Chapter Fourteen #2
“In the summer with the boats on the lake and the sun reflecting off the waves it’s magnificent.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
Would she be around in the summer? Would she still be with him when she realized who he was and that once again he was keeping secrets from her?
He pushed the glider a little harder, wishing he could push his thoughts away as easily.
He would have to tell her everything, but for now he held his tongue.
’Twould be best to tell her when he had all the facts. That gave him a day or two of reprieve.
“Have you been to the lake at night?” he asked.
“I haven’t been to the lake at all except to drive past it every now and then.”
“You need to get out more, love.”
“This from the man who works seven days a week.”
“Touché.”
Even in the dark, the lake was beautiful with the nearly full moon reflecting white light off the waves. Maybe he’d buy her a sailboat and they’d sail along the coast, stopping at the small towns along the way.
The idea sounded wonderful, but he recognized the impossibility of it. To take his mind off the treasure would be disastrous, yet he found it difficult to concentrate when Madelaine was around.
“Tell me about your family.” He didn’t need to ask because he knew everything. More than even Madelaine knew, but he found himself wanting to hear about her life from her. And, yes, he wanted to connect to someone who had a family.
She shrugged. “Not much to tell. I grew up on a farm and was an only child.”
“Growing up on a farm sounds like fun.”
He’d grown up on a farm, as well. For the first time in years he let himself think about his long-dead family.
His four brothers and five sisters were always into mischief, always laughing, always happy.
Looking back, he had to think his mother had been stressed but she never showed it.
He remembered her laughing a lot and even wading through the creek that ran beside their house, searching for toads with them.
His father had been a hard worker, always in the fields, coming home late at night and leaving early in the morning.
’Twas a wonder he managed to impregnate his wife as many times as he did.
They were all dead, of course. Wiped out when the bubonic plague spread through their small village. By then Christien was already immortal and deep into the intrigue of the Knights Templar, but he’d still grieved for them.
She shivered, bringing him out of his musings.
“Cold?” he asked.
“Content.”
He drew her closer for a quick hug, feeling the same contentment, an emotion he hadn’t experienced since wading in the creek and laughing with his mother.
She twisted her head to look up at him. “Tell me about you,” she said. “And your family.”
He shrugged, dislodging her head then guiding it back with the tips of his fingers until she rested comfortably again. “I was born and raised in France—”
“What city?”
He hesitated. “A small town you wouldn’t recognize.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
How much to tell her? On his official biography put out through his company, he listed himself as an only child because it prevented people from looking too deeply into his past. A past he reinvented every few decades.
And yet a part of him wanted to tell her about himself—his real self—not some story created for the press.
“None,” he finally said, hating himself for lying and not yet ready for the truth.
“Parents?”
“Dead.”
“I’m sorry.” She covered his hand with hers.
“’Twas a long time ago.”
He pushed the glider again. From so far up they barely heard the long line of people outside the club.
“Tell me,” she said into the silence, “about us. In that other time.”
Christien stilled, but quickly resumed the motion of the glider.
“’Twas a dark time,” he said softly. “So much fighting. To return to you… It made me happy.” He didn’t mean to refer to himself in the first person.
He held his breath, waiting for her to discover the mistake.
Waiting for her to ask. This would be the opening he needed to tell her everything.
To tell her he hadn’t been reincarnated like she thought. But she didn’t catch his slip.
“You made her happy, too,” she said. “I think you were the only bright spot in her life as well.”
He rubbed his chin on the top of her head and pressed his lips into her hair.
“Did you love her?” she asked.
“More than anything.”
“And yet you two couldn’t be together.”
“I was a lowly knight, you—she—a countess. We were worlds apart.”
“How sad.”
“Not sad. We took what we were able and were happy for it. Bittersweet, maybe, but never sad.”
“When did you realize you had this whole past life?”
Tell her. “I’ve always known.”
“Did you dream of it?”
“There were dreams. Memories.”
Lainie sighed and settled more comfortably against him. “Did you think you were going crazy too? When you started having these weird dreams?”
“Madelaine, you are not crazy.”
“I know. It’s just sometimes I feel like two different people.”
“There are things about you that are the same as her, but you two are not the same. Your beliefs and your personality have been shaped by the time you are living in, just as Madelaine’s was. That alone makes you two different.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“You have to trust me on this.”
His other hand rested on her thigh and she played with the tips of his fingers. “Sometimes I wonder if my feelings for you aren’t what she felt for you. I experience her emotions in my dreams. And when I awaken, those emotions stay with me. I have to wonder where hers end and mine begin.”
He turned his hand palm up and trapped her fingers in his, stilling her nervous motions. “The only way to find out is to test those emotions.”
“And what if we discover what we feel for each other isn’t real?”
“What we feel for each other is very real.”
Some time passed. Christien stroked her shoulder. She snuggled into his embrace and they watched the moon reflect off the waves.
“How did it end?” she asked.
“How did what end?”
“Madelaine and her dark knight.”
Something cold and lethal sliced through his heart, opening old wounds.
“Not good, huh?”
“No. I’m afraid not.”
“I hope they died together,” she said softly.