Page 48 of Forbidden Bastard
Her hands ran through his short hair and sent awareness down his spine, but as the kiss ended, she sighed, pressed her head to his chest and said, “Charles, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be. You're the one holding all the cards.” He hugged her tight, his muscles tense.
He was hers now. He knew he wasn’t what she wanted though, and that little boy who'd heard gun shots and people running all around him as the nuns left him was once again in the same spot. Though he had her in his arms, he was just waiting for the train that might take her away.
Chapter 15
Sandi’s palms were damp with sweat. She never sweated, not really.
But as she walked in the moonlight through the beautiful gardens where fireflies flitted without care near the ocean, she wanted to be at peace.
Her parents were settled into the guest house. She'd successfully avoided any discussion of Charles, mostly because they were jetlagged.
If they'd asked her how she felt, she might crumble. She wasn’t sure. Love was supposed to be easy, right? Part of her absolutely did love Charles but shouldn't it be her whole heart?
She’d never been good at listening to her gut to make a choice and once again she was nervous.
Tonight she’d be with Charles, once he returned from escorting Clara to the dower house.
Maybe he’d finally bring her to that cool maze she’d wondered about the first day she’d arrived. She’d never done a real garden maze; maybe it would be romantic and she’d finally understand how she felt, beneath the full moon.
Maybe not though, not when her shoulders were so heavy. Seriously, all of this would be hers, forever.
If she said yes tomorrow during the ceremony, like she’d promised.
A shiver raced through her as she approached the house.
The patio still had the lights on that led to the sitting room—she made out a shadowy figure.
Charles must have beaten her back here and was now waiting for her.
Hopefully with wine.
She could use a glass tonight. She headed into the small side room with the view of the ocean. The waters were all navy-blue rather than turquoise, with a white chop.
Maybe there was a storm coming?
Her skin still had a touch of cold to it.
Sandi walked next to Charles who was just sitting in the dark. She flipped on the lights—no wine. She shrugged and stood above him. “Charles, my parents love the guest house and the staff.”
He rose from his slumped position. “I’m sure the staff will have their hands full.”
Huh? Her pulse was jittery but her gaze narrowed as she asked, “What does that mean?”
He placed his hands in his pockets and walked toward the window. “Your parents are very… American.”
“So am I.” She stayed where she was. “What does that mean?”
He pivoted back and gave her a view of those dimples of his as he said, “You are. But you’re sweet, not demanding whatever just crossed your mind every two minutes—and your smile is intoxicating.”
“I’ll get my parents under control tomorrow. They should know better.” Yet his was the smile that would catch the eye of any woman with a pulse. Charles was classically handsome and physically… perfect. She hugged her waist as she walked next to him and saw the storm picking up outside. She didn’t want to argue about her parents, so changed topics. “What’s going with you? How was Clara at the dower house?”
He leaned against the wall without looking at her and said, “She’s excited that the staff is researching if her old friends might have returned to Avce.”
She sighed. Her night before the wedding was supposed to be… different somehow, right? A celebration? Her insides twisted that something was wrong but she kept up appearances as she asked, “She doesn’t know?”
He turned toward her but continued to lean which seemed so unusual for Charles. He’d been proper since they’d met. “We lived out of the way in the suburbs of Paris and she lost touch with everyone.”
