Because We Belong (Because You Are Mine #3)(92)

“He would never do that,” Francesca grated out, her chaotic thoughts suddenly landing on how wild Ian had looked the other day behind the stairs, how he’d flung Lucien’s hand away from him. She didn’t believe that Ian was mad for an instant, but what if he really had endured too much emotionally? She’d worried what he was doing during this soul search was unhealthy for him, but she hadn’t imagined him doing something as extreme as buying Trevor Gaines’s house and conducting some sort of obsessive search. And for what? What could he possibly hope to find?

A wave of powerful nausea went through her at the thought.

What if Gerard was right? She’d worried that Ian had been emotionally cut open with the news of Trevor Gaines and his mother’s death, but what if he really was skating on the edge? What if he’d gone over the edge at times? He was always alluding to the fact that he had no choice in his mission, and she’d fought that concept tooth and nail.

But wasn’t it true that the closer a person got to madness, the less and less choice they had? They felt compelled, ruled by powers other than their own.

I didn’t choose any of this. Fate did.

She moaned softly, nausea rising to her throat at the memory of him saying those words.

“Francesca, please sit down,” Gerard implored, standing and looking alarmed. “You look very pale.”

“No. No, I’d just like to be alone,” she managed, hardly aware of what she said when Gerard reached out to steady her. She removed his hand and somehow made it out of the room.

* * *

Francesca rushed into her suite, experiencing a strange sense of rising panic overlaid with a clear focus. She needed to go and find Ian. She needed to assure herself that he was safe and not descending into a place where she couldn’t reach him. Never in a million years would she have allowed him to continue on this soul search if she’d thought his mission included spending time alone in Trevor Gaines’s house, sifting through the remains of his sick life.

But was he alone? She wondered, pausing as she began to open her drawers. Hadn’t Elise referred to the fact that Lucien might join him? When Elise had mentioned it before, she’d had some vague idea that perhaps both of them would go to Morocco together so that Ian could ask Fatima about his mother. She hadn’t been happy about the idea, but it seemed downright healthy compared to what Ian had actually been doing and planned to continue to do. God, if Ian really was in Trevor Gaines’s house, please let Lucien be with him. Lucien, at least, could steady him in this bizarre mission. She rushed to her purse and pulled out her cell phone.

“Elise?” she said a moment later, relief rushing through her at the sound of Elise’s voice. “I’m so glad I caught you.”

“Francesca? What is it? What’s wrong?” Elise asked, making Francesca realize how panicked she sounded.

“Nothing, I hope. It’s just . . . is Lucien with Ian?”

There was a short pause. “Yes. They’re in France,” Elise finally said.

“Elise, are they at Trevor Gaines’s house?”

“Yes,” Elise replied in a thin voice. “I’m not happy about it, but Lucien insisted he wanted to do it, especially for— Francesca, who told you where they were? Did Ian?”

“No, he told me he didn’t want me to know above all else,” Francesca said, frowning at the memory. He knew if she tried to talk him out of it, he might listen, so he’d preferred to leave her in the dark about the exact nature of what he planned. Damn him. “Gerard told me. He overheard Lucien and Ian talking. Why didn’t you tell me what they were doing?” she accused.

“I just found out yesterday, before Lucien left. He told me that Ian didn’t want you to know. I told Lucien I wasn’t going to lie to you about it. In fact, I’d almost decided to call you one way or another. You just happened to call me first.”

“It’s mad,” Francesca hissed. She blanched and grimaced when she recognized what she’d said. “Ian is already skating on the edge. How is wandering around that awful man’s house going to help his state of mind any?”

“I agree,” Elise said, sounding miserable. Francesca held the phone to her ear, listening as she dragged her suitcase out of the closet. She’d just pack some bare essentials and leave her nicer clothes and jewelry behind at Belford. She doubted she’d need eveningwear for this mission. “But they want to know if they can discover any other of Gaines’s children, or at least I know Lucien wants that, very much. Apparently, there’s a man who lives on the grounds even now who is . . . you know . . . one of Gaines’s offspring,” Elise finished uncomfortably.

A bitter taste rose at the back of Francesca’s throat. It was such an ugly scenario. She hated, despised the idea of Ian submersing himself in it. She tossed her suitcase on the bed and opened it.

“I can’t let him do it,” she said, opening a drawer and grabbing handfuls of underwear and bras and tossing them into the suitcase. “It’s absolutely the most unhealthy thing in the world for him.”

“At least Lucien is there this time,” Elise said hopefully. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, either, Francesca, but I understand the need to heal. For closure. And Ian . . .”

“What?” Francesca asked, pausing with some sweaters clutched in her hands.