She pulled a title down, the binding worn, the pages leafed through many times.She read words likeapocalypse, the second coming of Christ, seven trumpetsandseven bowls.She put the book back and was running her finger down the spines of others when her gaze landed on a wooden trunk tucked into the corner of the room, overshadowed by the large bookcase.
The trunk was old, cracked, the hinges made of some sort of metal, but they weren’t rusted.In fact they were well-oiled because they didn’t make a sound when she lifted the heavy lid.
Lainie sank to her knees, wincing when her bruised hip bumped the trunk, and peered inside.She carefully lifted out more clothing and put them aside.She let her hand rest on them, as if they carried the essence of Christien in them.Like all the other clothes, they were made of natural fibers, but instead of the tailored garments she found in his dresser and closet, these were roughly made, hand sewn with large stitches and rough thread.The colors were dull, the white more of an ecru, the reds more of an orange.
Reaching back into the trunk she accidentally knocked the pile over.Cursing under her breath, she scooped them up and was about to refold them when her eyes fell on a blue dress.
Using the trunk for leverage, Lainie stood and held the dress up.
At one time it had probably been a vibrant blue, but had faded to a dull purple.It was simply cut with no ornamentation.Hand sewn but sewn better than the others in the pile.When she held it up to her, it reached past her toes and trailed on the ground.
Something flashed through her mind, a memory there then gone.
Christien hated leaving Madelaine alone, but was damned if he would put off this visit any longer.His tightly held fury was fraying and he had every intention of taking it out on someone.
He strode through the front doors of Lucheux Limited, bypassing the reception desk and ignoring the receptionist who stood in surprise.
“Excuse me, sir.Sir!”
He punched the button for the elevator as she lifted her phone and spoke into it rapidly.Good.Let her call security.He was itching for a fight.It’d been a long time since he had one.
Damn modern times.
In the old days rivals fought it out with battle axes.Later they dueled.The prohibition of dueling led to the softness of modern man, in his opinion.Nowadays people wanted totalkthings out.
He snorted.
Talk was the last thing he wanted to do, but because these were modern times he would try it first.If talking didn’t work he would resort to the old way.
The elevator arrived and he stepped in.The door slid closed just as building security entered the reception area.He grinned, his muscles twitching.Too bad he didn’t have his sword at his side or a dagger in his belt.
The grin faded fast when he thought of Madelaine and his near terror when he received the call that she’d been hit by a car, or his fury when she told him she’d beenpushed.His hands closed into fists and he had to breathe through clenched teeth.
He was not going to lose her so soon after finding her again.He’d do what it took to protect her even if it meant he had to put her under lock and key.Thank God she hadn’t argued about coming home with him.Modern woman or no, he would have thrown her over his shoulder and carried her away which wouldn’t have endeared him to her, but he didn’t care.Better alive and mad as a wet cat than dead.
The elevators opened to another desk with another woman behind it.She looked up at him, her mouth opened in an O of surprise.
“Where is Etienne Lucheux?”
Her hand inched toward the phone.Christien slammed his hand over it and leaned forward.“Tell me where he is.”
She snatched her arm back.Her eyes darted to the left.
“Thank you.”
He pushed Lucheux’s office door open with the force of only part of his anger.Lucheux’s head jerked up.Giselle, standing at the side of the desk, jumped.
Christien closed the door quietly.“Call your pitiful security force and tell them to leave us alone.”
“What are you doing here?”Giselle spit out.
Christien had never liked Giselle, finding her too driven for her own good.She tended to act before thinking, to grasp what wasn’t hers and to demand when she was undeserving.
“Call them,” Christien said to Lucheux.
With a nonchalant shrug, Lucheux picked up the phone, dialed and spoke quietly into it.When he hung up Christien approached the desk, placed his hands on it and leaned forward.
Giselle moved closer.Christien swung his head toward her and narrowed his eyes.“Not another step.”
