From the Baroness’s Diary III

Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

My hands pause on the vine and I shake my head hard, trying to clear her voice from my thoughts. It’s not the first time this has happened to me and a hard shake of my head usually takes care of the problem.

“It’s me, Chloé.”

But not this time. A spark of hope flows through me as I slowly turn my head to her voice.

My dream takes a step forward, her boots crunching on the leaves I have been clearing.

I have been tormented that my trip had been in vain and that I would have to wait to go to France and comb Paris to find where her friend lives. Only manual work under the sun could take her out of my head.

“Chloé?” I ask hesitantly, scared I am having a vision.

There’s a storm inside me. A whirlwind of surprise and fear, threatening to drown me.

Why are you here? And from somewhere deep inside, another question whispers itself. Why did you take so long?

Emotions flit across her beautiful face. She looks older. Well, she’s four years older than when I last saw her, but it’s not that. There are delicate lines around her eyes now, as if she has begun to smile more, her face is leaner, more mature—even more beautiful, if that is possible—and her body seems to be thinner, more toned. But that is not something I can say for sure at a glance. Maybe it’s her clothes, which are also more modern than the ones she wore in Beardley Manor but still very proper.

“Oui,” she answers, clasping her hands so tightly together in front of her I can see her fingers getting white.

I clear my throat as I drop the shears into the basket at my feet. “Why have you come?”

It’s not the reunion I have pictured in my mind. There’s something different about her, something more timid than the woman I have given my body and my heart to.

“I-I have come to find you, Salvatore. You did not return and I-I—” Her voice falters as if she realizes only now she doesn’t know why she has come all this way to find me. “I was tired of waiting and I am a bit impatient…you know.”

I chuckle, but I still can’t make myself meet her gaze. “Cara, we all knew you are a lot impatient.”

“You did not come back to me.”

I lift my head at the sound of her voice breaking and I see a myriad of emotions in her eyes. There’s concern, desire, and hope, but none of the heat that we had once shared. “I am not under your thumb to do your bidding any longer, my lady.”

Her eyes widen as the tone of my voice surprises her.

“You were never under my thumb, Salvatore, you were in my heart.”

Her cheeks flush from her own declaration and I regret the cold sound of my words. I clear my throat.

I knew I would never have her as my own, but for a time it was like I owned her, body, heart, and soul. She was the lady of the manor, wife of the baron. But while he had her legally, her body craved mine and no matter how much time he may have spent with her, it was our time together that brought her to life, gave birth to her naughty streak. She belonged to me.

She is still mine.

“Cara,” I say softly, stripping off my gloves. “I thought I would never see you again.”

A tear escapes her eye as I meet her halfway, feeling the coolness of her hands as they run over the warm skin of my back. She is fresh and perfumed in contrast to my smell of dirt and sweat, but she doesn’t seem to care. She never has.

I burrow my face into her shoulder and I breathe deep, taking in her scent—English roses, her favorite flowers. It has haunted me night and day since I left her in that forsaken manor with that bastard of a husband.

After a moment, I pull away, my hands coming up to frame her face and wipe away her tears.

“I cannot believe you are in front of me,” I say softly, my eyes searching hers. “What are you thinking, Chloé?”

“I could not wait any longer,” she answers with a wobbly smile. “I did not come alone.”

My blood boils in my veins, and I let my hands fall from her face, but I can’t stop the growl that leaves my mouth, “The baron is with you?”

“Non, non,” she hurries to undo my confusion. “The baron has not been with me for months. I brought Collette and Jean.”

I’m sure she can see the unmistakable relief in my eyes. “Your friends.”

She nods, framing my face with her hands, her fingers brushing over my features as if getting reacquainted with me.

The cool touch of her fingers on my warm skin makes me want more skin to skin contact with her.

It has been so long, but the desire burns just as bright as though it were only yesterday that we pressed our bodies together.

“The baron cares nothing for his baroness or his home.”

“Cara.” I pull her against me. “That English bastard does not know what he has locked up in that manor.”

She clings to me and I see a thought pass through her eyes, but she doesn’t give it voice. I wonder what has happened between them since I’ve been gone.

“No talk of him. I only wish to talk of us.”

“Of course,” I reply, running my hand up and down her back lightly.

“Or, rather, I don’t want to talk at all.” She raises up on her toes and wraps her arms around my neck, pressing her mouth to mine.

And I can barely form a coherent thought as she pushes her tongue into my mouth. Barely remember my name.

But I can remember my time with Chloé very well. As well as her unfulfilled promises.

Should I believe she is here to stay?