her car was parked—and he grabbed her arm.
‘Don’t touch me!’ she gritted. ‘Don’t ever touch me!’
Swinging round, she glared at him. She wasn’t a vengeful girl, or malicious, but she’d been through too much. Had suppressed the pain and anger, the despair, but now there was a focus for it. Someone to blame. ‘Just don’t touch me,’ she repeated heavily.
Shaking, she turned away, and he stopped her, held her firm.
‘I said...’
‘I know.’ Gently turning her, he leaned her against the wall. Examined her exquisite face. The defiance in her eyes. ‘But do you have any idea what it’s like not to know? To have no memories of self?’
Looking away, she shook her head. ‘I can imagine...’
‘No, Gellis, you can’t. No one can. Your life is shaped by what you are, how you live, loved. All I have is—nothing. A blank canvas. Your name echoes in an empty space. All names echo in an empty space.’ Dropping his bag and jacket, he lifted his hands, held them out. ‘Were my hands like this when you knew me?’
Still angry, still stiff, she stared at the calluses, the scars, then shook her head again.
‘No. Four months,’ he murmured, ‘of hell. Rough work, rough places, even rougher people. But I survived. And now I have the chance to find out who I really am, and you’re the only one who can help me. Two weeks, that’s all I ask. Two weeks to help me find out who I am.’
Still staring at his hands, she gave a bitter smile. ‘I can’t.’
‘Can’t you? And if the positions were reversed, if you were the one with no memory, wouldn’t you fight tooth and nail to make the one person who could help you help?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed helplessly. ‘But I can’t do it.’ Looking up at him, she repeated flatly, ‘I can’t. Don’t ask it of me.’
Touching his fingers gently to her cheek, he frowned when she flinched away. ‘I hurt you so much?’ he asked sombrely.
‘Yes.’
‘Then tell me. Make me understand.’
Tears filling her lovely eyes, she shook her head.
‘Then look on it as a job,’ he murmured with twisted mockery. ‘I’ll pay you.’
‘I don’t want paying,’ she denied in distress. ‘And don’t mock me. Don’t ever mock me! You don’t have the right.’
‘Obviously not. Ten days.’
‘No!’
‘Yes. How long will it take you to pack? An hour?’
‘No! I can’t go with you! Do you have any idea...? No,’ she conceded wearily, ‘of course you don’t But take my word for it, Sébastien, I can’t go with you.’
‘Won’t go with me,’ he corrected her grimly.
‘Yes. Won’t go with you.’ And if he had remembered what he had done to her he would never have asked. Or would he?
Leaning towards her, hands flat on the wall behind her, his voice low, he stated urgently, ‘This is my life, Gellis! It’s not some Women’s Institute meeting where we’re discussing the price of jam! I’ve had four lost months. Not days, not weeks, but months! And, without you, I might lose years. Whatever I did, I don’t remember, I wish to God I did! I’m sorry if I hurt you! Sorry if I caused you pain, but you’re my only hope, Gellis.’
‘I can’t,’ she denied desperately.
‘You can! For God’s sake, I’m not asking you to go to the ends of the earth! Just across the damned Channel. I need to know, Gellis! Can’t you understand that? I need to know.’
So do I, she thought bleakly. So do I.
‘Please!’
And this was not a man who begged.
‘Please,’ he repeated.
Holding his eyes for endless moments, she finally slumped, looked down, shuddered. Oh, God. It was still there—the feeling, the want, the need—and if she went with him...
And if she didn’t? If she ran away now, spent the rest of her life hiding, she would never find out the truth. And she did need to know the truth. Needed to know why he had done what he had. But she didn’t know if she could bear to be in his company—not because of what he had done, but because of the way he could make her feel.
Because she so desperately wanted him back. After all that had happened, she still wanted him. At first, in the café, when he had seemed so unfamiliar, so harsh and grating, there had been only shock, disbelief, panic. But now...
‘Just take me there,’ he urged. ‘Show me where we lived.’
‘The people there will show you,’ she argued desperately.
‘I don’t know the people there.’
Closing her eyes in defeat, she wondered if it was a nightmare that would ever end. And he was too close, made her feel stifled, and she had to keep shutting her mind off in an effort not to think, feel—because she wanted to be held, comforted... Clenching her hands tight, she shook her head.
‘Just to Collioure, and then you can come back home,’ he encouraged.
Home, she thought bleakly. Without him, it wasn’t a home at all. And the only way to get rid of him was to agree, wasn’t it? Otherwise he would stand here for ever, and for ever, persuading, undermining her resolution... ‘I can’t go for long,’ she muttered. And she couldn’t look at him. Not look into those beautiful eyes. Treacherous eyes. Eyes that had lied. As hers would be lying if she looked at him.
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll meet you back here tomorrow.’
And he laughed. A harsh, grating sound that sent a shiver through her.
‘Do I look like a fool, Gellis?’ he asked disparagingly. ‘We go today.’
‘Today? No! I can’t go today!’ She panicked. Glancing at her watch, glancing at anything in order not to have to look at him, she murmured stupidly, ‘It’s already gone eleven.’
‘So? The sooner we go, the sooner you can return.’ Well, it didn’t matter what she said, did it? Because she wasn’t intending to actually go! ‘All right. I’ll meet you back here in an hour.’
‘No.’
‘What?’
‘I said, no. You really think I believe you will come back? No, Gellis, I will come with you.’
‘No!’
And he smiled. Like a wolf. ‘Yes.’
Glancing frantically
