Page 59 of The Rest is History
I tense at her use of the word, and Elodie does the same, the memory of our conversation from the other morning jolting us.
‘They probably started sleeping together just before or just after they got back from Calais the previous November,’ Elodie continues, ‘when Anne was sufficiently confident that a divorce from Katherine was in sight. And we know she let him take liberties with her before that. She had to do something, at the end of the day.’
Zara sits up straighter, sensing some incoming smut, no doubt, while I curse the decision to sit down at this table.
Please, God, why?
‘What kind of liberties?’ Zara asks pleadingly.
For fuck’s sake.
Elodie looks at me as if she’s just worked out she’s dug herself into a hole. I shrug as if to say,this has nothing to do with me.
Elodie sighs. ‘She let him play with her, you know…’ She gestures to her breasts, and I want to sink beneath the table. A white-hot flashback assaults me.
My hand clawing its way under the bodice of Elodie’s dress.
Finding soft flesh.
Pinching hard nipple.
The moans she gave me as I did it.
Sweat pin-pricks my body, and the chances of my disgracing myself when I get up from the table are increasing rapidly.
Jesus fucking Christ. I need out of here. Now.
CHAPTER 23
Elodie
I’m not sure what I was thinking, allowing that conversation to get so out of hand. Because, despite my protestations to Charlie that I’m not a plaything, that discussion got me hot under the collar of my cute denim shirtwaister. All that talk of yearning on Henry’s part, of years of burning up, reminded me of how Charlie acted when he got his hands on me on Saturday.
Like he was crazed for me.
Zara takes herself off for a walk around the grounds before the end of lunch, ostensibly to get some air and probably to check out Mr Gibbs’ toned bum on one of the playing fields, and I head back to our office with Charlie. He’s tense, practically vibrating with nervous energy, so I stay silent. When we get into the office, he rummages around in a drawer and pockets something.
‘Will you come with me for a moment?’ he asks, his tone abrupt. His expectant posture suggests it’s more of a demand than a question.
‘Uh—okay?’
I follow him down the hall, not expecting him to stop so quickly and unlock the door to the stationery supplies room,which is more of a large walk-in cupboard. He flings it open, hits a light switch, and gestures.
‘In here.’
I hesitate, peering in. ‘Are you planning on murdering me? Or taking me hostage?’
He frowns. ‘Your imagination is disturbing. I just want to talk to you. In private.’
I give him a look I hope communicates my reluctance and head inside. He follows me and locks the door behind us with the key. My eyebrows shoot up.
‘Relax.’ He comes closer. ‘The surroundings aren’t what I’d have chosen, but I needed to get you to myself.’
Something about his tone, the heat in his eyes, has my heart beating faster.
I aim for lighthearted. ‘Oh yeah?’
‘Yeah.’ He comes so close I have to look up at him, and I hold my breath as his hand comes up to slide around the back of my neck. ‘Can’t have you thinking Saturday was some kind of role-play for me, sweetheart. It broke my heart when you said that. The only woman I want is you. Past or present.’
