CHAPTER NINETEEN
Maeve could not quite believe the stupidity of what she’d done. One second, she’d been stretching on tiptoe for her hat, sure she could probably reach it with a little help… The next she’d been plunged headfirst into chill water in the shadow of the boat, the rapid change in temperature a heart-wrenching shock after the hot sunshine on deck.
Sinking rapidly, she’d kicked and flailed about wildly, struggling to return to the surface and much-needed oxygen. It wasn’t easy. The Seine was surprisingly deep and choppy, almost like the open sea…
She emerged with a violent intake of breath that also included some river water. E. coli, she thought with horror. This disgusting, oily fluid she spat out at once, working her arms and legs to keep afloat as she put aside embarrassment and focused on survival.
Up above, she saw Leo staring down at her.
Oh God.
She heard her thought echoed in a deep voice from the deck. ‘Mon Dieu,’ one of the crew exclaimed, tossing an orange lifebuoy ring after her. ‘Les anglaises!’
The lifebuoy ring bobbed about a few feet away. Keeping her chin above the filthy water, mouth clamped shut, Maeve doggy-paddled towards it, conscious of the looming bulk of the boat like a sheer wall above her. The ring evaded her, skittering away on a bobbing crest as she approached, but with an almighty effort she grabbed it with one hand and dragged it towards her.
‘Maeve?’ Leo was leaning over the side, peering at her. She stared up in dismay, hoping he wouldn’t make the same mistake she had. But of course he didn’t. ‘Are you all right?’
Am I all right?
Good grief.
‘What… does it… blearh… look like?’ she spluttered crossly.
‘Hang on,’ he told her. ‘We’re going to rescue you.’
‘Don’t you try climbing down!’ she cried, fearful for his safety.
But she needn’t have worried. ‘Not a chance.’ There was laughter in his voice, she was sure. ‘I’ll leave this one to the experts. Try to stay warm by treading water, okay?’
Tourists had also gathered to stare over the side of the boat, some even forgetting to disembark. There were more on the river bank behind her, she realised, risking a quick glance that way. More than a few were holding up cameras, no doubt taking pictures or actually filming her humiliation. She pretended not to have noticed them, but it was pretty hard. Especially when a crew member climbed over the side of the boat, attached to a rope looped about his middle, to rescue her, and a buzz went up among those watching.
Like feeding time at the zoo, she thought furiously.
It took some fifteen minutes before she was safely back on board and being tended by a paramedic, who had arrived on a motorbike with sirens and lights, drawing yet more attention.
Dripping wet and shivering, Maeve was taken into a small inner cabin, wrapped in a foil blanket for warmth, while a female crew member dabbed ineffectually at her sodden hair and clothes with a towel. Her face, neck, hands and arms had been thoroughly cleaned and disinfected, and advice given about possible E. coli infection, though apparently the risk was low.
The boat steward stood over her, arms folded, complaining in a voluble fashion about her ‘reckless behaviour’. Apparently, some of the tourists had been asking for their money back due to the lengthy delay. He also asked if she needed the police to be called, which was apparently what they were supposed to do in the event of someone going overboard. An incident report was already being drawn up by a crew member, and it was clear they wanted her to admit full liability.
‘Did you not see the safety notices?’ the steward kept demanding. ‘They are posted at intervals all along the railing in French and English. Danger. No leaning over.’
‘I was trying to reach my hat,’ she said in a small voice.
‘Not even to reach a hat.’ The steward made an angry noise under his breath, shaking his head. ‘What did you think was going to happen, hein?’
‘Go easy on her,’ Leo exclaimed at one point in growling French, glaring at the steward from under taut brows. ‘Can’t you see she’s in shock?’
Ridiculously, she felt annoyed by his protective stance. Though she was grateful for it as well. Especially when, to her relief, the steward backed off.
Eventually, once the paramedic had declared her unhurt and gone on his way, and Maeve had signed a waiver, foregoing her right to make any future complaint against the boat company for negligence, they were allowed to disembark.
In fact, they were urged to disembark, the steward practically pushing them both off the boat.
Those still waiting impatiently onboard applauded their departure, some even cheering when the gangplank was withdrawn and the boat finally pulled away from the jetty, back on course. One of the men watching had clearly recognised Leo, for he called out his name and, when Leo glanced his way, snapped a photo.
‘Merde,’ Leo muttered.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she told him. ‘So much for us keeping a low profile. Did you see them all filming us when I got hauled out of the water?’
‘Yes.’
He sounded terse, and small wonder.
Maeve stared after the boat with a glum expression. ‘I’m such an idiot,’ she said dejectedly, picking more river weed from her hair. ‘I made a complete fool of myself, didn’t I?’
‘Maybe not a complete fool,’ Leo said.
‘Thanks.’
He sighed. ‘Look, it’s no big deal.’
‘Seriously? Were you even watching? I fell into the Seine.’ She pulled a tenacious piece of weed from her hair. ‘Blearh.’
She’d expected Leo to be stressed and impatient, rightly annoyed by her antics, not least because he’d been forced to text his grandmother during the rescue to let her know they’d been unavoidably delayed. Instead, looking down into her damp, unhappy face, he chuckled.
‘I was watching, yes. And okay, yes, you did fall into the Seine. Here, allow me,’ he murmured, gently extracting another strand of green weed from her hair. ‘But you didn’t drown,’ he pointed out. ‘They got you out. You’re unhurt. And alive.’
‘Yes, but I lost my lovely hat…’ Adding insult to injury, the floppy straw hat had blown out of reach during the rescue attempt. She had groaned to herself, watching as it bobbed away on the dirty water, eventually sinking to a watery grave in the distance. ‘You bought me that hat and I got to wear it for less than an hour.’
‘True.’ With surprising patience, Leo guided her up a steep flight of stone steps that led onto the left bank of the river. ‘But it wasn’t expensive. And I can always buy you another one.’
‘That’s kind, but no thank you,’ she told him miserably. ‘It would only blow away again and I’d probably fall off the… the Eiffel Tower or something, trying to get it back.’
‘Then I won’t take you to the Eiffel Tower.’
‘Oh you… You’re just trying to make me feel better, aren’t you?’
His eyebrows rose. ‘What gave it away?’
‘I did something ludicrous and ruined everyone’s day.’ Her voice choked. ‘What happened… That was the kind of thing other people do, not me… Not Maeve Eden. Everyone knows that I’m organised and reliable and trustworthy. I don’t lose p-p-passports or fall off b-b-boats into rivers.’ The stutter did nothing for her confidence, her cheeks burning with humiliation as she recalled all those onlookers filming her moment of supreme idiocy.
No doubt she was on social media somewhere now, gaining some influencer thousands of hits. She only hoped nobody could make out her face at that distance. Though given that someone had recognised Leo, it was a thin hope…
‘You were trying to keep us out of the media,’ she added miserably. ‘Now I’ve made everything a hundred times worse. I don’t deserve to feel better.’
To her embarrassment, her trainers were making loud sloshing noises with every step, no doubt still waterlogged. But at least they had stayed on her feet. At one stage, she had feared she might have to try removing them. But, only being cheap sports pumps, they had remained lightweight enough not to pull her under…
‘If that’s how you see yourself,’ he said after a moment’s contemplation, perhaps listening to the noisy slosh of every step, ‘I understand now why you were so upset at losing your rucksack.’ He studied her thoughtfully. ‘You still blame yourself for what happened. Not the thief.’
‘Well, if I hadn’t taken my eye off my rucksack –’
‘You were looking after my grandmother.’
‘But I should have kept the bag on my back. Then I’d still have it.’ She nursed that bitter thought for a moment, her heart flooding with unhappiness. ‘I would never have lost my passport. I’d be back home in England right now, sitting on my sofa, having a nice cup of tea –’
‘Yes, and you and I would never have encountered each other,’ he interrupted. ‘Or only for a few minutes on the street before I drove my grandmother to the hospital. You would never have seen the inside of Chateau Rémy or met Nonna and the rest of my family… Or allowed me the great privilege of painting you.’ His dark eyes seemed to pierce to the back of her skull. ‘Is that truly what you’d prefer? That we had never met?’
‘N-No,’ she stammered.
‘Good.’
‘Is it?’
‘Of course.’ He took her elbow. ‘Because I don’t regret having met you, even if it’s been a mess at times. That photo Jean took, Liselle’s moodiness and jealousy, having to watch my father drooling over you… Now this, knowing there’ll be photos of us all over social media by now. You like this,’ he nodded towards her sodden, clinging dress, ‘and me having to stand by and watch while other men rescued you.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t risk your own neck,’ she remonstrated.
‘It’s not in my nature though to sit idly by when the woman I…’ Something flickered in that hard, handsome face, then Leo blinked and hurriedly shifted tack, finishing, ‘When the woman I’m with falls into the river.’
A memory slammed into her and she stopped dead, groaning out loud.
His hand released her elbow. ‘What is it?’ Concern drew his brows together. ‘Were you hurt, falling out of the boat? You told the paramedic you were okay.’
‘No, I’m fine, I just remembered…I’m meant to be meeting my grandmother for the first time this afternoon.’ Maeve struggled with her wet dress, its folds clamped to her thighs. ‘I was so careful to try and look my best today as well… Now look at me.’ She was usually good at staying calm under pressure, but the shock of her mishap had shaken her confidence and it was hard not to burst into self-pitying tears. ‘What.. Whatever will she think?’
‘I imagine she’ll think you fell in the river,’ Leo said, his mouth quirking with humour.
She glared up at him. ‘That’s not very helpful.’
‘Maybe not. But there’s nothing you can do about your dress. Or your hair.’
‘Oh, my hair!’ She ran her fingers through its tangled strands, but it seemed to be weed-free at last. Small mercies. It still felt damp and bedraggled though, slowly drying in the sunshine to a frizzy mess. ‘Perhaps we should call it off. See her another day.’
‘And if she changes her mind about meeting you?’
He was right. Her grandmother might well consider it intolerably rude for her to cancel their meeting last minute. She clapped her hands over her face, despair almost swallowing her. ‘This is just the most awful bad luck,’ she wailed.
‘True, but you can only work with the situation you’re given. What would you prefer your grandmother to see when she opens the door to you?’ he asked, gently pulling her hands away from her face and peering down at her. ‘A young woman in a mess, laughing at her own foolishness? Or someone miserable, riddled with fear and uncertainty?’
‘I am not riddled with fear and uncertainty,’ she said stiffly.
‘I’m glad.’ He moved a damp strand of hair out of her eyes. ‘In that case, why don’t you try seeing the funny side of the situation?’
‘Because there’s nothing funny about this.’
He gave her sodden figure a quick up-and-down glance and his lips worked with amusement. ‘Is that so?’ Then he gave a shout of laughter. ‘If you could see yourself…’
‘You, Leo Rémy, are a complete brute.’ She stamped on ahead, but the effect of wounded dignity was rather lost, given the loud squelching of her wet trainers.
He hurried after her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and put an arm about her waist. She felt herself go rigid, her head jerking back, her wide gaze shooting to his in shock. ‘It is funny,’ he insisted. ‘But I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at what happened. At the way they had to fish you out of the river… And as for the look on your face right now –’
‘Yes?’ she whispered when he stopped dead, her eyes on his face.
‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated in a low voice, ‘but I’m going to kiss you again, even though I know I shouldn’t.’ His arm snagged her closer, his dark head bending towards hers, eclipsing the bright dazzle of sunlight along the Seine. ‘Because you are completely irresistible.’