Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 31 - Chapitre 37

"Stand still, Sienna," Alec said. Sienna stopped in front of the dressing mirror. "The ribbon is already tied, Alec." "It is loose," he said, stepping behind her. His hands slid around her waist, catching the soft wool ties. "You tied it wrong." "I tied it the way I always do." "Then you always do it poorly," he answered, his voice low against her hair.  His palms left the ribbon and flattened over the sides of her waist. Slowly, he drew them forward until both hands rested over the swell of her belly.  Sienna met his eyes in the mirror. "Alec, your hands are cold." "They will warm up," he murmured. His fingers smoothed the fabric over the small, firm bump. "The cloth is pulling tight here." "I am ten weeks along. It is supposed to pull." "You need wider dresses," Alec said, his thumb ru

"Do not touch it, Sienna," she whispered to herself. Her fingers hovered two inches above the brass handle.  The wind off the bay rattled the tall arched panes, sending a low shudder through the cold woodwork of the study. Down in the corridor, there was only the hollow silence of an empty floor. Alec was still miles away at the deep-water terminal, arguing shipping tariffs with the harbor board. Yet staring into the dark slit of the drawer felt like standing in front of him. "You should close it," she said under her breath. "Just push the wood flush and walk out." She took a slow, steady breath. Her hand did not push the drawer shut. Instead, her fingertips settled onto the cool metal pull.  With a faint, oiled glide, the mahogany drawer slid open another three inches. The faint smell of ash, charred animal hide, and dried ceda

 "Mrs. Sterling, please answer me!" Mrs. Gable's voice echoed through the lower gallery. "The master is on the terrace path!" Sienna did not move from the armchair. Her boots remained planted on the wool rug, and her knuckles turned white around the edges of the open book.  "I have to know," she whispered to the quiet air. "I need to know everything you kept from me." Downstairs, the heavy iron latch of the terrace entrance gave a dull, violent clang.  "Where is she, Mrs. Gable?" Alec's deep voice carried up through the central stairwell, rough from the harbor wind and laced with sharp agitation. "Mr. Alexander, please, let me take your coat," the housekeeper pleaded from the landing. "She was resting in the east parlor just an hour ago." "She is not in the parlor," Alec snapped, the sound of his wet leather boots striking the marble ro

"I am not going anywhere, Alec," Sienna said, her voice steady in the quiet of the study. Alec did not move. His forehead stayed pressed against hers, his warm breath coming in slow, ragged tremors that brushed against her cheek. His large hands remained fixed over the curve of her stomach, his fingers splayed wide as if the slightest shift would make her vanish into thin air. "Look at me," she told him softly, raising her hands to cradle his stubbled jaw. "Look at me and tell me you believe that." Alec lifted his head slowly. The dark shadows beneath his eyes looked carved from slate, but the cold, calculating mask he wore for the harbor board was gone. All that remained was the exhausted face of a man who had carried a fire in his chest for three years. "I spent months watching you walk through these halls like a stranger," he rasped, his thumbs tracing the wool over her belly. "Every time you lowe