This Burning Desire by Joslinne Morgan (the gingerbread man read aloud TXT) 📖

discovers the body, and leave Paris as soon as I am able until things are safe for me to return. It's as simple as that. If I fail…"

"If you fail, and you are carted off to the dungeon, then you are going to use him," Clopin gestured grandly to the unconscious lump on the floor. "As a bargaining chip. I applaud your reasoning."

Jolie seemed a bit more upset over the chances that he might succeed. "You're leaving?" she asked, obviously not in favor of the idea.

"Only for a while," He promised, grasping her hands.

"Take me with you,"

"I can't," he shook his head. "It's far too dangerous, you've no idea what can happen to a woman wandering unprotected on the road."

"You'd protect me," she insisted.

"Should anything happen to you, I would never forgive myself…"

"Leave me, and I'll never forgive you!" she exclaimed, her eyes bright with tears that threatened to spill over and down her cheeks. "I swear by all I hold dear, Jean-Francis, if you leave me now, then I will never speak to you again!"

"Ouch," Clopin winced. "I have to agree with her, Francis. After all, from what you tell me on your last endeavor, your leaving will be just as risky as your staying."

"I'll just avoid Auvergne," Jean-Francis said. "Simple as that."

"And go where?" Clopin lifted an eyebrow.

"I don't know," Jean-Francis said, exasperated. "I have no other options."

"Lie low," Jolie insisted. "Stay here with me, if you must. Alternate every few weeks with myself and Clopin. As soon as it all blows over, you can resume your former career."

"It's not as easy as all that! They'll be turning over every rock and peering in every crack in the road to see if they can catch even a hint of gypsy whereabouts. You'll be persecuted no matter where you go."

"We're persecuted anyway," Clopin pointed out. "This makes not much of a difference."

"Please stay," Jolie took his hand and kissed it tenderly, rubbing it against her cheek and staring at him with large, woeful eyes. His resolve obviously weakening, Jean-Francis collapsed onto the bed and threw an arm over his eyes, groaning.

"Woman," he said under his breath. "You'll be the death of me."

"I'm glad that settled," Clopin said merrily. "Now, the question begs, what do we do with him?" he pointed at Jehan.

"The closet?" Jolie suggested.

"Until he wakes up? He needs to be somewhere where he won't disturb your clients with his whining."

"Hmm," she furrowed her brow. "I'll have to think about that one. How long do we have before he wakes up?"

"I'm not sure, I hit him pretty hard."

"We'll figure something out," Jolie crossed her legs and shot a triumphant smile over her shoulder at Clopin. "I told you I'd get him to stay!"

"Were you two betting on whether or not Jolie could convince me to stay?" Jean-Francis sat up and demanded, slightly miffed.

"I told her if she couldn't convince you, there wasn't a soul alive who could." Clopin confirmed without a hint of remorse. "And she convinced you, so now I owe her a kiss."

"A copper piece," she giggled. "But a kiss will be a nice start."

Clopin leaned forward, and gave her a playful peck on the lips. Jean-Francis was completely unaware of the scowl on his features until Jolie turned to him, a playful look on her face.

"Oh, don't be so dour. You get one too." She said, placing a hand on the back of his neck and pulling him forward into a heated, passionate kiss.

Neither of them said anything further on the subject of arrests and assassinations, even though they were both well aware of the very real possibility that this could be their last day together.

Chapter Fourteen: The Hour of Midnight

Esmeralda was getting worried. It was nearly five minutes past midnight, and her dashing suitor had not yet managed to show up. She thought she had heard something, several seconds earlier, but it turned out to be apparently nothing more than her imagination. As each passing minute dragged by, she began to get more and more suspicious that he intended to make a fool out of her.

Just when she was about to give up and head back towards the bell tower, she felt a hand touch her arm. Forcing herself to be calm, she glanced over shoulder, and found herself face to face with the handsome suitor of the night before.

"Sir Sebastian," she said, keeping tone on icy calm. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to show."

"Begging your pardon for my tardiness, of course." He kissed her hand apologetically. "I got caught up in some business. But now I am here and, I can assure you, entirely yours for the evening."

"Well," she replied with a smile, as she folded into his arms. "I suppose, then, that I can forgive you."

"My heart leaps with joy," he replied, before pulling her into a passionate kiss.

From the shadows nearby, Frollo clutched the cross around his neck. God forbid they act upon instinct then and there … he intended to arrest this fop before the evening was over, and definitely before they could begin! The sight of beautiful Esmeralda's face, so lit up and … adoring… was more than he could bear. Yet, he could not tear his eyes away from the scene.

She will be yours, he reminded himself. Just be patient.

Jean-Francis and Esmeralda continued to kiss for a long moment. When she finally pulled away, she said quietly, "We're in the middle of a church."

"So?" Jean-Francis smiled. "You were more than eager last night. And we were closer to the door, then."

"Yes, but if we're seen…"

"We shall not be, never fear." Silently, he was berating himself. Don't drag this out more than you must, idiot! Just kill the girl already! "Although, before we get any further, I must admit I have not been … entirely honest with you."

"Oh?" she asked, pulling slightly away. "What haven't you told me?"

"It's more of what I have told you," he said.

"You're not Captain of the Guard?"

"Oh no, I am." He replied. "That at least is true … for the moment. I have a feeling that after tonight the position will no longer be open to me."

"Why?" she pressed. "What are you going to do?"

"I lied about my name," He continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "It's not really Sebastian Montagiu."

"Then what is it?"

"It's Jean-Francis Troillefou," his voice became very grim as he let the words sink in. Realization dawned on her face, and she tried to break away from his hold entirely, but it was too late. His arms were locked in an iron grip around her waist, and she was trapped.

"Clopin…" she began, and trailed off.

"His cousin," he returned. "I have been sent by him to bring this message." He cleared his throat, pausing for dramatic effect. "For the act of betrayal most vile to those who once she held so dear, I hereby sentence you, La Esmeralda, to death." His hand traveled up to her neck, his one arm still locked around her waist, and his fingers slipped around her slender throat. "I am sorry, my dear. I wish I had known you before you turned traitor." With that, his thumb pressed down into her windpipe. Esmeralda choked, and she began to struggle, but it was to no avail. Frollo's grip on his cross grew even tighter, and he motioned to the handful of men at his side. Sanctuary be damned. This man was trying to kill Esmeralda, and Frollo had no intention of standing by and allowing it to happen.

The edges of her vision were beginning to darken, and Esmeralda knew that that wasn't a good sign. Soon she would pass out from lack of air altogether, and then her assassin would make short work of her. She stared into her assassin's face and took in everything. The angelic face, the tight gold curls, the bright blue eyes … perhaps … perhaps for a short time she had pretended that he was Phoebus. Her beloved Phoebus, whom she had only known for a short time, but it felt as if she had known him forever. Phoebus who she knew now lay cold in the grave that should be hers. If she hadn't been concentrating so hard on breathing, she might have been crying, but tears were second priority at the moment.

She was giving in to unconsciousness, to the black oblivion that was beckoning so welcomingly to her. As she slipped towards the darkness, her last thought would be on Phoebus. After all, she imagined, his last thought must have been her.

Before she could give in, Jean-Francis suddenly released his hold on both her throat and her waist. Collapsing to the ground, Esmeralda gasped for breath, clutching at her throat and using her free hand to prop herself up. Jean-Francis staggered back, blood blossomed on his white linen shirt, which now sported an angry gash.

"Mon dieu!" he sounded quite exasperated. He placed his fingers to the wound, and they came back bloody. "You've ruined my best shirt."

The sudden coldness of steel against hot skin was startling as the tip of a dagger touched the back of his neck.

"I urge you not to run," Frollo hissed. "There are guards at every door and no means of escape."

"You missed your chance, Minister." Jean-Francis replied, freezing in place. "You could have killed me by now."

"I've no wish to kill you, yet." After an agonizing minute that seemed to last an age, the dagger was removed, and with a sharp gesture, the handful of guards grabbed Jean-Francis by either of his arms, twisting them around his back and binding his hands with a coarse rope. Frollo slid the dagger back into his sleeve and turned to Esmeralda, who was still lying on the floor, the shock of what had just happened had passed within moments, and she was trembling like a frightened bird.

"Are you hurt?" Frollo spoke as if asking her what she thought about the weather.

"I'm fine," she spoke, her voice slightly hoarse. He extended one pale hand, and without hesitation, she grasped it in her own. The contact sent a shiver running up and down his spine, and he pulled her to her feet. The anger burned in him anew as he turned to face Jean-Francis.

"Take him to the Palace of Justice," he commanded guards, who obeyed immediately and without question. Jean-Francis twisted his head to glance over his shoulder, and shot Frollo a dark look.

"You wait, Minister." He tried to sound flippant, but there was obvious pain in his voice. "I am going to make you an offer that I doubt you can refuse. But only if you're interested." He laughed, and one of the guards smacked him on the head with a gauntleted hand before dragging him out of the cathedral.

"Did he hurt you badly?" Frollo asked, turning back to Esmeralda.

"Not too badly," she managed a smile. "I can still breathe, that in as of itself is a blessing."

"God is merciful,"

"Indeed," she muttered.

There was a long moment of awkward silence, shattered when Frollo cleared his throat and adjusted his hat.

"Well, if you're not hurt-"

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"-I have some business to attend to."