“Monsieur, my son and I will take the carriage around back,” Martin said as he patted Ben’s shoulder lightly. “We’ll serve supper once you’re settled.”
“Thank you,” Ben said, though he made no effort to acknowledge Martin. In fact, he couldn’t find the will to move, even as the first drops of rain hit his forehead. Remi was all that he could see, and it took everything in him to keep from turning tail back to the docks, back to Paris.
Within the sea of her blue-green eyes and his raging fire, a chasm of doom lay wide open between them. Below the surface of their silence, sixteen years’ worth of darkness laid itself bare.
Ever the brave one, Remi took a step forward, moving away from her cousin’s grip. Unbothered by the rain, she said, “Welcome home, Ben. I’m glad to know my letter reached you.”
He hadn’t expected that.
Is this really the same woman who wrote to me before her nuptials?
Ben was silent, tormented by the rush of his emotions. The way his name left her tongue sweetly and the kindness in her solemn expression left him raw and gutted. She used to be an excitable thing, full of smiles and laughter. What happened to her? Where was the spark he remembered? The desperation in her first correspondence echoed in his memory. She was less than half of what she used to be, even less so than the woman who originally sent the letter.
Idiot!Remember, she still went forward with the marriage. She’s reaped what she’s sown—you shouldn’t care if she’s miserable.
But the fire wavered regardless.
“I know this is a difficult hour, but I hope that we can—”
The rain drowned out the last of her words as it picked up, soaking them both as the others ran inside to take shelter. The deluge came down, blocking her from his view, and his sympathy broke. The connection he felt, the confusion, all of it washed away. His anger and irritation renewed itself, hurtling him forward.
“Spare me,” he sneered. “Gods, spare me.”
And then he was inside, blind to everything but the stairs where Jacques waited. His companion appeared surprised but said nothing as Ben passed. Soaked to the bone, he was numb to the chill in the house. All he could feel or would allow himself to feel, was the hate he’d built up for the sad, solemn woman he’d left in the rain.
Welcome home, Ben thought bitterly. Welcome home, indeed.
THE PRODIGAL SON
REMI
Remi stood in a shallow pool of rainwater.
She waited patiently for Elise to bring her a blanket as the drip-drop echoed in the empty, cool foyer, distracting her from the chattering of her teeth. Ben’s dismissal had left her shocked.
“Ma cherie,” Elise called out, winded as she rounded a corner. “I found you a blanket. Martin is in the kitchen warming some tea, as well.”
“Thank you,” Remi murmured as she wrapped herself tightly in the scratchy fabric. It was an old blanket, but warm enough.
“What a brutish thing to do,” Elise offered, “leaving you out in the rain like that.”
Remi pulled the blanket around her tighter. The fabric was coarse under her fingertips as if it had been made from Ben’s anger. “It was my fault for standing out there in the first place. I was too...eager.”
“Hm.” Elise crossed her arms. “I suppose I can’t disagree with you now, can I?”
“No, you can’t.” Remi smiled weakly, glancing at the stairs. She needed to change, but bumping into him in the hall was a risk she did not want to take.
“It could have been worse,” Elise said.
Remi stiffened. “He hates me, Elise.”
“He might.” Elise shrugged.
The sour taste on the back of Remi’s tongue burned. “You’re not meant to agree with me!”
“He’s deeply serious.” Elise ignored her cousin’s alarm, answering her own question from earlier that morning. “Did you get a good look at him?”
“No.” Remi pulled the blanket to her face and caught a trail of water dripping down her cheek. “It was difficult to make him out in the rain,” she lied. Of course, she’d seen him. Her heart stopped the second they found one another. He was all angles, with sharp cheekbones and a distinct brow-line that dipped into a deep ‘v’ when he scowled. They were as expressive as his eyes, which were so dark they shone like polished onyx. They seemed to reflect more than the rain and lightning. Remi surmised they held a great deal more than just the surface of his disdain for her, and she wanted to know every thought that hid within his darkness.
“He’s handsome,” Elise started, circling her cousin. A hand fell against Remi’s back as Elise ushered her forward. “And tall. Quite tall, in fact, and his hair is darker somehow, black like his…well, like his father’s.”
“Elise.”
But she went on, the teasing in her tone hinting at mischief. “Such broad shoulders, and my stars, did you see his lips? There is potential there, if only he did not frown so much. They seem very soft.”
“Is your corset too tight, Elise?” Remi snidely remarked as they approached the first step.
“You must have noticed.” Elise pushed.
“It’s indecent. Especially when you’re already engaged.” Remi broke away from her cousin, spearing her with a sharp look. It bothered her that Elise was so perfectly dry while she no doubt resembled a wet foal. Though, in truth, she was made more uncomfortable by Elise’s loosened tongue than she was by the growing heaviness of her gown.
Elise rolled her eyes emphatically. “Hugo? He’s dull, and his foul mood is as bad as his taste in suits.”
Remi could hardly protest. Hugo was more than her fiancé, though; he was also her father’s business partner. Over the years, he ingratiated himself with the family so thoroughly that news of their engagement never came as a shock. Except to Elise. She hated the idea as much as she hated Hugo. They weren’t a match, but that didn’t stop the ladies of the wedding brigade from joining Beline in her daughter’s life and future planning.
“That doesn’t excuse you.” Remi chided.
“Ma cherie, please. They were merely observations.” Elise waved her off. “You should try to make amends. Extend an olive branch during supper. I’m sure he’ll be happier once he’s had a decent meal.”
