French for a year, thanks to his brother’s foresight.
“You’re not imposing. We like having you here. You make my children happy.” And then he spoke more softly to her in a voice raw with emotion. “You make me happy too, although I don’t say it.” He looked into her eyes, and it was easy for him to see why his brother had loved her. She was at the same time gentle and strong, and always kind to all of them. She was fierce in some ways, and as light as a feather in others. He had come to realize that she was the perfect woman. For him, and his children. And there was no one for him to ask if he could court her. “Will you stay with us?” he asked solemnly.
“For as long as you want me to,” she reassured him. He nodded gratefully, and with a troubled look, he left the room. She didn’t see him again until later that afternoon, when he found her in the garden. He walked with her for a while, and together they sat on a bench and looked out at the sea.
“It feels like you’ve always been here,” he said quietly.
“Sometimes it does to me too, and then at other times I think of my father and brothers and my village.”
“Do you miss them a great deal?” She nodded and a tear sneaked down her cheek, and he gently wiped it away, and touched her face in a way he never had before, and then without warning, he leaned over and kissed her. He didn’t want her to think he was taking advantage of her, and he quickly pulled away. She looked up at him, still surprised. He had never shown any interest in her in that way before, and she didn’t know what it meant that he had kissed her now.
He had wanted to wait a month or two for an opportune moment, but he had made the decision in Paris, and now he wanted to tell her, so that she would know his intentions were honorable toward her. He was not looking for a mistress, he wanted a wife.
“I want you to stay here, Wachiwi, for as long as you live, for as long as we both live.” He looked at her meaningfully, and she still looked puzzled.
“That’s very kind of you, Tristan, but if you marry again, your wife won’t like that. She won’t want an Indian girl staying here.” She smiled shyly at him as she said it. She thought the kiss a moment before had been an aberration of some kind, never to be repeated. With Jean she had known immediately that he was in love with her, but Tristan was different with her. He was quieter, and always courteous, but he didn’t show his emotions. He had learned to hide them as a young man and still did.
“I don’t think we should worry about how my future wife would feel about you,” he said cryptically.
“Why not?” she asked him with wide innocent eyes that melted his heart. He had realized for a while that he had been in love with her from the first moment he saw her, but with Jean’s recent death, and her reason for coming here, the situation had been too awkward to let himself even think about it or say anything to her. But now he felt he had to. He couldn’t keep his feelings for her a secret any longer nor did he want to.
“Because you’re the only wife I want, Wachiwi.” He got down on one knee then, next to the bench where she was sitting, and took her hand in his own. “Will you marry me?” And then he added what he had wanted to say for months, and hadn’t even allowed himself to feel. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said softly, lowering her eyes. She had known it for months too, and loved every moment she spent with him, and his children, but she had never dared to think that her feelings for him would be returned.
He took her in his arms then and kissed her hard. They sat on the bench talking for a long time, making plans. By the time they walked back to the chateau, they had agreed to marry in Paris in June, with the children present, and he would present her at court as the Marquise de Margerac the next day.
They told the children when they got back to the house, and Agathe and Matthieu jumped all over the nursery laughing and shouting and they both kissed Wachiwi. The governess slipped quietly out of the room then, and gave her notice the next morning. The children were thrilled about that too. But most of all they were thrilled that Wachiwi would be their mother now, and so was she. They didn’t want a governess anymore, they had her. Forever. And Tristan did too.
Chapter 16
For the next two months, Tristan and Wachiwi rode together, walked in the gardens, made plans, had dinner in the dining room every night, and talked endlessly of all the things they hoped to do in the future. He wanted children with her, but he admitted that he was terrified that he would lose her as he had Agathe and Matthieu’s mother.
“That won’t happen,” she reassured him. “I am very strong.”
“So was she,” he said sadly. “Sometimes bad things happen when you least expect them.” She knew that was true, she had learned that with Jean, and all that had happened to her before that. She had never expected to be kidnapped by the Crow. And she always wondered what had become of her father after she left. She didn’t know and never would.
“It won’t happen to us,” she said quietly. She felt sure of it. She wanted to have his babies. She was surprised that nothing had occurred with Jean in the few months they had been together. She hoped that she wasn’t like one of those women in the village who never produced children. They had been looked upon as defective and freaks of nature. And she wanted to have a child of their own soon. She loved Agathe and Matthieu, but she wanted to carry Tristan’s children, as many as she could have. “Perhaps by this time next year, I will be able to give you a son,” she said, looking proud in anticipation of it, and then a cloud passed over her eyes. “Would you mind if we call him Jean, in honor of your brother?”
“I would like that very much,” he said quietly. He knew that she had loved him, but he wasn’t troubled by it. He felt now as though his brother had brought her home for him, that it was what destiny had wished. And although Wachiwi had loved him, she had told Tristan that she loved him more. She had never really known what love was, she said, until him. She had still been a girl when she and Jean met at the lake, innocent and foolish to take such enormous risks. Now she felt like a woman, wise, and strong, and sure of what she felt for Tristan. She was his.
The next two months passed quickly, and in June, Wachiwi and Tristan and the children set out for Paris. Agathe slept on her lap much of the time, and to keep him entertained on the long trip, Matthieu rode with the coachman. And finally, very late on a warm summer night, they reached their home in Paris. All the servants were waiting for them, the house was filled with flowers, and everything was ready for their wedding the next day. Handwritten invitations had gone out weeks before to Tristan’s closest friends in Paris. Because it was his second marriage and his brother had died within the year, they wanted to keep the wedding small.
The children went to the nursery, and the housekeeper stayed with them. Wachiwi couldn’t sleep, she was too excited. She kept thinking of how she had gotten here, and how blessed she was to belong to Tristan now. She could hardly wait to become truly his, in the eyes of God, and man, and in his arms as well. She wasn’t an innocent girl this time. She was a warm, loving woman and wanted to welcome him into her heart, her body, and her life. She was a passionate woman, and beneath Tristan’s cool exterior, his desire had been smoldering for her for months. Only respect for his late brother and Wachiwi had kept him silent for so long. He was standing in his room that night, looking out the window, and thinking that in the morning, the most beautiful girl in the world would be his.
He left for the church before her, and she came a few minutes later with the children in the carriage. He had asked two of his closest friends to serve as witnesses, since Wachiwi had no one in France except Tristan and his children. The ceremony was Catholic in a tiny chapel on the rue du Bac, close to the house. She had asked to become Catholic and had been studying with a priest in Brittany for the past two months. She had been baptized before their wedding. She wanted to do anything to please him.
Their friends attended them at the wedding, and his children stood beside them, and Wachiwi held Agathe’s hand as Tristan looked into her eyes in a way no other man had before. Matthieu stood solemnly next to his father. And Agathe held her bouquet of lily of the valley as Tristan took Wachiwi’s hand.
They said their vows, and he slipped a narrow diamond band on her finger. He had given her a large emerald ring as well, but this was the one she knew she would always wear. She was wearing a white satin dress that the queen herself had lent her when she heard about the marriage. She said she had so many dresses like it that it was nothing to her to give this one to Wachiwi for her wedding. And she still hadn’t lost all the weight from the baby
