Page 54 of Marrying Bluebeard

I slide the poker back into place before accepting the proffered clothing. “Thank you. That was kind of you.”

“Think nothing of it,” the man grunts, already shuffling back toward the door. “I owe my life to your husband, and I’m not one to forget my debts.”

He starts to leave, but my curiosity is too strong. “How did he help you?” I blurt out, then hurry to add, “If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”

The man pulls off his cap and scratches the back of his head. “It was a long time ago, when I was just a tiny scrap of a boy. I was playing out in the street, not paying any mind, when a cart came flying down the road, horses out of control. They were heading straight for me when Monsieur Bertrand swooped in and knocked me out of the way. Took the brunt of the hit himself.” He shakes his head. “Would have killed an ordinary man.” He shoots me a sharp look. “But as I’m sure you know, there’s nothing ordinary about Monsieur. It’s been over thirty years since then, and he hasn’t aged a day. Curious, that.”

“Curious enough to make people ask questions, I would think.” I cock my head.

“There’ve been a few over the years,” he admits. “But the castle provides a great deal for this town, and people are a lot keener to keep their mouths shut when their stomachs are full.”

“If the town is so beholden to my husband, why is it I’m hiding in your attic?”

“We might keep our mouths shut,” Jacob says, giving me a look. “But we aren’t blind. Monsieur Bertrand might be the face people recognize, but everyone knows he’s not the one in control.” He glances in the direction of the castle with a grimace. “There’s something foul lingering in that place, and the longer it stays put, the better.”

“Something foul, indeed,” I murmur, stepping back as I allow Jacob to leave. The aroma of hot, roast chicken wafts through the air from the plate he delivered, but I find myself at a loss of appetite. Knowing Celeste continues to reign in her tower is enough to turn my stomach for good.

This morning I’d been ready to flee.

Now, I can’t help but wonder if there’s something I can do to help.

I’m still turning the thought over in my mind when Bertrand returns, slipping into the room with a soft knock. There’s a wooden shaving kit in his hands and at my questioning look he explains, “Borrowed it from Jacob. Figured it was time.”

I try to hide my surprise at this revelation. “I met Jacob earlier. He brought me some food and a change of clothes.” Bertrand glances at the shirt I’m still wearing, and I tug self-consciously at the hem. “Figured I might as well keep them clean until tomorrow.”

The corner of Bertrand’s mouth twitches as if he wants to say something, but he clears his throat and turns his focus to arranging the box’s contents along the edge of the sink. I watch as he studiously lathers his face, holding my breath as he lifts the razor to his cheek.

And freezes.

The silver blade presses lightly against his skin, but his hand doesn’t move, his eyes locked on his reflection in the mirror. I can see his Adam’s apple bob beneath the soapy foam, can see the way the razor trembles in his hand. The raw vulnerability wraps around my heart like a vice, and I find myself slipping behind him and wrapping my arms around his broad chest. “You are so much more than Celeste’s monster, Bertrand. You’re a dark knight, waiting in the wings for his chance at redemption.” I press a kiss against his back, willing my conviction to reach him. “I know you’ll find a way to defeat the dragon in the tower.”

His breath hitches, and there’s a tremor in his voice as he whispers, “What if I’ve known a way for years, but I was too cowardly to follow through with it?”

I squeeze a little tighter, my own throat growing thick with emotion. I want to ask what it is, want to know the cost, but in my heart, I know it doesn’t matter. If it puts an end to Celeste’s power, it’s a cost that must be paid.

But that doesn’t mean he has to pay it alone.

“Then I’d say we’d best get to it.” I lift my hand, layering it over Bertrand’s as I slowly guide the blade down his cheek, and for a brief moment his eyes close as he relaxes into my touch. When they open, the fear is gone, replaced by a glimmering determination that threatens to take my breath away.

His other hand reaches up and clasps my wrist, holding it in place. “There’s no we in this, Adelaide.” He carefully moves my hand, placing it over his heart instead. The organ pounds a steady rhythm beneath my palm, loud and strong. “This is my fight. You are going to return to your family or wherever else it is you wish to go. I’ve already set up an account in your name, with enough funds for you to live comfortably the rest of your life. You’re free now, Adelaide. Take your life back and live it to its fullest. It’s what you deserve.”

It’s a generous offer, and one I should probably take. I’ve always longed for independence, for the freedom to simply be me and say to hell with everyone else and their expectations. There’s only one problem. I meet Bertrand’s gaze in the mirror as I lace our overlapping fingers together.

“What if I don’t want to be free without you?”

36

BERTRAND

She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Hasn’t seen the path I have to take. It’s one of unthinkable torment, and I’ll be damned if I allow her to be tainted by even the tiniest of glimpses. No, despite her brave words and good intentions, tomorrow I will go to the castle alone, and Adelaide will begin her life anew. But tonight…

Tonight I say goodbye to the woman I love.

Adelaide tugs on my hand, and I allow her to pull me away from the sink and over to the settee. She gently pushes me down onto the worn cushions, and I don’t resist when she takes the blade from my hand and lifts her finger in a silent command for me to wait. I allow my gaze to travel the length of her creamy white legs as she saunters back to the sink, drinking in each gentle sway of her hips. She takes the towel I’ve left folded there and tosses it over her shoulder, and I watch with hungry eyes as she makes her way back, only stopping when her legs brush mine.

She holds my gaze as she lifts one knee onto the seat beside me, then the other, straddling my lap. My hands immediately settle on her waist, desperate to hold her for as long as possible. Needing to make these final moments together last.

The razor glides across my skin with deft strokes, and I allow Adelaide to tip my head back as she curves it around my chin. Each pass is a chain being broken, and when she sets the blade aside and gently wipes the remaining lather away with the towel, it’s as if I’m a new man. One who could actually do something worthy of this woman’s love.