Page 17 of To Vanquish Darkness

Amalie’s nostrils flared. Something flickered across Theo’s face, then his expression smoothed over into placid cold.He was darkness. Evil. Deadly. Of course he didn’t care about her questions. Her fear. Her grief.

Theo exhaled, and the ground seemed to shift beneath her feet as her body grew heavy.

“Stop. That.” Amalie’s face flushed, and her throat felt singed.

Theo crossed the room with fluid grace and disappeared into the night.

8

1824 BLOIS, FRANCE

Rachel waited near the river, her back pressed against the rough bark of an oak tree. She hadn't thought about how loud the rush of the water would be, otherwise she would've chosen a different spot. She wanted to know when Florent was approaching. Not that she was worried he wouldn't be able to find her—he'd had no trouble the last few times they'd met after dark—but because she hated the feeling of someone watching her.

She hadn't told anyone in the house about Florent, especially not Oren. He'd already pressed her about staying out in the gardens through twilight, at which point she'd decided to avoid him knowing altogether. For the past two weeks, she'd finished her chores early, helped in the kitchens, then enjoyed dinner with her girls and her nieces, Ghislaine and Matilde, and put them all to bed. By then, Oren was locked away in his study or in his room on the third floor with Maurielle. Nobody paid attention to her slipping out through the passageway meant for morning deliveries.

It wasn't wise to be out after dark. She understood Oren's concern. But her brother would never allow a working man like Florent to come calling at the house, and Rachel couldn'tstop thinking about him. Florent was nothing like her husband. He was intriguing. Mysterious. She felt like she knew intimate details about his life and, at the same time, understood nothing about him.

Tonight she would ask what she'd been working up to since their last clandestine conversation in the woods. Rachel had walked past the clawed-up dirt, stone mill, and scaffolding surrounding the abbey. She'd searched for Florent's face in the slew of workers but never saw him. She wanted more than just whispers in the dark. She wanted to see what his life looked like. She wanted to meet his friends and, if she was being honest, hoped he'd want to show her off.

They weren't courting, not by any stretch of the imagination, but the idea of getting closer to him—of being valued by him—sent a shiver through her. Rachel loved her daughters. She was grateful for Oren and all he offered them for the summer, but the idea of true companionship was intoxicating. She missed sleeping next to someone. She missed hands on her waist and lips on her skin.

Florent seemed to look at her with more than simple interest, and she wasn't a child. She wasn't going to get herself in trouble like Oren would probably believe. Florent always acted like a gentleman, which was why she was sure he'd accept her request?—

"Good evening."

Rachel spun, her heart jumping into her throat. When she saw Florent smiling at her in the moonlight, her hand flew to her chest. "Do you find it funny to terrify me?"

Florent's grin widened. "Absolutely." He walked closer, and Rachel took him in. He was cleaned up today. While he was always freshly shaven, he didn't always arrive in clean clothes and boots. Tonight his shirt was crisp white, his trousers pressed, and his boots clean.

"What's the occasion?" Rachel asked, her back still up against the tree. She lowered her hand and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Is it a crime to want to impress you?"

Rachel's cheeks burned, and she was grateful for the shadows. "Always so charming," she teased.

Florent strode forward until he was so close Rachel caught the scent of freshly cut wood and the hint of herbs. He hesitated for a moment before brushing past her on his way closer to the river. Rachel's pulse sped at the brief touch.

"What is in your heart tonight?" Florent paused on the bank and crouched, running his hands over the tips of the tall grass.

She loved this question. He asked it of her every time they met after she'd bandaged him up. "Honeysuckle." Florent turned, his eyes alight. She'd thought for hours that afternoon about the answer she'd give, and a thrill passed through her at his obvious delight. "I stood under the vine this afternoon and watched the bumblebees bathe in the flowers. Three different hummingbirds stopped by, and at least four nectar moths."

"You counted?"

"I always count." Rachel walked down to sit in the grass next to him. "The scent was heavenly, and the hum of their wings made me feel like all was right in the world."

"How do humming wings have that enchanting effect?" He sat cross-legged, his knee almost grazing her hip.

"The bees don't worry about what's coming next. They simply get to work. I began to think, perhaps that's my problem. I'm always so worried about the future that I forget to enjoy each day."

Florent watched her, and Rachel turned her eyes to the river. Her heart was like a treasure chest that she filled to the brim with jewels of his attention. Ones she loved to admire but never knew how to wear.

She pulled her knees to her chest. "And you?"

"Dark eyes," he answered without hesitation. "Flushed cheeks. Hair pulled back tight in a twist that I'd love to let loose." Rachel's throat dried out like the apple slices they'd laid in the sun that afternoon. "And don't say I'm charming. I'm only speaking the truth."

Rachel fixed her gaze on the ripple of moonlight shifting in the water, the ache in her middle so intense, she nearly curled into a ball. She drew a long breath and exhaled, then turned to face him before she lost courage. "I'd like to meet you in the morning. See where you work. I could bring you biscuits or?—"

"Women aren't allowed on site." Florent looked amused, and that only hardened her resolve.

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