Page 9 of Only You
He looked at her curiously, as he always did the few times she had allowed desperation to show.
‘Ama.’ Sabine’s throat went dry at her day-born name, something he rarely called her since her mother died. His gaze softened before giving her forehead another kiss. ‘I always return. Always.’
The first night at General Roulet’s home was decent.
His estate was as grand as one would expect given his status, even standing shoulder to shoulder with the homes of other bureaucrats. Sabine was awed by the pastel orange townhouse with its curved archways and intricate stonework, making each window look like a piece of art. But despite it and the welcoming Parisian weather, something about it felt cold.
The staff were polite as they took her belongings. Her personal maid, Sandra, was straight-laced and quiet, unlike most she had previously encountered who were intrigued by her background. With them, she would usually pretend not to speak fluent French to avoid conversation. With Sandra, however, it was unnecessary.
In fact, Sabine’s background was never a topic at all as Madame Roulet asked questions about what she wanted to do while in town and invited her to one party or another. The woman was sturdy and bubbly despite her greying hair, a splash of red colouring her pale face as she spoke rapidly.
She couldn’t help but think how far out of their way the Roulets must have gone to make her comfortable, from welcoming her, to the various open invitations. It almost felt like staying with family with how at ease she felt. And yet, the night still felt too cool, and the bed was too soft. It felt like she was being coddled by feathers and stone. Sighing, she looked out the window, watching the stars crawl across the sky.
She wished her father were here.
‘Good morning,’ she greeted the Roulets at breakfast the next morning. She wore a burgundy day dress that Sandra helped her pick out from her minimal wardrobe. Most of the clothes she owned didn’t fit the French style so she didn’t bother bringing them from the villa. Besides, going shopping with Madame Roulet would probably be a good way to build their relationship.
‘Good morning, Sabine.’ Madame Roulet welcomed her with a bright smile. ‘How did you sleep?’
‘Well, thank you,’ she lied. A servant placed a plate in front of her, a modest breakfast of bread, cheese and a small cluster of fruit with a cup of coffee. It was lighter than she was used to, but she made no comment, figuring today would be full of adjustments.
‘So, I was talking to my husband last night about taking you into town tomorrow,’ Madame Roulet mentioned. ‘He was a bit wary but promised me it would be safe enough for us to go. We can do some shopping and have lunch with a dear friend of mine, Madame Dupont. How does that sound?’
‘It sounds nice.’
‘Splendid! I’ll send a letter right after breakfast,’ Mrs. Roulet said excitedly. Sabine smiled back. She had a feeling the woman liked a full day on her schedule.
Surely enough, the general’s wife inquired, ‘Perhaps we should invite them over tonight for dinner? That way you can become acquainted with her and her husband.’
‘Isn’t that awfully soon?’ she asked, making her voice sound smaller and shy. ‘I don’t feel prepared. I still feel a bit tired. I apologise for my reluctance, but my nerves…’
‘Oh, no, no.’ Madame Roulet waved her hand. ‘You’re our guest. Of course, you need some time to adjust. I tend to get enthusiastic with newcomers, but by all means, please rest.’ Sabine wondered if she would have to apologise again but Madame Roulet had already waltzed on to the next topic of conversation.
Breakfast was the shortest meal of the day, so Sabine was left with plenty of time to explore. The townhouse was smaller than her father’s villa but filled with imported vases, portraits that lined the halls and hardwood floors covered in exotic rugs. It spoke the language of every house she had lived in for the past few years: unapologetically wealthy. Quite impressive, but equally bland.
She walked from the sunroom that overlooked the garden. Again, it was smaller than she was used to, but the hedges were high, allowing for privacy. There, she spotted someone circling the tree with a foil, carefully avoiding the flowers as they lunged and parried an invisible opponent. She approached the window slowly, recognising the familiar face of Captain Damien.
Though it didn’t happen often, there had been men that had caught Sabine’s eye, whether for their looks or charm. She didn’t mind conversation, but rarely met someone who could keep her attention. With Damien, something felt strange. Alien, even. Every time she had looked at him yesterday, she wanted to step closer. She was socurious.
His eyes were light brown, framed by black hair and russet skin. He easily towered over her when they were side by side. His gaze was cold, calculating, as he moved but she remembered the hints of a smirk from their previous conversation. He clearly had the power of a soldier; the sharp angles of his face matching the small scars that appeared above his cheekbones. Everything about him warned her that he was a threat; but his smirk, a look that she found sly and charming, made her think twice.
Her face flushed when she remembered the playfulness and heat in his eyes. She saw it again when he looked up from his imaginary sparring partner.
They stared at one another for a long moment before he motioned for her to join him. She took a deep breath, steeling herself as she stepped outside.
‘I wondered when you would wake,’ he said in lieu of a greeting.
‘I’m guessing you rise with the dawn.’
He shrugged. ‘A habit, princess.’
‘I think the technical term would be “mademoiselle”,’ she corrected him. He raised his brows at her before smirking.
‘Very well,MademoiselleKouassi.’ He did a shallow bow and she grimaced at his sarcasm. He chuckled when he saw her face, making her school it into a cool expression. She refused to be his amusement.
‘Why did you invite me over?’
He went around the tree and picked up an extra foil. ‘I was hoping we could start your fencing lessons today,’ he said, holding out the weapon to her. ‘Unless you prefer to rest.’
