Heart Captivated

by Lindsay Bergman

  “Stop thinking, Brielle,” Ashton ordered, his voice deep with passion. “Just let yourself feel, mon coeur.” His lips found mine again, warm and sultry, making my entire body tingle at his touch. For a moment I was lost in the heady onslaught of his kiss, ready to spiral out of control.

  Ashton’s kisses were making me fall apart at the seams, but it was his words that made my heart soar.

  He had called me by name. He had sought me out, not Sophie. He knew that he was kissing me, not Sophie. I sighed happily and melted into him. Nothing had ever been as beautiful as the sound of my name on his lips. Despite everything that had happened over the last few days, Ashton still had feelings for me. I skimmed my hands up and over his broad shoulders to lace them together behind his neck, and pressed myself closer to him. Finally giving in to the longing—even for just a moment. Ashton whispered my name again, then tightened his hold around my waist and deepened the kiss, consuming me in a torrent of passion.

  After several deep and toe-curling kisses, he eased back to let me catch my breath. Feeling dazed, I gripped his arms tightly to keep from falling over. His kisses had stolen every coherent thought from my head—and all I wanted was more. Breathlessly, I looked up at him. The dimpled smile that lit up his handsome face was arrogantly pleased.

  “You called me Brielle,” I whispered.

  Ashton smiled, his gaze warm and tender. “Do you want me to call you something else next time? Because there will be a next time.” Smiling roguishly, he leaned down to nuzzle my neck, making me shiver, and murmured seductively in my ear, “Ma belle. Bien-aimée. La fille de mes rêves.” He kissed the sensitive skin below my ear, then trailed his lips along my jaw. When his mouth finally captured mine again, I was ready to melt into a puddle at his feet.

  “That’s not what I meant,” I gasped out, clinging to him.

  Ashton chuckled against my lips, then raised his head. “I am more than aware of which sister I am kissing, Brielle.” He kissed me again, just a soft brushing of our lips, then tenderly kissed the beauty mark on my cheek. “I don’t need to see this mark, to know that it’s you.”

  “Oh,” was all I could manage. “But I thought you and Sophie …”

  He shook his head. “It’s over—not that there was ever anything to begin with.” He drew me closer, holding me snug against his chest. “The only girl I want is you, mon coeur.”

  “But, you’ve been inseparable since your reunion at the harbor.”

  Ashton shook his head again. “I only allowed it because I didn’t want to hurt her in front of everyone. I sought her out alone the first chance I had, which was after the polo match—”

  “Where I saw you kissing in the hallway,” I pointed out.

  “She kissed me,” Ashton clarified, holding my gaze. “I didn’t kiss her back.”

  “Oh.” My eyes lowered, embarrassed and uncertain. “I just thought …”

  Ashton chuckled dryly. “My captivating Brielle.” His voice was tender and filled with understanding. “Have you already forgotten everything I’ve said to you these past weeks? My promise to wait for you, and all those sweet nicknames you secretly can’t hear enough of, like bien-aimée.”

  My eyes darted up to his. “How did you …?”

  He smiled slowly, dimpling. “Your eyes,” he explained, gently framing my face with both hands. “They light up every single time. Bien-aimée. Mon coeur.” He grinned playfully. “Just like that, mon amour.”

  “What did you just say?” My heart suddenly pounded out a fierce beat against my ribcage. I wasn’t fluent in French, but I knew enough to recognize that amour meant love.

  Ashton brushed aside my hair, along with every bit of my resistance, and looked directly into my eyes. His gaze was a deep, ardent blue. “Je t’aime. I love you, Brielle.”

  The air left my lungs in a rush, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe. My head spun. Dizziness encroached as my knees buckled, and I gripped Ashton’s arms to keep myself upright.

  “Breathe, mon coeur,” he chuckled, his eyes dancing with humor. He rubbed his hand over my back and shook his head slightly. “I’ve heard that saying about taking someone’s breath away, but I never expected it to happen literally.”

  I dragged in a steadying breath and regained my feet. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled in embarrassment, loosening my grip and stepping back. “You caught me by surprise.”

  “I can see that.” His voice was rich with amusement, and as tender as a caress. “I meant what I said though. I do love you.”

  My heart swelled. “Oh, Ashton.” I fumbled for words, wanting to confess my own love, but knowing that I couldn’t. Not when I had to let him go. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You could say that you love me, too,” Ashton prompted. He waited for my response, hope blazing in his dark blue gaze.

  “Ashton … I …” Remorse twisted through my gut, razor sharp. “I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

  “You can’t say it because you don’t love me? Or, you can’t allow yourself to love me because of Sophie?” He studied me with those soul-searching eyes.

  What was the point of answering when he could see directly into my heart?

  When I said nothing, Ashton shrugged, unconcerned. “It doesn’t matter if you can’t say it. That kiss told me everything I needed to know.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been hiding your feelings from me since we met, but after that unexpected kiss the other day—you know, the one when you kissed me after I’d been caught out in the storm?” He looked at me pointedly, bringing a heated flush to my cheeks, and smirked. “Well, after that I knew you felt more than you wanted to admit.”

  “So this kiss was just a test?” I questioned, disgruntled.

  “It was an experiment,” he rephrased, “to see if you felt what I did.”

  “Hmph.” I crossed my arms, unexplainably irritated, and couldn’t help but ask, “And what was your verdict, Your Highness?”

  His gaze smoldered. “That you’re in as deep as I am,” he said, prowling closer. “That no matter how much you deny it, you have feelings for me, strong feelings.” He reached out to trace my bottom lip with his finger. “After that enlightening kiss, I’m betting you even love me.”

  I laughed nervously and turned my face away from his warm touch. “Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time you made a bet with me—and lost?”

  “Ah, but this is a bet I’m determined to win.” Ashton smiled with challenge, and utter confidence.

  “My love isn’t some prize to be won.”

  “Au contraire, ma chérie,” he murmured ardently. “Your love is the ultimate prize.”

  I tore my gaze away, unhinged by the promise in his eyes. How was I supposed to break his heart after he’d just confessed his love?

  “Ashton,” I said slowly. “You were right when you said that my feelings are stronger than I wanted to admit. And even though you believe that enlightening kiss says it all, it doesn’t change the fact that we can’t be together. Even if I love you—which I’m not saying I do,” I emphasized. “No matter what we both feel, a relationship between us is off-limits.”

  “Brielle, I’ve told you that I’ll wait for you.”

  “But you don’t understand,” I argued. “Sophie and I spoke earlier, after I walked in on you kissing, and now she knows how deeply I care for you—,” I blushed at the accidental admission that caused hope to spark in his eyes, and pressed on. “We’ve both agreed that our relationship as sisters comes first.”

  “I would never expect any less. That’s why we’ll give her the time she needs to move on.”

  “No, Ashton, you still don’t understand.” I scrubbed my hands over my face, feeling wretched. “Sophie and I—we’ve been through so much together, we’ve lost so much together. I couldn’t survive losing Sophie because I betrayed her. This … thing between us,” I gestured with my hand, “it’s permanently off-limits. I can’t ever be with you.”
/>   He stiffened, complete understanding finally dawning in his eyes. “You can’t really mean that, Brielle.”

  “I wish I didn’t, but I made a promise to my sister—and I can’t ever break it.” I bit my lip to hide its quivering. “No matter what. No matter how much I … care for you.”

  Ashton stalked closer to tower over me, frustration blazing across his face. “So you’re willing to walk away from love without really giving us a chance first? You’re willing to walk away from me,” he demanded, pressing his hand to his chest, “the only person you’ve ever allowed to touch your heart? The man who loves you, and is standing here promising to wait as long as you need? All I’m asking for is a chance, Brielle. That’s all I’ve ever asked of you.” He swore under his breath and spun away, giving his back to me and dragging a hand through his black hair.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled pitifully, wishing I could take it all back.

  He shook his head and turned. Bracing his hands on hips, he scowled at me. “Are you always such a martyr? Or are you doing this because you’re too afraid to let yourself love?”

  I winced at his tone. “Both, I guess.” My whispered admission shamed me. I dropped my chin, unable to face him any longer, and spoke to my bare toes. “I told you I was a coward.”

  Ashton was silent for a long moment before he eventually let out a heavy sigh. He slowly moved to stand at my side and spoke to the top of my bent head. “You’re not a coward, Bree.” He leaned in to kiss my temple, then stroked a hand down the length of my arm and added dryly, “It takes guts to turn down a royal prince willing to offer you the world.” Threading his fingers through mine, he let out a harsh chuckle, then sighed once again. “As much as I hate your decision, I can’t really say that I’m surprised. When it comes to sacrificing your own happiness for others, you never even seem to hesitate. You’re the most selfless person I know.” He brought our joined hands up to his mouth and softly kissed my knuckles. His warm breath fanned out across my skin as he murmured, “That’s one of the things I love about you.”

  “Ash.” His words were a knife to my heart. I turned into his open arms and buried my face against his neck, circling my arms around his waist to hold him tightly. “Why did you have to be so wonderful?”

  “Well, I am a prince,” he teased, hugging me close. “I was born this charming and dashing, and …” his voice trailed off suggestively.

  “… wonderful,” I finished, my eyes closing on a wave of regret.

  I felt him smile into my hair. “You’re wonderful too, my captivating Brielle.” He pressed a tender kiss to my brow and held me close in his warm, loving embrace. “I don’t know where we go from here, but I don’t ever want you to doubt that I loved you. No matter how this story ends,” he said, squeezing me tighter. “Je t’aime, bien-aimée. I love you, beloved.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  After a week of trying to pretend that I wasn’t heartbroken, I agreed to dine out at a French restaurant in Calais with the girls in order to get a nagging Mackenzie off my back. We were seated at a long rectangular table out on the patio, beside an arched trellis with climbing vines and flowering buds. Blue and white striped cushions provided comfy seating on the black-iron chairs, and small plants in clay pots brightened the center of the table.

  I draped my white linen napkin over my lap and perused the menu while Arianna and Madison offered recommendations. When it was my turn, I ordered the beef bourguignon paired with a red wine. Consciously trying not to slouch despondently in my chair, I sipped at my wine until our entrees were delivered by three waiters, complete with bows and a flourished, “Bon appétit.”

  Throughout the meal, I ate in silence. Since that night with Ashton near the gazebo, I’d been lacking in enthusiasm.

  Shooting yet another concerned look my way, Mackenzie passed me a dessert menu and urged, “Pick something sweet. Maybe your favorite dessert will get a smile out of you.”

  I sighed and glanced briefly over the desserts, hoping to placate her.

  “What would you recommend, Maddy?” Mackenzie asked her sister seated across the table. “Anything with chocolate, right?”

  Madison smiled. “Actually, I love the crème brûlée they serve here.”

  “Oh my goodness, yes,” Arianna chimed in. “C’est céleste!”

  “It’s what?” Sophie asked, giggling over the princess’ dramatic flare.

  “It’s heavenly,” Arianna replied with an overly dreamy sigh.

  I scrunched my nose at the thought of ordering the hated dessert, and ordered a chocolate éclair instead. When the waiter set a ramekin of rich custard with caramelized sugar in front of me, I objected, “Pardon, monsieur. This isn’t what I ordered.”

  “I didn’t order this either,” Sophie piped up, indicating the crème brûlée that had been set before her as well.

  “Oui, mademoiselle,” the waiter explained, bobbing his head in a nod. “These were ordered for you by the gentleman in the corner.” He indicated a shady table along the far wall, partially hidden behind the glass doors leading into the restaurant.

  The color drained from Sophie’s face, and I noticed her hands clench tightly together in her lap.

  I squinted at the man in question, wondering if it was the same man from the polo match, but his face was obscured behind a menu.

  “No, thank you,” I briskly told the waiter, holding up the ramekin. “Can you please take it back?”

  The waiter shook his dark mop of hair. “No, mademoiselle. Je suis désolé, it’s already been paid for. The gentleman—he insisted.”

  Sophie and I exchanged uneasy glances, before I carefully set down the proffered crème brûlée. I stared at it suspiciously. The man had only ordered these desserts for me and Sophie—not the others. Was he trying to send us a message? My mind raced over the events that had happened since the week that gossip article had come out. My thoughts kept coming back to the man who had been asking around Coradova about us. The man who had unexpectedly appeared at more than one public event—and left my sister white-faced after speaking with her. The man with dark hair and eyes, and a growth of beard that covered the lower half of his face. The man I had first seen in Montana.

  Shock gripped my heart in a clenching vise.

  I darted another glance at the table in the corner, to find that very same man watching me from across the patio. No, I thought in angry denial, he couldn’t possibly be …

  I jumped to my feet, knocking over my chair in a clatter that startled everyone dining out on the patio.

  “Bree, what’s wrong?” Madison asked, sitting up straighter in her chair. Her eyes darted around warily, alerting the nearby guards that something was amiss. I could feel them moving in closer.

  “It’s nothing,” I quickly rambled, scooting away from the table and the prying eyes of the restaurants other patrons. My head was spinning in a frenzy of shock and denial. “I’m suddenly not feeling very well. I need some fresh air.”

  “Fresh air?” Mackenzie repeated dubiously, rising from her chair. “We’re outside on the patio.” She planted her hands on her hips. “What’s going on, Bree?”

  “Nothing,” I stammered.

  “Bree,” Sophie implored, reaching a hand out to me. “Let me explain.”

  My gut twisted at her guilty expression. I looked away, avoiding eye contact with her. She knew the truth. She’d known who that man was since the day of the polo match. “I can’t believe you kept this from me,” I whispered harshly. “I need to go.”

  I spun away without waiting for her response and fled past the tables of gawking diners. Once out on the sidewalk, I paced quickly away from the restaurant, shoving through the packs of bodies meandering leisurely down the main street. Why were there so many people here? I needed space to think, and the privacy to allow myself to fall apart without any witnesses.

  Finally, I reached a blessedly empty stretch of sidewalk and picked up my speed. My flip-flops smacked against the cement in a staccato beat
. Before I could take more than five steps, I heard the sound of quickly approaching footsteps behind me.

  Assuming it was my ever-constant shadow, I whirled around to demand a little more space from my personal guard. The words died in my throat when I came face-to-face with the man towering above me. He was middle-aged and handsome, in a mature kind of way. His dark brown hair was streaked with gray, and his cleft chin was covered by a beard that hid half his face. But it was the soft brown eyes that captured my full attention. They were all too familiar—and nearly identical to my own.

  His physical appearance had changed over time, and even though I hadn’t seen him in over ten years, I knew who he was. His face had tormented my memories since the night he’d walked out on his family. Since the night he’d left me behind, young and impressionable, and hurt by the father who hadn’t loved me enough to stay. Jonathan Randall Parker, my father.

  “Hello, Bree-belle,” he said quietly, using the childhood nickname I hadn’t heard in years.

  I choked on the tears that unexpectedly hit me like a punch to the gut. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

  He carefully took hold of my shoulders. “I came here to see my girls.”

  “But, we haven’t seen you in ten years.”

  “You have no idea how much I regret that, Brielle. If you give me a chance, I’ll explain everything.” He hesitated, before suddenly tugging me into his arms for a crushing hug. My face rubbed against the scratchy green shirt he was wearing, and I couldn’t help but notice the same smell on his clothes that I recognized from my childhood. It was peppermint and cigars; my dad had picked up the habit from his grandfather many years ago. I stood frozen in his arms for another shocked moment, before I abruptly shoved backward out of his unwelcome embrace.

  “Please don’t touch me,” I warned in a quiet voice.

  “Bree-belle, sweetheart,” he begged. “Please don’t be like that. I know you probably hate me for leaving you, but I’m still your father. Please give me a chance to explain.” Jonathan reached for me again, but I cringed away, too stunned by his appearance to even think straight.