Page 7 of A Christmas Love Redeemed

Chapter Six

Fabien stood by the little dormer window in the tiny bedroom, one arm resting on the wall above his head, looking out over the cliff to the grey, wintry sea and beyond that the distant shadowy curve of la belle France.

He had agreed with Hannah that on Christmas Day when the household had gone to church, he would leave, following the crudely drawn map she had made for him.

In Poole he would find a fisherman, someone prepared to take him to France for the price of a gold chain.

He knew human nature; it would not be hard to find such a one.

The door creaked open and he turned to Hannah. She closed the door and stood with her hands behind her back.

‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.

He shrugged. ‘I was thinking of my plans.’

‘I’ve said nothing to Mama. It is best she not know.’ She held out a package wrapped up in brown paper and tied with string. ‘This is for you.’

He accepted the parcel, his fingers brushing hers, and sat down on the edge of the bed to unwrap it.

She sat next to him, her eyes bright with expectation.

‘Do you like it?’

He unfolded the grey, woolen, knitted scarf and held it up.

‘Parfait,’ he said. ‘Just what I will need.’

‘I made it for William but… but he has no need of it anymore.’

A tear ran down her cheek, and he brushed it away with his thumb.

‘Thank you, Hannah. You have already given me so much. And now I have something for you.’

He had given the matter of a parting gift a deal of thought. What do you give a woman who has saved your life? Apart from the chain, he had only one thing of value.

‘Hannah,’ he said, ‘if circumstances were different, there would be time for us, but as things stand, I want to give you something to remember me.’

He undid the gold chain from around his neck and slipped off the small garnet ring that hung from it. As a piece of jewellery it was unassuming and probably of little real value, but to him, it was priceless.

He reached for her hand and pressed it into the palm, closing her fingers around it.

‘It was my mother’s,’ he said. ‘It was given to her by her grandfather and she wore it always.’

She uncurled her fingers, looking down at the little gold circlet with its single stone. ‘I can’t accept this.’

‘Please. It is a mark of my gratitude to you and also a pledge that in better times, I will return to claim it.’

She looked up at him, her grey eyes swimming with unshed tears. ‘Fabien. I know this is wrong. We have known each other for such a short time, but the moment I saw you in that cave, I wanted it to be you.’

He reached up and tucked a curl of chestnut hair behind her ear, his hand slipping behind her head, drawing her close to him. The moment their lips touched, he was lost.

Hannah Linton, his sea sprite … his angel of mercy.

She broke away with a gasp, staring at him wide eyed.

‘Fabien …’

He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Pardon, Hannah. That was presumptuous—’

She shook her head. ‘No. Please kiss me again, Fabien. I want to remember you. I want to remember what this moment feels like.’

And he kissed her again, losing himself in his love for this woman.

Was it possible to fall in love in just nine days? The old Fabien Brassard would have laughed at such foolishness, but that Fabien had gone to the bottom of the English Channel. If there was one certainty in his life here and now, it was Hannah Linton.

When the war was over—and it would be over—he would return to England and win her heart again.