Jacqueline came up behind de Guise and slipped her arms around his broad shoulders, resting her cheek on his unruly blond curls. The late summer sun had quickened his delicious spicy scent, and she breathed him in, satisfying some of her hunger and tempting another.
 

“The ladies are doing quite splendidly,” he said, pointing to the martial lessons. “I’m most surprised at young Justine. She never should have survived her attack, yet there she is, ready to join the fray.”

“You seem to be healing quite well too, my love,” she murmured in his ear. “Has it really only been ten days?”

Ten days since Austrian assassins had shot at Louis-Philippe I, King of the French, striking de Guise instead. She didn’t want to admit she was enjoying his convalescence, waiting on him, spending hours with him at cards or games or conversation, listening to harrowing tales of his exploits as an agent of the Sûreté Nationale. His deep, sonorous voice resonated through her whole body. A reticent man, he rarely laughed except when he was with her, but when he smiled, a serene warmth filled her. Their passionate nights of lovemaking had perforce become quiet hours of slow, tender movements that surprised them both as they discovered one another anew. She didn’t think she could have loved him any more, but each day brought more joys and insights that only bound her closer to him.

He caught her hands and kissed both palms. “And before you ask, chérie,” he said, “I did not send Goüin to you. I mentioned the haunted automaton you so cleverly managed that one glorious day in July only once, and that was on the day it occurred when I made my report. I know nothing of haunted locomotives.” He shifted in his chair so he could pull her into his lap for a lingering kiss. “But I can think of no one more suited to this particular conundrum, can you?”

Jacqueline traced the lovely bow of his upper lip that had fascinated her since the day they met. “I yield to your gentle persuasion, my love.” She then added, “However, I would appreciate the assistance of my sister who, apart from her skills at tempering my temper, has a nose much keener than mine at sniffing out otherworldly intruders.”

Têtue, with her heightened sense of hearing, stalked over to quickly dash the suggestion. “I’ll do that, Duval. Her Grace shouldn’t be risking herself in adventure.”

“Têtue, I’m with child, I’m not dying,” Angélique said with a laugh, plucking up another slice of peach and slurping it down. “And I’m not that far along at all. Just because I’ve been sick every morning…” She trailed off, then rallied again. “Although I felt pretty good yesterday and today, so perhaps that’s passed.” 

Têtue frowned. “This early, there’s always a risk. You’re twenty-three years old, not a young bride. You say you’re not far along, but wolf  blood… Who knows how that changes things with us? Most women don’t know they’re pregnant until after a few months, not weeks. You’re already showing. And you can’t fool me, remember. I know when something isn’t right.”

Her brown wolf-eyes narrowed on Angélique, reminding Jacqueline of every time her twin smugly showed off her lupine skills. 

“You need to be more careful, Your Grace. I lost two before I even knew I was carrying.”

Angélique sobered. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

Têtue shrugged in the slow Parisian way that signaled indifference. “Made it easier to leave. But then, I’m sure His Grace never beats you.”