Chapter 12
Despite the hard wooden chair with padding that had long since worn away and the chilly draft seeping in through the open window, Natalie sat comfortably at the desk as she listened to Ian read aloud.
If she hadn’t been so absorbed in what he was reading, she could easily picture herself falling asleep to the rhythmic cadence of Ian’s voice.
“Hey, it’s nearly sunset. Do you want to take a break?” he asked. “Sabine said the other day that the west terrace has the most gorgeous view.”
Oh, I’m sure she did, Natalie thought, feeling mildly amused yet awkwardly annoyed by the woman’s persistent and obvious pursuit of Ian.
“Yeah, a break sounds nice. The air seems kind of cold…” She gestured to the window where the draft was coming from.
He nodded. “Yeah, the temperature’s supposed to drop more tonight than it has since we got into Paris.”
They gathered their belongings and made their way to the west terrace. This was the spot where they had endured their first interrogation with Sabine, and even through those seemingly endless rude questions and glares, she had never stopped admiring the stunning view.
A thick band of clouds to the north framed the purple and orange sky perfectly.
The rows of vines disappearing into the distance appeared almost too perfect to be real.
The sun was almost completely obscured by clouds, but all that meant was that the rays of light burst forth from behind it like something out of a divine Renaissance painting.
The cool air whipped around her bare arms, and she momentarily regretted choosing a short-sleeved T-shirt that morning, even though the day had been warm enough. As she laid her hands on the rough stones topping the wall, she could feel their warmth against her skin.
Ian stepped toward where she stood and rested his weight on his elbows on the wall as well.
“It’s really quite lovely,” she said, closing her eyes and turning her face toward the sky.
“Yes, it is.” He paused before continuing in a low voice, “Longtemps muets, nous contemplames. Le ciel où s’éteignait le jour. Que se passait-il dans nos ames?” The rhythm of his voice once again nearly made her shiver.
“I’m not familiar with that one,” she said, smiling, although she kept her eyes closed.
She was suddenly aware that the warmth she felt along her arm and down her whole side was likely because he was standing so close. Somehow she hadn’t noticed.
“It’s Victor Hugo. The translation I learned is half-forgotten, but… In the long silence we contemplated, the sky where day was fading. What was happening in our souls?”
“Victor Hugo, as in The Hunchback of Notre-Dame?” She turned to him.
“The very same,” he answered.
“You know, you really do have a magnificent voice. I’ve listened to a lot of audiobooks, but I’d listen to you read the dictionary.” She nearly slapped a hand over her mouth but managed to restrain herself. Fortunately, he laughed and spared her from having to explain herself.
“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” he said quietly.
“Oh really? Who shares my impeccable opinion?”
Even as she spoke, he looked over at her with a sad smile on his face that gave her pause.
“My mom,” he said quietly.
“Well, sounds like a smart lady to me,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.
Ian looked down at his hands. “She was.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry—”
“You didn’t know,” he said. “It was a long time ago. She loved books and stories—never really got into television or movies because she wanted to imagine what the characters looked like. We would sit and read together in the afternoons. She’d have hers, and I’d have mine.”
He dropped his gaze and took a deep breath.
“She had diabetes. When I was about ten, she started to lose her sight. It’s quite common—diabetic retinopathy.
She always said she wasn’t even that upset about it.
The only thing she cared about was not being able to read anymore.
We tried audiobooks, but they were costly, and the library didn’t have a great selection. So I started reading to her.”
Natalie didn’t move a muscle, as if any movement might startle him.
“A few years later, she was completely blind,” he continued.
“And I was still reading to her every afternoon when I got home from school. It was somewhat like meditation. I was worried about leaving for college—she had some assistance, but not enough. My brother had already left for college. Then, about a month after graduation, she um…had a massive heart attack and died. I heard her fall and performed CPR until the ambulance arrived, but they said she was probably gone before she hit the floor.”
The muscle in his jaw pulsed as he stood in silence, and Natalie stared. What the hell was she supposed to say to that?
“Oh my God,” she said, reaching out and placing her hand on his arm. “I can’t imagine how traumatizing that must’ve been.”
To her surprise, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked over at her with a small smile on his face. “Very. I’m going to go with very traumatized.”
Against her better judgment, Natalie laughed. She knew it was the wrong response, but the deadpan way he delivered it—combined with his half-smile—was…well, amusing.
“Yeah,” she said, “I think you’re probably right about that.”
As he laughed, a wave of relief washed over Natalie. She didn’t know what she would have done if he had taken offense at her involuntary laughter.
Suddenly, a loud crack resonated, followed by the brightest flash of light she had ever seen.
Without intending to, she let out a small scream.
Rain began pouring down on them, and she realized that the reason she couldn’t breathe was because Ian was holding her so tightly—with one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist.
The sun had fully set, yet the twilight remained bright enough to see despite the sudden rain.
She was so close to him that even in the eerie half-light, she could observe details of his face she had never noticed before—the lines at the corners of his eyes that revealed how often he laughed and a thin scar that ran across his lower lip and all the way down his chin.
As soon as she noticed the scar, all she wanted to do was reach out and trace it with her fingertips. Her hand that she had rested on his chest began to move toward his face, unbidden.
“Wow!” he exclaimed, looking out across the vineyard. “I think lightning struck one of the netting poles out there.”
Startled, she nodded, still staring at him rather than the storm. “Yeah, I think so.”
“We should go.”
“Okay,” she replied breathlessly, still very aware of how tightly he held her.
She was still gazing up at him, her thoughts a blur, and his grip on her waist remained firm. A tingling warmth spread over her, and she could have sworn she felt every single inch of her body pressed against his. And yet she couldn’t feel the rain.
His hand glided from her arm to cradle her face, his fingertips finding the hollow just below her ear and behind her jaw. Her pulse raced, and she was certain he could feel it. As his thumb lightly traced her cheekbone, she released an involuntary sound—soft but brimming with anticipation.
Then, another deafening crack and a burst of light.
She yelped again, and he pulled her close, cradling her head against his chest as he tried to shield her from the storm. Still blinking away the flash, she felt him take her hand.
“Come on,” he said. “Back to the archive.”
Laughing, they sprinted together through the garden, dodging puddles that had already begun to form on the stone path. When they finally reached the archive door, they tumbled inside, soaked and out of breath. Ian closed the door firmly behind them, plunging the room into darkness.
“Uh, so…I think there’s no power,” he said.
Natalie flipped the switch she now knew by heart. “I think you’re right.”
“Thank God for old technology,” Ian muttered. A few clicks and sputters later, the tiny flame of an old-fashioned lighter flickered in his hands. He pointed to a storm lantern on the nearby shelf. “Grab that.”
The heavy glass lantern was aged yet clean, and the wick inside appeared fresh. As she opened the mechanism, he lit it carefully. She secured the glass back in place, and he set it down on a clear table. The lantern’s glow reflected off every surface, casting the archive in soft, golden light.
Natalie was drenched from head to toe, her shirt clinging to her as droplets rolled from her hair down her spine—but she didn’t feel cold.
All she felt was the almost unbearable, magnetic pull toward Ian.
The part of her brain that typically steered her away from making impulsive choices was quiet—too quiet.
And then he stepped toward her.
Before she could process what was happening, his arm slipped around her waist. Her fingers found the back of his neck, and they were face-to-face—inches apart. Everything else fell away.
In stark contrast to the frantic dash through the rain, Ian gently lifted her chin and pressed his mouth to hers.