Bitter Destiny: Du Cormier Saga, #1

By Heather Osborne

Having fled tumultuous post-Revolution France, Arnaud and Marie du Grace are desperate to uncover fresh beginnings in the Louisiana territory. However, unbeknownst to them, someone is striving to do anything in his power to destroy their new-found fortune and happiness, and lay bare the secrets of their past.

Bitter Destiny is the prequel to Bitter Bonds and Divided Destiny, part of the Du Cormier Saga.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heather Osborne
• Release date: Jul 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393628354

Book preview

Dedication

Dedicated to Leona Ray, who never stopped asking for more!

Chapter One

JUNE 1799

Mid Atlantic Ocean

Arnaud stood at the railing of the ship, watching the waves crest and fall. The tension rose in his temples, brow furrowing at what was yet to come. Escape had not been easy to arrange, having been left orphaned and the only remaining member of his family.

Silently, he cursed his father’s loyalties to the French monarchy. If not for Philippe’s stubbornness, he might have still been alive. If only he had had the forethought to listen to his son, yet, Arnaud understood why that would have been seen as beneath him. He had been just a child when the Revolution had begun, sixteen and on the cusp of manhood when Louis XVI had been executed by the revolutionaries. Still, his father had hoped, until the day they had arrived to take him.

Arnaud thought of his mother, Adrianna, pale, fair, fainting at the men dragging her dear husband away. The day they had announced he, too, would be executed for crimes against the French people, she had slipped into silent illness, never to wake. Arnaud had been dragged before a tribunal, but had been deemed too young to have participated in his father’s treachery.

He sighed, remembering a final visit with his father. His father had whispered of hidden assets, namely a plantation in the Louisiana territory. He had told Arnaud where to find the deeds and proof of his claim. The following day, Philippe had lost his head. The day after that, Arnaud’s mother had died—some said of a broken heart.

The properties of the family had been due to be seized and Arnaud had acted swiftly, securing passage to England on the next available ship. He had gathered what he could and fled.

Closing his eyes against the wind whipping off the waves, Arnaud willed himself not to cry. To show weakness now would be the end of him and his strength would give, like that of his dear mother.

Mon coeur? Marie’s gentle touch on his arm roused him from his misery. His beautiful young bride. She, too, had been orphaned during the Revolution.

Arnaud gathered her close to his side, reveling in the soft press of her breasts into his chest, the touch of her hand encircling his waist. Oui, ma petite?

What will your plantation be like?

I’m not sure. My father never spoke of it. In fact, I did not know it existed until he told me that night in prison. It seems he had been preparing for our flight after all. Arnaud pressed his lips to her brow. There had been just enough jewels and money to pay for this journey.

She angled her head up, and he indulged himself in a lingering kiss. So sweet and so trusting. He adored her with his entire being. Even with all the troubles, had there not been a revolution, they would have never met and married. Likely, Arnaud would have been promised to another noble family, strengthening ties at the behest of the king, a man he had only seen once in his life.

Tell me about the palace. Marie snuggled closer.

Versailles? He whispered the word, afraid still of being discovered. He had retained his father’s title, but it was worthless in France, and possibly in the United States.

Yes. I have only heard stories.

The stories of it being a place of wonder are true, yet it was also a place of depravity, mischief, and extravagance. Arnaud remembered his one visit as a child, standing at his father’s side. As he had grown older, his father had spoken freely of the dislike for the queen and king and his uncertainty of their capabilities after Louis XIV had passed away. Even his misgivings hadn’t saved him his head.

Was she beautiful, Marie Antionette? Marie kissed the exposed skin of his neck above the open collar of his shirt.

She was a silly child, I am told. No one taught her to rule. Arnaud frowned again. He wanted to focus on the future, not rehash the past—a past they should leave firmly behind them France. Yet, he could not be annoyed with his sweet Marie.

Arnaud, I should very much like to have children in this new place.

The change in topic had his full attention. Children? He admonished himself. Of course they would have children; it just hadn’t been his primary focus at that precise moment. Until they safely claimed the plantation currently in his father’s name, they were destitute.

Yes, mon coeur. Her small hand slipped provocatively into his shirt.

Arnaud groaned. Oui, ma petite. As many as our home can hold. He extracted her hand and placed a heated kiss on the palm. Shall we return to our cabin for the time being?

Marie blushed, her eyes glimmering. I would love nothing more.