Page 34 of No Saint

I turn my back on him, heading across the foyer towards the door leading into the den. Beyond the door I can hear the familiar sound of my sons laughter, this warming, homely sound that instantly eases an ache in my chest I hadn’t realized was there. I wasn’t used to spending so much time apart from Lincoln.

I gently and quietly push the door open, peering in. Camille sits in the middle of the floor surrounded by stuffed animals and building blocks, Lincoln happily giggling, sat before her. It was an odd vision, seeing the elegant Camille Saint slightly disheveled, no doubt from hours spent in here entertaining my son, her grandson.

I melt a little watching them, watching how she cares for him, the patience she has when he tugs on her hair and pokes at her face.

Wanting to now hold my son, I make my presence known at the door, sliding inside. Camille looks over and smiles gently. A truce I supposed for the little boy in front of her.

“How has he been?” I ask, taking a seat on the couch. Lincoln spots me and instantly smiles, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get to me.

“Perfect,” She smiles.

I pluck him from the floor, bringing him onto my lap where I hug him tight.

“He is very much like Lucas when he was that age,” Camille sighs, “Adventurous, playful, always so curious.”

“I am sorry about your son,” I tell her.

“It’s not certain he’s dead,” she whispers, “There’s still hope.”

I couldn’t even begin to imagine her pain. A child, no matter how old should never go before a parent but life was cruel and this life, it was crueler, violent. It didn’t mean she should have expected it to happen nor accept the fact that her eldest boy is likely dead. I don’t say that though. Instead I offer her a sympathetic smile and let the wriggling Lincoln go. He immediately goes to her, plopping himself down on her thighs.

She smiles through her watery eyes, running her fingers through Lincoln’s dark hair.

We sit in silence for the remainder of the time, watching my son. There were no words to say between us and she doesn’t stop me when I take Lincoln off to be fed and bathed.

It was odd, no one questioned me as I headed through the house, son perched on my hip, they didn’t stop me as I entered the kitchen and began rifling through the cupboards in search of food I could feed Lincoln.

I wasn’t free in any sense of the word, not with armed men stationed at every door or wandering through the house but other than their presence, they didn’t talk to me.

It was still a prison regardless, even if Gabriel believed otherwise.

15

Isit at the table in the dining room, the walls on either side of me lined with books, the chandelier in the centre hanging low and casting the room in a warm golden light. The food is spread before me, I didn’t know what she liked so I had the chef prepare a number of different meals and sides.

It was time I got to know my wife.

At the other side of the room the door opens and Colt guides Amelia inside who shrugs of his hand and glares at him.

She was feisty and loud, and I liked that about her.

Where most would nod and obey, she fights and rebels. Despite her fear of me, because let’s face it, the woman was scared, she didn’t let that fear control her. She was protective. Strong. The perfect woman to stand at my side though getting her to stay there would be harder than I had anticipated.

She hated me.

“Hello wife,” I greet her.

She turns that glare on me.

Her dark hair is wet from a shower, and she wears a simple pair of leggings that hug her toned thighs and follow the delicious curves of her hips. A hooded sweater covers her top half, oversized, but she looked beautiful regardless.

“Sit.”

“Do you want me to bark for you too?” She snaps, dropping herself into the chair the furthest away from me.

I grin and kick out the chair closest to me, “Sit here.”

“No.”

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