71. Isabel
For all the effort Roman put in to see me, he sure had a leisurely way about him, as if he didn’t have an empire to run, a wedding to plan or an heir to produce.
The walk to the monastery was supposed to give me time to think and hopefully some perspective. Instead it gave life to flights of imagination, and very irritatingly I found myself smiling and reminiscing like a lovesick fool.
It was during one of these daydreams that I saw him in the distance, coming down the path. Had he followed me to the monastery?
And sure, I could have confronted him right then and there and told him to pack his bags and go back to where he came from. He had to realize by now that I wasn’t going back to Belmont Manor, waiting on pins and needles to be his concubine.
But confronting Roman here, in the pastoral meadows of Chatoise with not another soul around, was asking for trouble.Big time trouble. The kind of trouble that got me here in the first place.
I quietly slinked behind a tree and watched him walk past. He was whistling one of the French ballads we listened to when he’d sweep me into his arms for a slow dance, whispering my name and holding me to him like I was all he needed in this world. And then he’d kiss me, kiss me as if he needed my air to breathe.
I bit my lip until I tasted blood. How was I ever going to forget this man? The willpower it took not to run after Roman was currently on very low reserve. It was time to go scrub the floors or clean the windows or bake something, because I was that close to flinging myself into his arms.
Once I was back at the abbey I made a bee line for Mother Clara’s office. She was sipping her morning coffee and texting on her phone. And oh, was that a little flush blooming on her cheeks?
Grievance painted every line on my face and that might have been the first indication that I was upset. Mother Clara looked at me, not in the least perturbed. “Something the matter, Isabel?”
“I’d say there is, Mother Clara. Did you know that Roman is here in town?”
And would you believe the woman smiled. “Oui,ma chérie. I was just texting Monsieur O’Connor. They arrived before dawn…as you already know, I believe.”
“Please tell me he doesn’t know about the baby.”
“I gave you my word. But since Roman is the father the least you can do is listen to what he has to say, non?’
Her phone dinged and Mother Clara smiled as she read Steven’s text, my woes summarily put on the back burner.
I marched back to the kitchen where Sisters Rien and Sabine stared at me expectantly. Two guesses who told Roman about my walk to the monastary. I hauled out a sack of flour. And then another one. It was time to bake. The monastery, the abbey, and the residents of Chatoise were going to feast on pastries tonight.