A gust of unseasonably chilly air ushers in a man with a curl to his lip. The low line of his brow is all too familiar. He’s the sort that remained in the nest and right now I’d prefer he’d stay here, possibly locked in a birdcage.
My parents welcome Gaston like their long-lost son. They fuss over him and ask if he’s hungry or thirsty, like he’s their ticket to whatever remains of their dream for me to be a successful ballerina. I hate to state the obvious, but that ship has sailed. What Connor said shortly after we met about burning the boats comes to mind.
I thought I’d burned this bridge when I left, but in a few long strides, Gaston crosses the room and lifts me out of the chair like I’m a sack of grain. He exclaims in French that I’m as beautiful as ever and is pleased that I finally came to my senses and returned home.
Without thinking, I rattle off a friendly greeting in contrast to the way I feel—like a python chokes me. Like I’m a helpless, pathetic teenager again, subject to my mother and Gaston’s desires. That I have to do what they say or else...
Coming to my senses, I push myself free from the arrogant brute my parents always wanted me to marry. He could use a few weeks at Blancbourg.
Gaston casts a dark look at Connor, who’s gotten to his feet. He stands several inches taller than Gaston, but they’re both muscular and well-built—the former from football and the latter from ballet and manual labor.
Connor extends his hand, all alpha, as if claiming his territory. “Connor Wolfe, nice to meet you.”
Gaston tips his chin up slightly and scoffs. He doesn’t offer his hand to shake. “I don’t see a ring on her finger,” Gaston speaks in broken English.
I press my shoulders back. “Let me remind you that I am not a thing to be bartered between families.”
“No, you’re a silly girl who leaves her family.” Gaston looks down at me like I’m a shame to the Berghier name.
“I’m a woman from a silly family who wanted me to become a famous dancer so they could have more money,” I say in French, not to be rude, but because I don’t want Connor to see me at their mercy.
Gaston clenches his fists. “You abandoned them and me.”
“You cheated on me multiple times. I went and got a college education and?—”
“They sacrificed everything for you.”
“I didn’t ask them to do so. They made choices for me before I could make them for myself.” The seams of my life unravel before my eyes. Everything I worked so hard for comes apart in this simple exchange. I feel trapped and like they’ll try to keep me here all over again.
My pulse batters my chest and it’s hard to breathe.
“Cat, are you okay?” Concern pierces Connor’s eyes as he’s likely thinking about my heart.
I nod and stifle a sniffle. I can’t let them or him see me come undone.
“Come on now, don’t make a scene, Cateline,” my father says.
“Gaston has missed you all this time,” my mother adds.
I take note that they didn’t miss me.
“Now that you’re back, we can pick up where we left off,” Gaston says.
It’s obvious my parents told him about my visit and still want me to marry him. Aside from us being former dance partners, it would benefit their status in the community.
Connor steps closer and his gaze sweeps over me. “Hey, Kitty Cat.” His voice is low and gentle, bringing my focus to him alone. I block out everything else in the room. Apparently, he does too.
“When we were in Paris, you asked what this means.” He motions between us. “You taught me to be a gentleman. You taught me to love you. I want you to be Mrs. Wolfe.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze. Tears pinch the corners of my eyes, but they’re the happy kind. For the first time since entering this house, I can breathe.
I plant a kiss on his lips and say, “I like the sound of Madame Wolfe.”
32
CATELINE
Connor turns to my parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Berghier, we came here because I respect your family and understand you have certain traditions and expectations. I want to formally ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
