Free Tender Fury by Connie Mason Page B

she is dead.”
    “Did he tell you how she died?”
    Gabby’s eyes great large and luminous in the moonlight, her answer barely audible. “He said… he said… that he killed her.” Fear nearly strangled the words in her throat.
    “Mon dieu!” Marcel exclaimed uneasily. “If that is what he told you then it must be the truth. The exact cause of her death has never been made public, but according to rumor she had been strangled.”
    Gabby started violently, clutching at her throat, causing Marcel to wish he had bitten his tongue rather than add to her distress. Hoping to still her fears, he drew her into his arms, and when she did not protest, ran his hand boldly down the silken curtain of her hair, coming to rest on the curve of her waist. He could feel her trembling beneath his touch and instinctively pulled her closer, feeling her body soft and pliant against his. Suddenly a great surge of tenderness welled up in him for the vulnerable, young girl in his arms. He wanted nothing more than to protect her forever.
    “Marcel,” Gabby began timidly, “Philippe intimated that you had something to do with Cecily’s death.” She knew in her heart that if Marcel was in any way connected with the death of Philippe’s wife she could never accept his friendship.
    “Sacre bleu!” cursed Marcel. “I was not even present at the time of her death. I only befriended her, cherie, just as I would you. When Philippe’s raging jealousy became intolerable, she came to me and I welcomed her in my home. Philippe soon came after her, forcing her to return to Bellefontaine.”
    “What happened then?”
    Marcel paused dramatically, gazing upward as if scanning the heavens for an answer. “He forbid her to leave Bellefontaine for any reason, forcing himself on her again and again until she conceived. He mistakenly thought a child would tame her, bind her more closely to him.”
    “What happened after she became pregnant? Why did he kill her?”
    “To my regret I know nothing of the circumstances surrounding her death. Because Cecily came to me when she needed protection your husband somehow held me directly responsible for the events leading to her death. Believe me, cherie, ” he said, his face a mask of innocence, “I am guilty of nothing more than succoring the poor girl in her hour of need. Philippe St. Cyr must face le bon dieu on judgment day, not I.”
    “ Merci, Marcel,” Gabby said, “for telling me this. How can I live with such a monster? Your words have given me courage. When the time comes I’ll know what to do.”
    “Come to me when you need me,” offered Marcel blandly. “I will help you, whatever you wish to do.”
    “My wish is to leave my husband,” avowed Gabby fervently. “I am well educated and I can earn my own way. I shall leave Martinique and take a post as governess someplace where Philippe won’t find me. If you could help me find such a position I would be eternally grateful.”
    Marcel’s expressive face grew thoughtful. “My sister, Celeste, lives in New Orleans with her husband and children. They have a large home on Rue Dumaine and her three little ones are just about the age to require a governess. I will write to her and when you are ready to leave I will find a way to get you on a ship without Philippe’s knowledge. I could even arrange to go to New Orleans with you, cherie, so you would not be alone.”
    Gabby wasn’t at all sure about Marcel going with her, but she was too appreciative of his efforts on her behalf to protest. “I must go, Marcel, before Philippe awakens and finds me gone,” she insisted, suddenly realizing how long she had been out of their cabin. She shuddered violently at the thought of having to climb back in bed with a murderer.
    “Oui, perhaps it is best, cherie . We do not want to arouse your husband’s suspicions if we are to safeguard our little secret.” Then, before she could protest, Marcel lowered his head and softly brushed her lips with his,