Free La Flamme (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon Page B

and her eyes softened when he lay his head against her shoulder. "This child is a charmer," she admitted. She looked from the boy to the young girl. "He looks nothing like his mother."
    "I see some of her in him, but I do not think she is his mother," Ysabel said. "She is too young."
    "Of course she is his mother. Most probably they belong to some peasant farmer."
    "I do not think so." Ysabel lifted one of Sabine's limp hands that were soft and white despite the cuts and lacerations. "This is not the hand of a peasant. This is the hand of a lady. See the signet ring she wears."
    Marie's words were harsh. "I suppose you think you know everything."
    Ysabel merely shrugged. "I know that there is trouble here." She pointed to the girl. "I must go into the village and see what I can discover about her and the child."
    Marie cuddled the young boy and smiled at him. "Go if you must, but be discreet, and tell no one that they are here. We do not want the magistrate poking around."
    Ysabel tucked the blanket about the girl's shoulders. "Have no fear. I will use only my ears."
     
    Sabine awoke, turning her head slowly. When she could focus her eyes, she was startled by her surroundings. What kind of place was this? It was small and cramped, and she lay upon a lumpy narrow bed. There were brightly colored costumes from bygone eras hanging from several hooks. It took her a moment to realize that she was in some kind of wagon. She sat up quickly, reaching out her hand.
    "Richard, where are you?" she said frantically.
    A soft voice spoke in her mother's native tongue. "So, his name is Richard. We have become acquainted while you slept, but he refused to tell us his name."
    Sabine reached for her brother and the old woman handed him to her. She unconsciously replied to the woman in French. "If you have harmed my brother, it will not go easy with you."
    The woman merely smiled, showing even white teeth.
    "I do not harm children. It was you who placed him in danger, not I."
    Sabine examined Richard carefully. He giggled and pressed his cheek to hers. "He appears not to have suffered from the ordeal." Her eyes were apologetic when she looked at the woman. "It was you who rescued us."
    "Jacques was the strong swimmer. I merely helped him, ma petite ."
    "Oh." Sabine felt ashamed. "I am sorry if I sounded ungrateful. Thank you for what you did."
    Sabine looked into perspicacious blue eyes. The woman's face was wrinkled with age, her hands gnarled, yet Sabine was not afraid of her. "May I know your name?"
    "I am Ysabel Agostino. Everyone calls me Ysabel."
    "An Italian name, Madame, and yet you speak French?"
    "You are English, and yet you speak French like a Frenchwoman," Ysabel reminded her. "But, yes, I am Italian, and was born in a sunny little village near the sea. That was long ago, though, and I never speak of it."
    "Madame, I do not know how much longer I could have clung to that log. Where is the gentleman who helped my brother and myself, so that I might thank him?"
    "Jacques, you will see later. For now, tell me of your family so that you may be reunited with them. They must be frantic with worry."
    Sabine was suddenly terrified. In her anxiety, she tried to move off the bed, but cried out in agony and fell back, gasping for breath. After the pain subsided, she looked terrified. "I must leave at once."
    Ysabel's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you are running away from something... or someone, non ?"
    "I cannot talk about this with you. I only know I must get away from here or they will find us."
    "You would not get far in your condition. I think you cannot even stand on your own. I did not realize that you had been injured."
    When Sabine tried to lower her leg to the floor, she cried out, falling back on the bed.
    Ysabel's face was creased with worry. "I must speak to Jacques, and then I shall return. I believe your leg is broken and needs attention at once."
    Ysabel did not know what the girl's troubles were, but the poor creature was