Georg pushed his shoulders back defiantly, willing himself not to move. Not even an inch. Fighting every fibre in his being, every primal urge, he forced his eyes to stay on Elsa – impatient, treacherous eyes. Making her way along the upper balcony toward the head of the stairs, she glided so elegantly, she could have been floating on air. He doubted if there were a more sophisticated, stylish woman in all of Austria.
But sadly, sophistication and style were wasted on him tonight. All he could wonder, is why she was moving so damn slow. He sighed. Usually, her games didn't bother him. Providing some relief from the boredom, usually he was willing to be dragged into them, and more than happy to play along. But not tonight – tonight, he wasn't in the mood. And even from this distance, it was obvious, tonight's game had already begun.
Forcing indifference, a burning, nagging curiosity chewed away at him, threatening to bring him undone. Like an itch that was impossible to scratch – or ignore. He reminded himself, yet again, not to move. As much as his heart dropped when Maria scurried past him, he realised if he so much as turned in that direction, it would be seen as the ultimate betrayal by Elsa.
A wave of guilt washed over him. Was it possible to betray Elsa any more? Preferring not to contemplate that question, the truth was already eating away at him. Tonight, it felt like the betrayal belonged to Maria. Trying to bury that thought, the guilt gnawed away…
Staring at Elsa – or more precisely, staring through her – he'd seen it all before. This woman held no mystery, at least not one he wanted to reveal. Several years ago, the evening Max had introduced them, he'd already known her type.
From the beginning, there was never any hope of her igniting a spark. But that was hardly Elsa's fault. Long before they began courting, he'd resigned himself to never finding love again. Definitely, not that all-consuming, dizzy kind of love.
A blissful marriage had put pay to ever falling in love again. Not simply his wife, Agathe had been his best friend, his confidante, his unwavering support, his lover, his obsession. He'd never entertained the idea of another woman coming close.
He sighed. On paper, Elsa should be a perfect match. For a long time, he thought she was as perfect as he could hope for. He answered her bright smile from the upper balcony with a smile of his own. The forced smile of a coward. Demanding the attention of any crowd, she was sophisticated, confidant and entertaining, with a sharp mind and a wicked sense of humour.
So, why should it matter now if he felt little more than gratitude and admiration?
His fingers flexed and curled, the uncomfortable truth creeping over him like the shadow cast by one of those dark, ominous clouds that roll down the mountains to sweep across the lake.
Maria was as different to Elsa as night is to day. She had no clue how beautiful she was – or funny, kind, caring, nurturing, sweet, wise. She was outspoken, fearless, courageous, unassuming. If she had something to say, she just said it. In that way, she was so much like Agathe. Instinctively, his fingers began to move. There was no tiptoeing around, no saying what he expected her to say or wanted to hear.
Unlike Elsa, who demanded everyone's attention, people were naturally drawn to Maria. His fingers stopped flexing and balled into a tight fist. It's not just me, Fraulein… you could have your choice of any man.
In a moment of madness, the unsettling thought left him feeling oddly jealous of a faceless, non-existent suitor. Or was there someone… is that why she left so suddenly? Telling himself he was being ridiculous, he couldn't shake the idea. Is that why you can't stay, Fraulein?
Realising Elsa had rounded the balcony and was pausing at the top of the stairs, he forced himself to return another of her smiles. God, what a fraud! This was the woman he was engaged to, the woman he was supposed to adore, worship, dedicate his life to – yes, even love. And yet, here he was. All he could offer were a handful of platitudes riddled with guilt, filled with compromise and regret. He'd never felt the guilt or shame of a traitor – never imagined he would. But he did tonight. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the woman who'd breezed into their lives and turned their summer upside down. Forgive me, Elsa… but it feels like I'm betraying Maria.
As Elsa began her descent of the stairs, all he could see was Maria, bright blue eyes dancing, teasing, matching the colours of her dress. He longed to run his fingers through her windswept hair, to draw a smile on the hope he might hear her laughter. Her flushed cheeks on the stair just now, had left him to wonder what she'd been thinking. Were you thinking of me, Fraulein?
His chest tightened. She was breathtaking, spellbinding, mesmerising. Drinking in her vision, he'd been awestruck. But then, Fraulein, you always took the wind out of my sails. He couldn't have cared less about missing dinner, or neglecting his guests, or ignoring the paperwork that had piled up on his desk these past days, despite the hours spent bunkered down in the study.
He needed a plan, he needed to put an end to this. But not here, and not right now. The last thing he wanted was to create a scene and attract the attention of the children. He'd have to wait until they were safely tucked in bed. Surely, Elsa was owed that…
Maintaining the charade, his eyes followed Elsa, despite his mind having left her grasp some time ago – where was Maria, what was she doing, why did she flee just now, why did she really return to the Abbey... His fingers flexed, burning for just a touch. He had no idea where she might be, but that only made her all the more impossible to ignore.
Heaven help him…
Looking for a distraction, his attention landed on the children's voices in the distance. They were even more excited than before she left them. They're happy, and it's all because of you, Fraulein. Trying to hold Elsa's gaze, he prayed she couldn't read his mind. Still not brave enough to move, he could only assume Maria must have joined the children in the sitting room. It made sense she'd want to spend as much time as possible with them. Why would she want to waste her time with a fool like him…? The question sent his heart plunging. Have you thought of me at all, Fraulein…?
"Oh, Ge-org…"
Leaping out of his thoughts, he gave Elsa an awkward grin. If his mind wasn't so pre-occupied – alright, obsessed – with Maria, he might have admitted to blushing a little, too. Guilt, embarrassment, confusion, dread – so many emotions, none of them worthy.
"Don't you look dashing tonight?" Elsa purred as she arrived on the front door landing.
Dashing…? If there'd been any doubt, it was now obvious, Elsa was playing her games. He didn't feel dashing. Or honourable. And very little of his recent behaviour was noble or trustworthy. Another wave of guilt washed over him as he recalled the excuses that found him parked outside the Abbey, desperate for so much as a glimpse of Maria.
"Erhm…" he cleared his throat, trying to find something sensible to say, hoping to exorcise Maria from his mind. Of course, he was failing miserably at either… He frowned, but not just because his brain and mouth no longer seemed connected. It was only now that he took any notice of the woman on the stairs above him.
What in God's name was Elsa wearing…?
Having swept onto the front door landing, Elsa began her descent of the final flight of stairs. Slowly, seductively reducing the distance to where Georg stood below her in the grand foyer. She smiled. Her radiant smile turned to triumph, pleased to see him at a loss for words, watching him drink her in. Once again, the little red dress had proven to be her secret weapon!
Georg stared up at Elsa, forcing his expression to remain fixed, lest he give himself away. The red dress may have been perfect for a dinner in a fancy restaurant, a night at the theatre, perhaps an after-dark cocktail party. But a family dinner at home…? It was completely over the top. Thank God she was wearing the jacket – at least that was one small mercy. Not that it covered much. From the foot of the stairs, it was difficult to tell, but he was sure the dress was strapless. Hardly appropriate in front of an adolescent son with raging hormones. Or his daughters, for that matter. There'd be Hell to pay if Liesl ever arrived downstairs dressed in something similar…
"You look lovely…" he fibbed, holding out his hand and hiding his real reaction to the dress. Lovely…? He cringed inwardly at mustering such a lukewarm response. He hated the dress, but it was obvious the trouble Elsa had gone to.
"Oh, this little thing…?" Elsa asked innocently, wrapping her fingers around his hand. She smiled knowingly as he stood to the side, allowing her to step off the bottom step.
"Mmmm…" Georg murmured, unable to string together anything useful, his mind blank. Except for Maria, of course… Falling into step, Elsa's hand clasped his arm as he guided her across the foyer. Strolling toward the dining room, his outward appearance was one of nonchalance, almost disinterest. But beneath the surface, it couldn't have been a more different story. He was very interested – bordering on obsessed – in what had become of Maria.
Passing the open doors of the ballroom, they slowly approached the sitting room. With every sense tingling and alive, his body bristled at the hint of a laugh rising above the commotion spilling into the foyer. Near impossible to distil a voice or sound from the chatter and excitement of the children, he replayed the familiar sound of her laughter in his head. It had haunted him for weeks now. Whether he'd actually heard her or just imagined her laughter, it wasn't important. With the desperation of a pagan on a pilgrimage, he convinced himself it was her.
After all these nights, of watching her surrounded by the children, it was easy to picture them all in his mind's eye. Desperate to hear her again, eager for a glimpse, in that moment, he knew, he'd do just about anything to touch her. Just to feel her skin under his fingertips, to run them through her hair, to brush her lips… Oh, to kiss her…
He swallowed. Hard…
Whatever remained of his control, it was hanging tenuously by a single, frayed thread. And now, even that was starting to unravel…
oOo
Maria wasn't sure how she got here, but she guessed that wasn't important. Amongst the blur of shame and panic, Gretl was on her lap, while Marta and Brigitta had scrambled onto the settee, and were now perched either side. As they alternated between leaning into her and tugging a sleeve, demanding her attention, she was finally starting to feel like she could breathe again. Well, almost...
Taking a deep breath, and then another, all she had to do now, was try and forget the Captain's eyes. Why did the Captain have to look so devastatingly handsome…? Her skin was still tingling as his eyes darkened, devouring her on the stairs, searching her mind and scouring her soul.
Maria! Reminding herself the Captain was now engaged to Baroness Schraeder, her heart tightened. As difficult as it might be, she simply had to stop thinking about the Captain.
Now, what did Friedrich just say…?
It was almost impossible, keeping pace with five conversations at once, but she was determined to try. If only she could stop their father creeping back into her thoughts. She smiled at the older children scattered on the floor at her feet – legs crossed, squatting, or in Kurt's case, kneeling with arms gesturing wildly in all the excitement.
The children had barely drawn breath and were all talking at once – explaining what they'd been up to, answering each other's questions, asking some of their own, stopping now and then to niggle one another with their good-natured banter. So far, she'd managed to sidestep their questions about why she'd left in the middle of the night without a word, distracting them with a question or two of her own.
Oh, how she'd missed them… And how she was going to miss them all over again…
Dropping her head to the side, she rested a cheek on the top of Brigitta's head and closed her eyes. Now wasn't the time to think about leaving. You are going to… stay? The Captain's voice had caught on the question. She was certain, he'd stumbled on the word stay. The same way, she'd struggled with her answer. But why had he looked so… exposed?
Praying the Captain might stop invading her thoughts sometime soon, she forced her attention back to the excitement around her. It would be far easier spending the rest of the evening here, surrounded by only the children. But she couldn't avoid the Captain and Baroness Schraeder forever. A stern voice in her head reminded her of the advice she'd given to Liesl only hours ago. Maria, you can't hide from your problems…
"…what do you think, Fraulein Maria?"
In a rare pause in the children's chatter and laughter, the room was a suddenly silent and seven pairs of eyes were turned to her expectantly. As the room waited for her response, Maria lifted her cheek from Brigitta's head and turned toward her name with a vague smile. "Sorry, what was that, sweetheart?"
Louisa exchanged a knowing look with her older sister. "I was just asking if we could go on a picnic tomorrow, Fraulein Maria."
"Well…" Maria paused to think, "perhaps we should wait and see what tomorrow brings…"
"Oh, do we have to?" Kurt complained. "We don't have to go far…"
"We could just go to the boathouse," Marta suggested in a quiet voice, tugging at the sleeve of her governess.
"Can Father come, too?" Gretl squirmed on Fraulein Maria's lap, turning to face her.
"Well…" Maria's traitorous heart fluttered at the mere mention of the children's father, her treacherous mind taking no time to spin her around, back onto the staircase. It had felt like they were the only two people in the world…
"Perhaps we shouldn't invite Father," Louisa suggested.
Maria looked at the girl, wondering if she'd read her mind. Had she somehow uncovered its obsession with their father. Blushing, she prayed the children would never have to know.
"Invite Father…?" Liesl asked, looking at her sister as if she were mad.
"You're right, it will only mean you-know-what…" Louisa's words drifted off, but everyone nodded, knowing exactly what was left unsaid.
"Good call…" Friedrich nodded, not wanting their picnic spoiled. He couldn't stand listening to the syrupy way Baroness Schraeder said Father's name, or the fake way she laughed when Father didn't say anything funny. Worse, was how she pretended to like them, even when it was obvious she didn't.
"Now…" Maria looked sternly at Friedrich, then Louisa and Liesl, making each of them duck their guilty heads in turn.
"But, Fraulein Maria…" Kurt complained. "When she's around, Father's like he used to be… you know, before you got here..."
"Kurt!" Maria forced herself to glare at the boy, despite having secretly held the same thought for weeks. Baroness Schraeder did have a way of affecting the Captain's mood – and not in a good way.
"It's just not the same, Fraulein Maria…" Marta explained in a soft voice.
"Children, you know it's important to invite everyone," Maria explained in her best governess voice, her heart pinching at a picture in her mind of the Captain, Baroness Schraeder and the children together – as a family...
"It's just…" Friedrich dropped his voice. "Father's different… not when he's with you, but when she's there…"
"We all need to make an effort," Maria's words were as much a reminder to herself, as the children. "And children, that includes all of you, too."
"We know, Fraulein Maria," Liesl nodded contritely. "Truly we do… We're just so happy to have you back, aren't we?" She looked around at her brothers and sisters, who all nodded without any encouragement. Seeing it as a signal, and not wanting to think about the Baroness, they began talking enthusiastically over each other again.
Maria shared a look with Liesl. As much as she'd hoped the children might have bonded with Baroness Schraeder, in a dark corner of her heart, she couldn't help feeling a flicker of happiness knowing they hadn't. With that uncharitable thought, she silently asked God for forgiveness, and even did a little Sign of the Cross in her head. Just for good measure, she also made a mental note to say an extra Hail Mary or two tonight.
oOo
Approaching the door to the sitting room, Georg didn't dare so much as glance sideways. In fact, he tried to pretend the room didn't exist. He'd spent four years telling himself the villa no longer had a ballroom; so, he reasoned, blocking out the sitting room should be simple. Just as he was winning the battle, almost convinced there was no sitting room to their left, he sensed Elsa hesitate. What in God's name was she doing?
Hearing a click of her tongue, it was obvious Elsa disapproved of the children's noise. Ordinarily, he'd take a detour, stopping to chat with them, and enter the dining room through the adjoining doors. But tonight, he couldn't chance it. Certain Maria was with the children, he couldn't risk saying anything stupid, or looking like a fool. Fighting his natural instinct for just a glimpse of her, he ignored the tension spreading through his body from the tense muscles in his neck, just as he tried to ignore the sitting room will all its commotion. Ignoring Maria was proving somewhat harder…
He was certain, she was in there somewhere. Or he hoped she was. Surrounded by the children, she was at her happiest. And that's all he wanted for her. There was that guilt again. He was still troubled by her confusion on the terrace, how she'd crumpled before his very eyes when Elsa appeared, and her horror when they were interrupted on the stairs. Oh, Maria, I hope you're with the children.
With the sitting room – and Maria – safely behind them, he continued strolling leisurely across the foyer with Elsa on his arm. He should say something, but what? Anything to break this oppressive silence. He could hardly mention how happy the children sounded. Elsa had to know it was all because of Maria. That was a topic best avoided for now. And he certainly didn't want to draw attention to tomorrow – struggling to think ten minutes ahead, tomorrow seemed a lifetime away. Still, he should say something… but all he could think of was Maria…
"I excused Fraulein Maria from dinner…"
"What…?" Georg nearly choked. God, had Elsa finally learned to read his mind?Although relieved the silence had finally been broken, her statement made little sense.
"It's because of the children," Elsa explained, ignoring the tightening of the muscles in Georg's arm. "They're still so…" she paused thinking of a kind word, but gave up, "boisterous…"
"Boisterous…?" Georg snapped, ready to defend his children and Maria like he had so many times these past weeks.
"It's entirely Max's fault," Elsa continued, unphased. "He was such a hopeless stand in for the governess."
"Oh, I see…" Georg mumbled, unsure whether he was disappointed or relieved that Maria wouldn't be joining them for dinner. Perhaps it was a little of both…
"Georg, I really do need to visit Frau Koenig tomorrow…"
"Tomorrow…?" Georg's steps slowed but he continued to stare straight ahead.
"I will need another fitting," she explained.
"So soon…?" Georg immediately regretted the sharpness of his response. Reaching up, he gave his ear a guilty tug.
"Honestly, Georg, you men have no idea, do you?" Elsa clicked her tongue, annoyed by so many things tonight, she'd run out of fingers counting them. But top of her list was the unexpected return of the nun. She'd gone out of her way to chat to the girl, and barely fifteen minutes later, she finds her distracting Georg on the stairs. Was the girl deliberately defying her, or didn't she understand simple instructions? "Do you think we could go to town in the morning?" she added brightly.
"The morning…?" They'd left the dressmaker's barely five hours ago…
"If we go in the morning, Frau Koenig and her ladies will have more time to make any alterations," she wondered why Georg sounded so obstinate, almost defensive. Deciding it had everything to do with the nun, she decided Georg would have to be removed from the girl's orbit for his own safety. And what better than a trip to town? After visiting the boutique, they could pop into the jeweller – surely, Salzburg had someone she could trust to set diamonds on a gold band. "Frau Koenig's ladies seem wonderfully efficient, but we don't have any time to waste before the garden party."
"The garden party…?" Had they actually agreed to that?
Elsa's feet stopped and she turned to face Georg. "Oh, Ge-org!" she exclaimed, smacking his arm playfully. "Don't tell me you've forgotten already…" she huffed.
"Hmph…" he grunted, uncertain how to respond, but keen to avoid getting into a difficult conversation here in the foyer. Eager for the distraction of Max and dinner, he steered Elsa to the end of the foyer and down the hallway that led to the dining room.
Right this minute, the thought of being engaged to Elsa was one thing, announcing it to the world was another matter entirely. Fighting the urge to loosen his tie, his chest felt tight, like the air was no longer reaching his lungs. God, was it hot in here? It felt like he was suffocating, or drowning – or both. He needed to put an end to this madness.
Oh God, how was he going to get through the evening? He was already a complete mess…
oOo
"The mountains!" Gretl squeaked. "We can go to the mountains!"
"It's too far, silly…" Brigitta rolled her eyes at her youngest sister, who stuck out her tongue in response.
"…can we go for a bike ride?" Marta asked, deciding it would be one way to have Fraulein Maria all to themselves. Picturing Baroness Schraeder on a bike, she held a hand against her mouth to catch a giggle.
"After today, I don't want to get on a bike for at least a…" Kurt complained, stopping suddenly as his older sisters turned to glare at him, and Friedrich swung a hand, collecting his arm.
"You went bike riding this afternoon?" Maria asked, keen to steer the conversation away from tomorrow and hoping to hear something about today's adventures.
The children looked at each other, waiting for someone to say something.
"Yes…" Liesl eventually answered. "We went for a long ride this afternoon."
"Where did you go?" Maria asked absentmindedly, reaching down to brush Gretl's hair away from her face. When there was no answer, her hand stilled and she looked up to see the children sharing more sideways glances. They'd obviously been up to something…
"Berry picking…" Friedrich muttered. He shrugged away Liesl's glare, deciding they had no choice but to keep their story consistent.
"Berry picking…?" Maria frowned.
"Oh, yes…" Friedrick nodded enthusiastically, but quickly looked away.
"We picked lots of berries!" Brigitta exclaimed.
"They were delicious!" Kurt rubbed his stomach enthusiastically.
"Is that why tonight's dinner was late?" Maria wondered out loud.
"We lost track of the time," Marta answered with a shrug.
Maria frowned, wondering who had been so irresponsible to let the children wander off on their own, even if it was only to pick berries. She frowned. Picking berries…? "What kind of berries were you…"
"Argh! There you are, Fraulein Maria," Frau Schmidt hurried into the sitting room with a rustle of her skirts. Her knitted brow softened as all the children turned to her with smiles.
"Is something wrong, Frau Schmidt?" Maria looked over her shoulder, wishing she hadn't sounded quite so defensive. Or paranoid…
"Not yet…" Frau Schmidt sighed. "But there will be trouble if you don't get yourself off to dinner, Fraulein Maria."
"Oh, do you have to go?" Brigitta's voice rang out over the children's chorus of protests.
"Now, children…" Frau Schmidt silenced the room with a sharp clap of her hands. "You've all had your dinner, but poor Fraulein Maria hasn't had so much as a mouthful."
"I'll have something in the kitchen a little later…" Maria forced a grateful smile at the housekeeper, deciding food was the last thing her churning stomach needed.
"Nonsense!" Frau Schmidt reprimanded the governess. Honestly, did these people think she was running a restaurant? "Dinner is being served now, Fraulein Maria, and you are expected in the dining room."
"I know, but…"
"Frau Schmidt's right," Liesl nodded, glancing at Louisa. "We shouldn't keep you from dinner." Or Father…
Maria turned to the Liesl and she circled the expectant faces of the children, their wide eyes shining back at her. And that's when it hit her, the reason Frau Schmidt was being so insistent.
In a moment of searing clarity, all she could think of, were two words: Boarding School…
oOo
Poking suspiciously at the unfamiliar entrée on the plate in front of him, Georg wondered what Elsa had encouraged Cook to try her hand at now. Since the children had been banished to their own mealtime – there was that surge of guilt, again – dishes had become more elaborate as the days wore on. His palate was simple. Give him good, solid Austrian fare over fancy French or heavy Italian any day. He had to admit, this one had him stumped.
"It's pissaladière," Elsa announced proudly from where she was seated at his right hand.
He looked up from his plate, staring blankly. Was that supposed to be helpful?
"It's French…" Elsa huffed, shifting her frown from Georg to Max, who seemed just as perplexed.
"I guessed that…" Max muttered, turning back to his plate to prod at the triangular entrée with his fork. "But what is it, exactly?"
"Honestly, you two are hopeless!" Elsa exclaimed with another sigh. "It's a French classic," she rolled her eyes at them. "Think of it as the French take on pizza…"
"French pizza…?" Max held up his fork with something unidentifiable hanging from a tine, something he'd dissected from the slice in front of him. "What are these bits?"
"That's anchovy," Elsa snapped. "Oh, for God's sake," she rolled her eyes at his blank look, "it's cured fish."
"Oh…" Max deposited it on the edge of his plate, then turned his attention to search out any more pieces of cured, salty fish that might be hiding amongst the slices of onion.
"Honestly, you need to expand your horizons, Max," Elsa sighed.
"I'm in trouble if my expanded horizons are relying on these," Max muttered under his breath as he placed another offending piece on the edge of his plate.
"Georg…" Elsa turned in search of moral support.
"Hmm…" Georg answered, hoping no one had noticed him jump at the sound of his name. The last thing he could be bothered with tonight were shreds of salted fish and onion – he'd never seen so much onion – in some obscure French dish.
Max cut a piece of tart and held it up for closer inspection. Satisfied, he took a mouthful and chewed it slowly.
"You appreciate the effort I'm going to, don't you?" Elsa asked Georg.
"Of course, I do, darling," he placed his fork on the edge of the plate and reached across to pat her hand. He left his hand resting on hers. Perhaps for reassurance, but more likely out of guilt. "Don't let Max upset you…" he turned to his left and glared at his friend, who raised an innocent brow. "You know these things…" he paused with a frown. Ears pricked, he tried to sift the noises in the distance from the clanging of Max's cutlery against crockery. False alarm…nothing but his mind playing tricks. "You know these things…" he sighed, trying to pick up his train of thought, "are wasted on… Max…" he murmured, his words drifting off.
He froze, everything came to a screeching stop. Whatever it was he'd been going to say, he'd forgotten. Oblivious to Elsa looking at him as if he were mad, he strained his ears. Were those her footsteps? For a moment, he could have sworn his heart had stopped beating, but now, it was racing, galloping, hurtling out of control. He'd recognise her walk, her gait, the sound of those steps, anywhere.
Realising where his hand was, he quickly removed it from Elsa's, as if his skin had been scorched. Searching for some kind of distraction, his thumb drummed the table. Without realising, he was keeping time with her steps. Her steps growing louder, his thumb drummed harder. Didn't Elsa say, she wouldn't be joining them for dinner? As desperate as he was to see her, he wasn't ready to see her so soon. Hopefully, she'd take forever to arrive. Oh, dear God, don't do anything stupid! Hopefully, he'd have time to pull himself together.
He didn't have to wait long. Almost on cue, there was an all too familiar flurry of movement behind him as she hurried through the door behind him. Instinctively, he went to look over his shoulder, but he stopped himself in time, waiting for her to breeze past. But her footsteps had stopped.
Concerned, he spun around.
"Sorry…" Maria's eyes locked onto the Captain's, as she struggled to catch her breath. She'd been short of breath from hurrying along the hallway, but now she was blaming the dark eyes that stared back at her. "Sorry… I'm late… Captain…" his name was barely a whisper, caught between gulps of air.
"Fraulein…" he shuddered at the sound of his name catching on her breath.
Trying to ignore Baroness Schraeder, Maria was acutely aware of cold eyes boring against her. Move Maria, you need to move… Forcing one foot in front of the other, she dragged her eyes away from the Captain. Get to your seat, Maria, you're looking like a fool…
Georg followed Maria as she brushed behind Max to the seat at the far end of the table. It seemed further away than ever without the children in between. He heard Elsa suck in a breath. Hadn't she said Maria wouldn't be joining them. Was this part of Elsa's game? His fingers curled into tight fists either side of the plate where his God-awful looking entrée remained untouched.
His eyes still hadn't left Maria and were now staring along the length of the table, waiting for her to be seated. As she turned to face him, his body tightened and he suddenly felt warm. Inexplicably, uncomfortably hot… He swallowed hard, trying to get his bearings, trying to appear unaffected.
Oh God, she was breathtaking…
oOo
Thank you everyone for reading, and for your super kind reviews. Special thanks to the guest reviewers who I can't thank personally.
Apologies for such a long delay in updating. Taylor Swift was in the country, and I was on dog-sitting duty for a few weeks!
I had planned for this chapter to cover all of dinner, but it was becoming so ridiculously long (another reason for the delay in updating…), and I finally decided this was the most sensible place to take a break.
I don't own TSOM, just having a lend.
"Immerse your soul in love"