Chapter 5
Ysabel heard the footsteps and sat up on the cot. A flashlight blinded her, and she blinked, turned her head, and held up her hand to protect herself from the light. After so long in the absolute darkness of her little prison, the small flashlight was too bright. “Stay there. Don’t move.” The words were hissed in French as the door opened.
Batteries were tossed in her direction, along with a cardboard box that was upended and scattered across the dirt floor. The bucket was picked up, and a new one dropped on the floor. The man moved to the door again.
“Wait, tell me what’s happening, please. Tell me why I’m here!” She asked the question in French and English, but there was no response. There was never a response.
The door shut, and she was once again entombed in darkness. Carefully, she slid off the bed and in the direction the batteries were thrown. It took forever to find them and then to replace them in complete darkness. Ysabel broke into tears several times but found the drive to keep trying. When the light came on, she knocked the lamp off her lap. The intense brightness burned her eyes. Ysabel took off her shirt and draped it over the light before opening her eyes a little. Red and white splotches still danced in front of her eyes, but she was able to tolerate the dimmed shadows in her cell. She moved slowly and collected the food and water bottles that scattered from the box tossed at her.
She opened the first wrapped package and ate the stale bread. There was no nutrition in the food she was given. No rhyme or reason as to what she received. Biscuits, crisps, candy, sugary nuts, bread. Yet it was food, so she ate. She guzzled the first bottle of water. It’d been a long time since she’d had any. Or so she thought. Ysabel upended the box and put her food on the top.
A rat scurried from under her cot, over her foot, across the floor, and up the wall. She screamed and jumped onto a stone ledge. The disgusting vermin wedged itself through a crack in the wall. Ysabel searched the floor and grabbed stones before she ran across the small space and crammed the rocks into the fissure the rat had disappeared into. She tore off a big piece of the box and shoved it behind the stones. If the thing came back, she’d know. She grabbed several palm-sized stones and piled them near where she slept.
She flipped the cot over and lifted the sleeping bag, still holding a rock in her hand. Nothing. Thank you, God. Righting her cot, she put the bag back on top of it and sat down. Her head ached, and her eyes hurt. After getting into the bag, she reached over to turn off the lamp. She should save the batteries. Leaving her shirt on the lamp would prevent her from frying her retinas again—she hoped.
Ysabel called to mind happier times. Times with Heath. She smiled into the dark as she recalled the beauty and warmth of one of their dates.
Heath laughed as she tried to guess their destination. Surely, it was a visit to a vineyard in the area. The countryside flew by as they drove to what he promised to be an unforgettable time. When he crested a low hill, she saw the hot air balloon for the first time. The mix of blues and green with a curl of lilac was breathtaking as it sat in the middle of a low meadow.
“Is that for us?” She pointed to the balloon like an excited schoolgirl. She’d always wanted to ride in one.
“It is. Dinner, champagne, and a flight over the countryside.”
Ysabel launched across the sedan’s console and hugged the man beside her. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you!”
The rest of the road trip seemed to take forever as the balloon grew. She vibrated with anticipation. He helped her from the car to the balloon, her heels completely inappropriate for the field where the balloon waited. When she sunk down into the earth, he tossed the keys to the car to a gentleman and picked her up, carrying her to the incredibly large gondola.
“This is much bigger than I imagined.” She carefully found her feet as he released her.
“It’s a commercial sightseeing balloon, but I rented it out for the day,” Heath said as he motioned to the table with a white cloth and two silver place settings. A stand with a bucket of ice and champagne stood waiting for them.
After a quick introduction to the crew and pilots, they were lifting into the air. Heath stood beside her, his arm around her waist as the burner engaged in short bursts. They were served champagne as they drifted higher.
“Look.” She pointed to a small village. The roofs formed a patchwork of different shades of terra-cotta tiles surrounding the village center. The sound of a church bell tolled, and she could hear a dog barking in the distance. As they drifted over the low, rolling hills, rows of lavender stretched as far as she could see. The fragrance was unbelievable.
“Beautiful,” she whispered, almost afraid to intrude on the peacefulness.
Heath turned to her. “The beauty of the land can’t compete with you.”
She blinked at his words. “I’m not beautiful.” Which was the truth. Her features were too sharp; her mouth too big; she was too tall, too thin, and far too plain to be beautiful.
“Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. The lavender fields are just lines of purple, yet you see the glory of the whole. What one person sees as unremarkable, another sees as majestic and awe-inspiring. You fill me with awe. You are vibrant, animated, resplendently kind, and dazzlingly talented, and you make me want you in a way no one else has. You take my breath away.”
Heath shimmered behind the tears that filled her eyes. “Please. Don’t tease me.”
He stepped closer and pushed her hair behind her ear. His hand cupped her cheek. “I only speak the truth. I will never lie to you. You are incredibly beautiful to me, and I desire you in ways I won’t speak of here, but I want you to know how I feel.” He placed her hand on his chest over his heart.
She stared at him. He returned her gaze, and she saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You make me believe things I shouldn’t.” That she was beautiful and that he desired her weren’t ideas she readily accepted. She’d been pursued for her talent by men who wanted to be seen with the first chair violinist, not her. There had been others who’d wanted her for her father’s money. Both types made themselves known sooner rather than later. Heath had been very sincere in showing her he would benefit from neither association. The meetings between Heath and her father were tense and stilted. Her father automatically disliked Heath and accused him of seeking wealth. Heath laughed in her father’s face. “I have more money than I’ll ever need. I didn’t even know who you were before I met Ysabel, and I’m a foreigner. I want nothing to do with your political connections or business. You could drop off the face of the globe, and I wouldn’t care. I don’t need or want a thing from you.”
“Except my daughter,” Pierre hissed at him.
“I already have her.” Heath put his arm around Ysabel. “And that’s something you can’t stop.”
She’d endured an hour long tirade after that meeting. Ysabel listened, but for the first time, her father’s shouting didn’t tear her down. Heath’s words of love and encouragement battled every insult and demand slung her direction.
And there she was, floating over the beauty of France, with a man she adored. Could that be her world? Could that be her life? Did she dare to hope? He lowered for a kiss.
“Believe those things, Ysabel. Believe in me. Just believe.”
Ysabel wipeda tear as it fell. In the darkness, she could mourn for the love she’d thrown away. If only he knew the reason why she’d turned him away. The shock, then the pain she’d witnessed that night, had put a lance through her heart, but he would live. He would be protected from her mother’s delusions. Why had she sent the envelope with no documents? Were the documents stolen before the messenger delivered them to her? She had no answers and so many questions.
Her father should be looking for her if he were still alive. She’d heard the men in Corsica talking about Abrasha Molchalin as if he were a demi-god. They were amazed at the things the man was behind and rumored to control. The fact Molchalin was her biological father was such a foreign concept, yet it explained the physical differences between her dad and herself. As she grew, she eclipsed his five feet seven inches. Her bone structure was sharper, and she was naturally thin, whereas her father had to diet and exercise to maintain his health. Things she didn’t question until she saw the letter from her mother. Her mother gave birth to her in America, so she had dual citizenship and attended Juilliard, focusing on her music.
Yet nothing she knew was true. Her world had been tipped on its axis, and looking back, the only sliver of her reality that was as it seemed was Heath. He was a breath of honesty and integrity. There were no shades of truth, no lies, or subterfuge with him. To keep him from harm from her father’s enemies and her mother’s missing information, she’d rejected him. Her father was right on that one point, and it resonated through her soul. Heath was a businessman, innocent, and yet by his association with her, he was in grave danger. He’d be hurt just because he loved her. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Yes, she’d thrown his love away to protect him. She’d do it again.