THE ALTERED COURSE

BY:  ROSE CARR

CHAPTER TWO

Awakened by his touch, Richelleen slowly sat up and rubbed the sleepiness from her eyes like a small child. Looking at her illuminated by the flickering light of the lantern he saw that she was very beautiful. He became acutely aware that he was naked under the sheets and alone with her. This caused him a certain measure of discomfort and he felt a flush spread over his face and body. She tilted her head and eyed him a little warily. Clearly she was sizing him up, deciding what kind of man he was and what to say to him. There was no fear in her eyes though, and this pleased him, though why it did so he did not understand.

"Monsieur, you are awake, how wonderful. How are you feeling?"

"Feeling? Aside from my head feeling like it has been split open and not being clear as to what happened or where I am at, I feel fine." Her eyes twinkling and giving him a brilliant smile she said.

"Forgive me Monsieur, my name is Richelleen Buscon and you are in the camp of my father Andre Horvath. We are camped a short distance from Paris."

" Ah, and how did I come to be in your father's camp Madame Richelleen?"

"We rescued you from drowning in the river." Seeing the question in his face she went on. " The River Seine, do you have no memory of your accident at all?"

"No, none at all, how did I get this?" he said touching the bandages on his head. "Was I shot?"

"Oh no Monsieur, your head has a large gash that was caused by a blow or being tossed against something in the river." She went on to recount the story of his rescue. He looked troubled by what she had told him. She waited a few minutes and then ask him if he remembered his name.

"Of course, please forgive my rudeness, my name is..... ah my name is." His dark brows pulled together in a look of concentration he was silent for a few moments. Raising his head and looking into her eyes he said. " I am afraid Madame Buscon, that I do not remember my name. The last thing I do remember is fighting. Fighting at a barricade. How I came to be in the river I cannot tell you."

Richelleen studied his face for any signs that he might be faking this memory loss. She did not want to think he was lying, but she did not even know his name. She had heard of such things happening to people with head wounds, but had never seen it happen to someone she knew. "Monsieur, I have heard that other people who suffered injuries such as yours lost their memories too. Later when their wounds healed, their memories returned. I am sure it will be the same for you. Is there nothing you remember about yourself?"

Frowning he said. "Dreams. I have had dreams of when I was young, and as I said I do remember the fighting in Paris. I cannot remember though who and why I as fighting."

Seeing a dark look cross his face she ask. "Are you sure you are telling me everything you remember. I cannot help you Monsieur unless you tell me everything."

"Yes," he said, he blue grey eyes turning stormy, "I remember my mother dying. I was very young, but I remember that moment. I had not thought of her in many years. Does that help you in anyway?" Embarrassed and made uncomfortable by his sharp tone, she changed the subject. "I think that is enough for now. Your should get some more rest and I will go get something for you to eat."

"Madam," he asked, "Do you think you might also get something for me to wear? It is certain that I cannot venture out of bed in my current condition."

Flushing at the memory of the way he looked when he had fought with Roland, she answered. "Oui, Monsieur, I will check with Adele. She has washed and mended the clothes you were wearing when we pulled you from the river. Your boots may be the only thing that we could not save. I will bring them with your clothes and you can decide if they are wearable." Perhaps wearing he own clothes would help him regain some of his memories she thought. She certainly was intrigued by him. In fact, he was the first man she had been attracted to since the death of her husband more than two years ago. Bidding him to stay put in bed, she left to take care of her errands.

Gaspar had some luck. He managed to catch a ride with a coachman driving a carriage from Paris to Lyon. Gaspar had known the direction the caravan was headed, he should have no trouble catching up with them. A carriage with a team of good horses would travel faster than a caravan of wagons. He should catch up with them very soon.

Roland saw Richelleen at Andre's wagon. He waived at her and started walking towards her. As he drew nearer he could see her expression grow hard and she offered no welcoming smile. "I have nothing to say to you Roland, how can you show your face to me after the little stunt you pulled last night?" She continued preparing food to put in the basket set in front of her.

Shrugging his shoulders and looking chagrined he tried to make amends. "I don't know what to say Richelleen. I am so sorry, you must know I never meant to hurt you. I was just so jealous."

"Jealous?" she said, "Of a sick man?"

"No!" he barked, as he felt the old anger rising in him. "I was jealous of a man you have been showing undue interest in!"

"Don't be ridiculous Roland!" Her cheeks flushed red by her own anger, she went on. "He is my patient, I am nursing him. Of course I show an interest in him, what is wrong with that?." She felt a tug of guilt because she knew her interest in the handsome man was more than just nurse to patient. Still, she fumed, it was not Roland's place to question her decisions about such things. She had made no promises to him. She knew her father thought she was crazy not to accept Roland as a husband, but she didn't care. She would never marry a man she did not love, not even for her father.

Roland saw Andre coming across the camp ground and decided to leave before the argument grew anymore heated. He did not want to get the old man upset. He needed him on his side in this matter. "We will talk about this later Richelleen, when you are of a better mind."

"Save your breath Roland, there is nothing we have to discuss, not now, not ever."

Andre arrived at her side and ask if anything was wrong. She told him it was nothing she could not take care of. Telling him she had to take food and clothes to the stranger, she gave him a quick smile, kissed him on the forehead and left. Andre wished his daughter was not so independent. He was getting older and had hoped she would marry again. Times were hard and a woman needed someone to take care of her. He did not want her to be alone when he passed on.

Richelleen announced her entrance before she climbed the steps back into her wagon. Asking her guest if he wanted to eat or get dressed first, she had to hide a smile when he blushed a bright crimson and ask for the clothes. She placed the washed and mended items on the bed. The food she arranged on a small table next to it. Seeing that he had made no move to leave the bed, she walked up beside him and started to pick up the edge of the quilt.

Clutching the quilt in both hands, his eyes wide with surprise, he blurted out. "Madame Buscon, I thank you kindly for your offer, but please, you must leave the wagon so that I may get dressed. I assure you I can manage it myself."

"Oui Monsieur, if you desire me to leave I will do so." She suppressed a smile, but her eyes sparkled with merriment. "If you have any problems I will be just outside the door." A short time later he called to her to enter. Once inside the wagon she saw him sitting in the chair. He was dressed in the long white sleeved shirt and blue pants. The boots he wore as well. Good, she thought, I am glad they were good enough for him to wear. I would have had a hard time finding boots or shoes of that size in the camp. None of the men she knew had feet that large.

He thanked her for the stew, hot mug of strong tea and fresh baked bread. He began to eat and she noticed that he was enjoying his food and was pleased by it. A good appetite was one of the first signs of recovery. As she watched him eat, she found herself wondering if he were married. Surely he is she thought, a man who looked like that would be married. She hoped the imagined wife was not sitting alone somewhere crying and wondering what had happened to her husband. Looking at his hands, she noticed there was no ring on his left hand. That is promising she thought, perhaps there was a chance for her interest in him to develop into something more. Smiling, she sat down across from him at the table and waited for him to finish his meal.

When he was done with his meal he used the napkin to blot his lips and wipe his hands. Looking satisfied and relaxed he leaned back in the chair. "That was very good Richelleen, thank you very much."

"You look very rested Monsieur. The lunch has agreed with you. Tell me, when you put on your own garments, did they help jog your memory in anyway?"

He started to answer her when they both heard shouting coming from the camp. Getting up and going to the front door of the wagon, Richelleen looked out and saw a crowd gathered near the main campfire. "What has happened?" she shouted.

"Gaspar has returned!" Adele called back to her.

"Gaspar?" Richelleen said. "Is he all right, is Antoine with him?"

No," Adele called back. "He is alone. Come Richelleen. He is telling of his escape from the Paris Police!"

"What is it?" the big man asked. "Who is Gaspar?"

"He is Roland's brother," Richelleen answered. "He and Antoine were not with us when we left Paris. We had feared the worse, but it would seem our fears were unfounded. I will go and see what has happened, please stay here as I do not know if you would be welcome while camp business is being discussed. I will return and let you know what has been said." Grabbing a colorful shawl that had been hanging on a hook, she wrapped it around her shoulders and left the wagon.

The big man went back to the bed and sat down. Heaving a big sigh he lay back and stared at the ceiling. What was he going to do? He had not been entirely truthful to Madame Buscon, he had remembered some things he wasn't telling her.

Arriving at the group that had gathered around Gaspar, Richelleen pushed her way towards the front of the circle. Gaspar was breathlessly telling of his escape and of Antoine's imprisonment. Roland was scowling and muttering various epitaphs against the hated law officers Gaspar was describing.

Humph, Richelleen thought. Though she was no fan of the police she wondered what the two young men had been doing when they were picked up. She did believe they had been drinking, but she imagined a little slight of hand had also been going on. She was sorry to hear that Antoine had been arrested but she knew the police did not detain minor thieves for very long, he would be free soon. She was just glad that the young men were not hurt.

Returning to her wagon she walked around to the back and knocked on the door before she opened it. "Monsieur, would you care to come out here for awhile, we could go for a walk if you feel up to it?" He appeared at the door and squinted at the unaccustomed sunlight.

"Why yes Madame, a walk would be very welcome." He walked down the steps and offered his arm to her. Surprised at the courtesy she took the proffered arm and suggested they walk to the small stream that was just a short distance from the camp. It was a beautiful day, blue skies, not much wind and the sun had warmed the cool air to a comfortable temperature. They walked in silence until they reached the edge of the stream. Seeing a large fallen tree trunk, he ask if they might sit down.

Worried, she asked "Are you feeling well Monsieur? Do we need to return to the wagon?"

"I am just feeling a little dizzy Madame Buscon, nothing to worry about. I wanted to speak to you away from the others. I wanted to tell you that I have been withholding some truths from you."

"Truths, and what would these untold truths be?" Seeing that this was difficult for him, she sat and waited for him to speak.

"I do remember my name, and what I was, I just don't remember all of it."

Her brow furrowed with thought, she asked "So Monsieur who are you, what are you and just what is it you do not remember?" She bit her lip because she spoke more harshly to him then she had intended. She put her hand on his and gave it a gentle squeeze hoping he would understand her intentions.

"My name is Javert and I am, or was, an Inspector First Class of the Paris Police." He waited for the explosion he thought would come at this revelation. When none came, he continued. "I do not remember anything after the battle at the barricade or how I was wounded. Forgive me for not telling you this earlier Madame."

She just sat there staring at him, not saying a word.

"There is more Madame Buscon."

'More?' she thought, it can't be any worse than what he just told her.

"When you spoke in Romany, you wondered how I understood you. My mother....was a Gypsy, she died in prison. She stayed there to be near my father who was a convicted felon. I don't know if he died in jail or not, I never saw him again."

Staring, blinking back tears she started shaking her head. Her mind was spinning away, an Inspector! Mon Dieu she thought, they were in for it now. She could not think of anyone who would support her keeping him in the camp now, at least until he was well enough to travel. What was she saying, they may not let him leave the camp in one piece! This could not get out, for his good as well as her own. Being an Inspector was bad enough, but a Gypsy Police Inspector? This was not good news. She would not even be able to tell this to her father for he would never understand her feelings for this man....Javert, he had a name now.

"Um, you are right Monsieur Javert, this is not something I understand, at least not right now. We will of course have to keep your identity secret until you are well enough to travel. I cannot guarantee your safety if this news comes out."

"You would protect me Madame Buscon, even after I have withheld these truths from you? But why would you do this? Why put yourself in danger for me?" He moved down from the trunk he had been sitting on and kneeled down in front of her.

She took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes so full of confusion and pain. Running her fingers down the line of his face and over his lips, she bent forward slightly and kissed him gently on the lips. He moved his head back for a moment, surprised and pleased by the gentle kiss. Then he dared to pull her closer to him and he kissed her. At first he simply savored the almost forgotten pleasure of a simple kiss. Slowly, wonderfully he realized she was returning his kiss. The mere thought that he was responsible for such a response increased his own desire. Hesitantly he teased her lips with his tongue and was delighted when they parted for him. They stood up together as one and Richelleen was dizzy with passion and excitement. She responded with an ardor to match his own. She moved her arms up his strong muscular back and reveled in the feel of his lips moving over hers firmly and possessively.

When her tongue thrust slowly inside his mouth Javert could scarcely comprehend the feelings flooding throughout his body. He had so long denied himself the touch of a woman. The kiss in itself had been exquisite, this act went beyond anything he had imagined, sending his mind spinning into places so exciting he could scarcely comprehend anything beyond the pleasure he was experiencing.

to be continued. . .

© 1997 Rose Carr

Contact the author:Rosematuse@aol.com

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