29. Iris
29
IRIS
I slid my feet into my Crocs after rinsing them under the hand pump in the winery courtyard. After standing all morning in the stifling heat, my ankles resembled deflated balloons.
I found something nostalgic and historic about washing my feet. I wondered how many other peasant girls had washed their toes at Marsan over the years. How many had deflated their ankles after trifling with the lord of the castle? Had their hearts scorched?
“You look tired,” Chloe said, swinging her legs on the bench.
Perhaps the two nights of lost sleep and no food in my stomach had something to do with it?
Today marked our last full day at Marsan. Chloe clung to me like a limpet since lunchtime, saying I needed some extra best-friend support. We’d both wrapped up our work and planned to dedicate the rest of the afternoon to packing and, as she called it, “farewelling Captain Jacques.” I didn’t dare ask how he’d earned his nickname.
“I’m fine,” I lied, half-heartedly. But nothing about me was remotely fine. I’d said a tearful goodbye to Thierry, and I hadn’t spoken to Luc since my disappearing act at the opera.
I ran my fingers through my ponytail. Unfortunately, I reaped what I’d sown. He’d observed radio silence entirely at my request.
I could have acted like a grown-up and gone back to the hotel to talk. But that would have been my undoing. Luc would’ve found me there, exercised his knicker-melting powers and rendered me completely helpless, ready to agree to whatever madness he suggested. And that’s just what our charade had been—madness. Fake engagements only worked in romance novels or movies.
“You ready?” Chloe asked, getting to her feet. A maid had brought down a message that my bag had arrived from Paris and was in my old room in the house. Chloe volunteered to go and get it with me. I knew she wanted to give me some moral support, but I suspected ulterior motives. She probably wanted to raid the lavender bath salts one last time.
I nodded, and we headed to the chateau. I looked around, hoping to spot Apollo. He’d been my permanent shadow. We’d hung out in the garden, and he’d sat at my feet by the fire pit the last two nights. It was like he knew I needed to be with him, to have him near. He was my only link to Luc.
I took us around the side of the house, avoiding the pool or the Garden of Girth. They held too many memories, too many regrets.
“What time is the train tomorrow?” Chloe asked, running her fingertips over the lavender at the side of the house. “With you being the expert, I thought I’d leave the details up to you.” She sent me a cheeky side glance.
Why was she so upbeat? So chirpy. Didn’t she know my heart was breaking?
I drew my brows together, remembering my midnight train ride from Paris. The stares of the other passengers. After running from the opera, I jumped into a taxi. Unsure of my next move, I asked the driver to take me to the railway station. I ended up taking the mail train down south, still in my gown and heels.
Of course, Agnes saw me when I finally returned, shoes in hand, carefully picking my way over the gravel in front of the house. Her mouth looked like she was chewing a wasp. Still, if I had to do the “walk of shame,” there was no better way than in a ball gown. She’d made me a hot drink, though. I wasn’t sure how much she knew about my visit to Paris, but that morning marked the kindest she’d ever been to me.
We rounded the corner at the end of the chateau, and I pulled up short, grabbing Chloe’s arm. A sleek sports car sat in the driveway. I’d only ridden inside it three times, but I couldn’t mistake the vehicle. “That’s…”
Chloe tightened her eyes into the sun. “The Smoulder Mobile? Yes, yes, it is.”
My breath ran shallow in my chest, like someone had sat on it, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up loud and proud. “What’s it doing here?”
The corners of Chloe’s mouth twitched, but she lay a hand on my arm, pulling me towards the house. “Don’t worry. Luc probably had one of his minions drive it from the airport. Didn’t you say he’d gone away?”
That’s what he told me. His last message said he’d left France on business, but if I needed anything, to call him. I’d figured it was a white lie. As far as I knew, Luc didn’t “do business” very often. Then, the next morning I found a payment for three thousand pounds in my bank account. It looked like Luc and my “business” together was officially over.
I wished I could say the same for my feelings. Unfortunately, they were heart-achingly real. And very much alive.
“You’re right. He probably had Agnes pick it up and drive it back. I can just imagine her with the top down, chignon untethered and blowing in the wind.”
Chloe giggled and pulled me in tighter. We passed through the shadow of the building. The cool of the shade provided a blissful break from the blistering sun. As we stepped inside the front door, I glanced back at Luc’s car. I’m not sure what I expected to see. Maybe an imprint of him lounging in the front seat with a lazy smile, or him driving hard, hugging the corners, concentration etched onto his face. I’d take either version.
We crept through the house together. Through the grand salon with its suits of armour, past the doors to the terrace, and into the hallway Luc and I shared. Had shared. All that remained now were memories. The kiss under the chandelier, the picture he’d posted under my door, and the way he made me feel in the garden—like a princess—a goddess.
The enormous oak door that led to his studio stood closed, but my fingertips still itched to open it and visit his tower, to breathe in his cologne.
I knocked on my bedroom door, shaking my head at my naivety. Who did I expect to be in there? Chloe had no such manners, shoving the door open with a grin. She stepped aside, gripping her lip with her teeth, looking at me like a proud parent.
“Chloe…?”
Just then, a high-pitched noise reached my ears—a tiny squeak— a familiar tiny squeak. I looked at Chloe and she nodded, her grin growing wider. Bubbles ran through my chest, through my tummy, and over my skin. I turned into the room, sweeping my gaze over every surface.
There on the bed sat a solitary box. But no ordinary box. It had a handle, a front hatch, and a small pink nose pressed against its bars. Another little squeak came from inside, and I sucked in a breath.
“Stuart? ”
I looked at Chloe, hoping she’d tell me I was right. She only nodded, her eyes welling with tears. Within two seconds flat, I made it across the room. I crawled over the bed and lifted my trembling fingers to the little door. Whispering a prayer to Saint Baldomerus, patron saint of locksmiths, I sprang open the mechanism with surprising ease and reached my hands inside.
Warm, soft fluff met my fingers, and I closed my hands around a solid little body to bring Stuart out of the carrier. I buried my face in his fur. He smelled just like I remembered. Like biscuits, and his chest heaved like a pair of bellows. Stuart had never once in his life purred properly. Instead, he almost grunted, like he’d run up ten flights of stairs with no training. Nathan had joked that he’d arrived broken, but Stuart was perfect to me.
Only when I turned to Chloe did I realise I had tears rolling down my face. I blinked them away, draping Stuart over my shoulder, just the way he liked. We vacuumed the house together or washed up the same way. The dynamic duo.
“You knew?” I asked. She nodded. And if Stuart was here… “Is Luc here too? Did you know that when we saw his car?”
Chloe grimaced. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but Luc asked me not to, in case Nathan wouldn’t give Stuart up without a fight. I know friends come first, but under the circumstances…” She walked over, running her fingers through Stuart’s calico fur. “Am I forgiven?”
I nodded, and she opened her arms, hugging me tight. Dislodged from his perch on my shoulders, Stuart launched himself onto the floor, making a break for freedom.
“Quick!” I squeaked. “Close the door. If he gets out, we’ll never see him again. He’ll need to get used to his new surroundings before he can explore.”
Chloe extracted herself from my arms before sprinting over to shut the door. Leaning against its wood, she tilted her head and smiled. “So, you’re planning on letting him get used to his new surroundings, then? Does this mean we’ll be putting our travel plans on hold?”
My chest fizzled. “No! It just means cats are more sensitive. We’ll travel, but only when I’m sure Stuart is okay. I’m sure Nathan didn’t hurt him, but I don’t doubt he fed him scraps and banned him from sleeping on the bed. I need to compensate for the neglect.”
She giggled, then leaned forward, peering down at Stuart on the floor. “What’s that round his neck?”
I dropped to my hands and knees as Stuart weaved around my body, head-butting me.
There was something around his neck, attached to the bell on his collar. I closed my hands around his fur and unthreaded a little scroll of paper bound up in a thin, pink ribbon.
I looked up at Chloe, and she shook her head, shrugging again. “I don’t know what it is.”
I crossed my legs on the floor and undid the ribbon, stretching the paper out over one knee. “It’s a note.”
“Well, of course it is,” squealed Chloe. “And unless Stuart has learned to write during his incarceration, I’m assuming it’s from Luc. What does it say?”
My eyes hovered over the cream paper, not really seeing the words. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I drew my brows tight together. What if this was just a kind note from Luc to wish me well and send me on my way with Stuart as a final bonus?
“Iris, read it!” Chloe breathed, looking like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Okay, okay!” I cleared my throat and read the note out loud, my heart thumping out of my chest.
Iris. I hope you’re glad to see your visitor. I wanted to say thank you. To make you smile again. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve put you through. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’ll be down by the river. Luc.
I slowly turned to Chloe. “What does that even mean? Make me smile? Say sorry?”
“Oh, my god!” Chloe screeched, racing to join me on the floor. “It means he wants you to forgive him. Kiss and make up. Maybe even live happily ever after in his castle. I don’t know. But based on the ferocity of your pout these last few days, at least hear what he has to say. I’ll stay with Stuart and keep him safe.”
I furrowed my brow. I had to be sensible. I really didn’t know where I stood with Luc. I’d said I didn’t want to see him, and he’d taken my request of no contact literally. We’d lied and hurt people, and I never wanted to do that again. I should probably take Stuart and get back to London as soon as possible. I should find a new job and a new normal.
Still, the memory of Luc’s lips on mine, his arms wrapped around me, pulled at my heart. Shivers crept over the back of my neck, and I took a slow breath. Surely it wouldn’t hurt for me just to see him? We could have a quick chat. I could thank him for rescuing Stuart and then be on my way, conscience deliciously clear. And definitely not tempted to touch him. At all.
“Well?” breathed Chloe. “Yes, or no?”
“Okay, I’ll see him. Hear him out,” I murmured, my voice growing louder with every syllable.
With a grin, Chloe jumped to her feet and did a little happy dance, sending Stuart under the bed, his tail fluffed up like a squirrel. “Oh, my goodness, we have to get you looking gorgeous!”
I followed Chloe to my feet, and she teased my hair before reaching up to untie my ponytail. I batted her hands away. “No. If Luc really wants to see me, he won’t care about my hair. ”
She scowled for a beat before a smile lit up her face again. “Well, you should at least wear something nice.” She glanced about the room, her eyes lingering far too long on the window for my liking.
“No. No more curtains,” I said, holding onto her wrists. “This time there has to be no pretence.”
This time I’d meet Luc just as I was. Shiny faced, puffy ankles, and not trying to be anything other than plain old Iris Hawthorne, ex dental nurse. Desperately grateful for his surprise, and desperately in love.