The Wilder Wedding. Lyn Stone

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СКАЧАТЬ watching the outline of his long body silvered by the moonlight from the window. Forbidden fruit.

      At times, she would wake and feel his gaze on her, as well. Perhaps he only checked to see whether she still breathed, but Laura knew that was not his only interest. The desire emanating from his makeshift bed grew almost palpable.

      Those torturous six nights aside, they had truly done Paris during the daylight hours. She certainly couldn’t fault Sean as a tour guide. He had pointed out all the sights promised and more. This morning they had walked for miles along the Seine, had luncheon at a café along the Champs Elysées, and then climbed the steps to the top of Notre Dame. The magnificent view of the city almost banished her exhaustion.

      “I’ve saved the Louvre for tomorrow and the day after,” he said when they descended to street level again and exited the cathedral.

      “Thank goodness, I’ll have tonight to soak some feeling back into my feet.” She would never admit it to Sean, but the attractions of Paris dimmed in light of his own.

      The grandeur of Napoleon’s Arc de Triomphe, the magnificent stained glass of La Sainte-Chappelle, and the strange tower that Eiffel designed were only feasts for the eyes. Sean fed every single sense she had and a sixth one she only just discovered, an inner sense fully attuned to his hidden needs. It made her want to give him everything she was, to fill with light that dark void Ondine had left. But could he withstand another such loss when she had to leave him?

      What she needed was a real distraction, something to engage her mind fully, something to displace the mind-drugging memories of their one intimate encounter the day they married.

      “I wonder when we’ll meet this Charles Beaumont?” Sean had sent round a message to the man. They had expected an invitation from him every evening when they returned to the hotel. “He doesn’t seem to be in any rush to sell the picture, does he? Do you think he has decided not to part with it?” Laura asked as they approached rue St. Jacques where their hotel was located.

      Sean shrugged. “Who can say? But I’m not in any great hurry. We’ve been here for a week now and he has my direction. It’s his move. Would you like an ice before we go back?”

      She rolled her eyes and grinned. “Good Lord, Sean, you’ve already had two since breakfast! I’m beginning to think that’s the only reason you accepted this assignment.”

      “It’s very warm today,” he said, looking a little petulant, “and you nag like an old nanny.”

      “I’d hate to have been your old nanny. You were a right little monster, I’ll wager. A nasty little scupper.”

      His eyes narrowed and he looked away. “Just so.”

      With his taciturn reply, Laura recalled that Sean had never had a nanny at all. His childhood must have been frightening and shameful, lacking any of the amenities she had enjoyed. Unlike her, he’d had his mother with him. But could even a mother’s love compensate for passing one’s tender years in a place rife with sin and degradation? She thought not.

      He had seemed cynical about it the one time they had discussed it, the day she had proposed to him. Small wonder. Laura felt guilty now that she had reminded him even though it had been inadvertent.

      Though it was certainly not of the prurient sort, she admitted to a curiosity about what his life had been like there. Perhaps if he recounted some of his early experiences, they would not appear so ghastly to him after all this time. She could point out how such adversity had fostered a strength and self-reliance in him that most men envied and women found infinitely attractive, as well as comforting. Especially this woman who had married him.

      “Shall we visit your mother in Cornwall when we return from Paris?” she asked, hoping to turn the conversation happier.

      “No, I never visit unless it’s absolutely necessary. The memories I bring are distressing to her. And to me,” he added.

      “Would you like to tell me about it?” she asked gently.

      The look he gave her was angry and defensive. “Not for a sure place in heaven would I relive it, even with words. And certainly not with you.” With that, he strode right past the ice vendor and on toward the hotel, leaving her to follow.

      Laura knew she had overstepped the bounds of their relationship. She cursed her quick tongue and wondered if she had destroyed what little progress they had gained in becoming true friends.

      Hurrying her steps, she caught up to him and reached out for one of his fisted hands. “Sean? I do apologize. Please don’t be angry with me.”

      He altered his stride so that she didn’t have to run to keep up. “I’m not angry, Laura,” he said without looking at her. “Not with you anyway. It is just that some subjects are not for the ears of a gently bred woman. Trust me that my existence on Gumthorne Street definitely qualifies.”

      Laura sighed and remained quiet for the rest of their walk back to the hotel. Sean’s silent preoccupation led her to believe he must be dwelling on his past in spite of what he’d said about not reliving it in any way. How often did he do that? she wondered.

      She must be very careful not to refer to it again. Somehow, she believed that his recounting it aloud might help him bring it into proper perspective, but the risk of alienating him altogether seemed too great. Perhaps, someday, he would trust her enough to bare that darkness in his soul.

      If there was time. She accepted the fact that she would die soon. The certainty troubled her still, but strangely enough, the occurrence of death itself bothered her much less than the things she would be forced to leave undone. Important things like loving Sean as completely as he deserved.

      Laura squeezed the large hand that encompassed hers and placed her other over the top of it. Sean turned his head, looked down into her eyes and smiled. “Tell me I haven’t spoiled the whole afternoon.”

      “What’s past is past,” she said as brightly as she could manage. “Right now is all that counts.”

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