Page 57 of Marked By Moonlight

Marius was right, but I hated the situation.Reallyhated it to the point that it consumed me. I wanted to find a buyer forThe Tower of Blue Horses— someone who would do the right thing. I wanted to trust my godfather again. I wanted to live my life without worrying about criminals, vampires, and unseen enemies.

On the plus side, seeing the painting made me feel closer to my father. We’d always been close, but he hadn’t lived long enough for us to talk as adults. Now, an entire conversation played out in my soul. A dialogue about art, ownership, and sharing, as well as principles, risk, and responsibility.

My father, I knew, would urge me to act on principle and make sure that painting found its way into good hands.

My mother would tell me principles didn’t pay bills and that I could find plenty of responsibility closer to home — like at the château.

Mom and Marius won out. I reported to Gordon and hopped on a train to Burgundy the very next morning. The same familiar landscape blurred by, and many of the same thoughts occupied my mind.

Marius escorted me all the way home, but he turned around and headed back to Paris after a short, private powwow with Roux and Bene. He was hell-bent on hunting down Szabo and Etienne, or whoever had sent the threatening message with the photo. His plans for returning to the château were vague, though. So vague, I worried he might never return.

He didn’t even accept a ride to the nearest train station. Not from me, at least. Roux drove him.

“Seriously?” I gaped, seeing him off at the front steps.

“It’s better this way,” Marius said, a little hoarsely.

Better in what way?I wanted to scream.

I thought he might leave without a further word, but he cupped my face and kissed me, soft as a whisper, hinting at deep — and deeply hidden — emotions.

When Roux revved the van in a none-too-subtle hint, it took everything I had not to cling to Marius. But a meek little groupie, I was not. I could be strong when I wanted.

I just chose not to at that particular moment.

Please don’t go,I nearly begged, though I managed to croak, “See you soon?” instead.

The hesitation before his nod killed me.

“As soon as possible,” was all he said, making mereallywant to cling to him.

When he drew away, I closed my eyes, listening to his shoes scuff over the stairs, then the van door shutting. I listened for a long time after the sound of wheels over gravel faded. Then I stepped inside without risking so much as a glance down the driveway. If I did, I might be tempted to run after him, and there was no dignity in that.

“Coffee?” Bene offered quietly.

I sighed and looked around the vast entrance hallway. The carpet runner up the center of the stairs was torn and faded. The massive chandelier was made up of hundreds of crystals, and each desperately needed cleaning. The ceiling molding was just as dingy, and that was thirty feet up.

I started calculating the price of scaffolding, cleaning, and new carpeting, but just thinking about it made me despair.

“Coffeeandcake?” Bene tried, doing his best to cheer me.

My heart wasn’t in it, but hey. Cake was good for the soul, and my soul definitely needed it.

* * *

“So, how was Paris?” Bene asked, taking the seat opposite mine in the drawing room.

I took in the peaceful, leafy view out the huge rear windows, so different from any scene in London or Paris.

“Fine.” I sipped my coffee. “Gordon sends his regards.”

Bene snorted. “He did not.”

No, but it seemed like the polite thing to say.

I looked around. “Where’s Henrik?”

He shrugged. “No sign of him since…er…”