And yet the words fell from her lips with surprising ease.
Bastien studied her while they walked. Whatever his thoughts were, he concealed them well.
Her head remarkably cool, Celine trained her eyes on the grey pavestones ahead. “When my father and I came to Paris, I was very young. He told me to keep who my mother was a secret. He said if the world knew, I would live with derision for the rest of my life. So I listened, and I lied. And . . . I feel ashamed for it. It’s as if this lie has become an essential part of my truth, like a kind of twisted keystone. So much so, that I don’t know how to”—she struggled for a moment—“how to think or behave any differently, lest the whole thing crumble to pieces.”
There. Several painful truths unmasked. Truths she’d been incapable of admitting even to herself. It surprised her that—of all the people she’d encountered thus far—she’d decided to share these truths with Bastien.
Celine waited in silence for a time, pondering this realization. Wishing she could ignore the meaning behind it.
“I’m sorry for your pain, Celine,” Bastien said in a subdued tone. “Thank you for trusting me with your truth.”
A sharp twinge cut through her chest, making it difficult to respond at first.
Finally Celine spoke, her voice a soft brush of sound. “And I’m sorry for your pain, Bastien. I think trust is a precious thing. Know that I will always treat yours as such.”
He looked at her, his eyes a liquid silver. “Merci, mon coeur. From my heart to yours.”
They walked the rest of the way toward the Ursuline convent with nothing accompanying them but the chirruping of insects and the whispering of palm fronds. Once they rounded the final bend—the convent looming tall in the darkness—Celine tilted her head toward the lace of stars around the sickle moon, their cool light surging through her veins. Bastien stopped beside her, though he did not follow her gaze.
“Are the stars that captivating?” he teased in a gentle tone.
“Of course they are,” she said without looking away. “They’re infinite. They see all and know all. These same stars hung in the sky during the times of Michelangelo and Shakespeare. Isn’t that fascinating?”
Bastien sighed, the sound grim. “I’ll never understand the fascination with the infinite. There is an end to everything, to good things as well.”
“Chaucer was an ass.” Celine glanced at him, a brow quirked with amusement. “And the infinite captivates us because it allows us to believe all things are possible. That true love can last beyond time.”
He did not reply. Instead his eyes bored into hers, the lashes above them thick. Deliciously sooty. When Celine looked away, Bastien cleared his throat, pausing to check his pulse.
“You did it again,” Celine said.
“What?”
“You often check your pulse. I’m curious as to why.”
A sardonic smile took shape on Bastien’s face. “To remind myself I’m human.”
That same strange feeling gripped Celine again. That feeling of something eluding her grasp. Something . . . important. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Are you?”
Her question caught Bastien off guard. He stared down at her, his perfect lips pushing forward with slow deliberation. Then he took her hand and pressed it to the side of his neck. Beneath Celine’s fingertips drummed a steady heartbeat. One that began to race at her touch, its warmth tingling through her body. Bastien held both their hands there for a time, aware his pulse betrayed him. Aware and seemingly unconcerned.
The heart doesn’t lie, Michael had said.
Celine let her shaking hand fall. And decided to ignore all common sense. “Since we’re dealing in truths for this one night, I wanted to say I’m attracted to you.”
“And I’m attracted to you.” Bastien did not hesitate in this admission.
She stared up at him, her eyes unflinching. “Earlier this evening, I wanted to kiss you.”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the night we first saw each other in Jackson Square.”
“You remembered,” she murmured. “I thought you had forgotten.”
Bastien canted his head. “How could I forget? You surprised me. It had been a long time since anything surprised me.”
Celine blinked. “I surprised you?”
He laughed. Then his expression turned serious. “One day, someone should tell you how beautiful you are in the moonlight,” Bastien said softly.
Heat pooled in Celine’s stomach, licking through her chest, rising into her throat. “Someone should.” She swallowed. “But . . . I don’t think it should be you.”