Chapter Sixteen
It took a while until Yvon’s shoulders stopped shaking. He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand and grinned. “I take it you never lasted long in an office?”
“Newsroom, please. No, I didn’t. I’m fiercely independent, and freelancing suited me fine. Until recently, that is.”
“May I ask why?”
“These days, words are worthless. Nobody wants to pay for content, everybody including AI can string sentences together, which makes life a lot more difficult for people like me.”
“Hmm.”
Despite the veil of lowered lashes, his expression was sharp. He stood close enough for me to touch him. Tingles skittered across my arms. My work ethic or shaky income weren’t what we should talk about. I didn’t want to go into the fine details of my gift, but if I remained silent, the skeleton in my closet would rattle on forever. A new relationship should be built on honesty and trust...
There, I had admitted it. Finally, I was honest with myself. I wanted him. One kiss wasn’t enough. I wanted more. My body ached with longing and craved his nearness. This afternoon didn’t matter. Nothing did, apart from him and me.
What if he couldn’t handle the truth? He didn’t seem to bear the people who caused him all that grief any grudges, but I didn’t know for sure. To come this close, only to go through the rigors of rejection would push me right back into the hole I had taken ages to crawl from.
“Something’s bothering you,” Yvon said.
“There are some things you need to know.”
“As long as you aren’t hankering after your exes, I’m fine.”
I want you, you enchanted idiot. “Forget them. Especially Tom. I mistook him for a modern man, but while he loved the idea of someone bringing in the bacon and cooking innovative meals, in the end, he wanted a meek little wifey who cleaned around him while he sat glued to his computer screen. No, this has nothing to do with relationships. You see, I’m a tick supernatural myself.”
Yvon tensed. Only the teensiest bit, but it was enough to make my stomach flutter. “I was wondering. There’s something about you. What are you? Witch or fairy comes to mind? Were-something? Not sure they exist, but I’m willing to believe in you. Whoever you are.”
Yes! “Nothing that drastic. Though, I guess, I shouldn’t have told him straight after his proposal. I needed to know where I stood, see?”
He grinned. “Sounds authentically Mel to me. You’re not another walker, by any chance? Would be a riot.” His eyes danced with laughter.
“No, I’m not. Is that what you’re called?”
“Since the Gitans used the expression, I stuck with it.”
Here was my cue. “I have at least one in my ancestry. A Romani, I mean.”
“Huh, really? Can you do curses?”
“Nope, but I can taste auras. Well, for want of a better name it’s what I call their life energy, because it sort of radiates from people.”
The dam broke, and I told him everything about my unusual gift. Like Raoul before him, Yvon listened patiently, an enigmatic smile on his face, his body tuned my way, no matter which part of the enormous room I paced.
“That’s how I knew something wasn’t quite right with you,” I finished, back at the windows. “Your aura fluctuates. Sometimes it’s there, sometimes not. It must be caused by your condition.”
His eyes shone. “What a fascinating little trick. It explains why you can accept bizarre phenomena likes ghosts and curses without so much as a squeal. Speaking of ghosts, does Raoul have an aura?”
“Nope. He hasn’t got one, another reason I vowed to work out what was wrong with the two of you.”
Dizzy with relief, I could have floated to the ceiling. My inner closet gaped wide, and the monster skeleton I feared so much was in reality a chicken carcass. How cool was that?
“I’m honored you told me.” Yvon fell silent.
For once, I had run dry of things to say. Bubbles fizzed in my head, and I was weightless inside. And hot, way too hot.
I stepped across to the open window. Outside, the ocean roared, and the moon was in full possession of the skies. Something stirred in the hedge. Perhaps the voles were evacuating? The wind was back, but less vicious than before; like caressing fingers, it toyed with my hair.
A rustle behind me, a footfall, as Yvon came closer. He put his arms around me and nuzzled my neck, his breath softer than the breeze. I leaned into him, relaxed against his solid warmth.
One part of him wasn’t quite so relaxed.
“Are you hungry?” His voice tickled my ear. A sweet scent of cloves and lavender followed.
“Good heavens, no. I treated myself to a chocolate and cocoa orgy.”
His arms squeezed tighter. “That’s not proper food.”
“Oh yes, it is. Call it medicine.”
“Ah. Let’s forget today. You smell nice.”
“You do too. Apart from the eau de doggie. ”
Ack, girl, sometimes, honesty is not a virtue.
A snicker came from behind. Yvon grabbed my hand and swung me around. We faced each other, and I couldn’t stop my gaze from slipping southward. Yup. Someone was excited about my presence.
A blush crept into his cheeks. “Uh, well...”
The tips of my ears were on fire. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.”
My eyelids lowered. One step took me to where I wanted to be—where he wanted me to be. Our lips met, and this time I didn’t let myself float away, but stayed with him, enjoying every moment of our second kiss, every nibble, his fingers pressing on the small of my back, mine playing with his rib cage, trailing southward, drawing a soft moan...
Until his hold on my body loosened, and he took a step back, regarding me with unashamed hunger in his eyes.
Then a smile broke through, and I returned it, hungry and wanting more, but secure now, safe in the knowledge he understood.
“Your sofas look rather uncomfortable,” I said. “Do you mind if we go someplace else?”
Yvon took my hand, and together we left his parlor.
~ * ~
? S unlight blazed through a gap in the curtain, followed by the warble of an exuberant thrush or whatever bird was responsible for the high notes. It sounded carefree, the essence of golden childhood summers and everything that was joyful and good.
I stretched on the satin sheet and allowed myself a luxurious yawn. My gaze roamed from the chintz curtains in sea spray green to the cream walls. From the wall my gaze, increasingly befuddled, slid up to the ceiling, lined in crown molding. A modern chandelier, made of bendy brass arms sprouting ocher bulbs at their ends, grew from a rosette in the center of the ceiling. Like Medusa’s hairdo, only less lethal.
This was not my bedroom.
Nor was I lying in my bed. This monster was almost double the size of mine. To confuse matters further, the mattress under my bare buttocks was firm, not saggy. Instead of inhaling the scent of fake cedar air-fresh sticks I burned to combat the mildew in my bedroom, this place was filled with the aromas of baking and coffee brewing.
The memories returned and along with them a pleasing explanation for the contented soreness in my body.
Monsieur le Marquis might be cursed, but that didn’t stop him from excelling at horizontal sports. As he said himself during a commercial break, he had plenty of time to practice.
The door opened, followed by soft padding. The dogs? They weren’t even allowed into the house.
“Murp.” Louis scrambled onto the bed, which was also higher than mine, and stalked across the duvet.
“Where did you come from?”
“Merow.”
The coffee aroma increased, and something clattered in the corridor. My bet was on Yvon, bringing breakfast.
The door swung wide open.
I like it when I’m right, and I liked the vista offered by his loose black dressing gown even more. “Why hello? What a nice surprise.”
“We aim to satisfy. Don’t worry. When I fetched your cat, I wore my sweatpants. The hedge is dense, but one never knows who’s watching. If you wish to brush your teeth or something, the bathroom’s over there.” He jerked his head at the door in the left wall. “I’ll set things up in the meantime.” Once he wandered around the bed, I couldn’t help notice that certain parts were already up.
“Kind of you to bring my furry friend.”
Yvon deposited his tray on a chest of drawers between the two large windows and pulled open the curtains, flooding the bedroom with sunlight.
“Thought the poor little guy might be hungry. I nicked your key and fetched him. Your kitty cat was very pleased to see me and even more delighted to accept a dish of turkey fricassee.”
The feline in question rotated on his axis twice, before he lowered himself onto the sheets next to me, the paws neatly tucked under his body.
I tickled Louis’s chin, and his green eyes slitted with pleasure. “If you spoil him too much, he won’t stoop to kibble anymore. Oh well, I guess he deserves a treat for yesterday’s display of loyalty. Be with you in a sec.”
I placed my feet on the thick carpet and traipsed across to the bathroom decorated in stark white, with glittery mosaic tiling and a walk-in shower. Each of the two sinks would have easily accommodated a cat of Louis’s size.
“Wait, Mel, I’ll bring you my dressing gown. Or would you like one of my shirts? I’ve got a terry cloth bathrobe as well that I use at the pool, I can fetch—”
“Yvon, don’t fret, everything’s fine. It’s not cold. Unless you prefer me dressed?”
A snicker came from outside. “ Pas du tout . But wait, I need to get you a toothbrush.”
“Yvon, I can rinse—”
Too late, doors banged, and the sounds of frantic rummaging echoed from the bedroom.
“ Voilà.” He waggled a small plastic vanity bag at me through the half-open door.
It contained the type of emergency toiletries provided by upmarket hotels or expensive hospitals, including soap, a foldable toothbrush, toothpaste, and a comb which I used to rake the worst knots from my mane.
Next, his black bathrobe slithered into a silky pool on the ground.
Old-fashioned morals indeed.
Actually, the whole court of the good King Louie must have been at it all the time, and Yvon most likely was acting the country bumpkin.
I loved him even more for that.
Much refreshed after a quick shower and clad in his dressing gown, enveloped by his scent, I returned to the bedroom.
“Ah.” With a grandiose sweep of his hand, as French as le shrug , Yvon presented the spread arranged on a mahogany bed-tray wide enough to accommodate two people. That he did it in the nude only heightened the enjoyment.
The cat stretched at the foot end of the mattress, whiskers twitching at the goodies on the tray. “Watch Louis,” I said. “I wouldn’t put it past him to nick a croissant.”
“Not while I’m in charge, he won’t.”
“Wrong. The cat is always in charge. Apropos Louis. If that’s your true first name, are you okay with my choice of moniker for furry?”
“Ah, bah. Every male in my family was called Louis ever since the original d’Artagnan was friendly with the Sun King. It suits your feline friend, so keep it. Me, I was Constantin in the past, but I do not wish to be that person anymore. I’m not the man I was then, and I won’t use the name.”
Yvon slipped into the bed and arranged his long limbs under the tray. “Will you do me the honor of joining me, Madame Rosen?”
“With pleasure.” I curtsied, and the front of his dressing gown fell open. Hastily, I tied the knot again.
He snickered. “What a shame. I enjoyed the arrangement.”
“Yes, well.” I tightened the belt and joined him. “Silk is lovely to wear, but sometimes it can be impractical.”
“I don’t agree. Later, I’ll show you how much. First, let us breakfast. We’ll need the energy.” Like smooth, silky snakes, his voice slithered across my skin, and the fine hairs on my arms rose to attention.
That came later. One thrill at the time.
~ * ~
? A highly enjoyable hour later and this time both of us fully dressed, I found myself in Yvon’s private kitchen. No antiques, no rosettes, no frills, no glitter.
Not big, but hyper-functional and equipped with every mod-con needed for Douchevin-style cooking, this place was a culinerd’s dream. “Blimey, I bet the galley on the Enterprise looks exactly like this.”
His brows slanted. “What galley? They’ve got these horrid food generators on board. No actual cooking involved, but particles getting beamed everywhere. Quel horreur .”
He knelt to load the dishwasher, which might as well have been some sort of supersonic plate cleansing device. He snapped it shut and tapped a button. Something beeped, but then nothing seemed to happen.
“ Alors , how shall we proceed today?” Eagerness glinted in his eyes.
If he were a horse, they would send him to stud, and he would be a phenomenal success. Or maybe not, since he appeared to be firing blanks. “Not sure what you think, but I wouldn’t mind a break.”
“Huh? Oh.” He burst out laughing. “That’s not what I meant. Pleasurable things one must relish in small doses. It heightens the enjoyment. I actually meant the Legrands and the treasure.”
“Stupid of me. And you’re right. About the bit with the binging, I mean. Eh, is this dishwasher of yours stuck?”
“No, it’s on the job. Fully soundproof.” He patted the shiny front with paternal pride.
“Amazing. Mine rattles like a tractor, that’s why I wondered. Anyway, have you heard from the mayor yet?”
“Once I charged my phone, yes. She contacted two farms who she reckons might have taken the girl in, while the third one didn’t respond. She wants to drive there today. So we’re at a bit of a loose end. It makes no sense to travel across until all three have agreed to meet us or we know which one to choose, no?”
“True. Hmm. I guess I’d better do some work. Before the Guide sacks me.”
“They won’t.” He winked.
“Really? The last emails gave me a different impression. In all fairness, I’ve been a disappointment recently.”
“See what jobs they might have for you, show some willingness, and everything will be well. Once done, you can start on your novel, no? And I’ll work on my menu. When we’re both finished, we could go for a walk on the beach. What do you think?”
It sounded delightful, and I said so. A stroll with my lover in the surf, time to chat and be together, hopefully followed by more of Yvon’s erotic exploits. By then, I would be more than ready again. Finally, something normal, something Joe and Jane Bloggs might do when on vacation.
“We could wait until Raoul has risen. We need to keep him in the picture, otherwise he will worry,” Yvon said.
Okay, Joe and Jane Bloggs wouldn’t have a tame ghost on tap.
“What time does he appear?” I asked.
“Around five. Plenty of time for us to get sorted. I might ask you to try something later. I have an idea for a recipe.”
“Take it easy on the orange, will you?”
“Hahaha. To change topics—did you check the memory stick Raoul gave you?”
“Not yet. My problem is, I’m supposed to be writing a novel, but I haven’t even started. The story is nothing but one huge, big muddle in my head. Not sure if I should tell the story of the Legrands or feature Raoul and his involvement with the Résistance. What bothers me is that it all boils down to historical facts when I wanted to write something seriously romantic.”
Yvon wriggled his aristocratic nose. “No romance to be found in bunkers.”
“Oh, I can’t agree. The bunkers sparked off the original idea for the novel when I visited with my friend Vera. Never mind. That was then, now is now, and somehow, I can’t get my muse to kiss me.”
“Let me do her job.” He advanced on me with a meaningful expression on his face.
Laughing, I pushed him off. “Come on, that’s not what I meant.”
“Shame.”
“I love your chateau. It’s such a wonderful place. Perfect for a historical romance.”
“As long as you don’t put me in your story or the damn musketeers, I’m fine.”
“No historical romances featuring musketeers? They’re all the rage. It’s tempting, but perhaps I’d better stick with my original idea. Oh heck, I don’t know what to do.”
“ Desolé , but I can’t help you there. I prefer swords, and I can’t stand frilly shirts. Or neckties. Those were a real pain in the neck. Literally.”
“I can imagine. Right, I’ll try the stick. Maybe it will provide some inspiration.”
However, once I returned to the inglorious Villa Glorieuse, the wretched thing was nowhere to be found.
?“Louis, be honest. Did you mess with my papers? Did you push the blasted gizmo to the floor and patted it around a bit, hmm?”
Louis gave me the stink-eye and curled on the sofa. No help forthcoming on that front. I knelt and checked under the table. No stick. Nothing in the paper bin, either. I could have sworn I had placed it on top of the printout Paulette gave me.
Come to think of it, the papers were also missing in action.
Was I going nuts? If I was not, there was only one logical solution to the mysterious disappearance of my research material. Not only did Paulette sneak into a house she had rented to me, leaving the door open, but she also took things that weren’t hers to take.
Would I be jumping to conclusions? No, the woman had neither called nor texted me once, which was out of character.
Dread laced with anger pooled at the bottom of my stomach. What game was she playing? My fingers itched to do something.
Do what? Call her again? When she hadn’t graced me with a single response? No way. Paulette owed me an explanation or two, but she wasn’t in charge of my schedule, as much as she might want to be.
The next precious few days passed in a blur. Frantic evenings, filled with Douchevin commissions, alternated with heavenly nights and mornings spent with Yvon. Raoul checked on us once, but otherwise he stayed away, empathic spirit that he was.
Come day five, and I had finally sorted most of my duties, free to confront a woman who was not my friend.