Where the Light Falls(52)
“No.” He leaned forward, pulled her gaze back onto himself, and took her hands in his. “Not at all. If I tell you I understand, will you believe me? Will you believe that I know those longings, because I share them myself?”
She nodded, lowering her eyes. In the dim glow of the night, André noted how she turned, wiping her eyes. For several moments she stood quietly, looking out over the water, at the city aglow behind it. She sighed, eventually breaking the silence. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”
André, looking at her, her face shadowed and in profile, answered: “The most beautiful sight I have ever seen.”
She tilted her gaze upward. Peering at him, her eyes reflecting the light of the streetlamps and the stars, she appeared expectant, even inviting. And yet so fragile; he couldn’t imagine anyone ever wanting to hurt her. He took her chin and cradled it in the cup of his fingers. “Sophie.” He said her name, relishing the fact that she stood before him. That he could say it to her.
“Yes?” If she felt nervous, her face showed no signs. It was a smooth mask of perfect calm.
The need to kiss her was overwhelming, a compulsion. He took her face softly in his cupped hands and angled her chin upward toward his own lips. “I’ve been waiting for this for eight months.”
She cocked her head, her smile shimmering like the river, reflecting the glow of moonlight off of her perfect features. “I thought you were going to deposit me safely at my front door and that would be all?”
“And I shall. But I didn’t say anything about the walk toward your door.”
Summer cooled to autumn, the crisp days and chilly nights turning the city’s chestnut and plane trees into a bright array of oranges and reds, yellows and golds. Unsure of how long he would remain stationed in the capital, André was determined to spend as much time as he could with Sophie. The thought of an imminent departure weighed on his thoughts, and he did his best to keep both their spirits up.
It was a pleasant golden afternoon in mid-October. André was at Sophie’s apartment on the island in the Seine, beating her in a game of échecs, chess. It was dangerous for André to visit her here, and they both knew it—her uncle visited her apartment often, rarely giving advanced notice—but Sophie’s maid, a graying woman by the name of Parsy, had offered to help them in their forbidden meetings. When André was visiting, Parsy would station herself in the adjacent room, at the window overlooking the building’s small walled courtyard. If she saw the tall uniformed figure of General Murat approaching, she had orders to alert Sophie at once. This would afford André enough time to slip down the back stairwell and out onto the street before her uncle had finished crossing the court and climbing the front stairwell to his niece’s rented rooms. They had not yet been forced to enact this escape plan, but all three of them knew exactly how it was to work, when the time should come that it would be required.
On this afternoon, Parsy was stationed at her perch beside the window, her knitting in hand, while the two of them sat in the adjacent salon. The door was shut and André was hoping to remain at Sophie’s apartment until a dinner he had to attend later, with LaSalle and some of the other officers.
“I’m about to take your queen,” André threatened, propping himself up on his elbows as he surveyed the board.
“Queen?” Sophie gasped. “Shouldn’t you call her my “Citizeness of la République?”
“Call her what you wish,” he said. “Once I take her, the game is up.”
“Just promise me that you won’t send her to the scaffold, should you capture her.”
“If I promise that mercy, might I have a kiss?”
“If you want a kiss, you’d better take it now,” she said, smiling, “since I’m not yet mad at you for taking my queen.”
“If you insist.” He rose from his seat on the carpet and sat beside her on the silk sofa. Scooting his body next to hers, he said: “I seem to have entirely forgotten my move. If I don’t take your queen, then how many kisses do I get for that?”
She smiled and he leaned forward, his heart exultant. When his lips met hers, she sighed, a barely audible sigh, and that sound only increased his longing for her. Raising his hands, he rested the back of her head in his grip, kissing her hungrily. He loved so many things about Sophie, but perhaps best of all was that when he kissed her, she kissed him back. Not timidly, not reservedly. She kissed him with a passion that told him that she, too, longed for him.