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They got into a first-class carriage. Joss made her sit against the window, placing his body like a barrier in the aisle seat.
“I’m sorry we can’t fly,” he said. “I’ve given Bono leave for the time I took my sabbatical. All the commercial flights were full.”
She shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
“Can I get you anything? Coffee?”
Turning her back on him, she snuggled into the corner and closed her eyes. “I’m good, thanks.”
It didn’t take her long to doze off. Joss woke her when the train stopped in Vannes. He rented a car at the station. Nostalgia overwhelmed her at being so close to home. She glanced at Joss when he bundled her into the car. Lines of worry hardened his eyes and mouth.
It would’ve taken them fifteen minutes to drive to Larmor-Baden, but instead he took the turn-off to Josselin, the village named after his ancestor, the first Viscount Josselin de Arradon.
Clelia shot him a questioning look. “We’re not going home?”
“We are.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Just not the one where you grew up.”
Because it wasn’t safe.
They drove in silence until a lake came into view. Fog hung over the water. The treetops of the surrounding forest protruded above the bank of mist, painting a green brushstroke across the gray landscape.
Joss’s eyes looked just like the metallic sky—cloudy and cold. His hair was tied back with a leather string, highlighting his high cheekbones and square jaw. A strand that had escaped brushed his cheek. Under the fabric of his coat that stretched over his upper arms, his muscles flexed. He was wary.
Near the lake, a dirt track cut from the main road into the forest. When he slowed and took the exit, she understood his preoccupation. They were heading toward the Arradon castle, the heritage Joss so fiercely denied.
The road became bumpy as they rounded the lake and drove deeper into the forest. A pothole jostled her body.
He covered her hand with his. “Sorry about the uncomfortable ride. The road isn’t maintained.”
He gripped the wheel again to navigate the unkempt road. Around the bend, the towers of the castle came into view. A cluster of dense trees sheltered the stone structure. The property stretched to the shore where water washed up on an ash-colored beach. Except for the evergreen forest, everything was gunmetal gray.
When they cleared the trees, Clelia leaned forward for a better view. The slate-colored castle stood against a bleak sky. Square towers framed either end, and a steep A-line roof covered the central part. All that was left of its once glorious garden was a dry fountain overgrown with weeds, a gazebo that had become a pigeon shelter, and a dilapidated jetty.
She imagined the former inhabitants lounging on the beach while a symphony orchestra played in the garden. Champagne would’ve flowed from a fountain in the gazebo. In her mind’s eye, she saw ladies in ballroom gowns playing croquet on the lawn and gentlemen galloping on their purebred horses in the woods. What lay in front of them was only the skeleton of former glamor and glory.
Most of the windows were shuttered, except for some on the ground and first floors in which lights were shining. She stole another glance at Joss.
He brought the car to a stop in front of the double doors. “I haven’t been back since I was a child, and the place has been standing empty ever since, so don’t expect too much.”
He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over. When he unclipped hers, his hand brushed against her breast. Despite herself, a spark lit under her skin. She may have ripped out her heart to kill her feelings, but her body didn’t know how to react differently. Her body knew only Joss.
“I’ve tried to make it as comfortable as possible.” The words sounded like an apology, a strange sentiment for Joss.
“Have you heard anything about Erwan?” she asked carefully, unable to hold in the question.
“You may not see him before we leave.”
“Before we leave?”
“When this is over, I’m taking you back to New York.”
She reeled in shock. He’d never mentioned his intention, and even if she managed to escape, there was a possibility neither of them could ignore. “If I survive, you mean.”
“You will.”
That wasn’t a promise he could make.
He gripped the door handle, but she stilled him with a hand on his arm. “Even if I do come out of this alive, my home is here. There’s nothing in New York for me.”
Matter of factly, he stated, “I am.”
“You can’t just take me.”
His expression was cool in the light of the car that came on when he opened his door. “I already have.”
Without giving her time to reply, he got out and came around to help her from the car. She ignored his proffered hand. He was a piece of work, thinking he could use her as bait to finish his mission and then drag her off like a caveman to his lair.
