Summer Of My Secret Angel (8 page)

The plane climbed the sky with an ease I
would have never thought possible. I dragged in a deep breath and
my ears unplugged. Julian’s gentle hold kept me grounded. And when
I could tear my gaze from our joined hands, I dared a look out of
the oval window.

London from above was a marvelous sight. But
seeing the metropolis shrinking underneath the plane’s belly also
confirmed the end of life as I had known it for years. Ripped from
my island, I was being exported to slavery for an endless six
weeks.

Julian’s hand was still covering mine.
Slowly, my fingers withdrew from his. This was the second time he’d
touched me that day, and similar to the first, my entire body had
calmed and warmed from the inside. It was unlikely he even realized
how I reacted to him. How much I appreciated his caress and the
soothing effect it had on me.
All the better.
I’d die of
shame if he found out.

Avoiding his stare, I focused on the
attention-consuming task of wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans.

“I guess you’re feeling better.” He leaned
forward to retrieve a book from his backpack underneath the seat in
front of him and stuck his nose in the pages.

I cleared my throat, turning my gaze
anywhere but toward him.

In front of me, a man stood and rummaged in
the overhead compartment. He lowered to his seat with a white
pillow in his hand and stuffed it behind his neck. My eyes squeezed
shut for a second. But this only made me all the more aware of the
unfamiliar, pleasant sensation still surging through me. My heart
felt warm, like someone was pointing the heated stream of a
hairdryer straight at it.

I hugged my arms around my waist and pulled
my legs to my chest, my feet resting on the seat. Positioned like
this, I felt a little more protected…from the eerie effect Julian
had on me without his knowing.

Like the captain had foreseen, the crossing
of the border between land and sea didn’t go so smooth. A series of
rattles shook the aircraft and threatened to shatter it at any
moment. Panic grabbed hold of me anew, but this time I took care to
keep my trembling hands in my lap and out of Julian’s reach. The
book was still held up to his eyes as if he was deeply emerged in
the story, but he glanced at me every so often.

For as long as the rattle went on, I doubled
my effort to even my breathing. “No need to touch me again,” I
muttered, frowning at him sideways.

Julian closed his eyes, his lips compressed,
and a dimple appeared in his cheek. “As you wish.”

I wish to hell you’d stop laughing at me,
you oaf
!
Argh, why did I even care what he thought of
me?

I shot a glare at the dozing bundle in the
window seat. “And the dragon sleeps like a stone while the world is
falling apart around us. That fits. Always oblivious to the rest of
the world.”

Just then, I caught Julian’s free hand
gently stroking her forearm.
What the bloody hell—?
So he
was her lover after all. A balloon of jealousy exploded in my
chest. It was unthinkable what his tender caress would do to her
when I was so deeply affected by his slightest touch.

The stroking stopped.

A frown creased my brow. His lips thinned to
a line as his hand slid away from my mother’s arm and clasped the
book again. Long lashes shielding the blue of his eyes, he kept his
gaze on the pages.

A moan rose from my mother as she stirred,
but Julian didn’t move. On purpose I assumed. Trying to hide from
me his deep concern for her.

With the absence of his touch, my mother
became fitful. She awoke, her face contorted with lines of pain. A
minute later, she sat up straight, gazing out through the tiny
window. And all that just because he wasn’t touching her any
longer.

My eyes locked with Julian’s as my blood ran
cold.

Though the rest of the flight went by
without any further incident, my breath hissed out in relief when
the wheels touched the French ground. When the illuminated sign
went off above our heads, we unbuckled our seatbelts and got off
the plane. My mother clung to Julian’s arm as they descended the
stairs. I followed on their heels.

Sweat beaded on my skin. Once inside the
air-conditioned building, I wiped my forehead with the sleeve of my
sweater. Compared to the mild temperatures in Britain, France felt
like a furnace.

At the luggage claim, we didn’t have to wait
long before our things came circling on the conveyer. Our baggage
in tow, we exited the terminal to find a couple waiting for us by a
dark gray SUV.

The tall man, dressed in beige shorts and a
black shirt, had wrapped his arm around a smaller woman at his
side. Long strawberry-blonde hair cascaded down her back. Her face
lit up as she spotted us, and she came running. She greeted my
mother and Julian in French, hugged and kissed them. Julian had to
bend to receive a peck on both his cheeks. Releasing him, the woman
turned to me, beaming like a hundred-watt bulb.

Instinct had me backing off, my hands raised
in self-defense. “We better skip the kissing.”

The lady held out her hand to me and said,
“Hello,
chérie
, I am Marie Runné, your aunt.”

She swallowed the H of
hello
, and I’d
never heard someone pronounce the letter R in such a funny way.
Fighting back a snicker, I shook her hand from two feet away. No
need to run the risk of being pulled into an involuntary hug.

“This is my husband, Albert.” She dragged
out the last bit of his name like he was called
Al-bear
. The
name fit. He was indeed as tall as a bear, though his silver-gray
hair resembled the fur of a wolf’s back.

“
Bonjour,
Jona. My wife and I are
happy you decided to come and stay with us.”

I shoved my hands deep into my pants’
pockets and gazed straight into his green eyes. “I was given no
choice.”

Marie’s voice remained soft as she spoke
again. “It was very brave of you to travel so far to a place where
you do not know anyone. But you will find we are family. Do not be
afraid. We shall take good care of you.”

Hello? Did I give the impression of being
frightened? She could hardly hold the aversion to kissing strangers
against me, could she? I narrowed my eyes and gritted my teeth.
“I’m not scared of anything.”

A train of fuzzy warmth spiraled down my
neck the moment Julian leaned close to my left ear from behind. His
voice was low as he said, “We both know at least one thing that
scares you out of your wits, don’t we?” Then the fiend picked up my
backpack and chuckled all the way to the car’s rear.

That boy got on my nerves.

The car was spacious enough to hold the
three of us in the backseat without being squeezed in like
sausages. With Julian separating me from my mother, I kept my back
turned to him and stared out the window. It took a long,
seventy-minute drive to get to the place at which I was supposed to
do time until my birthday.

In spite of all the misery I had yet to face
in this country, France was a beautiful place. In London, brick
buildings and hectic traffic had closed in on me as soon as I’d
stepped out of the orphanage. Here, trees lined the single-lane
streets. Lakes, meadows, and hills with all kinds of slopes
produced an enchanting landscape. It seemed as if the beauty of the
country strived to calm everyone’s stressed out day.

Unfortunately, my mother’s company and the
charity work I was bound to do cast an eerie shadow over the
surreal peace. The strangers in the front seats tried to make
friendly conversation with me, which I was so not interested in.
But apart from all that, I might have even liked it here.

A soft poke in my ribs made me jump. Julian
jerked his chin to the windshield. “We’re almost there. This is—”
He paused and pursed his lips. “The residence of your
vacation.”

“We might as well call a spade a spade.”
With one eyebrow cocked, I offered, “The place for slave
labor?”

“Your temporary home.”

“How very nice.” Flashing my teeth in the
parody of a smile, I dismissed him and read the sign next to the
road.

Bienvenue à Fontvieille.

Albert steered through the narrow streets of
the small town and a little farther until the line of houses and
shops gave way to woods and stony paths. The car came to a halt in
the driveway of an impressive property.

I climbed out of the car when the others did
and gaped at the estate. To call it beautiful would have been a
vast understatement. It looked like somebody had waved a wand and
I’d arrived in a fairytale.

Surrounded by a caramel-brown picket fence,
the house stood two stories. Front door, window frames, and the
long balcony on one side adopted the color of the fence, while the
sun reflected off the shiny white exterior and blinded my eyes.

I couldn’t name the red, yellow, and violet
flowers offering dwellings to butterflies and bees, but they hung
profusely from the rectangular planters attached to each
windowsill. A gentle wind fluttered the curtains like the twirling
tutu of a ballerina. I couldn’t wait to get inside to find out if
the interior measured up with the fantasy façade.

Too amazed to even flinch, I stood rigid
when my aunt rubbed both my upper arms with her soft hands.
“Welcome home, Jona.”

Home
. The word lingered in my ears
like the soft rustle on a midsummer’s evening.

Marie let go of me, leaving my skin chilled
in the unfamiliar French heat. She walked to the front door with my
mother’s arm looped around hers, followed by Albert, who carried
our baggage.

I was set to fall into line with them, when
a brown and white furry beast trotted around the corner of the
mansion. I stopped dead. It came right for me with a murderous
glint in its eyes, cutting me off from the safety of the house.
Shit, it must have devoured a kid only minutes ago. The white
shoelaces still hung from its jaws.

The pony-sized dog lifted its muzzle to my
hand and sniffed. Afraid my wince might stir its appetite for
dessert, I strangled the frightened sound in my throat.

The giant animal angled its head, gaping up
at my face. A low grumble in its throat grew to the most blasé bark
the world had ever heard. The laces tore away from its mouth and
dropped as a puddle of dog-drool.

Julian’s laugh made me jump. “And here I was
thinking the dog was mute.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lower
lip, hating how he caught my every moment of fear.

“Sit, Lou-Lou,” he said. The mountain of fur
lowered her butt to the ground. Her long tongue lolled out sideways
between huge, but not very sharp canines. While her tail swished
back and forth over the stone patio, Julian rubbed behind her wooly
ear then dared to sling his arm casually over my shoulder and
around my neck. “Shall we add dogs to the list of things that scare
you senseless?”

The guy was seriously begging to be
introduced to my great right hook. I challenged him with a pissed
scowl as he dragged me toward the house. Before we reached the
front steps, I managed to escape his grip and entered alone.

Hopefully, he would go to his own house
soon, so I could be safe from his sneaky remarks and the bunch of
butterflies he woke in my stomach each time he touched me.
Actually, I couldn’t wait for him to leave.

My newly discovered family members gathered
in the wide hallway of the house, speaking to each other in fluent
French. They quickly switched to clipped English, casting me a
welcoming smile when I walked in.

The dragon tried to smile at me, too, but
somehow the corners of her mouth wouldn’t really lift. “It was a
long and exhausting journey for me. I’ll get some rest. Marie will
help you make yourself at home.”

At home
, my arse.
When would
the bitch stop talking to me at last? I clamped down on my teeth,
glowering at her until she disappeared into a room at the far end
of the hall.

“I will make sure your mother is fine, then
I shall give you a tour through the house if you like.” Marie
flashed an excited beam at me.

Pivoting on the spot, I marveled at the
light-flooded interior. With a nonchalant shrug I accepted her
offer, although I was more than eager to see the rest of the
house.

The oval hall held nothing more than a
wardrobe and a credenza with a blue and white patterned vase
sitting next to an old-fashioned landline phone. Carved wood doors
in off-white opened in either direction. When I was sure nobody
would notice, I leaned slightly to one side, peeking around the
corner of what seemed to be a study. Shelves filled with books and
collectibles lined the walls of the small room.

To the right of the hall, a flight of
semi-winding stairs led to the second floor. Only when I traced the
staircase up to the balustrade did I understand the uncommon
brightness inside. Part of the roof sloped down over the open space
in a garret with a huge dormer window, providing the imitation of a
real sky inside the house.

“It’s a little bigger than your small room
back in London, isn’t it?”

At Julian’s soft taunt I whirled about. He
leaned against the doorjamb, his thumbs hooked through the belt
loops of his jeans.

I straightened and put on my well-rehearsed
girlie grin. “You’re still here? Shouldn’t you be heading home to
your family by now?” The mocking edge to my voice did nothing to
rattle his relaxed composure.

“No, dear. Julian is living with us,” Marie
said cheerfully as she exited my mother’s room and grabbed my
wrist. “Come with me. I will show you the kitchen while I put on
the kettle for a cup of tea.” She tugged on my arm until I followed
her, but I couldn’t hide my horror as I caught Julian’s amused
gaze.

As he winked, his beautiful blue eyes held
the promise for a very special six weeks.