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

/> "I'm sure," she wrapped her arms around herself. "I, um, suppose I'll speak to you tomorrow."

He nodded, and picked up the hem of his robe, turning to walk away.

"Claude?"

He froze, his heart leaping in his chest. Did she just address him by his name? Slowly, he turned his head to look at her. She bit back her bottom lip, as if unsure of what to say next. "I never thought I'd say this, but I think I owe it to you for rescuing me. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, please forgive me."

Triumph! It gripped his insides and he resisted the urge to smile. Instead, he merely dipped his chin and extended his arms in something of a half-bow. "Always."

Chapter Fifteen: An Offer He Can't Refuse

"Clopin!"

Clopin nearly toppled off his stool at the force with which his name was thrown across the room. He gripped the side to keep himself from falling off, and using the hand that clutched the puppet to catch the wall before his head did, he managed to do a minor balancing act before setting all three legs safely back down on the ground.

"What is it?" he asked, slightly muffled from the needle clenched between his teeth. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"It's Jean-Francis," Jolie said, the distress in her voice not comforting in the least. She stepped into the room, wringing her hands with worry. "He failed, they captured him, and he's being taken to The Palace of Justice!"

"WHAT?" Clopin leapt up, miraculously untangling his legs from the stool. The puppet went flying from his hand and landed square in the middle of Jolie's pillow.

"Don't be angry with him," she entreated. "He tried…"

"I'm not angry with him, you silly girl, I am worried. If there is anyone I'm furious at, it's that… that … merde, the Minister of Justice!" angrily, he punched the air. If the situation hadn't been so dire, the angry little man might have been something of comical.

"What do we do?" Jolie ran a hand through her jet black hair. "What can we do? My poor Jean!"

"Kill Frollo?" Clopin suggested.

"Clopin! Think reasonably, will you please?"

"If you insist, but it's against all my principles." Clopin sighed. "Think about it, cherie, Jean-Francis left us with everything we need to aid him, should he wind up in this exact situation."

Jolie's eyes widened. "Of course, Jehan!"

"Precisely,"

"I will be so glad to be rid of him!" she exclaimed. "He's been driving me mad, you've no idea! I've been tempted to kill him myself, once or twice."

"We simply make Frollo an offer he can't refuse," Clopin said, tugging at his beard. "His brother's life in exchange for Francis's, seems to me like a fair exchange."

"But how do we approach him? We can't just appear at the Palace of Justice, we'll be arrested on the spot and in no better a position to make demands than Jean."

"We take him by surprise," Clopin answered. "It's our greatest ally, at the moment."

"So, you have a plan?" Jolie sounded relieved.

"I always have a plan," Clopin started towards the door. "But sitting around here isn't going to get us anywhere. Onward, I say!"

Jolie grabbed her cloak from off the bed and threw it over her shoulders. "Clopin? One more question."

"What's that?" Clopin halted mid-stride.

"What if it doesn't work?"

"Shush," he waved his hand airily. "I haven't gotten there yet."

~*~*~*~*~

Dawn was fast on his heels. Determined to beat it to Frollo, Clopin raced down the street, Jolie not far behind. He had explained a fraction of his plan to her on the way before he had picked up speed, but he hadn't explained to her the fact that, should they not succeed, there would be no second chance. They would be as doomed as Jean-Francis.

She didn't need to know that at the moment. For the love of the Madonna, he had to give her something to hope for.

~*~*~*~*~

It had been yet another sleepless night for Frollo. He couldn't wait for this entire business to be over, just so he could get a proper night's rest. He glanced at his robes, which had been folded neatly atop his dresser, with his mantel and his hat resting next to the pile. His dagger was sheathed underneath his pillow, and his boots were resting by the door. Polished, and ready to go. How terribly routine his day seemed to be lately. The days seemed to growing shorter and shorter the older he became. He hadn't kept track of time as much as sunrises and sunsets, trials, executions, and tortures. Quiet time was a privilege in which he had little enough time to indulge in. Whatever didn't demand his physical presence demanded his attention in the forms of a sea of paperwork.

When would it ever end? Would it ever end? He wasn't looking forward to retirement. Dom Claude Frollo was the kind of man who needed something productive to do with his hands, not to mention his mind. Besides, his work was too important. Paris needed him, he would continue to serve God and the people until his dying day.

Still… a change would be nice. Something new to look at when he rolled over in the morning, or just something to look forward to when he came home in the evening. The archdeacon had heard many of such laments from Frollo before, and insisted that it was born of a subconscious desire for a wife and a family. Frollo could admit to having often entertained the idea, but he had never acted upon it. Either he had never gotten around to it, or he could never find a woman he had cared to marry. Both were distinct possibilities.

He wasn't young anymore. It was too late for him to take the archdeacon seriously. A family was out of the question for the Minister of Justice, however, a wife…

There was only one woman in the world who he would even consider asking. And her blazing eyes tormented his dreams every night.

Sliding out of bed, Frollo made a beeline for the bathtub. Today was going to be a long day, given a kick start by the torture and interrogation of the man who had tried to murder Esmeralda.

Frollo didn't intend on showing any mercy. If the man had acted on his own, so be it. If he had not … then Frollo would hunt anyone who had a hand in the situation down, personally, until they were all dead.

When he was bathed and dressed, Frollo emerged into the bloody dawn. His carriage was already waiting for him outside, and the driver was at the ready. That was the kind of punctuality Frollo enjoyed.

"God be with you, my lord." The servant bowed, handing Frollo his cape.

"God be with you," Frollo replied, almost absentmindedly. "Have you heard from Jehan?"

"Not yet today, my lord."

Coward. Frollo's lips thinned in obvious displeasure. "If he appears, hold him here for me. I wish to have a word or several with him."

"As you wish, my lord." The servant bowed again.

Frollo stepped into his carriage, and the servant shut the door for him. He tapped on the side of the carriage, and it launched smoothly into motion. There was no need to tell the driver where he was headed. That, too, was terribly routine.

Frollo tilted his head back and closed his eyes, steepling his fingers in front of him. He had suffered entirely too little sleep last night. Even the carriage's occasional bump and jerk as it ran over rocks and other obstacles in its path proved to be lulling.

Before he knew it, he opened his eyes again, and realized somewhere in the back of his mind that the carriage had come to a complete halt. He waited just long enough to blink the sleep away from his eyes. He had to be completely awake before dealing with the situation at hand. Moments later, he opened the carriage door.

He was taken greatly aback at the sight of his surroundings. This was not the Palace of Justice.

"Where am I?" he demanded furiously.

"Does it matter?" the driver hopped down from his perch and discarded his dark cloak. Clopin stood there in full colorful regalia, complete with the feathered cap. Frollo's hands clenched at his sides and he considered very seriously pulling his dagger from his sleeve and running the impertinent heathen through.

"Where am I, and why have you brought me here?" he quickly tried to assess the situation. If there were more than one of the gypsies, they could easily overtake them. Whether or not they had brought him here to kill him was yet to be determined. He could have kicked himself for allowing sleep to interfere with such a thing as common sense.

Exactly the reason why he had taught himself to never trust anyone.

"As tempting as it is," the gypsy smirked. "I haven't come here to strip you down, humiliate you, and then make you beg for your life before finally killing you. That will be reserved for another day."

"Your generosity is quite comforting. Now why am I here?"

"We've come to make you an offer," another gypsy stepped from the shadows nearby, cloaked entirely in faded black, with the hood pulled back to reveal a fair face, with long black hair that tumbled down her back and pooled into the hood. "Regarding the life of Jean-Francis Troillefou."

"Who?" Frollo's impatience with these gypsy vermin was already reaching its end, and it hadn't been five minutes.

"The gypsy you arrested yesterday in the cathedral," the woman spoke quietly. She didn't quite meet Frollo's eyes, and whatever it was, respect or fear, it merely gave Frollo confidence. They may have taken him who knows where, around the corner, or into the countryside, for all he knew. But they were still afraid of him, and that was worth something.

It also meant that they couldn't be as far from home as he thought.

"And what about him?" the anger evaporated from his features, replaced by something entirely unreadable.

"We've come to make an offer—" her eyes shifted towards Clopin, who picked up where she left off.

"Heard from your brother lately, mon cher juge?" Clopin asked, innocently.

Frollo stiffened. "What have you done with Jehan."

"Nothing…much," Clopin was enjoying himself far too much. "It could be a lot worse. But Jean-Francis begged us to keep him in one piece. After all, his reasoning was quite sound. We could hardly ransom a captive in pieces."

Despite everything Jehan had done, Frollo did still hold a soft spot for his younger sibling. Of course, it wasn't as if the gypsies needed to know that. He kept a face of stone, and folded his arms.

"And you proposal is…?"

"We want Jean-Francis back, you want your brother back. One no-account gypsy in exchange for a beloved family member. Makes sense, doesn't it?" Clopin tugged at his beard nervously, scanning the judge for any sign of emotion, and found none.

"Do you have any idea of the sentence for kidnapping?" Frollo asked smoothly, stroking the cross around his neck. "Much less kidnapping the Minister of Justice?"

"We shall have to rely on your mercy," Jolie said, before Clopin could answer with something heated.

"-But if you summon your guards, we shall know and then your brother will be dismembered piecemeal before