Flying Angels(70)

   “Gonzague,” she said quietly, and loved the sound of his name. It was wonderfully old-fashioned and lyrical, as he was in a way, like a prince in a fairy tale, but this was real life. “I’m Black,” she said, and he looked at her as though for the first time.

“I didn’t know,” he said simply, with those piercing eyes, and then she laughed. “Perhaps you don’t remember. I was shot in the leg. I am not blind. So? You think I am afraid of that?”

“So what happens here? Where I live it would be a very hard thing. Impossible, or almost. They would punish us for being together. Terrible things would happen, our children would suffer, and so would we.” Just describing it to him made her feel sick. And it was what she was going back to now.

“That’s very wrong. It would not be that way in France. You are a very beautiful woman, but I’m not interested in your color. I care about your mind, and your heart. You are a woman of purpose. You are not afraid. You were not afraid when you came to help me. I saw your eyes, your face, your heart. Nothing frightened you then. Are you afraid now?” He waited for her answer. It all rested on that and what she would say.

   “No, I’m not,” she said in a clear voice. “Are you?”

“Not at all. I am afraid of other things, of a world that allows a travesty to exist like the one we just lived, where brother betrays brother and nothing is safe or true or right. We allowed that to happen. We gave our country away. We allowed evil to exist and to prosper. France had poison in her veins for these years. I am not interested in the color of skin. What happened here must never happen again. That is important to me. And so is life with a good woman at my side. An extraordinary woman, which you are. Your color means nothing.” He was as beautiful and exciting and mysterious and strong as he had been when she met him. She had fallen in love with him on the spot, and believed she could never have him, and would never see him again. But she was wrong. He was a man of his word and he was here now. It wasn’t a fairy tale. It was real. And so was he, and he loved her just as she was.

“Do you have family? Parents? Brothers?” She wanted to know all about him too now.

“I had three brothers and a father. All dead in the Resistance. My mother died when I was a child. I have no one now. I have you, if you wish it to be so. You are going home soon, I believe.” He had made discreet inquiries to find her. “I must deal with my house, and get the men started working on it. Then I would like to visit you and your family in…Carolina?”

“North Carolina.”

“Yes. And then I would like you and your family to visit me, and then you will decide what you wish. Is that right for you?”

“Very right.” She would have a lot to explain to her parents, about how they met and why she thought this was the right path for her, with a French count she had met in the Resistance. It was a big leap from Raleigh.

   “Will they be unhappy?”

“Surprised.”

“Yes, so was I when I met you. You are a very surprising woman.” She smiled.

“I’m not the one with surprises here, Gonzague.” He was no ordinary man. He was unusual in a thousand different ways, and she was sure there was a part of him and his war history that she would never know, but maybe it was just as well.

“Do we have a good plan? I will visit you, and then you and your parents will come to visit me, and then we will make our plans.”

“I think that’s a very good plan.” She smiled at him.

“Good.” He stood up then and pulled her to her feet, and they walked to her barracks. He was courteous and gentlemanly, but beneath that, she sensed the force of a hurricane. Life with him would never be predictable or boring, but it was the life and the man she wanted. They had much to discover about each other, but they knew enough. She was sure. And so was he. He had done exactly what he said. He had found her, and he had come back. It was all she needed to know for now.

“There’s an award ceremony,” she explained to him. “Will you stay?”

“If you wish.”

“I do.” She didn’t want him to be her secret lover or mystery man. If they loved each other, she wanted their relationship to be in the open, with her proud to be at his side, and he at hers.

The award ceremony would be in two days, and he said he would be there. He had business in London and promised to come back. She wanted to introduce him to her friends. He had been her dream for nearly a year, now he had stepped out into the light, and she wanted to share her life with him. The award ceremony would be part of the world she was leaving behind, the life she had lived for four years, and the people she had lived with at Down Ampney.

   He kissed her in front of the barracks, and it was a searing kiss like the one she remembered the very first time.

“We will have an interesting life,” he said as he smiled down at her. Of that she had no doubt.

She sensed correctly that there was an element of danger about him. She wasn’t wrong. He had killed many men in his years in the Resistance, and had managed not to be killed by being smarter than they were. He had helped to save France, and had won the admiration of the British in the process. And the one thing she knew with absolute certainty was that Gonzague de Lafayette was her soulmate, and the love of her life. They had both known it the instant they met. The rest they could discover in time.