Page 23 of Love Unraveled
She turned and did just that—walked away from him, stopping at the window, staring out into the darkness. He waited, wondering what was running through her mind, wondering what she would do next.
“Sixteen years, Gaston,” she said quietly. “We were children. You try to recapture what has long died.”
He stepped close behind her, watching her reflection in the window, but not touching her. “If that proves to be the case, we will mourn the loss and move on with our lives. You owe it to me.” Her shoulders stiffened, but he continued. “You owe it to yourself. You owe it to the dreams we once believed in.”
He could not see her expression in the glass, but her shoulders relaxed, and she sighed heavily. “One month, Gaston. I will give you one month.”
Gaston exhaled slowly through his mouth, and a chill rippled along his spine. In one month, Sophie would either be a part of his life again or gone from it forever.
*
Gaston’s breath dancedlightly across Sophia’s neck, and she shivered. Instantly, she regretted the agreement. How was she to bear being with him? His nearness, the smell of him as he stood behind her, made her body come alive as it had not since…since their night together. She turned abruptly, but he did not move, and she found herself inches from his chest.
“You will find you are chasing a dream,” she said, looking up at him.
“As I have for sixteen years, Sophie.” He smiled sadly.
Sophia stepped around him and walked away. Gaston angry, she could take. Jealous? He was fun to torment. Stubborn? He’d always been, and she was accustomed to it. But sad? It was not something she was used to seeing on his face, or in his eyes. In the darkest of times, he had not betrayed such an emotion.
She spun around. “There must be parameters,” she said, needing to set aside the tug at her heart and take charge. “I decide what we do. And when. You will not elaborate about our friendship to anyone.”
“What? When?” he repeated with a growing scowl. “Friendship?” he said slowly, as though turning over the word and examining it. It apparently did not pass muster, as his scowl deepened into deep furrows.
“What would you have me call it, Gaston?”
He waved his hand in dismissal and walked toward her. She held her ground even when he stepped in close and ran a finger down her cheek. Her knees weakened, but she was determined he would not see it.
“You said one month. And I concede to your time limit.” He hooked his finger under her chin, gently caressing back and forth.
She held his gaze, willing herself to remain unaffected.
“And you will grantmyconditions, or you will lose my agreement.”
Sophia shifted her chin, eliminating physical contact but holding his dark stare. “And they are?”
“We will see each other every day. I will not deny you your social schedule, but I will follow along because you will invite me to join you.”
He held up his palm to stop her, and she held back the angry words she was going to say.
“If you have nothing on your calendar, it is I who gets to decide what we do.” He placed a finger against her lips. “Tut-tut,” he said and leaned in, his warm breath against her ear heating her body. “You try to interrupt far too much,” he whispered, the slight brush of his lips and the timbre of his voice far more sensual than words of chastisement should be.
Sophia took a big step back, irritated her body responded so easily to him. “And what of the duke?” she asked, pleased to see a ripple in Gaston’s composure.
“I don’t give a damn about the duke. Your friends don’t seem to either, do they? Why would they have invited me, knowing you had committed yourself to the duke?”
She shrugged dismissively. “I have not told them.”
Gaston eyed her skeptically, ran a hand through his hair, and looked at the ceiling before returning his gaze to her. “If what you say is true, you will tell him you need some time apart to consider the situation. I have seen you with him, and it is clear this is not an affair of the heart. Arrangements can be…how do you say…unarranged.”
“You think you know everything. You do not. And your conditions leave me nothing.”
“Nothing?” He tilted his head casually, unperturbed.
She wanted to kick his shins as she’d done when they were young and he was determined to frustrate her. Her emotions were tumbling, one over the other, and he was standing there as calmly as if they were discussing the weather. “Oui, nothing.”
“I don’t know why you hide your truth. You see how your friends accept me as an émigré. But it is clear you don’t want them to know about you. About your life in France.” He closed the distance between them once again and lifted her chin. “About us.”
He paused. She squirmed inside at the intensity of his gaze and willed her body not to betray her.
