He lit the candles. He had the very beginnings of a stubble, something she found oddly shocking. Throughout their long ordeal he’d never been less than perfectly groomed, whether he’d just killed someone or spent hours sitting on the floor drinking wine.
His long hair was loose and tousled around his face, and he looked rumpled and surprisingly human. Something Chloe found even more disturbing.
“I must be interfering with your personal life,” she said, out of the blue, and could have bit her tongue.
He’d been rummaging in the sack of food, coming up with the rest of the baguette and the oranges. He turned to look at her, an odd expression in his dark, unreadable eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve just sort of disappeared with me. Don’t you have a partner or someone who’s going to wonder where you are?” She wasn’t making things better, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Always her great failing, talking too much, she reminded herself.
“Partner?”
“You don’t need to echo everything I say,” she said, irritated and embarrassed. “I mean a significant other. Someone you live with…”
“Are you talking about another man?” He cut straight to the chase, and he looked far too amused for her peace of mind. “You’ve decided I’m gay?”
“I was trying to be delicate about it,” she said, letting her irritation show. “It just seemed likely.”
“And why did it seem likely?”
She was going to borrow his knife and cut out her tongue, she thought miserably. How the hell did the conversation ever get to this point? Why hadn’t she just shut up in the first place?
“That’s all right, Chloe,” he said, when she couldn’t come up with an answer. “You think I’m gay because I don’t want to fuck you. Isn’t that it?”
It was getting worse and worse, and his deliberate crudeness made the color rush to her face. “I’m not that conceited.”
“Aren’t you? Don’t you think the only reason a man doesn’t put moves on you is if he doesn’t like any women? And why are you so interested? I wouldn’t have thought my sexual preferences would matter one way or another.”
“They don’t.”
“Then why did you ask?”
From somewhere she found her voice. “Don’t do this,” she said. “It’s bad enough to be trapped in a dark hole with you, don’t back me against the wall verbally. I was just curious about you.”
“You’ve already been back against a wall physically. In more ways than one,” he said, and she remembered all too clearly those moments in the château, with his body inside hers, the dark, convulsive pleasure of it.
“Enough!” she said, her voice strangled.
To her amazement he dropped it, sitting back on the bed a safe distance away from her, handing her the now stale baguette. “We finished the cheese, but there are a couple of oranges left. Later on we’ll get you a decent meal.”
“Where? At the airport? Has the snow stopped?” She took the hunk of stale bread he offered and began to chew on it.
“I’ve been here with you the whole time, Chloe. Your guess is as good as mine. But we’re leaving this place before long. The trick to hiding out is to keep moving. It won’t take them long to find us here, and I want to be gone before they do. Fortunately the snow will have covered the taxi, so even if they use a helicopter they’re unlikely to see it. But the sooner we get out of here the better.”
The bread tasted like dust, but she kept chewing. “Where are we going?”
He began to peel one of the oranges. The fruit lay bloodred in his hands, even as the sweet citrus smell filled the room, and Chloe shuddered.
“I’m not sure yet. Open your mouth.” He held a section of orange, but she shook her head.
He moved, one of those lightning-fast moves that always shocked her, and he’d caught her chin in one hand. “Open your mouth and eat the orange, Chloe.”
She had no choice, not with his long fingers cupping her face, not with the dark eyes in his impassive face giving her no room to wriggle. “Open your mouth,” he said again, softer, almost seductive, and she did, letting him place the piece of fruit against her tongue, the taste sweet and tart.
And for one mad moment she thought his mouth, his tongue would follow. Madness indeed, as he sat back, away from her, and she slowly ate the orange. He didn’t want her, thank God. He would keep her safe from everyone else, and she was safe from him. She had to be grateful for that small mercy. She had to be.
“I’m sorry.” Her words came as a surprise to her, but even more of a shock to him. He turned to stare at her in the tiny, candlelit room.