“Fuck the rules, Novalee.” He reaches for me, and I launch into his embrace, sucking in a deep, satisfying breath as his arms tighten around me.
“It’s been an emotional day.” I tilt my chin up, and he keeps me in check by cradling my cheeks.
“Novalee.” My name is a simple plea, because he knows what I want—the haze in his brown eyes deepen as they focus on my lips. “I’m dying to kiss you, trust me on this, but I’d better not push it.”
“Does Landon know you’re here?”
“Yes. He took Faye to the airstrip. He’s also picking up Elise.” He searches my face, his thumbs brushing the sensitive spots under my ears. “I wasn’t aware she left the island. He mentioned she had a family matter to tend to?”
He knows more about Elise’s absence than I do, but I nod anyway. “I don’t know all the details yet. I’m eager to see her. It’s been a month.”
“I know this past month hasn’t been easy on you.” The inches between us disappear, and our mouths linger, too close to touching. “But you made it through, my sweet girl. You’re stronger than I gave you credit for.”
“I’ve had to be strong.” Life started testing the strength of my character at age twelve.
His lips tempt me forward, and I slide my hands along his jaw, fingertips caressing the trimmed beard on his cheeks. Before I can taste him, he backs away, reluctance straining his features. “I’m going to go before I do something foolish, but I’ll talk to Landon about carving out some time with you this month.” A brief kiss on my cheek is the only goodbye I get.
As the chancellor leaves my quarters, a spark of hope ignites in my chest until I remember Landon’s intentions for my future. Because if he intends to marry me off to Sebastian, I can’t imagine he’ll give Liam permission to see me, let alone touch me.
Chapter Three
Landon postponed the monthly dinner until the following night, considering Elise’s late return to the island. For the past few hours since Liam left, restless energy plagues me. I can’t sit still, can’t eat, and I can’t stop running through various scenarios, each one worse than the last.
Faye said Elise was ill.
The type of sickness that requires treatment off the island? If that’s the case, then her return should be a good sign, right?
But what if it’s not a good sign? What if she’s coming back to say goodbye? What if she’s going home afterward because of some horrific life-threatening illness?
I move back to the window seat and tuck my legs under me, determined to settle in for the duration of this nail-biting wait. The last of the sun’s rays cast an amber glow over the water, causing the shadows in the room to deepen. I don’t bother turning on a lamp.
When Landon enters sometime later, Elise in tow, he finds me fretting in the dark. Switching on a light, he lets the door shut with an anticlimactic click.
As if this moment isn’t one I’ve been waiting for all day.
I stand, opening my arms to Elise, and she rushes into them. “Are you okay?” I squeeze her for several long moments before pulling back to inspect her. “Faye said you’ve been ill, but she wouldn’t tell me anything else. I’ve been going crazy with worry.”
Elise leads me to the group of couches in the middle of the room. The French doors still stand open, and a chilly breeze drops the temperature inside by several degrees. Landon shuts out the cold before settling onto the couch across from us, Elise taking the cushion by my side.
“I’m sorry for the secrecy,” she says, playing with the ends of her short blond hair. “I wanted you to hear it from me.” Tears collect in her big blue eyes, and I take her hand in mine, panic building in my chest.
“I’m here,” I choke. “Whatever it is, I’m here.”
“While you were with Mr. Bordeaux—” Her voice breaks, emotion clogging her throat. “Remember how I was seeing Jerome?”
“I remember.” Between my two ladies, Elise was the most excited to come to Zodiac Island. A romantic to the core, she’d had hope in her eyes and innocent dreams in her heart. I used to be that innocent.
Before Liam and his tantalizing touch.
Before Mr. Bordeaux and his cruel conditioning.
Before Sebastian introduced me to the kind of soul-consuming lust I thought only existed in fiction.
“What happened, Elise?”
“Jerome, he…he…” Tears spill over her cheeks, and the rest of her words come out garbled, strangled by pain.
A cold fist of horror grips my heart. “Elise, he what?” Though I utter the question, deep down I know the answer. Her face is awash with trauma, her eyes void of the innocence that once lived there.
“He raped me.” She exhales a breath, and I wonder if that’s the first time she’s had the courage to use that word.