A Very French Affair. Эбби Грин

but relaxed. ‘Was the whole purpose of your little walk just now to get drugs? Is that why you were so eager to get away? Because you needed a fix? Did you have someone lined up before we even got here? I’m interested to know how this would work. Do you call ahead. Or is it—’

      ‘Stop it!’ Her hands gripped the edge of the bath as she tried to make sense of what he was saying, the barrage of questions. ‘I…How do you…?’

      ‘How do I know you took a walk?’ he asked. ‘Because I was taking a walk myself, and saw you go into the temple.’

      His mouth twisted as he remembered following her. Being captivated by her.

      He looked unbearably harsh. ‘Charming picture. Playing with the kids…taking photos…lighting incense.’ He shook his head. ‘Dieu…what a fool I am. You were on your way to pick up your stash. I actually thought—’

      He cut himself off. His eyes were so glacial that Sorcha felt as if a layer of her skin was being peeled off slowly. But she couldn’t take her eyes from his.

      ‘I lost you, though…after the market where you bought that salwaar kameez. That’s obviously when you went off to find your little…contact.’

      She shook her head miserably and stood, legs still shaking.

      ‘I promise you…it’s not what you think.’

      ‘Promise me? That’s rich.’ He stood upright and towered over her in the small space. ‘To think that in Dublin when you asked if I would believe you’d never touched drugs I actually thought about it…considered it…I would have believed it if I’d heard nothing but your chain of lies today. But only a mere hour after telling me breathlessly about the outreach centre, how important it is, you’re—’

      A look flashed across his face, and as if he’d said too much he cursed in French and strode back out into the bedroom.

      Sorcha followed him, stood at the door of the bathroom. He had his back to her, looking out of the patio doors. She didn’t know where to start, what to say. She could see exactly how he would construe events…words…and could only watch his taut, unrelenting back helplessly. And even in the midst of this the memory of how it had felt…He turned and fixed her with those cold eyes, and immediately her skin flushed guiltily. As if he could see her shameful thoughts.

      ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked bravely, and steeled herself.

      He looked at her for a long moment. She could almost see the cogs whirring in that sharp brain. And then, as if having come to a decision, he strolled nonchalantly towards her. His face was unbearably cold, but the look in his eyes was full of desirous intent. His demeanour spelt absolute danger. Sorcha instinctively grabbed onto the wall beside her as he came close. She looked up helplessly. Ensnared.

      And suddenly she thought of something.

      Without passing it through the filter in her brain, she found herself blurting out, ‘Look, I know why you’re reacting like this. I know what happened with your mother…’