Where Passion Leads (Berkeley-Faulkner #1)(107)

“Is there really a need to sell it right away?” Rosalie asked, filled with inner delight as she realized that he had become attached to the d’Angoux estate in the same way that she had. Rand shook his head, his mouth lifting at one corner in a lazy half-smile. “It might be enjoyable,” Rosalie commented, “to come back every now and then for a spell of privacy.” They exchanged a long intimate glance, which Rand finally broke with a soft inquiry.

“When you came in, you looked as though there was something you wanted to ask—”

“Oh, yes. I can’t find the letter from Maman. I thought perhaps that you had it.”

“No, I don’t.” Rand frowned and stood up from the table, stretching his broad shoulders and flexing his fingers. “I’ll help you look for it.”

They went upstairs and into Rosalie’s room, a breeze catching at the door and closing it gently behind them. As Rosalie’s mouth fell open with surprise, Rand located the letter underneath her desk and held it up for her to see.

“It must have been blown from the desk to the floor,” he said.

“This is very odd,” she replied, her forehead creasing in a perplexed manner. “I looked under the desk—I looked everywhere, and it wasn’t here.” She took the letter from him and gave it an accusatory glance.

“I think,” Rand said, looking down at her with dancing gold-green eyes, “that you intended to lure me up to your bedchamber.”

“I didn’t! I—” she began in an indignant tone, and suddenly found her mouth occupied with his.

“Didn’t you?” he murmured against her lips. His head moved over hers, turning so that her mouth was helpless against his invasion, and Rosalie forgot all about the letter, her arms lifting as her fingers laced through his hair.

Fourteen

Art thou gone in haste? I’ll not forsake thee;

Runn’st thou ne’er so fast, I’ll o’ertake thee:

O’er the dales, o’er the downs, Through the green meadows, From the fields through the towns,  To the dim shadows.

—Anon.

“Monsieur. You wished to speak to me?”

Rand looked up from the library table as Mireille came to a halt in front of him. Her features were perfectly composed as Rand stood up and motioned her toward his chair.

“Please sit down,” he requested, sighing as she obeyed him timidly. She looked apprehensive, her brown eyes blinking. Half-sitting on the edge of the table, he regarded her steadily. “Things have happened very fast,” he said. “I would have handled all of this differently if there had been more time to prepare. I would have preferred to talk with you before the general rumors started.”

“That would not have changed anything, monsieur,” Mireille said, her long ebony hair coming forward to conceal her face as she looked downward.

“It would have saved you a little unhappiness, perhaps. I wanted to ask you—”

“I am not unhappy,” Mireille blurted out quickly.

“Not at all. You and mademoiselle are happy, out?” “Very,” Rand said. Then he grinned, his face start lingly attractive, as it was whenever he smiled. “She has accepted my proposal of marriage.”

“I suspected something like that, monsieur.” “I’m sure you did.”

“You belong together—anyone could see it.” “Mireille,” Rand said with a soft chuckle, “I agree with you completely, but I would like to return to the original direction of our conversation before you sidetrack me further. You seem to be under the misapprehension that Rosalie and I have not included you in our plans. But we have discussed the matter and we would like for you to come to England with us as Rosalie’s companion.”

For once Mireille was speechless. Slowly she stood up.

“Rosalie is very fond of you,” Rand continued, contemplating her silence in a thoughtful manner before his tone became even more persuasive. “We both are fond of you, and I know that you would enjoy England.”

“Are you very certain you want me there?” “My first concern is Rosalie. She is facing a new life, a new home, people she has never met before, new kinds of responsibilities. Unfortunately I will be very busy at times, and I don’t want to leave her alone in a large house without knowing that there is someone there whom she trusts and has affection for. Would you come to England with us, Mireille?”

Slowly she nodded and smiled. “Yes. I will be very glad to.”

“If Guillaume wishes to come with us as well, we’ll find something for him to do,” Rand said.

“I don’t know.” Mireille gave a small sigh. “He never likes to stay in one place very long. He is not happy doing the same job for more than a month or two. Please let me talk to him first.”

“Then talk to him soon. I must leave tomorrow morning on a trip to Havre to make some last-minute arrangements. I will have to know his answer before I go”

“Yes. Thank you, monsieur.”

“Rosalie will be very pleased that you are joining us,” Rand said.

“I am so happy that she taught me some English.” He smiled suddenly. “Now you’ll be able to practice it to your heart’s content.”

“My heart is already content,” Mireille said simply, and then she left the room as quietly as a wraith.