Through it all, Aldric found his gaze continually returning to Céleste. The events of the past days would have crushed most people. The treatment she had endured the last two years certainly would have. But, even in the midst of illness, she hadn’t been defeated. Indeed, she seemed to be doing quite well considering how little rest they’d had and how ill she’d been.
She was still standing, still stalwart. Focused. Hopeful. Beautiful.
Enchanting.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was still dark inthe room when Céleste awoke the next morning. A candle was lit across the room. The rays of light emanating from its flicker of flame didn’t entirely blind her, but neither did it cast enough light to be at all helpful. She felt around in the blankets for Adèle and wasn’t overly surprised not to find her there. The little girl was likely sleeping in Aldric’s arms, as she’d done the morning after they’d left Paris. She’d fallen asleep while he’d held her in the public room last night, in fact.
His silhouette passed between Céleste and the candle. He was awake, apparently. And she was absolutely certain he was holding Adèle in one arm.
Aldric moved closer to the bed, and she realized how precarious her situation was. He could see far better than she could and would likely know at a glance that she was watching him if he caught her out. He might even be able to see what she was only just truly realizing: she was still smitten with him.
It was a truth she wasn’t ready to openly acknowledge to herself, let alone allow him to discover. She sat up and set her gaze on the window instead of on Aldric. “I hope I haven’t delayed our departure.”
“You haven’t,” he said. “I was awake, so I thought I’d prepare what I could.”
“Did Adèle wake you?” Céleste guessed.
“No.” He pulled open the curtains, letting light spill into the room. “I don’t know when she curled up next to me, but she was deeply asleep when I woke up.”
Céleste shielded her eyes, and she could see him a little better. Adèle was sleeping heavily in his arms, wrapped up in one of their blankets. “She obviously finds you very comforting.”
“I cannot imagine why.” His mumble held more embarrassment than annoyance.
“Do you truly find that baffling?”
“Do younot?” He sounded legitimately confused.
Céleste laughed a bit. “That should give you something to ponder as we make our journey today.”
Aldric turned to look at her once more. “You don’t mean to tell me what it is you have discovered?”
She just smiled.
His response to that surprised her in the best way: he grinned so fully that his eyes sparkled. “I think you might be a troublemaker, Céleste Fortier.”
Goodness, he was handsome. How was she supposed to keep her feelings safely out of sight when he smiled at her that way?
Aldric tucked their other blankets under one arm. “I’ll settle up with the innkeeper and get the cart ready. That will give you some privacy to prepare for the day.”
“Can you manage that with Adèle monopolizing one of your arms?”
“I’ll manage.” He picked up his portmanteau, then turned toward the door.
“You can leave her here,” Céleste offered. “That would simplify things for you.”
“I—she doesn’t—” Again there was more than a hint of embarrassment in his voice. He lowered his voice further and said, “She is not the only one who takes comfort in this arrangement.”
And on that unexpectedly tender explanation, he quit the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Céleste’s eighteen-year-old self whispered to her from across the years that Aldric Benick was everything she had seen in him then. Her current self whispered back that he was somethingmore.
She rose and dressed quickly. She missed her own clothing but had grown unexpectedly fond of the blue dress she’d traded it for. And while her hair was, of necessity, very plainly styled, she found she liked that as well. It was a disguise, yes, but it was somehow also freeing. She was presenting to the world the impression that she was someone she wasn’t, yet she felt more herself than she had in two years.
She tucked Adèle’s portmanteau under an arm and took hold of hers in that hand. Then she threaded her other arm through the handle of the now-empty food basket and, with that hand, grabbed the handle of her violin case. Departing Fleur-de-la-Forêt in such a hurry had meant leaving a lot of things behind. But she didn’t know how they would have managed if they’d been attempting to carry anything more than they were.
The stairwell was dark, so she descended carefully. Below, a lantern was lit on a side table, which would make navigating to the inn’s door a littletricky. The light would both help and hinder her. As she reached the base of the stairs, she could hear people talking across the public room. Their voices weren’t raised, nor did they sound particularly angry. But there was an intensity that stopped her and all but forced her to listen.
