by Marie Laval
Her body trembled and sagged in his arms. He held her more tightly as her fingers tangled in his hair, and pulled him closer. He heard her whisper his name, along with a string of words he didn’t quite understand. She spoke in English again, and for some reason the sound of her soft, breathless voice made him even wilder. He looked up, her eyes were unfocussed, her lips parted in surrender.
With an urgency he couldn’t control, he unfastened her jeans and pulled them down together with her knickers. She kicked her pumps off. Her clothes fell to the tiled floor, and at last she stood naked in front of him. His heart drummed so hard against his ribs it hurt.
His hands slid along the round curves of her hips, dipped down between her thighs, and found her. She moaned and gripped his shoulders harder as he touched and stroked, and his caresses became insistent, driving them both to the edge.
Why the hell was he still dressed? He wanted her against him. He wanted to feel her, all of her. Touch and take, and make love to her as the night grew deep and still. He wanted to make her his.
He pulled his T-shirt over his head in a swift move and threw it on the floor. She raised her hands towards his chest. The touch of her fingertips on his skin as she slowly stroked him made him groan. He quivered under her touch.
Her eyes widened, as if the power she had over him surprised her. Her breath grew short. Her hand slid down his stomach, caressed him through his jeans.
Never had he felt so close to losing control. He pulled her to him and kissed her hard and slow. Her arms linked around his neck, her soft breasts yielded against his chest, the brush of her nipples against his skin a delicious, unbearable torment.
He scooped her in his arms, lay her on the small bed. He got rid of the rest of his clothing, covered her with his body. Grabbing hold of her hands, he pinned her arms on either side of her head and looked deep into her eyes.
‘You won’t run away from me this time, will you?’
‘No. I promise. Never again.’
Her eyes were unfocussed, her voice hardly a whisper.
She was his. His heart felt about to burst as he drove inside her.
A loud knock on the bedroom door woke Amy up the following morning. They had fallen asleep only a couple of hours before, entwined in each other’s arms in the small bed. She shook Fabien gently. It had no effect, so she kissed his chest and bit his shoulder lightly. His hands slid down her back, sending tingles of pleasure in her whole body.
‘Hmm … I want to wake up that way every single morning from now on.’
He opened his eyes and smiled. ‘Bonjour, Aimée.’
‘There’s someone at the door,’ she whispered.
‘Monsieur Coste. Il est sept heures,’ a man called from the corridor.
Unconcerned, Fabien pulled her on top of him and brushed her hair off her face.
‘I’ll be right there.’ Fabien called back in a rough, sleepy voice.
He didn’t move. Instead, his lips found hers, his fingers stroked a slow path down her back, rekindled delicious fires and aches inside her.
‘We have to get up,’ she said as he nibbled the side of her throat.
‘They’ll come back.’
He started making love to her and nothing mattered any longer.
He was right. Twenty minutes later, there was another knock on the door.
‘The coffee’s getting cold and the kids are getting restless.’
The man said in a more pressing voice.
Fabien sighed.
‘This time I’ll have to get up. I want to take the children abseiling and be back at Manoir Coste to go down to the tunnel with Orsini this afternoon.’
He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at Amy, who stretched languorously on the bed.
‘Mon aimée, you look wild and wonderful.’
The warm, soft glow in his eyes made her heart beat faster. Had he just called her his beloved?
Self-conscious, she ran her fingers through her tousled hair. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man like him could love. She wasn’t sophisticated, wealthy, or from a posh family. She didn’t ride – she didn’t even share his passion for hunting! He was a wealthy aristocrat, who owned a luxury hotel and she ran a small, and far from successful guesthouse.
He was the mighty and powerful duc de Coste, and she was only the new lady of Bellefontaine.
Suddenly a feeling of dread spread through her chest and it was as if a black cloud filled the bedroom.
‘What’s wrong? You’ve turned pale all of a sudden, as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
She sat up, pulled the sheet up to cover herself and looked at him in dismay.
‘Do you realise what we’ve done? We repeated the pattern. A duc de Coste and a lady from Bellefontaine.’
She closed her eyes and recited the words engraved on one of the stones Laurent had found. The spell flows with the spring, binding hearts together until death tears them apart.’
‘You said that before, and I told you I didn’t believe in spells.’
‘It’s not a spell. It’s a curse, and it doesn’t matter if we believe in it or not.’
‘So what are you saying? That what I feel for you isn’t real but an illusion? That I’m not really in love with you but under the influence of an ancient goddess who cursed my ancestors?’
‘Well, put like that it does sound a little silly,’ she admitted.
Then she gasped. ‘Did you just say that you were …?’
‘In love with you. Yes. I did, and I am, and I won’t let you convince yourself, or me, that it’s not real.’
She took a shaky breath, and pushed the immense joy of hearing him say he loved her deep inside her.
‘Don't you understand? It’s a curse! Laurent researched your family tree and he said nearly all the male heads of the family died young. Look what happened to Renaud Coste, to your grandfather … how many other Coste men had a liaison with a lady from Bellefontaine and suffered an early death?’
‘What else did Orsini dig out about my family?’ His voice turned cold.
‘Nothing special. I only meant that I don't want anything to happen to you. ’
‘I’ve had enough of this nonsense. I’m going for a shower.’ And he walked out, leaving her shaky and sorry she’d spoken out and made him annoyed.
She got up, splashed cold water over her face, combed her hair, and got dressed.
He opened the door a few minutes later, a sombre look on his face. Without a word he strode across the room, with the towel still tied around his waist, pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth. His dark hair was wet, his chest still damp.
‘Sorry about losing my temper before,’ he said. ‘This whole business is getting to me.’
‘I know. Don’t worry.’
She touched his hair, the side of his face, rough with stubble. He turned a little, just enough for his mouth to kiss the palm of her hand, sending shivers along her arm, her whole body. Her heart constricted almost to the point of hurting. Was it possible to love someone so much, and feel such a potent mixture of pleasure, joy and pain?
‘I’d better hurry. It looks like it’s going to rain, and I don’t want to be stuck on top of the cliff with the kids. Wet rock faces can be dangerous, especially where the routes are worn.’
He dropped his towel, looked through his bag for a grey T-shirt and sports pants, and got dressed quickly.
‘Ready? Then let’s face the mob.’
He finished lacing his trainers and took Amy’s hand.
The dining room was like an old-fashioned school refectory, with long tables and wooden benches. Two dozen children and teenagers, and several carers from Maison Espérance, were enjoying a hearty breakfast of hot chocolate, coffee, bread and jam, and pains au chocolat.
A young man waved to Fabien.
‘There’s space over here. I saved you some coffee,’ he called. Then looking at Fabien and Amy in turn he added. ‘I didn’t know you had a guest.’
Fr�
�déric took his place at the far end of the bench. He looked awful, his eyes bloodshot, his face creased and pale. The man drank too much and it was starting to show.
When he saw Amy at the table he sneered.
‘Well, well, it looks like someone got lucky last night.’
He licked his lips slowly.
A shiver of disgust ran down Amy’s spine. She averted her eyes without answering and looked at Fabien.
‘Are you sure you’re fit to climb?’ Fabien asked his cousin in a sharp voice.
‘Of course I am, your lordship. I would happily race you to the top.’
His hand shook as he poured a large cup of coffee.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. Let’s concentrate on getting there and back in one piece. I don’t like the look of the sky.’
Unease tightened Amy’s chest as she looked the ominous grey clouds.
‘Maybe you’d better cancel.’
‘We’ll be all right, don’t worry.’
They looked at each other over the breakfast table – a deep, intense look that moved and churned intense emotions inside her. Then he smiled, and a line appeared on the corner of his mouth. She couldn’t resist touching his cheek lightly. He caught her hand and held it for a second before kissing it. Was it real? Did he truly feel for her the same wild, burning love she had for him? She swallowed hard, and forced herself to drink her black coffee and take a bite of toast.
When breakfast was over, Amy followed Fabien, the staff and the children from Maison Espérance outside. Fabien was right. The weather was turning. The sky was the colour of lead, thunder rumbled in the distance. After weeks of dry, sunny weather, it looked like rain was coming at last.
Her mobile rang. It was Chris.
‘You need to come back.’
‘What’s up?’
‘I just had the most bizarre phone call. It was a woman called Eva … the one you told me about, the English lady who had the nightmares.’
‘What did she say?’ Amy asked, alarm bells ringing in her mind.
‘That she wanted to speak to you urgently and that she would phone back in an hour. It was scary. She said you were in danger.’
‘I’m on my way. Don’t worry.’
Amy switched off the mobile and rubbed her temple with her fingers. What did Eva have to say that was so urgent?
The children lined up in front of the youth hostel and strapped their rucksacks on as Fabien and Frédéric conducted a check of the climbing equipment – ropes, carabiners, harnesses – before shoving them into two large bags.
‘Chris phoned,’ she told Fabien. 'I have to go back to Bellefontaine.’
‘Any problems?’
‘I hope not.’
Oblivious to the children and Frédéric gawking at them, Fabien drew her into his arms and brushed his lips to her forehead, her eyelids, her mouth.
‘I’ll drop by at Bellefontaine tonight after Orsini and I explore the tunnel,’ he said. ‘With luck we’ll find that temple today.’
She looked up, her throat suddenly tight with anxiety.
‘Can I come with you?’
‘No. Absolutely not. I don’t want you anywhere near the tunnel, or the temple.’
‘Then promise you’ll be careful. You never know what – or who – you’ll run into.’
‘Don’t worry.’
He kissed her once more.
‘I’d better make a move.’
He gave the order for the children to start on the rocky path at the foot of the cliffs. As they disappeared into the trees, a sudden, irrational fear gripped her heart. Something was about to happen. Something terrible. She almost ran after Fabien to beg him to turn back. She forced a breath out and shook her head. She was being foolish and overanxious. He was an experienced climber and knew what he was doing. He would be all right.
Chapter Twenty-two
She stopped in the village for fresh bread and a carton of milk and was back at Bellefontaine within the hour.
Chris rushed to greet her as soon as she opened the front door.
‘Amy, you’re here at last. That woman has got me so worried.’
‘What exactly did she say?’
‘I couldn’t make any sense of it. Something about you being next for a sacrifice, about blood spilling everywhere. She sounds completely mad.’
The phone rang and Chris jumped.
‘It must be her.’
It was indeed Eva – breathless and barely coherent.
‘Amy, thank God you’re here. Listen, I must warn you, you’re in great danger.’
‘I’m so glad to hear from you, Eva,’ Amy said in a slow, quiet voice. Somehow she had to calm the young woman down.
‘How are you? Are you back at home?’
‘I’m still in hospital. They won’t let me out, but Justin came to visit this morning. Actually, he is here, right next to me.’
Her voice dropped to a mere whisper.
‘I don’t have much time. I had a dream about you. It was terrible. There was blood everywhere. You were lying on some kind of table. There was man, he wore a mask and he wanted to hurt you. You tried to push him away, tried to scream but you couldn’t. Oh Amy, they’re coming for you, I know it. You have to leave Bellefontaine before it’s too late.’
Amy’s throat was dry as she gripped the phone.
‘Thank you for warning me, Eva. I’m going to take your advice and stay at a friend’s for a while,’ she lied. ‘You said Justin was with you. Can I speak to him?’
Eva said a few words to someone next to her.
‘Amy, Justin here.’
He sounded weary.
‘I’m sorry about all this. Eva was hysterical this morning. She absolutely wanted to phone you so I gave in, but …’
‘There’s no improvement in her condition, then?’
‘Not really.’ He sighed heavily.
‘Does Eva still have the crystal – the one you showed me when you were here?’
He let out an impatient sigh.
‘She won’t let it out of her sight. She keeps it with her all the time, even here at the hospital.’
‘You must get rid of it,’ Amy urged. ‘I know it sounds silly, but I think it’s giving her nightmares.’
‘What are you talking about? How can a stone give anybody nightmares?’
‘Just do as I say. Promise you will. Please.’
‘Very well, I’ll try but I fear it'll cause her more distress than she needs right now. Listen, I have to go. The nurse is coming back and she doesn’t know about Eva phoning you. Bye, Amy.’
She looked at the now silent phone in her hand then turned to face Chris.
‘Is Laurent here?’
‘He went to Manoir Coste first thing this morning,’ her sister answered, a deep frown creasing her forehead. ‘What’s going on, Amy?’
‘I honestly don’t know. I told you about Eva, didn’t I? She had terrible nightmares when she was here, so terrible her husband cut their honeymoon short. Unfortunately she is now in a psychiatric hospital and is still experiencing weird dreams. Some of the things she said just now reminded me of Laurent’s stories about ancient sacrifices …’
‘I wish you two would stop with these stupid stories. We’re in the south of France in the twenty-first century, for God’s sake, not in the Carpathian Mountains in the Dark Ages!’ Chris cried out before walking away and slamming the kitchen door.
Amy could understand why her sister was angry. She had Peter to think about. They had just escaped from her drug-dealer boyfriend in England only to find themselves in the middle of a mystery in France – a weird, dark, and bloody mystery.
She decided to leave her alone for now and went up to her room to shower and change. Once dressed, she turned to the window and looked at the grey sky, still unable to shake the anxiety she’d felt as she watched Fabien walk up on the cliff path in Buoux.
What if it rained and he got stuck on the cliff face during a thunderstorm, or if he fell an
d got hurt? She shook her head and turned away from the window. Fabien would never compromise the children’s safety. She had to stop worrying. He said he’d come round in the afternoon. In the meantime, she would keep busy. She worked on her accounts for a while, but her mind kept going back to Buoux and the cliffs dominating the Aiguebrun valley.
Later that morning Peter popped his head through the door.
‘Auntie Amy. Mum sends me to tell you that the police are here. There’s a woman with them.’
Capitaine Ferri, Lieutenant Bijard, and Sophie Dessange sat at the table in the kitchen. Capitaine Ferri got up to shake her hand. She nodded to Lieutenant Bijard and smiled at Sophie, taking in her haunted eyes and pale, drawn face, made even more strikingly white by the bright red raincoat she was wearing. It must be devastating to return to Bellefontaine and confront the past after all these years.
‘If you don’t mind, Mademoiselle Carter, we need access to the garden for Madame Dessange to show us where the alleged events took place,’ Capitaine Ferri said.
‘I don’t mind, but you’d better hurry. It looks like it’s going to rain.’
As she finished speaking, the mighty crash of thunder resounded in the dark sky above them. Huge drops of rain splattered onto the windows and long flashes of lightening streaked the sky.
‘The worse of the thunderstorm is on the other side of the valley, towards Buoux,’ Lieutenant Bijard remarked.
Amy’s throat tightened once again and she glanced at the black storm clouds. Buoux. That’s where Fabien and the children were.
Capitaine Ferri opened his notebook.
‘Mademoiselle Carter, when we came to see you on Sunday we asked you if you had any knowledge of events taking place in or around Bellefontaine which could corroborate Madame Dessange’s claims.’
He looked at her, his pale blue eyes serious but not devoid of sympathy.
‘You were very vague, and refused to confirm or deny anything.’
‘Tell them about your dream, please,’ Sophie Dessange interrupted, joining her hands in a pleading gesture.