Pyromancist (34 page)

Josselin lowered her to her feet and adjusted
her clothes, his expression unreadable.

He brushed his thumb over her lips, looking
repentant. “All right?”

“No,” she said, frowning. “This is
torture.”

“I’m sorry. It’s too soon to claim your tight
little pussy again. Even with my finger.” She felt herself flush
furiously. He kissed her nose. “Did you enjoy that?”

She swallowed. Did he really have to ask? She
was so wet her underwear was soaked.

He only smiled. “I promise to make you ride
me soon.”

Her tummy contracted at the image that came
to mind, and she was glad to see that she wasn’t the only one
affected. Josselin’s eyes had gone very dark again.

“You’d better look around,” he said. “We
can’t stay long.”

He took a step away from her. “I’m sorry for
everything you’ve suffered. I promise to make it up to you, each
and every day that you had to go without a fucking basic
comfort.”

“Josselin,” she pleaded, “you don’t need to
make up for anything. Just love me.”

“I do,” he said, “and when I’m done with you
tonight, you’ll know just how much.”

She shivered her body already a pulsating
mass of sensation at the verbal promise.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said.

He turned and left the kitchen to give her
time alone inside her childhood house.

Clelia went through the house, but without
Erwan’s presence, there wasn’t a reason to linger inside. There was
nothing she wanted to take or pack. Josselin had provided
generously for her. Soon she was back outside. She was eager to see
if the rabbits, guinea pigs, cats and hedgehogs were all right.

She did a quick round, satisfied that each
and every animal was in good health, and sat down in the grass to
play with the dogs. She heard a bark and when she looked up, she
saw a three-legged dog hopping from the beach in her direction.

She held out her arms. “Come here, you.”

A few seconds later Tripod happily obliged,
jumping into her arms.

“They’re happy to see you,” Josselin said. He
was standing by the doghouse, his shoulder braced against the
wooden frame.

She cuddled Tripod. “They’re well looked
after.”

“I asked the vet for weekly updates.” He
pointed at a corner inside the wooden house. “Had webcams installed
too. That way I could watch them from afar, make sure they were all
right.”

She blinked at him. “You did all of that for
me?”

“Of course. After all, I promised.”

“I thought you said you didn’t promise.”

“You know what I meant when I said that.” He
straightened. “I’m sorry, but we have to go.”

She was sad to have to leave so soon. “Can we
come back tomorrow?”

“Yes,” he said, offering her a hand to pull
her to her feet. “I promise.”

Chapter
Twenty-One

Back at the castle, their bedroom was tidy,
the kitchen cleaned, and their bed sheets changed. Clelia blushed
when she thought about the evidence of their lovemaking that had
marked the sheets. She also found her suitcase unpacked in a new
armoire that stood in the corner of the bedroom, as well as a whole
lot of new clothes and shoes. The fireplaces had been cleaned out
and new fires were already burning.

“When did all of this happen?” she asked.

“The same company that takes care of your
cottage and cleans my house in Larmor is managing the castle.”

“A cleaning company that provides clothes and
furniture?” She motioned to the armoire.

“It’s more like a private house managing
service.” He took her hand. “You may want to take over the
arrangements, seeing that you’re the mistress of the house now,” he
smiled, “but I wanted everything to be ready for you when I brought
you here as my bride.”

Clelia’s heart swelled. She thought about her
discussion with Erwan, when he said that the right woman could cure
a man like a doctor or therapist couldn’t. It was still hard to
believe that she was the one, the woman Josselin loved. He was
asking her to manage his house, trusting their home to her. She
looked around the big hall. For the simple granddaughter of a
fisherman who had lived in a cottage all of her life, it seemed
daunting.

“This is not just a house. It’s a castle. I’m
not sure I’ll even know where to start, never mind what to do.” She
bit her lip. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

He touched her chin. “No matter what you do,
you can never disappoint me. Remember, the castle is just
temporary. Soon we’ll leave for New York. I just wanted you to know
that you’re free to reorganize or redecorate or whatever it is you
women like to do. I love spoiling you, and being the dominant
bastard that I am, I may sometimes forget that you may want things
to look or to be done differently.”

The generosity of his offer once again
reminded Clelia of the goodness of the man who often saw himself as
a devil. She had to swallow down emotional tears.

“Thank you, Josselin. That’s good to
know.”

“Anything else you need? You could make a
list and give it to my personal shopper, or we could go shopping in
Vannes tomorrow.”

“No, thank you, you’re very considerate.
You’ve thought of everything.”

“Would you like to see the rest of the castle
before dinner? You must be starving. I thought we could have an
early supper.”

They had woken up early, but their breakfast
had lasted up to noon, and therefore, they had skipped lunch. She
was actually hungry.

“An early meal sounds good. And I can’t wait
to see the rest of the castle.”

“Good.” He took her hand. “Warm enough?”

She nodded.

Josselin took her on a tour of the stronghold
that had been in his family for centuries, explaining the history,
the architecture, and the periodic destructions and rebuildings.
There were four levels. They started on the top floor that
consisted of small attic rooms that had been occupied by servants
in the distant past. The third floor had several bedrooms with
en-suite sitting and reading rooms. Two big halls dominated the
first floor, one of which they occupied. There were also several
smaller rooms that served as offices and game rooms. The ground
floor had a big reception room and dining room that opened onto a
terrace overlooking the lake. The kitchens, washing and storerooms
were located in the left tower while the right encompassed a large
library. The stables stood separately at the back of the
courtyard.

The library was the only room in the castle
with wooden panels on the raw stonewalls. The shelves were empty.
Josselin explained that the private collection of books were stored
in Vannes.

After their brief tour, Josselin led her back
into the large dining room. As for the rest of the rooms, with the
exception of the hall where they slept, it was bare except for a
table that had been pushed against the window. It was beautifully
laid with silver and crystal ware.

“Shall we?” Josselin pulled a chair out for
her.

When Clelia was seated, a mature woman
wearing a black dress and a string of white pearls entered. Clelia
shot a surprised glance at Josselin. She didn’t know they were not
alone in the castle.

“Clelia, may I present my competent house
manager? This is Izabell. Izabell, meet my wife.”

“At last,” Izabell exclaimed. “I’ve heard so
much about you, Madame de Arradon.”

Clelia immediately took a liking to the woman
with the short gray hair and beautiful face. She had a no-nonsense
attitude that reminded Clelia of Erwan, but Clelia could sense her
warmth.

“Please, call me Clelia. Thank you for all
that you’ve done. Everything is perfect.”

“I’m happy that it pleases you.” She looked
at Josselin with a fond smile. “Your husband was very particular
about what he wanted for you. It’s been a while since I’ve had such
a challenging project.”

Josselin took a seat opposite Clelia while
Izabell lit a big vanilla candle on the table.

“Having the electricity reconnected isn’t a
straightforward exercise, I’m afraid,” Josselin said. “It will take
several months to redo all the wiring. I apologize for the
candles.”

Izabell had started lighting candles in the
holders on the walls. “It’s a hell of a job cooking for you on a
fire.”

Clelia’s eyes widened. “You had to cook on a
fire?”

“I could have brought a paraffin stove,”
Izabell said, “but I hate cooking on those. It’s not the kind of
catering I like to serve to my best client.”

Josselin grinned. “I apologize for the fire,
too.”

“
No need for apologies.” Izabell
chuckled. “My extortionate fee makes up for that.”

Clelia watched the exchange between Josselin
and Izabell. She could understand why Josselin liked Izabell. She
seemed like a hands-on kind of person who wouldn’t skimp on luxury
or quality, totally capable of meeting Josselin’s perfectionist
demands.

“Shall I serve your starters?” Izabell
asked.

Josselin looked at Clelia for an answer and
she nodded.

When Izabell disappeared through the door,
Josselin said, “I took the liberty of giving Izabell carte blanche
on the dinner menu tonight. From now on, I leave it in your capable
hands.” He added hastily, “If you wish.”

“I’d like that,” Clelia said, feeling
slightly intimidated by the prospect, but looking forward to taking
care of Josselin for a change.

“As much as I want to lock you up here and
keep you all to myself, I’ll soon take you to town for dinner.”

Something about the way Josselin’s shoulders
tensed made Clelia wary. “Out in the open?”

He leaned over the table to brush her hair
from her face. “Like I said this afternoon, I need to show you
off.”

She didn’t miss the flicker of concern in his
eyes or the tone of apprehension in his voice.

“I get it,” she said softly. “It’s not just
for Erwan’s sake. You need to let Lupien know I’m back.”

“I’m sorry.” He took her fingers and kissed
her hand. “I wish it wasn’t so.”

Clelia’s tummy clenched in fear. “You said I
need to fight him. How am I supposed to do that?”

Izabell returned with an ice bucket and a
bottle of champagne. “Shall I open it?”

Josselin shook his head. “Thank you, Iza.
I’ve got it.”

He waited until Izabell was out of earshot
before he said, “Have you ever started a voluntary fire?”

“Never. Erwan said I only started two fires
when I was three years old.”

“After the fires started in Larmor, did you
feel any different?” he said, studying her.

She thought for a while. “I had the dream,
and I started sleepwalking. I felt something inside of me when you
took me to the yacht. Without being able to put my finger on it, I
can only tell you that I felt stronger, surer of myself, of what
was going to happen.”

“Does it get stronger still?”

“Yes. It may be nothing. It just feels like a
new kind of confidence.”

Izabell reentered with a platter of oysters
on a bed of crushed ice.

“I hope you like them,” she said to Clelia.
“Josselin wasn’t much help there. For someone who knows you down to
the size of your shoes and underwear, he doesn’t know much about
your eating preferences.”

Clelia felt herself flush, and looked at her
hands. “I love oysters. Thank you.”

“She grew up here, Iza.”

Izabell shrugged, apparently oblivious to
Clelia’s discomfort. “That doesn’t count for anything. So did I and
I hate oysters.” She poured them each a glass of water from a
decanter and gave Clelia a sunny smile. “Eat up. You’re such a
skinny little thing.”

When Izabell had left the room, Josselin
prepared an oyster with lemon juice, pinched it with his fork, and
brought it to Clelia’s mouth. “Open.”

She obeyed. With Josselin, everything was a
command, and she loved the way he took charge when needed, knowing
exactly when to let her have some control of her own. Right now,
she wanted him to take the lead. She needed his strength, not only
for the danger that waited, but also for the initiation into making
her his lover. Just watching his black hair shine in the light of
the candle, the white streaks a reminder of his inner darkness, and
the warmth in his eyes a reminder of how fully he had possessed her
in his bed last night, made her knees clench in need.

He watched her eat and take a sip of her
champagne with barely disguised passion.

“Where were we?” he said, clearly as affected
as she was with the anticipation of going back to bed. “Fires. Ah.
Yes. I would love to set fire to your body, to see your passion
burn for me.”

Clelia swallowed. She took another sip of the
delicious champagne as her throat went dry.

He seemed to compose himself with some
effort. “According to the research I’ve done, regressed art is
awakened by intense practice of the art or the presence of a
master.”

“Lupien?”

Josselin nodded. He fed her another oyster
before helping himself. “The records are limited. Fire starting
hasn’t been practiced for many centuries. According to what I could
lay my hands on, a regressed art can be brought to the surface by
the meticulous training of a master, or by a sudden onset of
powerful shock or emotion.”

Despite her fear, Clelia’s interest was
piqued. “Where did you find such records?”

“Lann is an avid collector of ancient books.
His private library proved to be an invaluable source of
information.”

“So, I need a master.”

Josselin’s gaze turned somber, and Clelia
knew that she had touched on the crux of the problem.

“There is no other master firestarter,” she
said slowly. “Lupien is the only one.”

“According to the records I have access to,
yes.”

Clelia felt her wariness grow. “How will I
manage then? You’re not going to give me some electric shock or
something?”