Free Leonie by Elizabeth Adler

Surely he could feel her shaking, it was a tremor—a volcano—Vesuvius. She was erupting with new emotions. Rupert was smiling at her. “I saw you before,” he said. “We arrived at the same moment. I wanted to speak to you then but at parties like this it’s difficult to get through the crowds.”
    She wanted him to continue speaking so she could just listen. His voice was deep with the faintest of accents. His thick blond hair fell over his eyes so beautifully that she wanted to touch it.Léonie realized suddenly that he was waiting for her to say something, but she couldn’t speak and she gazed at him, her eyes wide with panic. Oh, God, she thought, here is the man of my dreams and I don’t know what to say to him.
    Rupert made it easy for her. “Supper is being served in the next room,” he said, taking her by the arm and leading her away. “You must be hungry by now—I know I am.”
    They were the most romantic words Léonie had ever heard.
    “Oh, Alphonse,” said Caro, watching them go. “What have I done now?”
    The buffet table brimmed with extravagances. A cornucopia carved from ice spilled green and purple sugar-glazed grapes onto an enormous silver platter piled high with long-stemmed strawberries and scattered with fresh roses so their scents mingled tantalizingly. Silver bowls held figs and peaches fresh from Alphonse’s wonderful hothouses in the country. There were tiny quails stuffed with truffles perched on circles of basil-scented toast, and crystal glasses filled with mellow Clos Lafite, poured by a white-gloved butler. There were elaborate confections in pastry, creamy things, perfumed things, tiny exquisite chocolatey things—it was a buffet designed to titillate the senses, and Caro’s guests crowded around, ready to sample it all.
    Léonie couldn’t eat. Rupert tried to tempt her with the truffles. “What am I going to do with you?” he cried in despair. “You don’t talk to me, you don’t eat … are you a goddess not to need food and conversation?”
    “The truth is,” she whispered, “I’m scared.”
    “Scared? Of what?”
    “Of this,” she waved her arm at the crowded room. “They all know each other, they all belong.”
    “You belong”—Rupert took her hand possessively—“and you’re with me.” He picked up the fork and offered her a morsel. “And now you must eat; I’m afraid you’ll disappear unless I know you’re mortal like the rest of us.”
    She was lovely, so innocent, he thought. She was like a young animal; no matter what she did, how she moved, she had her own charming grace. How had he lived before he met her? He was absorbed in her eyes, the pinkness of her mouth as she opened it to receive the strawberry he offered. His hand trembled and he longed to touch her. Could he be in love with a girl who barelyspoke to him, whom he’d known for only a few moments? Oh, yes. Oh, yes, he could.
    Caro watched them anxiously from across the room. She was aware of Rupert’s family commitments, and like a fool she’d introduced him to Léonie. Looking at them now, their blond heads together, sitting so close at that tiny table that their legs touched—even from this distance, she could feel the vibrations. Léonie was too vulnerable and Rupert was no good for her; she had to do something about it.
    “Rupert,” said Alphonse, “I believe Caro has someone she’d like you to meet.” Rupert was irritated by the interruption, but too polite to snub his hostess. “Of course.” He looked into Léonie’s eyes. “Will I see you later?”
    “Oh, yes,” she said. “Please.”
    Alphonse took her arm. “Let me introduce you to some people, Léonie.” He smiled. “Rupert has been monopolizing you.”
    Gilles de Courmont kissed Caro’s hand. “I haven’t enjoyed a party so much for years,” he told her as he said good-bye. He made his way toward Alphonse, and Caro stared after him in surprise. He certainly hadn’t looked as though he was enjoying