Page 80 of The Gathering
“I’ll braid it back before you go.”
She stilled. “You can braid?”
“I can,” he said, working out the second braid now. “I have a sister.”
He finished, carefully sliding his fingers through her hair. She shivered hard, closing her eyes. Focusing on the glorious feeling.
She suddenly opened them and found him sitting again, staring at her like a man seeing something profound.
“T’es la plus belle femme que j’aie jamais vue. Et je voudrais rien de plus que t’embrasser et faire de toi mon tout.mentally.” His gaze burned on her and through her. “And no, I’m not translating it.”
Her jaw dropped. “What? You can’t… why would you not tell me!?”
He stood and began packing up. “It was a confession. For God’s ears only.”
She stood and helped. “I’m not God! And it wasmyears that heard!”
“God is here,” he said simply. “I was saying it to Him.” He winked at her and it totally wrecked her composure, leaving her scattered inside her own mind and body. From awink!
“Come, belle teet suhr,” he said, leaving. “Time to head back.”
She chased after him. “Repeat the French, I’ll look it up myself!”
He laughed. “Not happening.”
She got ahead of him and planted herself in his path.
He stopped before her and sighed.
“Please tell me!”
He set down the pail. “Move or I’ll move you myself.”
She regarded the pail on the ground then him. “I don’t want a confrontation, I just want to know what you said!”
“Are you moving or am I moving you.”
She again counted the risks, wondering what he might do. He was a gentleman, so, it couldn’t be much. “I am asking politely—”
He was so fast she had no time to react! She was now over his shoulder being hauled like a sack of produce!
“Jek! What… this ishighlyinappropriate! You better put me down!”
He spoke a long string of French, his tone infuriatingly calm and silky.
She caught the faces of people watching the embarrassing show, snickering and whispering. Shame burned her face.
“You are a gentleman! I vouched for you!”
“I am,” he assured. “And you’re a belle teete pah-trawn.”
She gripped his shirt in her fists, anger flaring. “And you’re a… big belle dummy!”
He laughed and she growled. “I’m a big pretty dummy?”
She froze. Belle meant pretty? She tried to remember how he’d used it. Little and pretty. Was it the bossy word?
He suddenly unloaded her onto the steps of the infirmary and opened the door and walked in. She glanced around, finding a few people around, but none that cared or looked. She spotted the pail he’d set down and hurried to get it, her haireverywherelike a disaster mop.
