Chapter 31
CHAPTER
Going by the voices that passed my window an hour ago, the mess emptied earlier than Jerry’s usual ten o’clock lights out.
Even so, I wait until then before, wrapped in a coat and my hands snug in gloves, I follow the dimly lit path to the newest accommodation block.
Before I left the mess, I asked Jerry which room was Sebastien’s.
‘Sixteen. Four doors down from mine. End of the corridor.’
A sliver of moon pushes through the clouds as I rehearse what to say: It’s possible I lied by omission, but I’d promised Professor Johnson that I’d do the work. By the time you return from Hobart, I’ll be finished. I hope you’ll forgive me.
An elephant seal, lying on his side with his nose on the path, harrumphs.
‘Sebastien should look at the positives, not the negatives,’ I tell the seal. ‘As for me, I’m showing I trust him by owning up.’
As soon as I open the door to the accommodation block, lights flood the foyer.
A sign indicates eight rooms to the right and eight to the left.
I’m passing what must be Jerry’s room when the light under the door goes out.
Three more doors, then it’s room sixteen.
I knock quietly but no one answers. Is this really Sebastien’s room?
Is he here? What if he’s in the shower or—
He yanks open the door. ‘Lisse?’
He must have already had a shower because his hair is damp and mussed, but he’s dressed for work. A shirt, cable-knit jumper and pants. No shoes, but socks. I was worried about waking him or interrupting his reading, not barging into his workplace.
‘Hey.’
Frowning, he looks over his shoulder. In addition to the two monitors on his desk, there’s an open laptop. One monitor has three files open. A spreadsheet, a table, a document. Satellite imagery flashes on the screen of the other monitor. The laptop displays a screenful of messages.
‘I wanted to tell you something but you’re obviously busy and—’
Sebastien stands back, gesturing for me to come into the room. I take two cautious steps before he closes the door behind me.
He addresses the screen. ‘I’ll get back to you.’
‘Sorry, buddy, but this won’t wait.’ A man’s voice.
‘I’ll call you back.’
‘Is that Nate Gillespie?’
A brief pause.
‘You’ve got a good ear for voices, Flick,’ Nate says. ‘Does that come from listening to bird song? How’re you doing? Can you give me ten minutes with Seb?’
‘Later, Nate,’ Sebastien says.
‘It’s gotta be now. This is important.’
Sebastien checks his watch. ‘Bring our call forward to three,’ he says sharply as he walks to the desk, closes files and shuts the laptop. Click.
When he turns to me, his gaze starts at my face then moves down my body. He runs a hand through his hair. His jaw is so tight I’m surprised he can speak. Is he angry? Upset?
‘What did you want to tell me?’
I link my fingers, pull them apart. ‘We can talk before I go to the gentoo. I’ll see you in the mess as we arranged.’
For a moment, his eyes close. When they open again, his expression is different. Not kind. Not exactly amused. Maybe resigned.
He holds out a hand and drops it. ‘You’re not good for my sleep, Lisse.’
‘You said that on the ship.’
He comes close and I smell soap. ‘I had to stay away. I had to wait.’
I cross my arms to protect my heart. ‘Me too.’
Carefully but firmly, he uncrosses my arms before taking my hand. When he kisses the knuckle at the base of my thumb, a fiery tingling shoots up my arm.
‘You were scared of demons.’
His phone buzzes on the desk.
‘Are you sure you’re done with your calls? Nate said it was important and—’
‘Fuck Nate.’
‘You told him three tomorrow. Aren’t you on the ship all day?’
‘Three in the morning.’
I steady my breath. ‘Can you hear through the walls in your room like you can in mine? Robin can hear everything.’
‘I’m at the end of the corridor.’
‘What about next door?’
‘No one is there.’
Sebastien’s bed is made. His bedside table is tidy. On the top is an eReader and also a book. ‘What are you reading?’
‘Nest. Inga Simpson. I found it in the mess.’
‘Is it about birds?’
‘The protagonist draws birds.’
‘From life? I wish I could do that.’
‘You capture birds with your camera.’
‘I’ll get my photos developed when I can afford it.
’ As soon as the words are out, I want to take them back.
Will he think I’m crying poor? Or inviting him to see my photos?
Are photos as important when you can read words and create pictures in your mind?
He can conjure images from words in four different languages and—
When he tips up my chin, my knees wobble.
‘Will you show me your photos?’
‘Tilly likes them.’
He takes my hands again. ‘Tell me about Matilda.’
‘She’s much smarter than I ever was, but she’s sensitive; she gets hurt. Now she attends a school that’s accepting of her differences, she’s becoming more confident. She’s settled and happy. She has friends.’
‘You pay for her boarding school?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the pony.’
‘Riding is important because it gives Tilly a break from her academic interests. She’s learning she shouldn’t judge herself harshly if things don’t work out. Her pony won’t always win ribbons, but she’ll love him anyway. She’ll also be out of the classroom and make new friends.’
‘She said you gave Matilda to her mother because your brother liked the story.’
When I smile, his eyes go to my mouth. ‘Matt would never have admitted it, but I think he was in love with Miss Honey.’
‘Tell me about Matt.’
Sebastien is standing so close I see the tiny lines at the sides of his eyes. I free a hand and stroke the lines with a finger. ‘You’re tired, Sebastien. You should be in bed.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Many pilots, particularly kids like Matt with no family money to pay for lessons, join the air force. When Matt failed the medical, he didn’t feel sorry for himself or give up. He worked two jobs, sometimes three, to realise his dream.’
‘Some pilots are like that.’
‘Did you always want to fly?’
‘Flying was …’ He frowns as if the question is new to him. ‘I wanted to go high. And fast.’
‘You wanted to take risks. How old were you?’
‘In Norway, the minimum age for flying a glider is eighteen. At fifteen, I stole Kit’s ID. I had lessons.’
‘You didn’t tell me you flew gliders illegally.’
A smile. ‘You didn’t ask.’
‘Did your family find out?’
‘After my tenth solo flight, yes.’ He shrugs. ‘The towing aircraft released too early. The glider crashed and I broke my leg. I was sixteen. My parents were upset. Kit was angry. Fin was impressed.’
‘It’s nice that you’re close to your family.’
When he pulls me close, I rest my cheek against his chest. He tugs at my hairband, releasing my ponytail before threading his fingers through my hair.
I’m aroused and so is he, but he seems to be determined to talk.
It’s tempting to ask more questions about his family but I came here to confess and that’s what I should do.
I breathe deeply, snuggle even closer. ‘You’re not going to like something I’ve done.’
He puts hair behind my ear then frees it again. ‘Impossible.’
‘Probable.’
He kisses my neck. ‘You smell good.’
As I scoop up my scattered thoughts, he walks backwards, taking me with him towards the bed before releasing me to take off his jumper. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and I undo the third. I brush the warmth of his skin with the back of my hand. I kiss the soft skin at his throat.
‘It’s not fair you have to work all night as well as all day.’ I rub the crease between his brows. ‘I should tell you—’
‘Will you sleep with me?’
He cares about me. He’s the only man I’ve ever desired. I suspect I’m in love with him.
‘You held back on the ship because you thought I was vulnerable, but I’m not like that now. I want more than sleep.’
He briefly closes his eyes and then, eyes bright, he pulls my fleece over my head. When I undo the top button of my shirt, he gently takes over.
‘Let me.’
I squirm with desire as he opens the buttons one by one then pulls off the shirt and my thermal. Whispering words I don’t understand, he trails a line of kisses across my collarbone.
‘You’re beautiful.’
Sebastien has an extremely handsome face. His body is lean and muscled and I’m about to see all of it but—
‘Lisse.’ He runs his hands up my arms and cups my face. ‘What are you thinking?’
I drag my eyes upwards. ‘Don’t expect too much.’
His hands slip from my shoulders to my waist to my hips. ‘I won’t hurt you.’
‘You wouldn’t mean to.’
His pace is slow. Achingly slow. Achingly, heart-wrenchingly slow. He touches my face and neck with a fingertip, then two, then three. He trails his lips over my throat before nudging my breasts through my bra.
‘Can I take it off?’
‘Please.’ The word is a sigh.
After unfastening the clasp at the front and pushing the straps from my shoulders, he dips his head, trailing his mouth over my nipples. His kisses are soft and wet, warm and slow. I cling onto his shoulders to stay upright.
‘Sebastien …’
He looks up. Chestnut eyes. Damp mouth. ‘Lisse.’
‘Can I see you too?’
He tugs open his remaining buttons and shrugs out of his shirt.
His chest is smooth and sculpted. His stomach is flat.
When he pulls me against him, the tingling between my thighs morphs into a desperate burning.
I stroke the back of his neck where his hair meets his nape.
Dipping his head, he runs the tip of his tongue across the crease in my lips.
‘I want you, Lisse.’
His skin is warm, his body firm. As I stroke his shoulders and back, he trails kisses over my neck and throat and breasts. He drops to his knees and tugs at the button of my pants. He kisses around my navel.
He looks up, eyes intent. ‘Yes or no?’
‘Yes.’
Carefully keeping my undies in place, he peels down my pants before planting kisses from my ankles to my knees and then up the insides of my thighs.
‘So sweet.’
‘Sebastien …’ I cling to his shoulders. ‘You should take off your clothes too.’