Part 3
Finally he speaks, "Camille, I can't. We can't. It's not allowed. Please, don't ask me."
She squeezes his hand and draws him a fraction of an inch closer, "Richard, we're professionals. We will work it out. Rules and regulations aren't as strict here. It's already on the Commissioner's radar."
He pulls back, sounds very worried, "The Commissioner? What do you mean?" He is trying to disengage their hands, starting to panic. She has to get control.
She takes one step closer, pulls his hands up to kiss the backs. He stiffens and stills, "I mean… the Commissioner has said that he devoutly hopes you will meet someone from Saint-Marie, settle down, and stay." She keeps her head down, brushing her lips back and forth across his fingers. Waits.
He clears his throat, "The Commissioner said that? Did he really?" She nods. She can feel the tension leaving his hands. He is quiet again, thinking, "WHEN did he say this?"
"Do you remember when you had only two hours to make that important phone call?"
"Yesss...?" He doesn't sound aggrieved. He sounds unsure, hesitant.
"He told Maman then." A long pause. She still doesn't look up. His hands have opened under her gentle caresses. He is slowly stroking her cheek, probably without knowing it. His thoughts are elsewhere.
"Did he? DID he?!" More silence. She feels that he has reached the crossroads. She holds her breath.
She hears a small snort, just a chuff, but it is amused not angry. The tension she'd felt across her shoulders falls away.
"That sly old devil. That interfering, domineering, cunning old fox. How dare he? I'm not some young pup that needs handling!" He is working himself up. She reaches up, gently takes his chin. He stops mid-rant, eyes coming to rest on hers again.
"He dares because you are NOT a young pup. You are a fierce dog with a steel trap mind and cunning skills. He's loosed you on the island to defend the people. And you do that. You do that every day. He wants you. He wants you to stay. And he knows something else…" She drops her eyes.
He is almost smiling now, still not quite believing this conversation is happening. He lifts her chin gently, watches her very carefully now, "What does he know?"
She turns her head so that her cheek rests in his palm. His fingers close ever so slightly, brushing her skin. "He knows how I feel about you. Somehow, he knows. I tried so hard to hide it. From him. From you. From everyone."
She feels him take a step towards her. Both his hands cup her face. She is forced to look up into green fire. "And how DO you feel about me? The truth now. Hiding-time is over. Tell me."
END part 3