A Very French Affair. Эбби Грин

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СКАЧАТЬ her chin tilt up minutely, her shoulders straighten. A light of defiance come into her eyes. And as the awful, betraying disappointment rushed through him he felt himself get cold and hard inside. Fool, fool, fool. And yet even now, in the midst of this, he was taking in her huge blue eyes, the delicate pale column of her throat, the way her breasts pushing at the thin fabric of her T-shirt made him think of the way they had just pushed against his chest. And, much to his abject horror, his body reacted to that image, that thought.

      He moved towards her, and all Sorcha’s paltry bravado disappeared. He took her arm in a harsh grip and half-dragged, half-walked her over to the bathroom.

      He was curt and harsh. ‘You know what to do.’

      He thrust the folded-up parcel at her as if it was contaminating him, and Sorcha felt like crying, laughing and screaming all at the same time. What would he say if she told him that this was exactly what she had been about to do before being interrupted?

      With shaking hands she emptied it into the toilet, flushing the offending drug away. The sound was magnified unbearably in the tense atmosphere. With legs shaking so much that she’d fall if she didn’t sit, she sank back onto the side of the bath. She looked at the ground. She had to try something.

      ‘Romain—’

      ‘I don’t want to hear it.’

      She looked up, her eyes huge, beseeching, and quailed at the coldness she saw in his face. It was nothing like she’d ever experienced.

      She tried again. ‘It’s not what you—’

      He laughed harshly, arms crossed against his chest. Arms that had just now held her so tight she’d never wanted him to let her go. She ached inside.

      ‘Think? That’s original. No wonder you were in such a hurry after lunch. Tell me…’ he said, and he relaxed back against the sink, one hip propped up. But the lines of his body screamed anything but relaxed. ‘Was the whole purpose of your little walk just now to get drugs? Is that why you were so eager to get away? Because you needed a fix? Did you have someone lined up before we even got here? I’m interested to know how this would work. Do you call ahead. Or is it—’

      ‘Stop it!’ Her hands gripped the edge of the bath as she tried to make sense of what he was saying, the barrage of questions. ‘I…How do you…?’

      ‘How do I know you took a walk?’ he asked. ‘Because I was taking a walk myself, and saw you go into the temple.’

      His mouth twisted as he remembered following her. Being captivated by her.

      He looked unbearably harsh. ‘Charming picture. Playing with the kids…taking photos…lighting incense.’ He shook his head. ‘Dieu…what a fool I am. You were on your way to pick up your stash. I actually thought—’

      He cut himself off. His eyes were so glacial that Sorcha felt as if a layer of her skin was being peeled off slowly. But she couldn’t take her eyes from his.

      ‘I lost you, though…after the market where you bought that salwaar kameez. That’s obviously when you went off to find your little…contact.’

      She shook her head miserably and stood, legs still shaking.

      ‘I promise you…it’s not what you think.’

      ‘Promise me? That’s rich.’ He stood upright and towered over her in the small space. ‘To think that in Dublin when you asked if I would believe you’d never touched drugs I actually thought about it…considered it…I would have believed it if I’d heard nothing but your chain of lies today. But only a mere hour after telling me breathlessly about the outreach centre, how important it is, you’re—’

      A look flashed across his face, and as if he’d said too much he cursed in French and strode back out into the bedroom.

      Sorcha followed him, stood at the door of the bathroom. He had his back to her, looking out of the patio doors. She didn’t know where to start, what to say. She could see exactly how he would construe events…words…and could only watch his taut, unrelenting back helplessly. And even in the midst of this the memory of how it had felt…He turned and fixed her with those cold eyes, and immediately her skin flushed guiltily. As if he could see her shameful thoughts.

      ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked bravely, and steeled herself.

      He looked at her for a long moment. She could almost see the cogs whirring in that sharp brain. And then, as if having come to a decision, he strolled nonchalantly towards her. His face was unbearably cold, but the look in his eyes was full of desirous intent. His demeanour spelt absolute danger. Sorcha instinctively grabbed onto the wall beside her as he came close. She looked up helplessly. Ensnared.

      And suddenly she thought of something.

      Without passing it through the filter in her brain, she found herself blurting out, ‘Look, I know why you’re reacting like this. I know what happened with your mother…’

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