Chapter 14
As the seconds slipped away, and they still found themselves on the dance floor, they both gazed at each other in mild surprise and chuckled lightly, before Sébastien rested his hand gingerly on the curve of her waist and she did the same with hers on his broad shoulders.
Elusive shadows played across his French-accented features, owing to the dimmed lighting, bringing out a distinct masculinity. Reflection in his glassy eyes contrasted with the dull light. His eyes sparkled as brilliantly as the sapphire lake in the garden. A soft trace of musk lingered about him and his tuxedo felt clean and smooth under her fingers. In time to the music they swayed slightly, overwhelmed by their closeness.
He thought she was subtly gorgeous in plain light, but in the candlelit ballroom, her hair shone reddish copper, and her eyes glistened silently. The outlines cast on her silhouette were smooth and tantalizing. Jesus, she was exquisite.
The rhythm and soft music played havoc on their senses. Every slipping moment was just perfect. Yet, it dripped away before they could catch it and keep it all in their hearts. Tiffany knew she shouldn't be dancing like this, but after tonight, she would very certainly never see him again. And she blew her guilty thoughts away, intending to store every romantic moment. They locked eyes, for a short while, because then Sébastien closed his. Her heart beat faster and she too, followed in suit, waiting for his lips to descend upon hers.
But it never came. In sudden realization, he straightened "Sorry. I did it again, didn't I? Don't worry, that will be the last." Tiffany felt as if a whole jug of bitter medicine had just been forced down her throat.
Much as they both wanted the music to go on forever, it faded off as the lights brightened. There is something about bright light that rudely snatches away the ethereal quality of candlelight—and that it did, especially to Tiffany. As their hands slid off and returned to their sides, she involuntarily blushed. Mortified at her own betraying reaction, she fanned herself in vain, "Ooh, it's getting quite warm in here."
Admiring her rosy cheeks, he failed to infer the real cause of her flush. "Hm? Really? Let's go out to the gardens for a short while then, considering the Lauriéns spend a fortune on it, it should prove to be pleasant," he offered, and with Tiffany's approval, followed her out.
Along the stone paved path they strolled, a meticulously trimmed hedge of rose bushes lined the sides of the path, sparing them the chilly November wind. Her blush was soon replaced with real color from the fresh lavender-scented air. Side by side, they headed for the lake, in comfortable silence.
Although not far from the château, the small lake was quiet and secluded as jade evergreens framed its curved banks. The small sound of the waves as they stroked the banks was amplified in the stillness of the night. In the starlight, thin threads of gold and silver skipped across the undulating surface of the black water, as if they, too, were having a ball of their own.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. They simply didn't feel the need to. Strange as it was, it felt natural sitting on the grassy banks, a little apart from each other, sharing the coolness and quietness of the night. Even though the scene was hardly a renowned sightseeing spot, or a tourist attraction, it was exactly what Tiffany wanted from Paris—a dose of beauty.