Page 87 of Ravishing Camille
She had just put her feet up under the downy coverlet when she heard horses pounding the stones along the front drive. No one came up that lane at this hour of the night.
But then there was a banging at the main doors. A loud banging.
She pushed up on her elbows and listened to Cartot yell his response as he went to answer the summons. He conversed in abrasive tones with another who demanded entrance.
Urgent, irritated, their caller was determined to have answers that it seemed Cartot could not give.
She had barely donned her robe when she heard footsteps run up the stairs and her name called. Over and over.
The bass voice she knew. And treasured.
Barefoot, she padded toward her sitting room when her door flew wide.
“There you are!” Pierce stood on the threshold of her apartment, panting but triumphant. In the shadows of the night his devastating silhouette filled her doorway. He also filled her heart with gratitude that he’d not only come for her, but that he had found her. That was truly romantic. Worthy of a plot, too, though she’d never share this with her readers. This love affair was hers alone to treasure. But that sentiment must come later, eh?
“What are you doing here?!” She very well knew. Of course she did. She was not daft. But her letter to her mother would not have arrived until this afternoon at earliest. He could not know from that she was here. So he had searched for her. She liked that.
He whirled his hat to the floor and stalked her.
His determination was a new aspect she’d never witnessed. Not in regard to her, at least.
She stepped backward.
“Why did you leave?” He stepped into a ray of light and the kiss of reflected moon brightened his midnight hair to silver. His luminous eyes, alive with fear and relief, danced over her and she shivered that here was the creature she adored.
“Why?” She folded her arms. Well, she had no coherent answer prepared for that yet. So she lifted her chin and shook her head.
“Because we were insane when you didn’t arrive!”
That she understood.
“Why not come to Paris as you promised?” He kept coming for her.
She mashed her lips together and held her ground. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I will apologize to everyone.”
“You certainly will! Why not to me? Now?” He stood before her and the overwhelming masculine hurt he showed her warmed her very cold toes.
“I do. I am sorry, Pierce.”
“That’s good. Is there more?”
“No.” She showed him the full force of her integrity. “I will not grovel. I wanted time. Time to myself. I am allowed to take that. Have it. Use it.”
That seemed to wash over him and drain away a bit of his ferocity. “Yes, you are. What did you decide?”
She ran her gaze over the marvelously carved rafters. Shimmering in that same moonlight the cream limestone was alive with the animals and foliage of the lush French forests. “It was a mistake to come here.”
He blinked. “What?”
Oh, she did so like confusing him. A smile of triumph curved her lips. She couldn’t help it. “It was a mistake to come here.”
“Why?” He glanced around. “It appears to be…beautiful.”
“It is. Full of the art of men and women who have lived and loved, full of the memories of men dead and alive, departed but near. The walls burst with the passions and the troubles they’d beheld. I love it. But I hated it…” She took a step toward him and put a palm to his heart. “I hated being here without you.”
He gripped her upper arms. “I was wrong to leave you as I did.”
Progress! “You were.”
