Chapter 17
The knock on the door was soft.
Tentative, almost.
Sophie might not have heard it, in fact, if she hadn’t been in her office way past her normal working hours, going over every detail of what was going to be the last wedding of the season for Marry Me in Provence because she wanted it to be perfect.
‘Sophie? Are you there?’
The call was also soft.
And Sophie was there. Right there, as fast as humanly possible as she recognised the voice, her hand on the door handle, opening the entrance to her home.
To her heart?
‘Luc…’
The way his name left her lips took Sophie back to the moment he’d walked into her life again, up those steps of the chateau, with the full impact of his Le Phénix persona – as black as sin from the old hat to his boots, his hair wild and unrestrained.
This time, though, the lack of strength in her voice wasn’t due to shock.
This was a blindingly bright flash of relief.
There were giant cracks appearing, like branches of lightning, in the dam that had been holding back an ocean of hope.
Of love.
She could see what she had known she would be able to see when she was face to face with Luc Moreau again.
Because she could see the same hope in his eyes.
More than that. He looked… different. As if the two sides of his life were crossing paths. His hair was loose instead of the way he wore it neatly pulled back in his normal day-to-day life. He had a black tee shirt on but faded blue denim jeans.
The difference was more than surface level, however.
Luc looked happy. Excited, even…?
Her brain managed to produce an image, faster than she could blink, of the very first time she’d seen this man. That moodiness and intensity that would have totally squashed anything as frivolous as happiness or excitement.
‘It’s really happening, Sophie,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry it’s so late but I had to come and tell you.’
And it was something important enough that he had to tell her himself and not with a phone call or a message?
Sophie pulled the door open further, an invitation to come in that Luc accepted just as silently.
But he was smiling now. A smile that wrapped itself around Sophie like a hug. ‘It’s really happening,’ he repeated. ‘It’s beginning.’
‘The registration’s gone through?’
‘It has. There’s a new charity in town.’
‘The Phoenix Foundation?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the name for the house?’
‘Phoenix House.’
‘Perfect.’ Sophie already loved the house. He’d shown her photos and taken her walking down the street with the virtual reality of Google Maps. He couldn’t wait to show it to her in reality. To hold her hand as he pushed that heavy front door open to reveal a world of potential.
The door to Sophie’s house had been pushed shut but they hadn’t moved any further inside. They were standing still. Close enough to touch but the only contact was with their eyes. Sophie could see the shadow that made Luc’s too dark to distinguish his pupils.
‘It’s going to have a plaque beside the front door,’ he said softly. ‘I need you to help me decide how to say that this is all happening because of Tom. That this is how I want the world to remember him.’
‘Ohh…’ The sound cracked. ‘He’d be so proud of you.’ She’d said that once before but she could sense that he needed to hear it again. Sophie gulped in a breath and then added, ‘I’m so proud of you.’
Luc said nothing.
For a long, long moment, they simply stood there, still staring at each other, neither of them moving a single muscle, even to blink. Or possibly breathe. Sophie could feel something changing, however.
That dam had well and truly burst, that’s what it was. The feeling of hope was flooding the air around them. Washing anything irrelevant far enough away to be forgotten, at least for now. Even pain from the past. Or fears for the future.
The present was all that existed.
The two of them were all that existed.
Sophie knew Luc was about to kiss her. The move to rise on to her tiptoes to meet the dip of Luc’s head was hanging there between them, still contained but ready to take flight – like that lovely sculpture on the ramparts of St Paul de Vence.
And Sophie knew that this time, she wouldn’t have to wait for the safety of privacy to imagine what might come after this kiss.
Because this wasn’t only the beginning of the project Luc wanted to devote himself to for the rest of his life.
This was a new beginning for them.
* * *
Mon Dieu… c’était hallucinant…
Mind blowing.
The need for an intimate, physical connection had never been this… compelling. Luc’s body and his brain – possibly his soul – seemed to have been hijacked by the way Sophie was looking into his eyes and the echo of her words.
‘I’m so proud of you…’
He had been swept up into a spiral of need that was so powerful it was almost paralysing.
Maybe that was why he was moving in slow motion.
Why the first touch of his lips to Sophie’s was so light, it was no more than the stroke of a feather.
Why he kissed her again and again, cupping her face in his hands.
Her response was equally controlled but just as intense.
Luc could feel what was waiting, for this gentle interaction – like the opening moves of a courting dance – to reach a tipping point that would send them spinning into the unknown.
A void that he had dreamed of falling into from the first moment he’d laid eyes on Sophie Spencer.
But slow was good. This deserved all the time in the world and Luc was going to give it every ounce of respect – reverence – that was possible.
He took a beat to break the kiss. Still cupping her face, he touched the tip of his nose to Sophie’s and then leaned his forehead against hers, taking a moment for their breath to mingle.
To be close enough to soak in the warmth and scent of her skin and hair.
To feel the pulse on her neck quickening and then, as he lifted his head and opened his eyes, to see a reflection of his own need in her eyes.
He dropped his hands, letting them drift over her shoulders and down her bare arms, leaving goosebumps behind them.
His hands reached hers and their fingers entwined as he kissed her again.
A deeper kiss, this time.
An acknowledgment of that need. An invitation but not a demand. This was Sophie’s choice.
She dropped one of his hands but not the other.
She used that hold to lead him towards the stairs but he barely noticed the kitchen at the top.
Another, narrower set of stairs and there it was, bathed in soft light from a lamp.
A rumpled, unmade bed that looked like the gateway to paradise with its big, soft pillows and crisp-looking sheets and the pretty lace cover. Everything was white.
Virginal.
And that felt more than appropriate. It was perfect, because this was the first time for them. It felt like the first time ever, in fact. Maybe that was why Sophie suddenly looked a little nervous?
She was still holding his hand. She stopped and turned and he let his body collide gently with hers.
‘I should have made my bed,’ she whispered.
‘Why?’ Luc smiled as he bent his head to kiss her. ‘I think it’s about to get even messier.’
Her smile was a reward for his reassurance. And the promise?
Time was doing strange things. It sped up as they helped each other undress, fingers fumbling with buttons and zips, clothing discarded without thought on the floor.
Then it slowed down until it felt like they’d found infinity and that was perfect, too, because this needed to be slow. You could only ever get one first time.
There was time to touch and get drunk on the taste and scent of each other, using their fingers and lips, their tongues and the wordless sounds of their voices to slip past the barriers that had always been between them.
To get so close Luc had no idea where his breath ended and Sophie’s began.
Whose heartbeat he could feel and whether a separation of their bodies actually existed at all.
This was, indeed, sex like nothing Luc had ever known.
This was making love in its purest form, with the intent that every moment was a gift – on both sides.
It was an expression of everything that could come only from the heart but could, magically, be communicated through this physical connection, and even more when their eyes met and neither of them could break the gaze.
That touch felt like a kiss that was soul-deep.
* * *
Sophie couldn’t move.
Or perhaps she simply didn’t want to.
She had no idea what time it was but the curtains of her bedroom window were open and there was no softening of the night outside to suggest that dawn was imminent.
The longer it took, the better.
She just wanted to lie here, in the circle of Luc’s arms, the steady thump of his heart against her own skin.
Such a comforting sensation. A living pulse that hinted at a new life. Sophie could feel a seed of something like joy deep within her that was trying to blossom. It should be the happiest she’d ever felt.
So why did she have tears rolling down her cheeks? Why did her breath catch in a tiny gasp that made the muscles in Luc’s arms tense instantly around her body?
‘What is it?’ His whisper was urgent. ‘What’s wrong?’
Sophie’s response was a futile effort to stop the tears. What Luc did was to press his lips against her hair. His arms softened only to draw her even closer to his body. His words were muffled but they didn’t need to be anything other than what they were.
An expression of reassurance. Of love. Of understanding.
But he didn’t understand. Not really.
Sophie swallowed the huge lump in her throat.
‘It’s not you,’ she managed. ‘Or me. Or us… It’s…’ The enormity of it was making it hard to find words. ‘I get it. That’s all…’ She lifted her tear-streaked face. ‘All those years of thinking my mother was stolen from me… Hating what he’d done to me and my dad. But… now I get it.’