everything else. And my little girl wouldn’t talk to me again.’
He looked up to find that her eyes had softened. There was sympathy in them. ‘And there’s me been banging on all day about
me
and
my
dad.’ She reached out to put a hand over his, and he felt an electricity in her touch. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.’
‘Of course not. Why should you?’ She left her hand over his, and he began to feel uncomfortable. ‘Anyway, we had a sort of rapprochement recently.’
‘You’re talking again?’
‘Just about.’
‘That’s what you meant when you said earlier about telling people you love them, because they might not be around tomorrow.’
‘Actually, I was thinking about Pascale.’ He gently slipped his hand out from under hers to scoop up some potato with his fork. It was easier if he concentrated on his food.
He heard her small, sharp intake of breath. ‘She died?’
‘In childbirth. More than twenty years ago. Left me to bring up little Sophie all on my own.’
‘So you have two daughters?’
He nodded.
‘And there’s never been anyone else?’
He shrugged. ‘There’ve been women. Nothing lasting.’ He thought about Charlotte. She was the only woman who had ever meant anything to him after Pascale. But he still had no idea what he meant to her. And he wasn’t about to discuss that with Michelle.
‘That’s really hard to believe.’
He looked up, surprised. ‘What is?’
‘A good-looking man like you, without a woman.’
He felt trapped by her eyes and disconcerted by the hunger he saw in them. His mouth was dry, and there was a strange stab of desire in his loins. But she was far too young. ‘I told you, I’m not the sort of man who preys on young women.’
‘And there was me hoping you might just have been saying that to lull me into a false sense of security.’ Still she fixed him with eyes that seemed to penetrate the very depths of his darkest desires, and he knew she would be difficult to resist.
III.
The balmy warm of the evening had given way to a slight autumn chill. It was carried in the humidity condensing on the grass as dew and gathering along the river to form a mist that would obscure the early sun of tomorrow morning. Enzo drew his 2CV alongside Michelle’s rental car where she had parked it that afternoon. There was condensation forming on the windscreen.
They stepped into the wash of moonlight. She shivered and insinuated herself under his arm, running a hand across his chest in search of warmth. He felt her own warmth through her tee-shirt and her breasts pressing into his side. Almost instinctively he put an arm around her shoulder. She turned her face upwards and pushed herself up on tip-toes to brush her lips against his in the lightest of kisses. ‘Are you going to invite me in for a nightcap?’
‘I only have whisky.’
‘I love whisky. I love it on a man’s breath when I kiss him. Sweet and smoky and sexy. But I’ve never tasted it on the lips of a real Scotsman before.’
Enzo felt blood rushing to that place between his legs that would steal away all reason.
They walked past the other cars parked there, and almost subliminally Enzo heard the tick, tick of a cooling radiator. A vehicle not long arrived. There were still lights on in the castle, and he assumed that the Lefèvres were recently returned from an evening out.
At the foot of the stairs, Michelle slipped out from under his arm and jumped on to the first step to turn and face him. Their eyes were on a level now. The green of hers almost glowed like a cat’s in the moonlight. She took his face in both her hands and kissed him. A long, searching kiss that made his legs nearly fold beneath him. She broke away and smiled. ‘Just wanted the before and after effect.’
Enzo was not sure he could restrain himself long enough for an after effect. He fumbled for the keys in his pocket and climbed the stairs ahead of her to search in the dark for the keyhole. When, finally, he
He looked up to find that her eyes had softened. There was sympathy in them. ‘And there’s me been banging on all day about
me
and
my
dad.’ She reached out to put a hand over his, and he felt an electricity in her touch. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.’
‘Of course not. Why should you?’ She left her hand over his, and he began to feel uncomfortable. ‘Anyway, we had a sort of rapprochement recently.’
‘You’re talking again?’
‘Just about.’
‘That’s what you meant when you said earlier about telling people you love them, because they might not be around tomorrow.’
‘Actually, I was thinking about Pascale.’ He gently slipped his hand out from under hers to scoop up some potato with his fork. It was easier if he concentrated on his food.
He heard her small, sharp intake of breath. ‘She died?’
‘In childbirth. More than twenty years ago. Left me to bring up little Sophie all on my own.’
‘So you have two daughters?’
He nodded.
‘And there’s never been anyone else?’
He shrugged. ‘There’ve been women. Nothing lasting.’ He thought about Charlotte. She was the only woman who had ever meant anything to him after Pascale. But he still had no idea what he meant to her. And he wasn’t about to discuss that with Michelle.
‘That’s really hard to believe.’
He looked up, surprised. ‘What is?’
‘A good-looking man like you, without a woman.’
He felt trapped by her eyes and disconcerted by the hunger he saw in them. His mouth was dry, and there was a strange stab of desire in his loins. But she was far too young. ‘I told you, I’m not the sort of man who preys on young women.’
‘And there was me hoping you might just have been saying that to lull me into a false sense of security.’ Still she fixed him with eyes that seemed to penetrate the very depths of his darkest desires, and he knew she would be difficult to resist.
III.
The balmy warm of the evening had given way to a slight autumn chill. It was carried in the humidity condensing on the grass as dew and gathering along the river to form a mist that would obscure the early sun of tomorrow morning. Enzo drew his 2CV alongside Michelle’s rental car where she had parked it that afternoon. There was condensation forming on the windscreen.
They stepped into the wash of moonlight. She shivered and insinuated herself under his arm, running a hand across his chest in search of warmth. He felt her own warmth through her tee-shirt and her breasts pressing into his side. Almost instinctively he put an arm around her shoulder. She turned her face upwards and pushed herself up on tip-toes to brush her lips against his in the lightest of kisses. ‘Are you going to invite me in for a nightcap?’
‘I only have whisky.’
‘I love whisky. I love it on a man’s breath when I kiss him. Sweet and smoky and sexy. But I’ve never tasted it on the lips of a real Scotsman before.’
Enzo felt blood rushing to that place between his legs that would steal away all reason.
They walked past the other cars parked there, and almost subliminally Enzo heard the tick, tick of a cooling radiator. A vehicle not long arrived. There were still lights on in the castle, and he assumed that the Lefèvres were recently returned from an evening out.
At the foot of the stairs, Michelle slipped out from under his arm and jumped on to the first step to turn and face him. Their eyes were on a level now. The green of hers almost glowed like a cat’s in the moonlight. She took his face in both her hands and kissed him. A long, searching kiss that made his legs nearly fold beneath him. She broke away and smiled. ‘Just wanted the before and after effect.’
Enzo was not sure he could restrain himself long enough for an after effect. He fumbled for the keys in his pocket and climbed the stairs ahead of her to search in the dark for the keyhole. When, finally, he
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