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Her hand grazed his, and he wanted to grasp it and kiss her fingers. His admiration of élise’s kindness mirrored that of Amée. He would not fall in love again, though. He couldn’t, for élise’s sake, but élise was making it hard not to be mesmerized by her.

“You earn three baguettes from the night prior and share almost of all of it with others? Including me, a man you’ve only known for a few hours?” He gave in to his desire and grasped her hand, holding the bread out to him, and pressed it back into her arm. “I cannot.”

“I was hungry as a child when my aunt forced me to sleep outside with no food if I didn’t bring in enough stolen coins.

” Her gaze turned inward. “A stranger gave me a piece of bread to eat. I never saw him again, nor would I remember his face if I did meet him, but it made me realize I might have died that night with nothing to eat. And that generous slice of bread saved my life. I vowed if I had ever had bread, I would share it.”

Rollant asked, “Even if it is a risk that you may not get to eat?”

“In the end, it’s all risk—surviving or not.” She pressed the bread toward him.

He smiled in awe of her as he folded the bread cloth around it and put it back in her arms. “Do you need to be anywhere? I found a cafe in Bastille that would be out of Gabin’s communal reach.

I would assume you haven’t eaten yet today.

I, of course, would have you back to Gabin’s bakery before sundown.

” He told himself to stop, and yet her act of genuine selflessness had stirred the selfishness within him.

He did not intend to stay long enough to build a memorable friendship, and yet he was asking to take her to a cafe for the day.

“Oh, I cannot afford a cafe,” she said, shrank back from him, and glanced around.

“It will be my way of saying thank you for your friendly company today,” he said. “Come with me, or if not, I do not want to take your bread. I don’t have a need for it. The navy paid well enough, and I’ve saved a little,” he said with a chuckle.

“Well, you should save it more. Don’t spend it on me.”

“I insist. And we can get away from prying eyes and ears,” he said, glancing at a few women whispering to each other but alternating glances at Rollant and élise.

élise sighed. “I am only afraid they will tell Gabin I was with you.”

“Well, I will tell him that I took you to Bastille to help me, and if he wants to hit me, he can fight me like a man.” He smirked and lied. “I was the best sprawler on the Ville de Paris .”

élise shook her head. “You?” She bit her smiling lip and tilted her head. “Well, just this once. I can plead with Gabin if he hears about it.” She gave the rest of her bread to some children on their way to Bastille.

* * *

The Bastille prison fortress, a symbol of royal power, imposed upon the skyline.

Wealthier homes intermingled with the working class, however, where weathered artisans and craftsmen shops lined the grimy streets of Faubourg Saint-Antoine, cafes and taverns lined the cleaner streets of Bastille.

He led her to Le Lys Blanc, a small cafe near the northern border of the Bastille district, where the faint aroma of roasted coffee lured in patrons before they could see the sign above its worn wooden doors and stone facade.

He could afford the rare restaurant the nobility frequented and give élise the meal she dreamed of.

Still, he needed to blend in, so he brought her to the subtle sanctuary of Le Lys Blanc, with intimate two-person seating catered to the working class and hushed conversations about the future of France.

He guided her to an open table by the fire and let her sit next to the warmth while his back faced the brisk spring air in the middle of the room.

She fidgeted with her apron and glanced around at the well-polished wooden panels and the few pastoral paintings decorating the minimalist walls.

The room’s warm, low light cast élise in such a beautiful glow, especially with the hearth light shining behind her as if God was presenting her to him, a gift in his immortal plight.

Thus, it would be a short-lived gift, for it wasn’t the place or the time to grow attached.

“I’ve never set foot in a cafe before,” she whispered just as a boy approached the table.

“Drinks, food?” the boy asked with a break in his voice. He slapped his dingy towel over his arm.

“A coffee, black, bread, cheese, and perhaps a stew and a pastry.” He gestured to élise. “For you?”

“The same,” she said quickly, with a blush covering her cheeks.

“I’ll be back,” the boy said, running off to the wooden counter where the shop’s owner fulfilled orders.

Rollant turned his attention back to élise.

“That is so much. I cannot pay,” she said in hushed tones. “I don’t have any coin. None at all. Everything I earn is in food for barter.”

He placed his hand atop hers. “I have coin. I told you I saved, and I insisted you come and intend to pay for your meal as a thank you.”

“But it is too much,” she said, placing her other hand atop his. The naturalness of his hand in hers captured his breath. Her eyes fell on their intertwined hands.

“It is not enough,” he whispered. He would remember her touch as he remembered Amée’s.

He could feel himself falling quickly for this woman.

It was just an infatuation, he told himself.

He would return to Versailles in the morning, and she would be old or dead by the time he ventured this far out to the city again.

He inched his hand away from hers to where their fingertips lay adjacent.

Her deep sigh and quivering fingers told him all he needed—she was falling fast for him as well. Her hands crept back into her lap. Her shoulders relaxed, and she nestled into her wooden chair with a reupholstered cushion. “Well, I thank you.” She glanced at the window across the room.

“No one knows you’re here, élise. I made sure no one was following us,” he said, remembering the three men from the bakery. He hadn’t seen them since Le Marais.

He rubbed his lip as he watched her settle. Her eyes closed, and her chin dipped in slight reprieve. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, her hands covering her face.

“Tell me, Rollant,” she whispered, folding her hands near his and settling her gaze squarely on him. “Why would a handsome man with coin and clean clothes want to spend his day with me?”

She lifted her chin. The slight twitch in her lip implied her cautious curiosity, either daring him to explain or silently urging him to lie due to their raw attraction and inopportune situation.

His instinct was to pull back from the answer, to let his heart return to its cold and indifferent state, yet the thought of leaving the following day without genuinely knowing her tugged him in the opposite direction.

His voice softened, yielded like he was sharing a truth too weighty for her fragile frame.

“You intrigue me, élise,” he murmured with a heavy undertone.

A sigh of relief followed by a smile lit on her lips. “As you intrigue me,” she whispered.

“You are an enigma that I haven’t seen in centuries.

” He covered in his error. “I mean years that felt like centuries.” His chest tightened.

He was losing his armor, his guard, the character he’d built.

“You have a fire and a mind I’ve never seen.

If you advised the king, maybe the people would not be in such a situation,” he said, the words coming unwelcome.

Her eyes lit at the vast compliment.

The young server returned and set down two steaming cups of coffee and a plate of bread and cheese. “Your pastries and stew are coming,” he said. “Pay at the counter once you’re done.”

They both offered him a distracted nod.

“I am honored you think so highly of me.” élise tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into her coffee as though savoring even the most modest meal.

Rollant did not respond but studied her as she ate, her fingers lightly touching the bread and the quiet gratitude in her expression.

There was a woman unaccustomed to indulgence who took pleasure in small things and hid a core of resilience.

He wanted to ask her a hundred questions, all ones that could root him to this place and time—ones that could ultimately break his resolve to distance himself.

“Why do you stare at me?” she asked.

He lifted his handle-less cup of coffee to his lips and blew the steam from the top. “As I said, you intrigue me.”

Her eyes prevented him from taking a sip. Their depths were dark, fathomless, and layered with untold stories, yet piercing and alive with a fire that had withstood storms and held him still. She studied him in return, trying to see the man beneath his polished armor.

She swallowed and dabbed her mouth. “You know of my drunken father and my child-exploiting aunt. You know of Gabin, but I know nothing of you, except you are a sailor who fought in the Americas and an orphan whose parents passed when you were young.” Her eyebrow lifted.

“But if you were assumedly raised as an orphan in the streets and spent recent years on a ship, how are you so cultured?”

“One could ask the same of you,” he replied and finally took his sip.

The bitter black slid down his throat with ease.

The beans had been roasted and brewed well.

It warmed his chest, allowing his muscles to relax.

He wasn’t going to answer her question; there was too much risk in her uncovering his secrets.

élise shifted in her seat as she took another bite.

“Then tell me of Amée. I saw the love in your eyes when you looked at me and thought of her. Is that why you want to know me, because I look like Amée?” she asked in her blunt fashion, but her face flushed, perhaps realizing the intimacy of the question.

Her eyes averted. “I shouldn’t have asked you that. ”