The Chateau by the River

by Chloé Duval

  “Alex…are you in love with Éric?” Bea’s voice echoed inside my head.

  I was going insane.

  Lost in thought, I didn’t really pay attention to where I was walking and twisted my ankle. Again.

  The same one, of course.

  “Ouch!” I grunted. “Oh, heck! I must be cursed!”

  Éric turned back.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, everything under control. I think the ground is trying to murder me,” I joked, “but I’m tough, so it’s going to need to step up its game.”

  “You twisted your ankle again?”

  “Yeah, but I’m fine. It just rekindled the pain, but it’s okay. It’s gone now!”

  “Is it the same ankle?”

  “Yes, but I’m telling you, I’m fine! Look!”

  And I hopped up on one foot to prove it—but I couldn’t hold back a grimace.

  Maybe I had been just a touch optimistic.

  “I can see that. Come on, princess, up you go. I’ll carry you.”

  What? No! Bad idea! Very bad idea!

  “You will not give me a piggyback ride!” I retorted.

  He turned and offered me his back as if I hadn’t spoken at all.

  His muscled back that I had been admiring.

  “Climb up,” he insisted. “Or I’m carrying you like a sack of potatoes. Your choice.”

  “I can walk, I’m telling you!” I protested. “There’s no need!”

  Even to my own ears, my protests did not seem very convincing. Unsurprisingly, Éric simply stared at me over his shoulder, eyebrows raised as though to indicate that I would do better to cooperate.

  After a few seconds of me refusing to move, he sighed and turned to face me fully. Smiling wolfishly, a mischievous glint in his eye, he took a step toward me.

  “Very well. You leave me no choice.”

  “You think your caveman impersonation will convince me?” I drawled, backing up with a simmering glance. “My dear, you are very much mistaken.”

  “We’ll see.”

  And he leapt for me without further ado.

  Of course, I used my smaller size to dodge under his arm. A merciless game of tag followed, one that I eventually lost. Éric was much faster and nimbler than I was, especially with my still painful ankle. And before I knew it, he had hoisted me up on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, half laughing, half shrieking and kicking, begging him to let go of me.

  “Nope. I caught you, I’m keeping you.”

  “But I can walk. I’m fine. You’ve seen it!”

  “This is for your own safety. You are the clumsiest person I have ever met, and I have better things to do with my day than drive you to the hospital for a broken leg or God knows whatever part you decide to damage next.”

  I giggled. I could only picture what a sight we must have made, me slung over his shoulder, his arms around my thighs, and suddenly I couldn’t stop laughing.

  I was still laughing when Éric set me down.

  He eyed me for a few moments, half-baffled, half-amused.

  “You really are an astonishing woman, Alexandra.”

  There was no mistaking the admiration in his voice. His words moved me despite my best efforts, sobering me up, and I felt my cheeks flush.

  “You’re adorable when you blush,” he murmured. His gaze and his voice wrapped around me.

  Time stood still for a heartbeat.

  I dragged up from somewhere the strength to tear my gaze away from his. I cleared my throat and looked around.

  “So, what is it you want to show me?”

  “Come over here.”

  We were deep in the park, on a slightly elevated point, near the forest that curved around the estate and had probably been hunting grounds before the Revolution. The remains of an old wall of white stones lay at our feet.

  From where we were, we had an unrivaled view of the rear façade of the castle and what I could only guess was the ballroom and balcony where Thomas had declared his love to Gabrielle. The water from the moat glistened beneath.

  Longing…

  “The view is magical from here,” I murmured in a slightly strangled voice.

  For a moment, I wished time would stop so I would stay forever frozen in this instant.

  I sighed a little.

  “Is everything okay?” Éric asked, drifting closer.

  “Yeah, yeah, everything is fine.”

  I turned to him.

  “So?”

  “Come here,” he repeated.

  I followed him around the low wall and caught sight of a rosebush with a single rose standing tall in its midst. Its petals were a deep pink, so dark it was almost red. It was only just blooming, but it already seemed magnificent to me.

  “My father planted this bush for my mother,” Éric said quietly. “This is where he proposed to her.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “It hasn’t bloomed in years. It barely broke the ground each year, even though my father had chosen a perennial flower so it would live forever. Like his love for my mother.”

  My throat tightened again, and I crouched, examining the flower. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Éric kneel down beside me. My heart began to beat faster.

  “For a long time, I thought it was dead. And yesterday I came here to think, and saw the rose. As though it wanted to be reborn.”

  I kept silent, but my conversation with Bea was playing on a loop inside my head. As though reading my thoughts, Éric turned to me.

  “Do you believe in fate, Alexandra?”

  “No. Surprising though it may be for a romantic like me, I don’t believe in fate. I believe in choice. That everyone is the master of their own destiny.”

  I could hear myself speak, and with every word something quivered inside me. His presence so close to mine consumed me entirely. I wanted to lean against him. To rest my head in the crook of his shoulder.

  And stay there forever.

  “I didn’t believe in fate either.”

  “What made you change your mind?” I asked without looking at him.

  “You did.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You arrived just when I needed help. And you found a solution.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet. The castle hasn’t been saved.”

  “I know that. But no one has done for me what you have, even though I’m a total stranger. You don’t owe me anything. I treated you like the enemy. And you gave me hope when I was ready to give up.”

  I kept my gaze on the flower, like a lighthouse in the night, a solitary sign of life and hope amid the ruins. I could feel my heartbeat pulsing right up into my ears.

  Gently, I reached for the rosebud. I focused on it, unwilling to show how much his words were winning me over. How much I had to restrain myself not to give in to the siren song of his arms. Not to give in to him.

  I traced the still half-closed petals with a fingertip. In a little while, the rose would be in full bloom.

  And I would not be here to see it.

  A sob rose up in my throat, and I swallowed it down.

  Éric’s hand brushed against mine, a slow and deliberate caress that created a storm within me. My eyes halted on his fingers lacing with mine.

  “Alex,” he murmured. “Alex, look at me.”

  Mesmerized, I obeyed. Him using my nickname was enough to rock my world. Everything was shaking, my stomach, my heart, my lungs. And then our gazes met again, and I drowned in his eyes.

  I couldn’t think. I knew I should have said something, done something, but I couldn’t remember what. I had lost all power of speech and thought. I could only think of, only wish for one thing—for his hands to hold my face and his lips to brush against mine, f
or him to end the torment that was flaying me alive.

  He seemed to read my thoughts. His hand left mine and framed my face, fingers sliding into my hair, thumbs stroking my cheekbones, blue gaze searching mine for a sign, for approval.

  He must have found it. I could no longer struggle, not even against myself. So I let go.

  Our faces drifted gently closer until we were only a hairsbreadth apart. The expectation made my senses and emotions grow raw as I slipped closer to insanity.

  At last, his lips brushed mine. Gently at first, almost chastely, shyly. Then one of us—which one, I had no idea—opened their lips and the kiss grew deeper, fiercer. His tongue searched for mine and started a slow dance. His hands gripped my face tighter, drawing me closer until I was glued to his chest. I almost toppled over, unbalanced, and clung to him like an anchor, throwing my arms around his broad shoulders while my body melted against his.

  I lost all sense of time. I was dizzy and I wanted more. Much more. Too much.

  A voice inside my head repeated that I should stop, but I chased it away, kissing Éric even more fiercely, hiding from reality, forgetting everything that wasn’t him, me, us. Then the voice grew louder, and I was suddenly aware of what I was doing.

  With great difficulty, I pulled my lips and body away from his. I reclaimed the distance I needed to think, to have control over my thoughts and actions once again.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I have to go.”

  Pain, rejection, incomprehension flashed through his eyes, breaking my heart. I should have told him it was a mistake. That we should stop there. That I had Spencer, that I was engaged. But instead I smiled and said apologetically, “I don’t have a costume for tonight. I really need to find one.”

  Éric sighed in relief and beamed at me.

  “See you tonight?” he asked almost shyly.

  I nodded and wordlessly sprang to my feet before literally running away.

  Without a care for my painful ankle, my legs carried me away of their own volition. With every step, a question rang in my head.

  What have I done?

  Chapter 28

  Gabrielle

  Castle of Ferté-Chandeniers

  January 1900

  The next morning, Gabrielle joined her father in the library as if nothing had happened, as though the world, her world, had not just spun right off its axis. She kept her brand-new happiness quiet—she had promised Thomas she would not say anything before he asked her father for her hand—and helped Maurice restore order to the room in light of their upcoming departure. It would be soon, now.

  Careful not to meet her father’s gaze lest he read her like an open book, Gabrielle tried to contain her impatience. She sorted through the misplaced books, riffled through an atlas—stopping on North America, of course—before she put it back, humming the melody to The Blue Danube under her breath. The memories of the previous evening danced through her mind: the waltz, the stars, the proposal…and her yes, sincere and heartfelt.

  She was on her fourth iteration of the music when there came a knock on the door. At last, at long last, Thomas came in.

  Her heart began to beat wildly.

  This is it, she thought. Here we are. Today is the first day of the rest of our lives.

  Their gazes met, and Thomas smiled at her. It felt as though the sun had risen behind his eyes.

  It was only a brief glance, over before you could say “wedding,” but enough to turn Gabrielle’s knees to water.

  Thomas walked up to Maurice and bowed respectfully, asking to speak to him in the most solemn of manners. Maurice accepted immediately, though not without a sideways glance toward his daughter. Begging her knees not to betray her, Gabrielle rose and excused herself with a murmur, heading for the door. She brushed against Thomas and he seized her hand.

  “Stay,” he whispered too low for her father to hear, and his gaze was so tender she almost melted on the spot.

  Nodding, she remained by his side—he had not released her hand—and, eyes lowered, summoned all of her will to keep a cool façade utterly at odds with the smile that stretched her lips while she waited patiently for Thomas to speak.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. D’Arcy?” Maurice asked as he stood.

  “Sir, I have come to humbly ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  Euphoria rose within her, and she closed her eyes. All night, she had imagined this moment. Thomas bowing to her father, asking for her hand, Maurice eager to accept, joy and happiness in his eyes. But his icy response felt like cold water thrown in her face.

  “I suppose you want to take her with you halfway across the world?”

  Shocked, Gabrielle looked up and stared at her father uncomprehendingly. Maurice’s gaze was so hard, so cold in that moment that she almost believed he would refuse to give them his blessing. And what followed did nothing to reassure her.

  “I do, sir,” Thomas replied, apparently unaffected by his hostile demeanor. It almost seemed as though he had been prepared for it.

  “Do you love her?” Maurice asked.

  Thomas’s gaze strayed toward Gabrielle’s and met it.

  “More than life itself.”

  Gabrielle was so moved she nearly kissed him there and then.

  “I have two conditions,” Maurice announced, reclaiming the lovebirds’ attention.

  “What are they, sir?”

  “I want you to promise me to take care of her as if she were the most precious thing in your life. No, more than that. If anything should happen to her, or if I should learn that you have harmed her in any way, I will not hesitate to cross the seas to let you know what I think.”

  “You have my word, sir.”

  “That is not enough. Swear it to me on what you hold dearest.”

  “Papa!” Gabrielle cried, unable to keep quiet any longer.

  She knew that her father wanted to ensure Thomas would take good care of her, but need he be so cold? She could barely comprehend it. She had thought he would be happy for her!

  “Stay out of this, Gabrielle. This is a matter between this young man and me.”

  Gabrielle wanted to protest that she was at the heart of the matter, since it was her hand they were discussing, but Thomas stopped her.

  “Your father is right, Gabrielle. It is only natural that he should wish to ensure that I deserve you.”

  She settled down, reluctantly willing to keep her peace a little longer. Thomas turned back to her father and, with utter conviction in his voice, declared, “I swear it upon my mother’s grave.”

  “Very well.”

  “What is the other?”

  “The other?”

  “You spoke of two conditions.”

  “Ah, yes.”

  And instantly Maurice’s severe attitude vanished, to be replaced with his usual kindly smile. “I would like you to call me ‘Father,’ since you shall become my son,” he announced warmly.

  Relief washed over Gabrielle, and she could not resist the urge to throw her arms around his neck, dragging Thomas with her, making him an awkward member of a three-way family hug.

  “I hope you will forgive me for my little deception,” Maurice apologized. He explained that he had promised his late wife he would watch over their only daughter and that it was his duty to ensure that Thomas would do the same.

  “It is only natural. I expected as much.”

  “And I have a favor of my own to ask,” Maurice added.

  “What is it?”

  “For you to release Hélène from her duties so I may marry her.”

  Gabrielle clapped with joy.

  “She accepted?”

  “She accepted.”

  “Papa, that’s wonderful!” She hugged him again. “I am so very glad on your behalf!”

  “Well?” Maurice a
sked Thomas over his daughter’s shoulder.

  “Hélène may leave today if she so desires. I wish you both all the happiness in the world.”

  * * * *

  That evening, true to form, Gabrielle slipped out of her bedroom and ran through the halls to join the man who was now her fiancé. Her heart beat wildly, and her stomach was doing cartwheels. She only slowed as she reached the library. The door was ajar, and pale light filtered into the corridor. She pushed it open and stepped in.

  Sitting in what would forever remain their love seat, his back to her, Thomas’s gaze was lost to the flames. He seemed deep in thought, so deep he did not hear her approach. She tiptoed closer, smiling in mischief. Then she placed her hands over his eyes.

  “Who is it?” she whispered in his ear.

  “Hmmm. I know not. A fairy?” Thomas guessed playfully.

  “Wrong.”

  “A mermaid?”

  “Wrong again.”

  “The woman from the next castle over?”

  “In the middle of the night?” She pretended offense. “Why in God’s name would the neighbor’s wife creep through our castle in the middle of the night?”

  “Shall I deduce it is again the wrong answer?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then only one possibility remains,” he declared.

  “I am all ears.”

  “The love of my life.”

  And without further ado, he reached up and seized her wrists, pulling her over the back of the love seat until she tumbled into his arms, into his lap. She giggled breathlessly, but her laughter trailed away as her eyes met Thomas’s. Slowly, tenderly, her fiancé’s lips brushed hers, a sweet caress so soft and gentle it set her entire body to shivering.

  “Good evening,” he whispered, his forehead against hers.

  “Good evening,” she replied, twining her arms around his neck.

  Of their own volition, her fingers lost themselves in her fiancé’s hair—she savored the word—and she stifled a blissful sigh. So often had she dreamed of this.… She could still hardly believe she would be able to do it as much as she desired. It was a dream, a dream she wished never to wake up from.

  Thomas closed his eyes under her hands, relaxing against her as she had never seen him do before. He nestled his face in the crook of her neck and sighed.