Master's Flame (29 page)

“I loved you,” she said, glaring at the man she
still loved
. “I gave you everything, every fiber of my devotion, every breath, every secret, every emotion for days and days on end. I did that for you, because I adored you. I gave everything to be your slave.”

“I didn’t want you to give everything.” His voice rose along with hers. “You gave me too much, or perhaps I took too much. Either way, I told you from the start we weren’t suitable for each other. If you had only listened—”

“Suitable?
Suitable
?” she cried. “What a stupid, horrid word. What a pathetic lie, to say we weren’t suitable for each other.”

“Valentina—”

“If you want to tell lies I suppose you may do as you please, but I’m not going to listen to you and agree, because I don’t agree. I felt so much love for you. I still feel it”—she curled her hands into fists on her chest—“right here, living inside me. But that love should go to someone who wants it, someone who appreciates it.”

“Valentina,” he said in a sharper voice.

“My love should go to someone who returns it, and that someone obviously isn’t you.”

“Why did you never make a painting for me?” he interrupted, advancing on her again. As if to underline the angst in his question, an oversized wave crashed with a boom against the shore.

“I did make a painting for you,” she said, walking backwards. “I made a sketch on your wall. You remember the
wall
, don’t you?”

He made a dismissive gesture. “That wasn’t a painting. That was a tantrum. Why didn’t you make a painting of me while we were together?”

“I tried. You looked right at it in my apartment, but you didn’t recognize yourself. That’s how I knew it was bad work. I couldn’t... I could never finish it. I suppose because there is some part of you I can’t see.” She stopped, planted her feet and stared at him, this man she’d never been able to finish. “There’s something missing in you, some part of you I can’t find. You won’t let me see it.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to!” He stretched his arms out in a wild gesture, and his voice seemed to strain against his will. “I think…
Dieu.
I don’t know, Valentina. I don’t know how to explain it. There’s some part of me that’s missing, yes. I know how. I know why. But I don’t know what to do about it.”

Back by the fire, some happy wedding guest whooped and whistled. Groups of people laughed on the terrace and muted music drifted from the reception room, but Valentina’s world shrank down to the misery crumbling her Master’s features.

“You’re not missing anything,” she amended. “I’m sorry. I only said that because—”

“Because it’s true.”

“It’s not. Please, don’t be upset, not today at Sara’s wedding. Everything’s okay.”

He shook his head. “It’s not okay. I did so many things to hurt you. I said so many things to you that weren’t true.” His voice roughened, turning hoarse. “I’m so bad for you. You’re smart to…to stay out of my way. You’ve always been a smart girl.”

“I’m not smart. I’m rash and emotional.”

“You’re awe-inspiring, Valentina. You’re perfect and complete and I’m not. You can love and I…I can’t.” His voice broke on the last words. Valentina stared, paralyzed by his spilling emotions, then stumbled toward him and hugged him, pressing her cheek against the galloping beat of his heart.

“Nonsense,
monsieur
. How can you believe this? Everyone can love. You can love, I’m certain.” She stroked his cheek, a calming touch. “Your heart’s just locked up. I don’t know why.”

He clutched her. “Because I’m afraid.”

“Then let me help you. Where is your key?” she asked, referencing Jason and Sara’s painting. She placed her hand over his chest and gazed up at him. “Trust me, we can fix you. Just tell me where to find your key.”

“Valentina…” He shuddered and curled his fingers over hers, squeezing them in a tight grip. “Valentina, don’t you see? You are my key.”

*** *** ***

Michel led her farther down the beach, away from the fire. He needed cover and privacy. He could barely catch his breath for hoping. The way was there for him, if he was only brave enough to take it.
Help me love you. I need to love you or I’ll die.

He drew her into an alcove near a natural cluster of rocks. He sat atop one stone and she sat on another, her almond-shaped eyes reflecting the firelight from down the beach, her features framed by the red-gold magnificence of her hair.
You are the magic of my days
, Jason and Sara had said to each other. If it was Michel making vows, he would have said to Valentina,
You are the fire of my days.

He started to talk over the pounding rhythm of the waves, to confess, self-consciously at first, then more easily. He explained to Valentina about his childhood, his parents, his days of wandering the world trying to find some peace. He talked about control and fear, and then he reached to draw her closer because what he really needed to talk about was the harm he’d done to her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, burying his face against the softness of her hair. “I’m sorry for all the things I did to hurt you.” He held her tight. He’d longed to embrace her for so long that now he couldn’t loosen his grip. “I feel so much fear when I think about loving you. I’m so afraid of what I’ll do to you. I’m afraid of hurting you, of destroying you. I’m afraid of suffocating you and taking away who you are.”

She turned her face up to look at him. “You hurt me most when you were trying not to love me. Maybe... Maybe that means that if you allowed yourself to love me, all this hurting would stop. We’ve never dealt in locks and keys, you know. I gave you every part of me from the start.”

“I know, and all I did was push you away. You should hate me.”

“I did hate you, some of the time. But I never stopped loving you, even when I hated you.”

His lips quirked into a half smile. “You left something to that effect all over my walls.”

She laughed and buried her face against his neck. He twined his fingers in her hair, tracing the shape of her delicate scalp. “It’s still there, you know. To remind me.”

“Remind you of what? How awful I can be?”

“It’s there to remind me that I love you. You’re my key, Valentina. You’re the fire of my days.” He breathed in her scent, massaging her nape and then down the curve of her spine. “And you weren’t awful. You were never awful. A Master has a responsibility to improve, to protect, to fulfill his slave’s needs. I never should have rejected your love. I shouldn’t have denied it existed. That was a callous, heartless thing to do.”

“But you were afraid. Are you still afraid?”

“Yes.” He touched her cheek, brushing away a bit of sand. “But as I watched Jason and Sara get married, all I could think about was you. That I felt all those vows and wishes for you. That means something, doesn’t it?”

She turned her head a little. “It means love, Mr. Lemaitre.”

“Michel.”

“Michel.” She rubbed her eyes. “Okay, I’ll try to call you that. Michel…is it possible for you to love me and still be my Master?”

He gave a choking kind of laugh. “Of course it’s possible. I’ve done it all this time, haven’t I? Because I loved you from the start, as much as I tried not to.” He nuzzled against her cheek. “You still want a Master, do you?”

“I need one,” she nodded. “I need you.”

He went rock hard as soon as she said the words. “Yes, you do need me, don’t you?” He rearranged her legs and dress so she straddled him. His hands wandered down to squeeze her ass as he pressed his cock against her front. “Sometimes you’re a very bad girl.”

“Sometimes I’m awful,” she said, “no matter your words to the contrary. I would like a Master to help me be better, and a lover to help me be happy. And a friend...” She lifted her face to look at him. “I’d like a friend who understands me.”

A Master. A lover. A friend.
He could be all those things if he worked at it hard enough, just as he was business owner, creative director, father, boss.

“Valentina, I want to be everything you need. You’ve brought me so much happiness and I’d like to do the same for you. With that said, I won’t be perfect all the time.”

“I’m the farthest thing from perfect, as you know.”

He laughed, pressing his forehead against hers. It was a laugh of relief, a laugh exhaling weeks of stress and pain. “I like that you’re imperfect. It brings variety to my days.”

“And love is never perfect,” she pointed out. “Sometimes it hurts. But for you, I’ll put up with it.”

There was a flash and a boom. Valentina’s eyes widened as she clutched his shoulders. “Someone’s shooting at us.”

“No one’s shooting,” he said. “Look.” High above them, a hundred sparking lights dispersed, fireworks he’d engaged for the wedding. She flinched as another rocket boomed. He squeezed her shoulders and turned her so they could look up at the sky together.

“Where are they coming from?” she asked.

“They’re shooting them off the top of my house. Don’t worry. Just enjoy them.”

Behind them, on the beach and on the terrace, Michel could hear the drunken, happy wedding guests cheering with every boom and explosion of color. The air was just the right temperature, and the sky dark and clear. He realized Sara and Jason had been right, that May was a great time to be married. One of the thumping booms erupted into a great red heart in the sky, then turned orange and magenta as it fell away.

He looked over at Valentina, at the glittering sparks reflected in her eyes. “
Je t’aime, ma chère
.” The booms were steady now, building on one another to a climax.
Bang bang bang bang
, and then a hiss of lightning painting the sky in myriad, changeable hues. She turned and threw her arms around his neck. The racket of the fireworks seemed to shake the ground, their bodies, even their lips as they met in a passionate kiss.

Her lips were warm and responsive. Delicious. She tasted of wedding cake, sweet like sugar. Like candy. They reconnected there on the sand to the symphony of fireworks and the pounding of waves hitting the shore. He touched her everywhere, remembering. She still sighed the same way at this, or moaned at that. They hadn’t been apart so long that he’d forgotten any of it, and he hadn’t been with anyone else.

“I love you,” he said every so often against her lips, and she’d echo him in her sweet, happy voice. At last the volley of fireworks died down and ended. Michel tore his hands from Valentina’s curves and looked back toward the fire. He had no idea how long they’d been gone from the party. Even drunk, everyone would wonder where he’d wandered off to.

“I have to go back soon,” he said. “It’s Sara’s wedding.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

He helped her up and they brushed sand off one another’s clothes, then headed back toward his villa hand in hand. She had never stopped loving him. He could hardly imagine it. He felt humbled and incredibly fortunate. He’d been given a second chance—and this time he’d be much more careful.

“Where are you staying?” he asked when they were almost back.

“At the hotel with the others.”

“Will you stay with me tonight instead?” He left no question what he asked for. He used his Master voice, deep and resonant with demand.

Her fingers squeezed around his. “That depends. Do you have a cage to keep me in?”

I do
, he thought.
It’s called my heart.
“I can’t imagine spending the night with you and not having a cage nearby,” he said aloud.

She laughed, her bright, easy laugh, but he sobered. He let go of her hands to trace her cheek. “Valentina, you forgive so easily. You frighten me.”

“Because I forgive? Forgiveness is an act of love, and I love you.” She reached to cover his hand with hers. “Anyway, you gave me time to learn, to adjust and change when I was confused in my life. When I was acting crazy, remember? How could I not do the same for you?”

His lips twitched. He didn’t know whether to scowl at her or smile. “Was I acting crazy, Valentina? Really?”

She blinked up at him. “Will you be angry if I answer honestly?”

He burst into laughter, wrapping her in his arms. He’d been crazy, yes, but he was finally feeling sane again.

“Daddy?”

They broke apart as Sara ran across the beach toward them, followed by Jason’s tall form silhouetted by the fire. “Daddy,” she called. “Where were you? Did you see the fireworks?”

He greeted his daughter and kissed her cheek. “They were difficult to miss. Yes, we watched them together.” He reached back to take Valentina’s hand, their fingers easily twining together. Sara stared, then whooped and did an ecstatic dance, her full, white skirts shimmying in the breeze.

“I’m so relieved you two worked things out. It’s the best wedding gift you could have given us, to see you smiling again.” She waved back toward the house. “Jason and I have been busy socializing. And drinking.” She laughed, stumbling sideways into her new husband. “We came to find you because we’re probably going to leave soon. We wanted to...to thank you for everything.”

“You are very much welcome for everything.” He tried not to lose his composure at the catch in her voice, the sheen of tears in her eyes. He let go of Valentina to take his daughter in his arms. “I hope this day was everything you’d dreamed.”

Sara clung to his neck, enveloping him in a hug. “It was more than we ever could have dreamed. Thank you for everything.
Everything
,” she repeated with feeling.

Michel held onto her, his beautiful strong daughter who was now Jason’s beautiful, strong wife. “I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.”

She drew away, giving him a small, secret smile. “I’m proud of you too.” She slid a look at Valentina, who was off to the side, exchanging quiet words with Jason. “I told you, daddy. I knew she was the one for you all along. Some things are meant to be.”

Jason turned from Valentina and held out a hand to Michel. He pushed it away and hugged Jason too. What the hell. Jason was officially his son-in-law now, irritating, controlling bastard that he was. “If you ever hurt my daughter, I’ll cut off your balls,” he murmured in French.