Page 55 of A Night of Secret Surrender

She placed her fingers across his mouth to stop him saying more, to halt the words that she knew were impossible.

My mistress? My friend? My lover?

She was ruined for anything other than what she was. When he understood that, everything would be easier, but it was becoming more and more difficult to distance herself from the shard of hope that had lodged in her breast. She would never tell him what had happened to her after her father was taken.

Never.

The word sat in her heart like a stone.

Strengthening resolve, firming intentions. She was glad of it, with the feel of his skin beside her and the warmth of his body; magnets which drew her in a direction she could not go.

She had nothing to give him to remember her by, no sentimental piece of jewellery, no keepsake that spoke only of her. It was better this way. A clean break. Another life for him and for her. Memories that were not broken by yearnings. Nothing to tie them. No regrets.

Only a goodbye.

I love you.

The words were there inside her, desperate to be spoken.

I have loved you ever since I can remember. Always.

But she shook her head and remained silent because it was kinder for him and easier for them. Her muteness was the gift he would never know she had given him.

He had risen after this exchange, leaving her there in the bed above the water, and gone up on to the deck. She had not seen him again until the morning when they had disembarked and come into the town proper. He looked tired and tense and sad.

‘Lian will be here somewhere.’

‘How could he know we are here?’ She could not believe in such a coincidence and the cold dread of it shivered across her.

‘Because it always pays to have more than one plan in place.’

Different contacts. Other webs. He never ceased to surprise her with the extent of his agents, even in a land that would kill him if the chance presented itself.

De la Tomber had also been there on the day of the Dubois murders. She remembered Guy telling her so.

The threads were twisting again and she hadn’t the means to stop it, save in the sacrifice of herself.

‘You look pale. What is it?’

‘Tiredness. You have kept me awake at night.’ The lightness in her tone was as carefree as she could make it and his smile lit the world.

‘That is one thing I shall not apologise for, Celeste.’

‘Good.’

‘You are leaving, aren’t you? Now?’

He never missed a beat, she thought. Not even one.

‘I am.’

‘To go where?’

‘Away. A long way away.’

‘From me.’

She could not quite voice the lie, so she nodded instead.