Rafael squeezed her hand in reassurance. She leaned in against him, grateful for the support.
‘I’ll stay here with him for now, Ari,’ Jason told her. ‘You and Rafael can head off. I’ll ring if thedoctors’ – he emphasised the word clearly – ‘think he’s ready to go home. Talk later.’
‘I’ll come and pick you up. Any time,’ she told them and Jason hung up. Slowly, carefully, she let out her breath and looked up at Rafael. ‘Thank you.’
He smiled gently. ‘For what? Driving you here? What sort of host would I have been otherwise?’
She didn’t know if it was the sheer overwhelming sense of relief or that growing madness that had been overcoming her for days now. Ever since she had tried to save him and almost drowned him in the process. His gaze met hers and she saw his pupils widen, making the already dark eyes even darker with unmistakable desire. And suddenly she wasn’t breathing again and her heart was thundering away at the base of her throat, as if eager to tear itself free of her body. She looked from his eyes to his mouth and back, and leaned in closer at the same moment he did.
Their lips met and parted. She felt herself melt beneath him, his free hand coming up to caress the side of her face, his fingertips so gentle she could hardly bear it. She wriggled closer, aware of the confines of the car, of the seat belt biting into her and everything conspiring to keep them apart.
Rafael breathed her name against her mouth, and there was no doubting his need for her. But all the same he pulled back, gazing solemnly into her eyes.
‘Ari,’ he murmured gently. ‘I want this…I want you very much, but we are not teenagers. Perhaps a car park is not the most appropriate place?’
She had to laugh. She couldn’t help herself. It was a perfect storm of emotions, and it swept her away. She didn’t care anymore. ‘Perhaps not. Maybe you should take me home instead then.’ And at the same time, she couldn’t believe those words had just come out of her mouth. Why had he stopped kissing her? She wasn’t saying stupid things when he was kissing her.
He tried to start the car engine with a bit more speed than was strictly necessary and promptly stalled it. Which really did make her laugh out loud.
They tore their way back to Sainte Sirène, and Ari wasn’t sure whose bed they were heading for. Or whether they actually were heading to a bed at all. Because rushing into this, into anything, was not a good idea. The further they drove, the more she realised it.
She had made mistakes like this before. Simon’s last letter had torn out her heart. His death had incinerated the remaining pieces. How could she believe anything anyone said again? Especially when her emotions were involved.
It wasn’t guilt, she told herself. It wasn’t thoughts of Simon. She wasn’t running away.
Not exactly.
So much had happened, terrible things. Nico could have died. Thierryhaddied. And here she was acting like a lovesick fool. She couldn’t. She justcouldn’t.
As they passed the sign for Sainte Sirène, with the neat Breton translation underneath which made no logical sense, she swore softly under her breath. She still needed answers. And she had so many questions. About Ys. About Ankou. About everything.
‘Ari?’ Rafael said as they turned toward Sainte Sirène, his tone tentative, as if he was about to broach a momentous subject. As if he sensed her whirling mind, spiralling out of control. Or her change of heart. ‘Are you OK?’
The hesitancy in his voice made her heart thud against her ribs. ‘Rafael, I need to talk to Gwen.’
He couldn’t have sounded more confused if he tried. ‘Gwen? Why?’
‘Who, apart from your aunt, knows more about Sainte Sirène?’
There was a long pause. ‘No one,’ he admitted with obvious reluctance. His mouth lifted to a bleak smile, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t try to persuade her otherwise either. She couldn’t tell him how much she appreciated that. She didn’t know many men who would take this change of plans so gracefully.
He stopped in Sainte Sirène itself, outside the tiny crêperie, just across the road from the church. He cleared his throat awkwardly.
‘Gwen’s museum is just over there. It should be open.’ Rafael pursed his lips.
Oh God, what had she done? He was already regretting kissing her and now he thought she had been leading him on.
And maybe she had been. She’d wanted to kiss him though, and she had wanted to do so much more, but now…she was afraid of how much she wanted him.
But she needed her questions answered too, the last surviving shred of logic she possessed insisted. Now more than ever. The curse seemed to be closing in on those she loved. If it couldn’t have Rafael, it seemed intent on taking everyone else who’d been in contact with the mask. Simon had been the first, if he had been telling the truth, which left herself, Nico and Jason as well.
Much as she wanted to explore the kiss with Rafael, to go further, she was afraid as well. More afraid than she wanted to admit.
But facing Gwen just like that…Gwen who had tried to warn her off Rafael and Sainte Sirène…Gwen who had known Simon…Gwen who seemed to know far too much…
The museum, orPetit Musée du Sainte Sirène, as the sign by the door proudly proclaimed, was housed in one of the cottages across from the church. They pushed open the door and stepped inside, Rafael having to duck to do so. Inside was a tiny drawing room, restored to how it might have looked a hundred years ago. There were pictures on the wall, people in traditional costume, those towering lace headdresses and elaborately embroidered waistcoats. In contrast, Ari’s eyes were immediately drawn to a large picture of a group of men standing in Pors Sirène, fishermen from their clothes. The photo had been enlarged so it was grainy and their faces hard to make out. There was something about them, though… She peered closer at the label –Les Maquisards de Sainte Sirène, mort pour la France et pour la mémoire d’Ys.
‘Rafael, who’s that?’
