Page 57 of Beyond the Lavender Fields
She laughed. Her back pressed against his arms, and he reluctantly let them slip from around her to hang empty at his sides.
Caroline stepped back and regarded him. “Are we to still be friends?”
“If you wish it.” He sucked in a calming breath.
“What of the danger?”
What of it? He hardly knew what to say. Nothing had changed, except his resolve not to lose this friend who had become dearer to him than he realized. “We shall be careful. And not speak of anything regarding ...” He waved a hand.
“Very well.” She glanced around, as though expecting someone to appear. “I should return to the house. Maman will worry.”
Or he might break his word not to kiss her. “Yes. Of course. That is wise.”
“Thank you for listening, Gilles. And for proving me wrong.”
His lips twitched. He hadn’t proved her wrong many times since they met.
Caroline strode to the door, drawing the intoxicating amber scent with her. Soon the only smell touching his nose was the earthy soap once again. Just before quitting the room, she looked back at him and cocked her head.
“When we first met, I hadn’t a clue how you’d managed to kiss any girls in Émile’s games. I suppose I was wrong in my observations. You do have some charms to recommend you.”
Gilles chuckled, grateful for the dimness of the storeroom to hide his reddening face. “Did you think I kissed only foolish flirts?”
“Oh, no. They most definitely were foolish flirts. But I cannot blame them so harshly as I always have, seeing what they were tempted with.” She nodded toward him, then disappeared through the doorway.
He stayed still until he heard the back door close and a key twist in the lock. Then his shoulders slumped. He leaned against the shelf, face pressed against the wall of soap. He hardly knew what had happened, but in the time she had occupied the shop, he had gone from wanting to avoid her at all costs to longing to be back at her side the moment she withdrew.
It hit him like the broadside of an English first-rate ship connecting with a brig’s hull—he had been terribly wrong in likening his relationship with Caroline to his friendship with Florence. In fact, he had rarely configured a grosser understatement.
Nicolas Joubert. The name rolled in Gilles’s mind to the rhythm of the carriage advancing toward the eastern fields. Late evening shone through the windows of the Daubins’ coach.Monsieurdozed beside him, snores mixing with the rumble from the wheels.
Even with their relative privacy, Caroline remained silent on the other side of the carriage. Sometimes she watched Gilles, but mostly she stared out the window as the shops, factories, and houses turned into vineyards and fields.
Gilles couldn’t say why the idea of Caroline’s previous engagement stuck to his mind like a barnacle. And she’d engaged herself to arévolutionnaire, of all people. Then he’d been killed by Lafayette’s men. The same Lafayette she’d defended when they discussed the effigy while eatingnavettesat the Old Port. On some occasions she had been plainly dressed, taking food to a sick family or stealing a contraband prayer book. Now here she sat, proud and proper as ever in her stylish straw hat and gaulle dress, nonchalantly fanning herself like an aristocratic Parisian belle. Would he ever understand this woman?
He looked away quickly as the memory of holding her at the shop sneaked into his mind. She’d stood so stiff and cold, then melted into his arms. The weight of her head on his shoulder and press of her body against his had loosened so many of the internal ropes holding him back.
This was dangerous, falling in love with someone who held beliefs so opposite his own. Gilles gave his head one sharp shake. In love. Ha! He was hardly in love with ...
“Did you see something disagreeable?” Caroline’s voice did little to wash away his unruly thoughts.
“Oh, no. I just ...” Just thought about wanting to be more than friends. How impossible. He could hardly imagine Caroline playing the part of a physician’s wife. Even as a successful doctor, he wouldn’t have the means to satisfy her fashion and society needs. Though, if things continued to go poorly with thesavonnerie, neither would her father before long.
“You haven’t mentioned what I told you a few days ago to anyone, have you?” she asked in a softer tone.
“Not a soul.” Outside, a billow of purple flowers filled the scene. They were nearing the Daubin fields.
“Thank you.” She opened and closed her fan slowly in her lap, examining the scrolling pattern about the front. “And thank you for listening.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “I do not have the opportunity to speak so candidly to a friend very often these days.”
If she spoke too candidly they’d both be in trouble. But Gilles returned her smile. He did not mind being her confidante ... So long as she didn’t mention the priest. “I hope I may always be that friend to you,” he said. “Whatever happens.”
She nodded, face thoughtful. It was a bold statement, one he should not have committed to, and she knew it. Yet he could not deny that deep in his heart—perhaps the part that held his long-ignored yearning to return to the sea—he wanted to be the arms that held her each time the world seemed to close in.
Confound the danger. Some things were worth risking everything.
“Thank you, Gilles. If you’ll take these back to the coach.” Monsieur Daubin handed a pair of books to Gilles. The office at the lavender fields had darkened in the oncoming evening. “I must speak with Louis, and then I will join you there.”
“Yes,monsieur.” Gilles tucked the books under his arm and quit the small building, eyes instantly scanning the grounds for sight of Caroline. She hadn’t joined them inside but had continued into the fields when they arrived.
