Page 93 of Beyond the Lavender Fields
When had he become so choosy? Perhaps when he’d walked into that office on a warm April evening and unknowingly lost his heart to a dark-eyed enchantress. She’d changed him in ways he’d never imagined, and he didn’t think he would ever recover.
Caroline. She needed to get out. She needed to get to the docks.
Maxence would guffaw at how long Gilles was taking on this girl in front of him. A simple kiss. He needn’t linger. She would try to draw out the kiss, as she had the last time he’d kissed her on Maxence’s challenge, but he’d pull away. Fulfill the bargain and be done.
But how could he do this with Caroline lying so close? How could he not, if it meant saving her from Martel’s vengeance?
The girl lifted onto her toes, tilting toward him. Just a kiss.Onekiss. He could give someone a silly, meaningless kiss. For Caroline. Her breath brushed across his lips. He hardly had to do anything; she’d done all the work for him.
“No.” He took a step backward, jarring his ribs.
The girl’s face fell. “You ... you want me to tell him?”
“You don’t deserve to be used for pleasure by someone who doesn’t mean anything by it.”
She retreated until her heels hit the trunk. “That is not what you said the last time.”
Gilles looked away, running a hand through his hair. He was endangering them all. “I was a disrespectful fool. But I will not make that mistake again.”
Tears pooled under the girl’s eyes. “You lie. You think I’m not worthy of your notice.”
He caught her hand. “I think you’re far too good for the attention of men like me.” He bowed over her hand. “And I hope someday you will find a man who will stop at nothing to prove it.”
“Gilles!”
They both turned. Père hurried down the street toward them. Praise the heavens.
“Do you truly believe that?” the girl asked.
Gilles caught her gaze and nodded. “You can’t measure your worth by how many halfwits you get to look your way.”
Despite his run, Père breathed easily as he approached. “Mademoiselle, it is good to see you have found our trunk.”
She gave an uncertain smile. “My sister is on the next street. You must be careful.” She stepped away from the trunk as Père readied to lift one side. Gilles’s brain blurred in the flood of relief. They could make it.
Gilles nodded to her. “Thank you.”
“The coach was empty when it arrived,” Père mumbled. “The driver was beside himself with confusion.”
Gilles grunted against the pain that swept up his side and back as he and his father picked up the chest and started up the street. Just before they turned the corner, he glanced back to see the baker’s daughter still standing where the trunk had been, staring after them.
Gilles groaned as they started up the gangplank and the weight of the trunk rested more heavily on him.
“Put it down, put it down,” Père hissed. “Don’t injure yourself more.” They eased the chest to the ground. “Moreau! Laurent!”
Gilles passed his sleeve across his brow as two men appeared fromle Rossignoland clambered down to help his father. What a weakling. His knees knocked together from hauling the trunk so far. They’d had to change directions and take a longer route to avoid the baker’s other daughter.
Père cleared his throat and gave a sharp nod. “The Jacobin.”
Gilles didn’t look for Martel. “Has he seen me?”
“He’s headed this way, but he isn’t looking at you.”
Gilles darted around Laurent and Moreau and hurried up the gangplank. The crewmen’s footsteps ascended behind him. He should have warned them to take care.
Martel’s nasally voice sounded from the dock as Gilles dragged himself toward the hatch. He was out of eyesight of the people below, but the sound made his skin crawl. Would Caroline be safe here with Martel sniffing about? They should have had Père come back for the other trunk. Gilles had led the rat straight to the prize.
“My son will be down shortly,” Père’s voice rumbled through the noise of the harbor. “You may wait here.”
