by Chloé Duval
“I can still hardly believe you are here,” he murmured.
“I have been here for the last few weeks, in case you failed to notice,” Gabrielle teased him. She felt him chuckle against her skin.
“I did notice. I noticed you from the very first day.”
“So did I.”
He drew away from her, and their gazes met again. They smiled at each other. Unable to resist, Gabrielle drew his face toward hers and begged for a kiss. Her fiancé was more than happy to oblige. Then she demanded another, and another, and another—until their brief kisses, interspersed with smiles and laughter, grew more heated. Deeper, longer. Gabrielle’s lips savored Thomas’s greedily, lustily, surprising even herself. When Thomas’s tongue found hers in a heady caress, the world vanished, consumed by sensations she had never felt before. It was as though her entire body had been set ablaze from the inside, as though a terrible need to quench a thirst she had not been aware of previously rose from within.
She felt light-headed and elated.
She did not wish to stop.
A few minutes, a few seconds later, though, Thomas pulled back and gazed at her, wordlessly, a glint of pure admiration in his eye.
“If I had the slightest artistic talent,” he finally murmured, “I would paint you like this, in the firelight with your hair loose and your eyes aglow, your lips red from our kisses. You are magnificent, Gabrielle. Utterly magnificent. The most beautiful woman on earth.”
Her cheeks flushed at the compliment, and she hid her face in his neck to conceal her pleased grin.
“I love you, Thomas,” she whispered under her breath.
She felt his arms close tight around her, and gratitude filled her heart at the happiness radiating through her in that instant.
“I never thought I would love anyone as much as I love you, Gabrielle,” Thomas confided. “I was not alive before I met you. Your smile, your kindness, your generosity, your great spirit, all of this brought me back to life. I do not know what I have done to deserve you. I still hardly believe it. It feels as though I will wake up and realize it was all nothing but a dream.”
“It is not a dream. I am here, in your arms, and I have no intention of leaving. I promise you that.”
He nodded gently. She could not see the look on his face, but she felt his hesitation in the sudden tension in her fiancé’s frame. She drew back in concern.
“What is it, Thomas?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“Are you certain—”
“Certain of what?”
“That you will not regret coming with me? Leaving your father, your bookstore, your life behind…for me?”
Gabrielle seized his face in her hands and met his eyes resolutely.
“For you? Thomas, you will be my life from now on. My home will be wherever you are. Of course I will miss my father, but I know Hélène will take good care of him. You are my future now. You are my family, and I do not wish to be anywhere but by your side. I love you!”
“Even—even scarred as I am?”
And Gabrielle did what she had so long secretly dreamed of. Only taking her eyes off Thomas’s at the very last moment, she kissed his scarred cheek, long and sweet, almost reverently. Then she pulled back and searched his gaze.
“Does this answer satisfy you? I love you, Thomas, which means I love your scar as much as I love your eyes, your hands or your smile. No, that is not true. I love it more, because this scar is you.”
She had barely finished speaking when Thomas, relief shining in his eyes and struggling with a myriad of other emotions, took hold of her face and kissed her frantically, urgently, greedily, the way he had that first time on the day he had left for England. But he did not break off after a few seconds as he had done then. He kissed her again and again, clutching her to him as though he wished to absorb her and never let go.
Gabrielle met his ardor with equal passion and urgency. And when his tongue met hers, when his hands traveled over her body, she forgot anything that was not them, surrendering to the moment, to the uproar of sensations, to the exquisite delight that his skin sparked against hers. Her whole body was afire under his hands, and she nearly vibrated out of her skin. She felt light-headed and suddenly very, very aware of parts of her body that apparently had a will of their own and wanted more.
Gabrielle too wanted more. Much more.
She wanted to feel Thomas against her, skin to skin, feel his heartbeat against hers, explore his body with her own.
She wanted to be one with him.
It was as simple as that.
Without hesitation, her hands began to loosen Thomas’s tie, unbutton his shirt, pulling the lapels aside to venture beneath the barrier of fabric, daring and resolute, as she kept on kissing him. The feeling of her hands on his chest seemed to electrify Thomas even as it brought him back down to earth. He pulled away from her, short of breath and eyes fever-bright.
“Gabrielle—Gabrielle, I—”
“What is it?” she panted, light-headed.
“I—I think I should walk you back to your room. And dive headfirst into the moat.”
“The moat is frozen; you will only break your skull. Why would you do that? Do you…do you not want me?”
His eyes gleamed.
“On the contrary.” His voice was hoarse. “But I am only a man and I—I am not certain I can remain a gentleman if we—if we carry on. I—”
“I do not want a gentleman,” Gabrielle cut him off fiercely.
Another person had taken possession of her body. She no longer was herself. She was another, a daring, demanding Gabrielle. A sensual Gabrielle, she hoped, as her lips teased her fiancé’s. His chest rumbled, and he replied in kind, voraciously, before pulling back again.
“Gabrielle—”
“I do not want to be good, Thomas,” she murmured as she nipped his ear, tearing a new growl from him. “I want to be yours tonight. And I want you to be mine. All mine.”
“Gabrielle, I am already yours,” Thomas protested weakly. “My heart and soul are yours always.”
“Then give me your body. Thomas…please. Love me.”
Unable to resist what he so desired any longer, Thomas surrendered, and they fell together as he offered all she asked, and took all she gave in return.
And more still.
I will always remember that night when Thomas and I were one, Gabrielle wrote in her diary that night, once she had returned to her bedchamber, starlight in her eyes and happiness in every part of her soul. When I am old and wrinkled, unable to remember even my own name, I will relive those moments, those sensations, again and again. Exploring our bodies, the fire rising within us, burning everything in its wake, reason first of all. Thomas’s hands on my skin, bold and heady, my own that mirrored his every move. His tongue making me lose my mind.
I never closed my eyes. I wanted to see his every expression, I wanted to hear the growls, the sighs as our bodies merged. I wanted to carve every minute, every second into my memory.
I will admit to my eyelids fluttering shut when I felt my body explode and stars shimmer in front of my eyes, when I felt Thomas surrender to pleasure himself, whispering my name again and again like a prayer, until he could no longer speak, body taut, his arms tight around me as though to keep me there forever.
Yes, even after my mind has deserted me and I will no longer recognize myself in the mirror, I will always remember the mark Thomas left on my body, my heart and my soul. Because what I felt tonight in his arms was stronger than anything that can exist.
Our fates are now sealed, I know it. There will never be a me without him again, nor will there ever be a him without me.
Never.
Chapter 29
Alexandra
Chandeniers-sur-Vienne
Present day
Fire. Fever.
His body against mine. Our fingers laced together. His breath, his kisses, setting me ablaze, from outside to inside, to the deepest corners of my soul.
I sighed out his name.
“Éric. Éric…”
“Princess,” he growled, his voice hoarse, sensual, bewitching.
A shiver ran over me
More. I wanted more.
“Your wish is my command.”
His lips teased mine, his tongue played with mine, traced my lips, peppering them with little kisses then claiming my mouth feverishly, passionately, stoking the fire in my veins. His hands were everywhere: in my hair, pulling me closer, on my breasts, coaxing the raised points, at the small of my back, arching me further, pressing my hips against his, on my thighs, stroking every centimeter of my skin, exploring every curve.
Every gesture, every sigh, every murmur drove me crazy. Crazy with desire. Crazy about him.
“Éric—”
“Patience, princess.”
His lips left mine and trailed kisses along my jaw, nipping my ear until he felt me lose control, until my hips lifted, begging for his body. His mouth wandered down my neck, tongue tracing the curve of my shoulder, lingering on my breasts, sucking, biting, until I throbbed with desire, head thrown back, eyes closed. He resumed his careful exploration of my body, dipped over my navel and traveled further down, where every sensation was heightened, where I wanted to feel his hands, his lips, his tongue—him—the most.
I was on the verge of eruption, the blood in my veins had turned to lava, my breath was short, choppy.
“Éric!” I screamed.
I want you, in me, right now! I wanted to shout.
He straightened until his face was level with mine, scattering kisses across my stomach as he went, and his gaze met mine.
“I love you, Alex.”
* * * *
“Alex, wake up.”
What?
Something was wrong.
“Alex, I found you a costume!”
Éric was falling away, the weight of his body on mine vanishing.
No, no, come back! Don’t leave! I need you!
I need you.…
“Alex!”
A hand shook me.
“Alex?”
I opened my eyes, and everything disappeared in a flash. Éric, his smile, his gaze, his caresses.
Everything except the weight in my stomach and the horrible, cold sensation of loneliness inside.
I closed my eyes briefly, trying to check the vast disappointment welling up within me. I shouldn’t feel this way. I should have been glad it was only a dream. Instead it felt like part of me had been torn away.
“Alex?” the voice repeated.
I sighed and opened my eyes to Marine’s face.
“Sorry to wake you up, but I found you a costume. And I know you’re going to love it.”
Upon returning from the castle earlier, heart and senses still in full turmoil, I had found Marine in the kitchen, elbow-deep in flour.
“Marine! I was looking for you.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I know I’m really late for this, but I don’t have a costume for tonight. Do you know where I can find one?”
“Fabrice doesn’t have any left, but let me think about it and make a few calls. I’ll find you something.”
“Oh, don’t go to a lot of trouble on my account. You have enough on your plate. I’ll find something on the internet.”
“I don’t mind, really. I even have an idea. What’s your size?”
I gave it to her, first in American standard then converted it to European sizing.
“That could work…I think I can create the perfect costume for you! You’re going to be just magical,” she’d sung. “Wait here, I need to go rummage around for a bit.”
“Thanks, Marine. You’re amazing.”
And I’d settled in the garden to wait, hoping to forget my agitation between the pages of Gabrielle’s diary, and fell fast asleep.
Still half-caught in my dream, I sat up and looked around, slightly light-headed. I had no idea how long I had been asleep. A while, surely. Shadows stretched across the garden, and the sunlight had turned molten. I stifled a little yawn and closed Gabrielle’s diary in my lap.
“Don’t worry about waking me up. If you hadn’t, I’d have slept right through to tomorrow morning.”
I still felt feverish, exhausted by several sleepless nights tossing and turning, pondering the same questions without ever finding an answer.
I tried to dispel the afterimages of my dream in vain, and tried to smile. Marine had gone out of her way for me; the least I could do was be attentive and grateful. I was about to ask to see the costume when she caught me short.
“Is everything okay, Alex?” There was a worried look in her eye. “Excuse me for asking, I know it’s none of my business, but you seem out of sorts.”
What could I answer? That everything was spinning inside my head because I wanted things I wasn’t allowed to want, that I felt emotions I wasn’t allowed to feel? That I was adrift, torn between what I felt for a man who wasn’t my fiancé, and the guilt I felt toward said fiancé? That instead of thinking of him and our future together, I was consumed with desire for a man I had barely met and who had upturned my life, my certitudes and my plans? That my best friend’s words had unbalanced me so badly that I didn’t know where I was or what I wanted anymore?
Would I tell her all that when I didn’t even dare admit it to myself?
Well, I had the answer to that at least—no.
So I made my grin a little wider.
“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Probably just a little tired, I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Is it the mattress? The pillows? Is there anything I can do?”
“No, no, the room is perfect. Everything is wonderful, and you’re great. I have no idea why I have trouble sleeping,” I lied. “It’ll pass. I’m probably just thinking too much.”
Marine scrutinized me. I could see in her eyes that she didn’t believe me—not completely—but she didn’t insist.
“If there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask,” she said gently. “All right?”
“Promise. So, what did you find? A kilt for me too?”
“Ha! No, I’m sure you would have been very cute in a kilt, but I found you something more…magical.”
“‘Magical’? Okay, color me curious,” I quipped as I took the garment bag she handed me.
I zipped it open to reveal a sleeveless blue satin sheath dress that flared out slightly at the hips, complete with a little train.
I was speechless. “Marine, it’s gorgeous.”
“You like it?”
“It’s much too good for me! I can’t wear it!”
“Nonsense! It’s going to look incredible on you! And that’s not all!”
She dashed inside the inn and came back almost at once, brandishing an adorable pair of iridescent wings, a mask made of the same fabric, a wand with a glittering silver star and a small Austen-like clutch bag of the same blue satin as the dress.
“You will be the fairy-est of them all!”
“You’re my fairy godmother! How did you ever manage to put all of this together in so short a time?”
“The wings, mask and wand belong to a friend from when she danced in The Nutcracker in Canada.”
“You have a Canadian friend?”
“Yeah. You’ve been there?”
“Of course, I lived in Montréal for a while.”
“What a coincidence! Caroline was a prima ballerina in Montréal. She married a Frenchman and came to live here with him, but she kept a few mementos from when she danced in the great ballets.”
I suddenly remembered that I was leaving again in a few days, and the dread hovering over me doubled in weight.
“What about the dress?” I inquired in an attempt to change the subject.
“It’s mine. I wore it for my engagement party.”
“I can’t wear your engagement dress!” I protested.
“I haven’t been able to fit in it since I had Océane. And…my marriage was a mistake. The only good thing that came out of it was my daughter. I don’t know why I didn’t get rid of the dress before.”
“What happened? Not that it’s any of my business.”
“Nothing very special. Hugo and I married too young, and when I got pregnant unexpectedly, he realized I wasn’t the one for him and he left while I was in the hospital giving birth.”
“Son of a bitch! Sorry for being so crude, but—”
“Don’t worry, I’ve said a lot worse about him.”
“But when I arrived last week, you mentioned your daughter was with him right now. Have you forgiven him?”
“Hell no. I don’t think I ever will. I suffered too much for that.”
“I can understand.”
“It took me years to forget him, and to be honest, I would’ve been happy never seeing him again. But he came back one day asking for a divorce. He wanted to remarry. And get this—his fiancée was pregnant.”
“What?!”
“Yeah. I didn’t take it well. But he insisted he’d changed and that he wanted to get to know his daughter.”
“And you accepted. For her.”
“I didn’t have the right to deprive my daughter of a father who wanted to know her now.”
“Tough choice.”
“Tell me about it. But she’s happy whenever she goes over there. He takes good care of her and she adores her little brother, so—I just grit my teeth. Her happiness is what matters.”
“Haven’t you met someone yourself?”
“Once bitten—”
“Twice shy, yeah.”
“There is someone, though. But…I’m not quite ready yet, so…” She shrugged. “We’ll see. Sorry, here I am again pouring out my life story! This is getting to be a habit!”
