Inheritance

CHAPTER THREE

If anyone had ever told me that my betrothed would be standing in front of me claiming to be a criminal, I don't think I would have believed them.

I would laugh and say that Gerard La Ponte is a gentleman. He was reared from the finest breeding. After his father died, he became the Comte La Ponte. He would never overstep the laws of our fine country. He would never go against the Catholic Church.

It is a fine institution and he is a fine bred gentleman.

How wrong would I be to assume that fine bred gentlemen can't change their minds about the way they were raised, how they would want to spend their eternity.

"You...I'm sorry. What did you say?" I asked, wondering if perhaps my sleep-deprived ears weren't fooling me into hearing something different.

"Anne Marie, I assure you. This isn't something I was raised in. I never thought I would ever leave the Catholic Church. But I'm here now, and I can't leave behind this newfound conviction."

"H..." I cleared my throat to get rid of the knot that formed there. "How did this happen, Gerard?"

He looked at me for a moment, a strange look almost like fear on his face. Almost as if he regretted coming here for a moment.

"I met a man about four months ago on my travels. He was like nothing I had ever seen before. The things that he was teaching was like nothing I had ever heard Father Phillipe utter in his life. He spoke of another gospel, unlike the one we had been taught but yet so similar, so familiar. I had followed him for a month around the city. There were these groups that had met in secret to listen to him. I asked him to dinner one night in our chateau in Paris. It was there that I heard him speak of Monsieur John Calvin for the first time. Have you ever heard of him before?"

He looked at me almost expectantly.

"My Father says that he was a heretic, spewing things that are not of God." My voice sounded so small.

"I was taught the same, but Anne Marie, what if we were lied to?" He looked desperate. Desperate, I think, to convince me.

"Why would the church lie to us?"

"They might not know it. But, Anne Marie, they have become extremely corrupt. Monsieur Calvin made a point to uncover the truth. He made Geneva a place ruled exclusively by the church. It is a staple now, Anne Marie. And the things that the missionary, Monsieur Roux said, these aren't things that could be considered lies. They were real, and true. He spoke of Jesus in a way that I had never heard before, and I found myself praying to this Christ, to this God. You have to understand that no one knows except a small congregation I had recently endeavoured to join. But they do not know who I am, neither, I think, do they care."

"Why would you tell me now, then? Wouldn't it be better to just lie to my parents, and myself? Say that I wasn't sufficient enough to be your wife? Or that my family isn't proper enough for the La Ponte legacy? Why would you tell me?"

I felt the desperation rise in my throat. I didn't understand it. I didn't think I ever would again.

"Last week after I saw you again at dinner, I met with Monsieur Roux again, and I brought my concerns to him about the wedding, about you." His voice seemed almost strangled saying this, as if it was hard to admit. "It had been bothering me, Anne Marie. I didn't want you in this life, and I didn't want you to be bitter when you married me and found out by some lucky coincidence. You deserve better than someone who would lie to you and grapple you into a marriage you didn't want nor need. He told me that if I felt I needed to, it would benefit us both if I broke off the betrothal. You are loyal and pious to the Catholic church. I am not, nor do I think, I ever really was. You deserve someone who believes as you do, who operates as you do, who's mind works as yours does. And it wouldn't have been fair to either me or you, to marry, and engage your heart, should you grow to resent me for it. And frankly, I couldn't lie either. You deserved better, and well, I don't think that the La Ponte legacy would at all suffer for having you as a part of it's ranks. You are more than sufficient. In fact, I think that I would rather have married you than anyone else in the whole world. But, I can't."

Silence enfolded us as he finished his sentence. For a long time, I just stared at him, my legs unable to move, my mouth frozen in its position.

All I had ever known was this match. To now be without it, felt almost hollow. And it felt especially hollow, considering that I had started to feel something for this man, somewhere deep in my heart, something I couldn't explain.

And as I looked at him now, dark hair tousled, eyes worried, I couldn't help but think of how utterly handsome he looked just then. And how utterly sad I was to have lost this man, to have let him slip through my fingers, without ever even having tasted his lips, or been in his arms.

And right then and there, there was nothing more that I wanted just then, except to just feel his skin under my hands.

It made me almost believe it was possible, that a marriage wouldn't just work, but would flourish between us. And that knowledge made me move a step closer, ever so slightly, and then one more step until I was standing so close to him that I could smell the spirits and the sweat coming off his skin.

His eyes shone with something I didn't understand as we just looked at the other. It seemed we could do little else.

"Anne Marie." A whisper came from his mouth.

"Gerard."

And then before another breath could pass between us, I felt his lips enfold mine, and I could more than see it, I could almost taste the future between us.

His touch seemed soft at first, as if he was almost scared of breaking me. His left hand came to cup my face while the other came around my waist, pulling me closer.

I could feel a slight tingle in my lips, and I could feel the warmth of his body through my shift, and through his jacket and shirt.

With each move of his lips, I felt myself give in more and more, and almost desperate for more of it, more of him.

My hands found themselves in his hair, and a noise escaped my lips that seemed almost strange to me, foreign.

A whimper.

And I knew that this would be the complete and utter death of me. He would be the death of me if I could not feel this feeling, this tugging at my heart again.

And as if he felt this feeling too, this longing for more of this, I felt something wet on my own cheek. A tear.

Pulling my lips from his own, I looked into his eyes, still closed and cupped the side of his face.

"Gerard." I whispered, my mouth sounding raspy.

"Anne Marie."

And then his eyes opened, and the pain there nearly killed me.

***
If you liked this chapter, please hit the star button to show your support ♥️