Page 70 of Daughters of Paris

It was hard to disagree with Fleur’s logic. Impossible, even. Colette stood and began pacing back and forth. It wasn’t fair to announce something so important without any warning. Without even discussing her plans with Colette. Stifling a sob, Colette walked away. She ignored the quizzical looks from the people she passed as she stomped down the path towards the Musée de l’Orangerie. She’d worn nice shoes for the first time in weeks, and she caught one of the heels in the edge of the grass. She swore aloud, then glared at the black-clad old couple who tutted audibly. The explosion had calmed her down a little and she stopped to sit on a bench.

‘If you break your ankle, I’m not carrying you home.’

She looked up.

Sébastien had followed her. He approached cautiously, as if he was trying to capture a pedigree cat that had climbed onto a roof, and sat at the other end of the bench. Colette ignored him and busied herself looking at the tulips in a flower bed. There was a sickening humour in the fact that among all the destruction, there were still gorgeous displays of pink and yellow. But why not? They weren’t there for the French but for the occupiers.

‘Don’t be angry,’ Sébastien murmured. He reached for her hand, but she snapped it away. It caught the attention of a couple German officers and the dowdy-looking blonde women they were with. The women passed a look between them and Colette stared back. Let them think they were witnessing nothing more than a lover’s quarrel. She began to walk slowly down the gravel path, concentrating on not falling again. The heels made a muffled crunching sound. She didn’t look back but heard Sébastien’s tread following. When she reached the wall of the orangerie, she stopped.

‘Colette, why are you so furious with me?’

He genuinely sounded and looked perplexed.

‘You really don’t know? Our friend asks you to help her put herself in danger and you are going to assist her. You should refuse and try to talk her out of it.’

‘Why?’ Sébastien held his hands open, palms upturned. ‘Fleur is an adult. Moreover, she is brave and determined. I can pay her a compliment of respecting her wishes. Why can’t you?’

Collect jerked her head up, incensed at the criticism. ‘Don’t pretend I am at fault here!’

‘There is no fault. I want Fleur to be safe as much as you do, but you can see how much she cares about doing this. If someone had told you not to help Michal, would it have stopped you?’

His voice was low and earnest. How could Sébastien, who had known Fleur a few brief years, say he felt the same about Fleur as the friend who had known her since childhood? Unless his feelings ran deeper than friendship.

Colette’s heart twisted.

‘Do you think you care for her as much as I do?’ she asked.

Sébastien stepped closer to Colette, his hands now reaching for hers. ‘I’m not going to argue about who is the best friend to Fleur. We are both her friends.’

Colette allowed his fingers to twine between hers. She raised her eyes to meet his. There was no judgement gazing back at her. No attempt to mock. ‘I’m not as brave as she is. I’m quite easily persuaded.’

‘Then let me persuade you not to be angry,’ Sébastien murmured. He put his hands on her shoulders and drew her a little closer. ‘Yes, it is dangerous, but people have to do these things. Fleur will do it anyway, with or without my help, and I would rather she was with people I trust and vouch for. Wouldn’t you?’

Colette thought of Pierre and how Fleur had described him forcing himself on her. Was Sébastien too trusting?

‘I know you’re right,’ she said. ‘Just please make sure whoever you put her in contact with will look out for her too.’

‘I wouldn’t do anything else,’ Sébastien said.

He smiled at her. He was still holding her shoulders. She reached her hands up and laid them over his, scraping her fingernails lightly over the back of his wrists. His eyes widened as hunger filled them. The same hunger that Colette was feeling. She gazed into his eyes and then, without the faintest glimmer of a suspicion that it was going to happen, she leaned forward just as he did.

Their lips met. Pressed. Parted. It was the briefest of touches before Colette hastily pulled back.

‘No,’ she said.

Sébastien stood straight. ‘Why not? Don’t tell me you didn’t feel something just then.’

Colette drew her bottom lip inwards, biting it and wishing it was Sébastien’s mouth in place of her teeth.

‘It doesn’t matter what I feel. You don’t even like me. Why would I want to kiss you? I have more self-respect than that.’

She was half expecting him to mock her so-called self-respect, but his expression grew sober.

‘I do respect you. What makes you think I don’t?’

Colette leaned back against the wall. ‘You don’t ever seem to. The first time we met you called me a spoiled little rich girl who was barely worth risking your life for.’

Indignation rose inside her at the memory and she scowled.

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