Chapter 20 Marfil #2
I replaced my jeans with the nightgown from under my pillow, then put on my robe and went downstairs to find some food in the kitchen. The entire house was asleep, so I was surprised to find someone up so early, leaning on the kitchen counter, drinking coffee, as per usual.
Sebastian stood up straight as soon as he saw me.
“I came to get something to eat,” I explained, hoping he wouldn’t notice I’d been crying.
“Were you able to get some rest?” he asked, concerned.
“Some… but my head hurts, and I had a horrible nightmare.”
Sebastian moved closer under the pretext of setting his cup in the sink. “Do you want to tell me about it?” He had stopped in front of me, his eyes examining me distractedly, studying each of my injuries.
“Never talk about nightmares before breakfast,” I answered, looking at the wound on his eyebrow and his injured arm. We both could’ve died… because of me.
Sebastian smiled. “Why is that?”
“Because they’ll come true if you do.”
We stared at each other for a few seconds.
“I wasn’t aware of that infallible science.”
“That’s because you’re too close-minded,” I answered, moving away from him, needing space to think clearly.
I took out some milk from the fridge, then stretched toward the upper cabinet in an attempt to get the honey, which some idiot had stowed way out of reach.
I felt his chest against my back as his arm reached over my head. He grabbed the honey and placed it on the counter, but he didn’t move, still pressed up against me.
I closed my eyes for an instant…
Despite everything that happened, my body yearned to be close to him… to feel his warmth, inhale his scent like a soothing balm. I forgot about everything else with him there beside me, simply letting the seconds pass.
“I didn’t say it yesterday, but you were very brave.” He ran a hand over the sleeve of my white silk robe, instantly giving me chills. “Even though you were scared, you were able to keep calm and handle the car… Things could’ve gone much worse,” he said, his fingers gently caressing my arm.
“I just did what you told me to,” I answered in a whisper.
“For once,” he replied, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.
“My father wants me to go with him to the racecourse,” I confessed, and I was aware how confused I sounded when I said it.
“I know,” he answered, halting his caress.
I turned around, and we stood face-to-face. His hair was messy, having just gotten out of bed, and I was dying to smooth it down with my fingers. “Will you be there?”
He nodded, and I felt somewhat relieved. He must’ve noticed because, without thinking, he put his hand in my hair and brushed his thumb across my cheek.
“I should’ve checked the car… I’m sorry.” He sighed.
Sebastian Moore, apologizing?
“You’re not the one to blame for what happened, Sebastian,” I said. He removed his thumb from my cheek and gently brushed my lower lip. “That, at least, wasn’t your fault.”
His eyes met mine, and I knew that my last comment hadn’t escaped him.
“It won’t happen again,” he said very somberly, and I didn’t know if he was talking about the car or our encounter two nights before.
He began trailing his fingers softly up and down my arm; still, I didn’t respond. Why did he contradict himself? Why, if he would just torture himself over it later?
He lowered his other hand to my waist and slowly began to untie my robe.
I closed my eyes. I should’ve stopped him. I didn’t want to go through that again—experiencing so many intense emotions only to be met with total indifference afterward. This game between us was beginning to feel exhausting.
“I want to kill anyone who tries to hurt you, Marfil,” he said, sliding his hand around my waist, allowing himself to indulge if only for an instant, before gripping the white silk of my nightgown in frustration.
“I want to do it, and knowing that I can’t is killing me,” he whispered, burying his mouth in my neck and speaking into my ear.
He seemed frightened and desperate, as if part of him was struggling to repress the words that came out of his mouth.
I opened my eyes, my gaze fixed on the kitchen door as he pulled me to his chest, wrapping his good arm around me. I stood there stiffly for an instant, and then relaxed into his comforting embrace.
Had he changed his mind? Had the accident shifted the way he saw things between us?
He withdrew a few seconds later, as if reading my thoughts. “Let me make you breakfast,” he said before I could say anything else.
I sat at the counter and watched as he heated milk, added the honey, and handed me the mug before getting started on the pancakes.
“Where did you learn to cook?” I asked, trying to use conversation as a distraction.
I still couldn’t believe he had hugged me like that.
It gave me hope, but I didn’t want to make too much of it.
Sebastian had shown me that he could get caught up in the heat of the moment and then later act like nothing had ever happened.
“Well… I didn’t have much of a choice,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“I don’t understand,” I said, stirring my milk.
“I grew up in foster homes… They didn’t usually take great care of the kids, so cooking was one way I could help out the younger ones. I just so happened to discover that it relaxed me.”
Growing up without any type of family must’ve been hard. I could understand because, although I had a father and a lovely home, I had often felt very alone.
“The most cooking I ever did was when I snuck into the boarding school kitchen and tried to make a fried egg in the middle of the night… I started a grease fire and was suspended for three days. My father refused to let me come home because he was busy, so I had to stay locked in my dorm room the whole time.”
Sebastian placed a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of me, propped his elbows on the counter, and observed me, perplexed. “I just can’t picture you in a boarding school with nuns.”
I smiled. “At least one sister left the school because of me, saying that God had placed me in her path as a test, and she wasn’t up to the challenge.”
Sebastian grinned. “Were you that bad?” he asked, immediately raising a hand before I could respond. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”
I smirked in return as I popped a bite of pancake in my mouth.
“And you… how did you end up in the military?”
Sebastian stole a bite of my pancake and looked pensive as he chewed.
“When you turn eighteen, the state stops taking care of you. They put me out on the street. I went through a rough time.” I raised my eyebrows questioningly, but he stopped me once again before I could say anything.
“That’s all in the past now, Marfil. The military was the only thing that interested me, and I didn’t have to pay them to take me. ”
I nodded, glad to be receiving information about him, although something told me he wasn’t telling me everything.
He observed me as I ate in silence, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable or intimidated by his presence.
Instead, a blush crept up my cheeks as I remembered the feel of his mouth on mine, his hands against my bare skin, my fingers getting lost in his hair.
“Are you going to tell me about your nightmare now?” he asked when I finished my last pancake.
I looked up from my plate and fixed my eyes on him. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” I said calmly. “Everyone dies, and all I can do is sit there and watch as it happens.”
Another moment of silence fell over the kitchen, and I stood up, suddenly needing to get out of there.
“I think I’d better go shower,” I said.
“Me too.” Sebastian nodded, then walked around the counter and followed me into the living room.
Our eyes met for an instant, and I felt an abyss open up between us once again.
I’d expected to feel better after a hot shower, but I didn’t.
Not even when my sister came into my room, excited to open the boxes and help me get dressed.
She had always wanted our father to take her with him to the Fair Grounds Race Course & Slots in New Orleans.
I had only been there on one occasion, as a rider in an obstacle race organized to raise funds for ST, and still, my dad wouldn’t let me stay for the party afterward, which was another reason why I was so surprised by his invitation to join him now.
Gabriella opened the first box and removed a pretty white dress that hit just above the knee and wrapped across my body to tie at one side of my waist, fortunately hiding my tattoo.
It was simple, but it was a Valentino, and I knew it had cost a fortune.
In the other two boxes were Louboutins with a higher heel than I was used to wearing, and a large navy blue sun hat, with a satin ribbon that matched the dress.
I looked at the clothes unenthusiastically…
I didn’t feel like getting all dressed up, not with how battered my face looked, and definitely not while my head still ached.
However, knowing I had no choice but to obey, I sat down at the dressing table and let my sister do my hair.
We’d always liked to play beauty parlor, and she was much better at it than me.
“Do you think Daddy is taking you because he can’t find anyone to go with?” Gabriella asked as she made two thin French braids that met in the center, leaving the rest of my hair in loose waves to cascade down my back.
“I doubt it,” I answered as I looked at my face in the mirror and cursed, wondering how I was going to cover the cuts on my face. If I didn’t do it right, people would think someone had beaten me up. The thought made me shudder.
As my sister continued fixing my hair, I began to hide the marks on my skin the best I could and tried to reduce the swelling around my eyes in a way that looked natural but accentuated their color.
“You have to wear this, Mar. You’ll be even more of a showstopper,” she said, handing me a bright red lipstick.
“You don’t think it’s too much?”
“Everything about you is too much,” she answered, looking at me in the mirror.