Chapter 13 #2
‘I want them to feel what it’s like to have the sense of a family around you.
People who genuinely care. A place where they can feel safe.
’ He had to snatch a quick breath. ‘I want to show them a glimpse of a future that could become their dream. I was going to be the guy who walked around with a weird old camera over his shoulder so they could see that I was living proof that it could happen.’
Oh là là là là! What was he doing, opening up his heart like this to the person who’d once hated him so much she hadn’t been able to make eye contact with him?
He’d only decided to put himself into the vulnerable position of being face to face with Sophie Spencer again to see if he really had become as strong as he thought he had.
Okay, maybe he still couldn’t resist the pull towards her, but he’d been so sure he could never be crushed again so badly that any reason to want to live had apparently evaporated.
But, here he was, revealing the dream that had become everything to him.
His raison d’être.
As much of a passion as his art. Because they were both part of what he believed was the core of existence. His dystopian art confronted people, asked big questions and, hopefully, provided an opportunity to recognise what mattered most in life.
People. Not things.
And his dream of the youth centre was all about the people that might otherwise slip through the cracks of society and become lost forever. Like he would have been if it hadn’t been for Tom.
Nobody could ever be truly lost if they were loved.
And that was what was really at the heart of what mattered in life. That people weren’t alone.
Love.
His passions had developed rather like the photographs he still put through their chemical baths and pegged to a line to let dry. Images that came slowly into focus until they were crystal clear and real.
He believed they were safe to be passionate about because there was no one who could undermine the feeling of worth that these endeavours gifted him. But, in this moment – waiting for Sophie to say something – he knew he’d been wrong.
Because Sophie still had the power to crush him.
Because he still loved her, as much as he loved life itself.
And a part of him had, all along, been hoping that she would be proud of what he was doing with his life.
Oh, he would survive if she didn’t get it. Or if she thought he was simply pissing in the wind, but it would never feel the same, would it? His dreams, and he himself, would feel… smaller.
He could feel the power of her silence, like a prowling lion. Was he about to feel claws in her words?
They were no more than a whisper into the stillness of the night.
‘You’re doing this to honour Tom, aren’t you?’ Sophie’s voice shook. ‘Your whole life is about how much you loved him and you’re using it to help others. It’s…’ She seemed lost for words suddenly.
Not that Luc could fill the new silence. The lump in his throat had sharp edges. Painful enough to bring the sting of tears to the back of his eyes. She got it. She totally got it. And him.
Sophie looked up at him. ‘He’d be so proud of you,’ she whispered. ‘I hope you’re proud of yourself.’
‘He changed my life.’ Luc tried, and failed, to swallow that lump. ‘He showed me how much life could be something full of joy and not just an ordeal. That some people could be trusted. Others could be loved and, even if you only found one person like that, life was worthwhile.’
Something was breaking inside his chest as he saw the moonlight reflected in the teardrop rolling down Sophie’s cheek.
He touched her face with his fingers, catching the tear, and she dipped her face as if she was trying to hide but Luc traced her jawline until he reached her chin and, very gently, he tilted it.
‘We both loved him,’ he said, very softly. ‘And he loved us. We don’t really need things to remember that, like a camera or a diamond heart.’
Sophie didn’t say anything. She held his gaze. Her lips parted a little and Luc could feel the faintest tremble in her chin, and that was the moment he knew he was utterly lost.
Falling. So slowly that either of them could have made it stop at any moment but neither of them did. Luc held her gaze until the last possible moment, when his face was so close it was instinctive to close his eyes. He cupped her chin, tilted his head and touched her lips with his own.
* * *
She’d always known it would feel like this.
As if, finally, everything made sense. This was the moment Sophie had been waiting for all her life.
To be where she belonged.
The touch of his lips. So soft, but she could feel the power of what they were cushioning and it was something huge. Like passion. Protection. Love…?
Whatever it was, she wanted it. All of it.
Surely he could feel that? And yet the kiss remained gentle. Restrained. Achingly tender.
And it finished way too soon.
For one long, long moment they’d stood very still, bathed in moonlight, staring into each other’s eyes and then, without saying a word, Luc took hold of Sophie’s hand and led her to the steps that would take them back to the house.
She didn’t say anything, either. Because too many thoughts were jostling for room in her head?
She could imagine it felt just as overwhelming for Luc – a maelstrom of emotions that was created by the alchemy of the past and present colliding.
She’d felt it before, when she’d seen him for the first time in almost a decade as he made his way up that semicircle of stone steps leading into the Chateau d’Orval.
She hadn’t been able to physically run from it but she’d somehow managed to shield herself from it emotionally.
With that first touch of his lips on hers, it felt like they’d held hands and jumped right into the middle of that turbulent mix of memories and feelings. Of golden happiness and dark desire. Of joy and grief, separation and new beginnings.
It was wild.
Exciting.
But oh, so scary. There were powerful forces pulling Sophie in opposite directions.
The attraction was undeniably irresistible but it wasn’t any less dangerous than it had been twelve years ago, and wasn’t that the reason that Tom had been so easy to fall in love with? Why he’d been the man she’d willingly chosen to marry?
Was that danger mitigated by the overwhelmingly touching tribute to Tom that Luc was devoting his life to with the youth centre and its purpose? Did it matter that it might be driven by the guilt he felt that he’d been the one driving that night but it had been Tom who died?
Were there any fragments left of her vow to hate him for the rest of life?
As they reached the upper terrace, they dropped their handhold. It was time to step back into the present.
‘Are you finished here?’ Luc asked.
‘Not quite. I need to double-check everything and make sure the house is immaculate for Henri’s mother and sister to return to it later this evening.’
Luc nodded slowly. ‘And I need to drive back to Draguignan. Moreish Photography has a booking in Paris tomorrow. I’m due to fly back to London after that. There’s a lot happening with both the business and the house.’
The look they shared acknowledged that a little distance right now was probably wise. The significance of that kiss was misted around them – like a scent that evoked a memory of something significant but elusive. It felt like it could have been either a beginning or an ending.
Perhaps that it was a choice they both had to make.
One that was big enough to need caution, because it could change the rest of their lives.
Sophie watched him leave, her thoughts clearing enough to realise that she’d been left with two very strong impressions.
The first was that Luc Moreau was a person whose life was already defined by the tribute he was creating to the man they’d both loved.
That he was capable of the kind of love that offered unwavering, unconditional loyalty, love and honesty along with a level of trustworthiness that was unparalleled.
Even death hadn’t dented his devotion to Tom.
And the second was… confusion. She knew that her first impression was an accurate one because it felt true. As true as the fact that being kissed by Luc had felt like exactly where she was supposed to be.
Because it felt like she had – finally – come home.
But neither of those realisations fitted the kind of man she had decided Luc was the night Tom had died. A man who hadn’t protected his best friend. A man who had destroyed the entire life Sophie had thought she had ahead of her. A man who’d taken everything safe away from her.
A man who was every bit as dangerous as her mother’s lover had been. The man who’d been driving that vehicle – the person who had damaged her father’s life beyond repair, left her half an orphan and instilled a deep mistrust of any men with that irresistibly sexy, bad boy vibe.
The first recognisable doubt that she might have been very wrong had been conceived as she listened to Luc opening his heart and telling her things she was quite sure he’d never told anyone else.
The second had been born during a kiss that had left her in no doubt at all about how much control Luc had over what they both knew was simmering beneath the sweet poignancy of that intimate touch.
And maybe that was when something inconceivable had been glimpsed.
Not something real, from the past or the present. Or something potential, that might be part of an unknown future.
It was something that had, until now, being nothing more than a fantasy sparked by an attraction that had always been forbidden.
Dark. Dangerous. Almost… dirty?
But so compelling…