“Oh, but you should. In my case, all the rumours are true. In fact, they’re not even half the truth. I used to be young once.” He turned his face to the window for so long, she didn’t know if he had forgotten she was there. Then he turned back, and his eyes studied her.
“Have you fallen out of love already?” His hand went to stroke her braided hair. “This green isn’t going to survive the test of time if you’re already keeping it hidden.”
He knew her far too well; he could probably see right through into the secret corners of her mind.
Lord M returned to his topic. “Did you know, my son never forgave me for the way my marriage to his mother ended? I thought we would both go to our grave with that between us.”
She had heard about this too. The time George had vowed to only return to La Canette for his father’s funeral.
“I never imagined the day would come when I might be at his side to watch him take his marriage vows. And toMillie.” His voice roughened with emotion, and he took Pierre’s hand in his. “You, my dear, see only a decrepit old man, but I was young once and have fallen in and out of love more times than you’ve dyed your hair. So, you see, I know a fair deal about love that is made in heaven. George and Millie’s is a union that fills the heart and spills warmth over the rest of us. It makes us believe in a forgiving and loving universe.”
She squeezed his hand back. She couldn’t have put it any better herself. She remembered her first meeting with a broken-hearted Millie two years ago, and the shining joy a few months later when she and George reconciled. It should give her hope because Millie certainly had managed all three: a fabulous job, a fabulous home, and a fabulous relationship.
“And…” Lord M continued, “I can also recognise unions which struggle to survive the test of time. If I’m not mistaken, Emmet and Nicole’s engagement sits on a knife-edge.”
Her heart thudded against her ribs with…what? Curiosity? A selfish hope?
Or disbelief?
Lord M was wise and clever, but he didn’t know everything. He hadn’t been with her the night of the new moon, hadn’t heard the sincerity in Gabriel’s voice telling her about his relationship with Nicole, a childhood friend, his plan to get married and make a new life with her.
“So, my dear” — Lord M squeezed her hand — “I am relying on you. For the sake of this old man whose biggest wish is to give his son a good wedding, please do your best to keep Nicole happy.”
Tears stung her eyes. To hide her face from his shrewd, observant sight, she threw her arms around his neck. “I promise. I promise. I promise.”
Was the repetition to reassure him or to fortify her own resolve?
Eighteen
Gabriel was outside walking around the gallery, looking at various portraits on the wall. He glanced over his shoulder when she came out of the double doors. Abandoning the paintings, he walked towards her with such purpose, it left her in no doubt that he’d been waiting for her.
“Can I talk to you?”
“Why?” Seriously, she needed a wider vocabulary.
His gaze flicked to the door behind her then back. “Somewhere a bit more private.”
She pressed her lips together to stop another ‘why.’
Gabriel waited for her answer.
Isthmus. She remembered reading the word when she first arrived here and promising herself to use the word in conversation. Isthmus, a narrow strip connecting one part of the island to another. A bridge between two bodies that would otherwise be separated by the sea.
That’s what she and Gabriel were, two bodies that should not have an isthmus; could not afford to allow a bridge to grow between them.
He was looking at her strangely.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I have to…I promised to do something for Lord M.”Promised him to stay away from you.“I have to go.” She forced her feet to move away from him. One step in front of the other.
Not only for Lord M’s sake, but her own.
A few more steps and she was on the stairs. Going down to the kitchen to hide.
Two years ago, when she first arrived here and crossed the isthmus to have tea and cake in Millie’s café, hadn’t she made another promise to herself? An important promise. Never to fall for anyone who wasn’t 100% available.
She made it all the way to the bottom of the stairs without him stopping her. Or following her. A sharp splinter of disappointment turned in her heart. How stupid was she?
The front door opened and a lovely, smiling, tanned face appeared in the crack. A lavender coat and yellow scarf. Bouncy brown curls.
