fucking thing I did that led me to this. How fucking feral I am to make sure this never happens again. How I can’t sleep at night. All I do is pace the living room floor and think about how to get you back.”

“I sleep just fine,” I said through narrowed eyes, because I wanted it to hurt and I could see that it hurt. “I don’t need you. Remember that. I’m doing this for Hugo. Because I owe him so much and I want him to be happy.”

I reached up to open the gate, and my husband burst through it.

I could feel each step through my chest, reverberating through my toes.

“Léonie, Léonie, forgive me.”

His hands were on my face, searching my eyes with his wild dark ones as he kissed me, and I could feel, taste, touch him after being denied for so long.

But I didn’t want him anymore. No matter what my muscle memory felt like.

So I shoved him away with all my might.

“You thought you were so sure of me. That you could do whatever you wanted and I’d come begging for one single crumb of your attention. But you can’t.”

Étienne reached out for a lock of my red hair, his hand almost shaking.

If I didn’t know that was absolutely impossible. . .

“No, chérie, you’re wrong. I’m the one here begging. I’m here promising you that I’ve always loved you so much. I just fucked up bad.”

I came home with him.

Of course I did. I would have done anything for Hugo.

But my reception there was hardly warm.

Placidie was standing like a beautiful, frozen statue, a look of cold disdain on her face, Faustine beside her, eyes wide.

“What is she doing here?” Faustine squeaked out, and Étienne bared his teeth like something feral.

“What are my wife and child doing here? That should be obvious. They belong here with me.”

“And—Hugo?” Placidie bit me.

“Hello, Mme,” Hugo said in a low voice.

I felt a flame of pride in him that he was meeting her face to face—as a free man this time.

“He’s free to visit here anytime—as my guest,” I said.

“Étienne, what has gotten into you?” she cried. “Why—why can’t you see her for who she is? How can a woman who forces you to shame yourself be good?”

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“I know what I see,” Étienne snapped. “I see a woman who I will go through fire for. Who I will never wrong again. Do not ever speak badly of her or you will no longer be living under this roof.”

“But—"

“I wronged my wife. Even if she’d slept with all of my brothers, it would have been nothing to how I whored myself out to greed and selfishness. That is all. What did I tell you, Mme, before I married her?”

There was silence.

“What did I tell you?”

Two spots of scarlet burned in her cheeks.

“You said nothing on earth would keep you from making Léonie Pinoteaux you wife.”

“And?”

“That you would move mountains for her.”

“Thank you. Let us speak no more of this matter.”

“Your brother’s weakness⁠—”

“He didn’t seem weak to me,” Mano said, with a crooked smile, “when he choked that information out of me and fucking locked me in a supply closet.”

Placidie shot a murderous look at him, but I could not resist a small smile at the expressions on their faces.

“Let me show you our son’s nursery,” Étienne said, ignoring them and leading me down the hallway.

“Here—the crib is finished. And I—laid out some clothes and diapers for him.”

My husband’s eyes widened as I undid the baby carrier and he saw that Ciel was awake.

“My son!” Étienne cried hoarsely, and his arms were gripping the doorway so hard I could see bone through his fingers.

“Oh, so now he’s your son? When you disavowed him in front of the ancestors and everyone?”

Étienne seemed to stumble against the bars of the crib, gripping them fiercely, like they were the only thing holding him up.

“Forgive me! Forgive me,” he rasped, his eyes blazing at me out of his skull-like face. “I was an arrogant fool. An arrogant, selfish bastard. I never meant it to go this far. I always meant for it to end before our baby was born. Always. I swear to you.”

“And our baby has a name. It’s Ciel.”

There were jagged splinters of pain in Étienne’s eyes, the dark color pooled and grim.

“It’s a beautiful name, Léonie. I love it so much, and I love you both so much.”

His fingers were reaching out to stroke Ciel’s head, his hand trembling. “Give me another chance. Give me another chance to be a better father. And husband.”

His chest was heaving, the rain and blood had soaked him to the skin, pooling in rivulets on his cheekbones.

“You aren’t on the birth certificate.”

“I don’t care. I’d know my child anywhere. Just like I knew you were mine the first moment I saw you.”

His voice was low, throbbing with intensity, and I couldn’t believe I'd heard him properly.

“What?”

I couldn’t repress the shock that rippled through me.

“You think the day the boar charged at you was the first time I noticed you? Oh no. . . I was watching you long before that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, although I felt a strange tingling heat ripple over me.

It couldn’t be true. It had always been true that I loved him so much more.

“I love you,” Étienne growled. “Those lands are yours. No strings attached. They’re bloody and barren and free of enemies for you.”

“Well, I don’t love you.”

My husband’s fingers convulsed on the top of the crib and he was unable to control his face, the way his muscles flinched like it was a hit.

“I will always love you. And I won’t stop saying it. I’m going to say it until you forgive me.”

Were the Pinoteaux lands really mine? Had he really killed or captured anyone who might want to harm me?

What would I find when we went to inspect the lands?

If only I had my Gran here to help! She would know what to do with the Pinoteaux lands. She had always known how to manage the family businesses, boldly telling my Da exactly where he had gone wrong and where he was being lazy. . .

That was probably why she had disappeared. Had my father killed her? Was she still alive, but imprisoned somewhere?

I wanted closure on my Gran. That was one thing he couldn’t give me by destroying the compound.

Étienne’s face dropped at my rejection, his sunken eyes standing out starkly against the tanned skin. His cheekbones were so sharp they looked like they could cut.

My husband had always been almost too beautiful to look at, but a strange, wild mountain beauty, the kind of beauty that’s dangerous, because when he looked at you, you could see that he wasn’t tamed, he wasn’t safe.

But he swallowed hard and stepped aside, gesturing at the crib.

“Look what I’ve made our son.”

It was the same wooden one he’d started a long time ago, and hadn’t quite finished. Because he hadn’t quite been at home enough every day.

But it was beautiful, like he had poured every ounce of his passion into the smooth, beautiful wooden curves, the bright colors, even the carefully drawn trees and animals he had labored over.

“Léonie, I want my family back.”

“What about the DNA test?” I asked coolly around the hole in my chest. “Seemed like up until a few weeks ago you were saying that it showed I was a whore. In fact, you told everyone I was a damn whore. That I’d had another man in our bed.”

He flinched.

“Looking back, I—can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe I thought you would just forgive me easily for it. I took you for granted, Léonie.”

“Yes, you did. I always knew I loved you more than you loved me. But this showed me you don’t care at all.”

“You love me more?” Étienne bit out, and his whole body was vibrating. “I’ve always loved you more.”

His voice was low with barely-suppressed agony.

“You put together this whole plot without ever considering trusting me. I had to find out from Tilly how deep the rivalry between our families went. You kept me in the dark.”

“Let me change that!” he cried passionately.

“You might think you loved me, but really you love power. Much more than you ever loved me.”

“After what I went through to secure your hand,” he growled through clenched teeth. “You couldn’t possibly say that.”

“When have you ever not got exactly what you wanted?”

“Sweetheart, I didn’t even bargain. People talk about Étienne Bastide like he drives a hard bargain. Like he could squeeze blood out of a stone. Not when it came to you. Whatever your father asked for, I gave him.”

“Lies.”

“He had nothing beyond you. Nothing of value. You were the only thing of value in that entire damn household. He drove the Pinoteaux business into the ground and he knew what I feel for you was his only chance out.”

I wanted to say this was a lie, too, but I knew it wasn’t.

“That’s why he guarded me so closely,” I said bitterly. “That’s why my brother was always watching. Because they couldn’t risk giving Étienne Bastide anything less than a perfect, untouched virgin.”

“No! Léonie, I swear that’s not what I care about. I love you. I still would have been at your feet begging for your hand in marriage. All I care about is getting you back and being a family again. Getting to hold my son. Kiss my wife again. Goddamn it, I miss you so much!”

If I just looked at him, I might be tempted to think he was sincere, arms encircling me, his dark eyes boring down on mine.

But I knew he was a liar.

“I don’t believe you. I don’t trust that you won’t do the same thing again, if something happens that means you would get more money. Or more land.”

“Never again, Léonie! I can promise you that. Come with me. Let me show you the business⁠—”

“What I wanted was a husband who wouldn’t use me as bait. A husband who thinks of me first and not as an afterthought.”

He stared at me.

“Léonie, I’m not a good man. I’m a criminal, and I’ve been a criminal for a long time. But I am going to be that man for you. The man you can trust. And I warn you, I am going to use every tool at my disposal to convince you to give me another chance.”

I turned and walked away.

“I can’t think of anything you could do that would make me change my mind.”