Chapter 25

The rain beat hard outside, and the mist completely sealed off the cottage from the world. The door was thrown open and Sébastien walked in with a tub of water. Without a word, he placed it down beside Tiffany along with a snowy white towel. He was still dripping wet.

"You may wash first. If you need help… well, you can ask me if you want to. But I'm afraid I can't be of much help," Sébastien fumbled. Tiffany nodded from where she was sitting and with that, he spun around and left the cottage to Tiffany.

She had done it. She had sprained her ankle. It was as big as a melon and the pain was harsh and sharp when she attempted to move. When she had peeled off her soggy clothes, she sank into the warm water and sighed lightly. Pensive and reflective, she recalled the trip to the Louvre and how glad she was to be in France. She was willing to bet that not one in four girls back home had ever set eyes on Da Vinci's Virgin on the Rocks or Mona Lisa. But she did, and with Sébastien too. It was a pleasant surprise to find that Sébastien liked art too, although she should have guessed so, for he was the most artistic person she knew.

In this manner, she relived every magical moment of the day till she was languid. Soon, her eyelids fluttered and dropped. Not a while later, she was snoring slightly.

"Tiffany, Tiffany. Have you finished washing?" a voice called urgently.

She eased open her eyes. Goodness! How long had she fallen asleep? With a slurred "I'm coming out, I'm sorry," she quickly stepped out of the tub and pressed a snowy towel to her face. A pulse of excruciating pain shot up from Tiffany's ankle. Unable to control herself, she cried out and fell backward into the tub.

"Tiffany!" Sébastien called urgently. Tiffany was still struggling in the tub, ankle hurting. She whimpered softly in reply. With a loud bang, the door flew open, and Sébastien rushed in, worried sick.

The expression on Sébastien's face was not one of concern for long, though, for when he belatedly realized his mistake, his cheeks colored violently. Tiffany squirmed in the tub, not one stitch on her body, trying desperately to stand and cover as much as she could at the same time.

Sébastien apologized profusely, shut his eyes tight, and stuck out a hand which Tiffany took. As soon as she stepped out of the tub and stable, Sébastien fled without a word, all the time with his eyes clamped tight as a vice.

With much effort, she finally managed to cover herself with Sébastien's oversized bathrobe. She dreaded going out. How could she face him now that she had practically bared herself to him? Hiding in the bathroom for all eternity seemed a so much better a prospect.

With an exaggerated sigh, Tiffany hoisted herself onto her feet. With her entire weight on any support her hands could find, she made her way to the door, ankle hurting with each step. Although she managed to turn the knob, it didn't occur to her weary mind that her support would be gone once the door swung open, which it did. Her legs crumpled and she braced herself for impact as the hard, cold floorboards rushed toward her.

Instead, she fell right into the warm embrace of Sébastien. Great, she thought, this does so much for my embarrassment. Before she knew it, her legs were swung up and he released her on the clean-smelling bed as if she were a pile of hot coal. Wordlessly, he shuffled out into the rain with the tub.

The crackling embers in the fireplace masked the chill of the pattering raindrops. In the warm glow of the fire, Tiffany felt a rush of exhaustion and fatigue grasp her. She told herself she should wait for Sébastien to return. She told herself over and over. Her eyelids dropped, betraying her into a peaceful sleep.

He'd rather stay outside in the rain. What was he thinking, barging in on her like that? How could she ever forget it? Dammit, now every time those beautiful eyes of hers fell upon his person, they would carry nothing but disgust and fear. He was sure of it. To make matters worse, hadn't he been so conveniently located so as to catch her as she stepped out of the bathroom? She would go. Merde, Tiffany would leave.

When he finally resigned to the hurt and embarrassment he was sure was waiting for him in his own cottage, he opened the door to find Tiffany asleep, her gentle face illuminated by the final shards of the dying fire. He didn't know what he expected, but it was anything but this.

Silently and quickly, he washed himself and donned a fresh shirt and comfortable bottoms. At last, with the solitude he now had, he admitted just how weary the day had made him. Intending to make one last check on his guest, Sébastien made his way to the side of the bed with a candle in one hand.

Smooth as satin, and fair as spring, her skin radiated in the small light the candle offered. He admired the gentle curve of her closed eyes and those full lips that were slightly open. Her features were delicate and she had an elegant, enchanting air about her. Sure, she wasn't exactly ravishing on first sight, but something about her had captivated him from the start. Now, he found her simply charmant.

And it wasn't only how about she looked. There were times when she could be the rich, spoilt little girl, but she had dignity and pride. She wasn't the sort who would go against her principles even if you held her by the neck. Neither was she the sort who gave in or gave up easily once her mind was set. He had noticed how she never stopped looking out for her family even though it frustrated her a great deal that it all amounted to nothing. But most of all, she had depth.

The way she handled the notes of the symphony was evidence of that. Every single sound she made overflowed with emotion. He could feel suspense where it was necessary and romance when the music lagged. And even when he'd brought her to the Louvre, although she hadn't much knowledge of the different styles the different artists employed, she knew a masterpiece when she saw one. It was the time she took to digest and admire every detail of a painting that made him view her differently.

Now, she looked so perfect with her silken hair spread out and… Goodness! Her hair was dripping wet and so were her limbs! Obviously, Tiffany had fallen asleep right after he had laid her down without drying herself properly. She would catch a chill if she slept like that!

He shook her. She stirred slightly. He shook harder. She brushed his hand away. Exasperated, he grabbed a towel and began toweling her hair dry. He was drying her arms when he lost control of his eyelids. They felt as if they were made of lead, weighing down with every passing silent moment. Soon, he was asleep on the bed next to Tiffany.