Chapter 6: Velvet Hunger
The gardens of Château Liore, bathed in soft golden light, had come alive as if painted by some delicate artist's brush. The wild roses, pale blushes and creamy whites, twirled their way around the iron trellises, while lavender bushes, their fragrance sweet and intoxicating, swayed gently in the breeze. It was late afternoon, and the air felt like a whispered promise, a world secluded from the rest of existence.
Evelyn, the quiet sentinel of this peaceful space, sat on a marble bench beneath the old olive tree. The branches of the tree above rustled with a sound that seemed to belong only to her. Nestled in her arms was Eva, a tiny weight of peace and wonder, a secret too precious for the world to hold. The child was unusually quiet. She held in her hands a small yellow daisy, the wild bloom plucked from the garden paths.
"She sorted the petals again," Evelyn murmured, her fingers brushing over Eva's fine hair, trailing down to caress the soft curve of her cheek. "Color by color."
"She doesn't play like the others," came Vivienne's voice from behind, light and teasing, but underneath, there was something softer, almost tender. She approached, dressed in her usual understated elegance, her linen robe trailing behind her like something ethereal. Every movement was deliberate, graceful, as if the garden itself bent to her will.
"She doesn't play," Evelyn echoed, her voice a murmur, "She observes. She understands."
Eva's heavy eyes fluttered against her mother's chest, drowsy and calm, her small fingers still clutching the delicate flower. Evelyn continued, "She's too wise for her years."
Vivienne's gaze softened, a knowing smile touching the corner of her lips as she crouched beside Evelyn. "It's a blessing," she said, but her voice held a guarded edge, a hint of something unresolved between them.
"She doesn't know how to rest," Evelyn added, a trace of weariness in her voice. She had never known how to rest herself. The weight of her name, her legacy, was always heavy on her shoulders. Her mind, like Eva's, could never be still. "Just like me."
Vivienne, her expression unreadable, offered a gentle smile. "You rest now. Let me take her," she said, her voice calm, coaxing. There was something more than maternal instinct in her tone. It was deeper, a pull between them that neither could deny.
Evelyn hesitated, then slowly, with great care, transferred Eva into Vivienne's arms. The child barely stirred, shifting slightly before settling against Vivienne's chest. It wasn't the comfort of a mother's embrace. It was something quieter, something more intimate. Evelyn's fingers hovered near Vivienne's arm before slowly withdrawing.
"She adores you," Evelyn whispered, her breath soft in the air.
Vivienne didn't answer. She simply nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of Eva's head, her fingers gently brushing through the child's hair.
*****
Later that night, the silence in the château deepened. The sound of doors closing, the soft rustling of curtains, the stillness of the world outside. The moonlight, pale and delicate, filtered through the sheer lace curtains in Vivienne's private room. The house was quiet, the kind of silence that held a thousand unsaid things.
Evelyn stood with her back pressed against the door, locking it with a soft click. She didn't speak. Her gaze lingered on Vivienne, who sat at her writing desk, clad in a soft nightdress, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She didn't turn around as Evelyn approached, but her voice came low, velvet-tinged.
"You shouldn't be here."
"I always shouldn't be here," Evelyn replied, her voice a challenge, a half-smile on her lips. She crossed the room, slow and deliberate, her body responding to the pull of Vivienne's presence like gravity.
Vivienne stood, facing Evelyn. Her eyes were unreadable in the dim light, her posture one of quiet authority. "Then why are you here?"
Evelyn's steps were measured, but her breath hitched with the desire that had been building inside her for days. "Because I can't stop wanting you," she confessed, her voice strained with the admission.
Vivienne inhaled sharply, the silence thick between them. "And yet every time you leave, you pretend it never happened," she whispered, the words edged with something close to regret.
Evelyn's heart pounded, her hands trembling as she moved closer. "I'm not pretending tonight," she whispered, the hunger in her voice impossible to ignore.
There was a pause—an eternity stretched between them. Then Evelyn moved first, her hands settling against Vivienne's waist. One hand grazed the curve of her collarbone, and before either of them could think, she was straddling Vivienne's lap, her knees bracketing the older woman's thighs, her fingers tangling in Vivienne's hair.
Their mouths met, not gently, but with a familiar urgency, an ache they both knew too well. Evelyn moaned into the kiss, her hands gripping Vivienne's frame as if she were afraid to fall.
Vivienne responded in kind, pulling her closer, her hands running down Evelyn's back, pressing her against her own warmth. She pulled back just enough to whisper, "Evelyn—"
"Please," Evelyn's voice cracked, raw with desire, "Don't ask me to stop."
Vivienne didn't answer. She kissed her again, deeper, more fervently, like they had been waiting for this moment for far too long.
The air between them thickened, the room filling with the sound of their racing breaths, the taste of wine and need, a longing that neither could deny. Evelyn rocked in Vivienne's lap, her hands gripping the older woman's back as if she might lose herself without it.
"Tell me I can have this," Evelyn gasped, "Just tonight. Just—"
"You can have everything," Vivienne answered breathlessly, her voice no longer steady. "You always could."
The room around them seemed to disappear. It was only the heat of their bodies, the soft slide of skin against skin, the sound of frantic breathing. The world outside their private space ceased to exist. For that moment, nothing mattered but the sensation of being completely consumed by one another.
Evelyn's forehead pressed against Vivienne's, her hands tangled in the older woman's hair, their breaths mingling as they kissed once more, as if each kiss could erase the distance that had always separated them.
When they finally broke apart, Evelyn's voice was soft, her body trembling from the intensity. "Again. Please. I still—"
Vivienne's lips silenced her once more, their bodies once again colliding, the world outside ceasing to exist.
*****
Hours later, the first light of dawn seeped through the curtains. Evelyn lay sprawled across Vivienne's bed, tangled in the sheets, her cheek pressed against Vivienne's bare shoulder. The room was still, the only sound the quiet rhythm of their breathing. Vivienne's fingers gently stroked Evelyn's hair, as though she were trying to memorize the feel of her.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
Finally, Vivienne's voice broke the silence, soft and resigned. "You're still going to leave this room and pretend," she said quietly.
Evelyn didn't answer. She didn't need to.
Vivienne didn't need her to.
*****
The next morning, the sun was high as Evelyn, still wrapped in the aftershocks of the night, carried Eva through the garden again. Her little notebook clutched tightly in one hand, the child's tiny feet dragging along the grass. Eva pointed to the intricate pattern she had drawn in the dirt, a precise spiral formed from pebbles and twigs.
"Look," she said softly, her voice a quiet whisper, "It turns."
Evelyn knelt beside her, still lost in the echoes of the night. "You made this?" she asked, her voice barely above a murmur.
Eva nodded, her small finger tracing the center of the design. "Start here," she said, showing her the starting point.
Vivienne appeared behind them silently, a warm drink in hand. She stood at a distance, observing them without a word, her gaze unreadable.
Evelyn looked up and met her gaze briefly, her heart still a flutter from the closeness they had shared the night before. She smiled, a quiet acknowledgment of the bond they shared, of everything unspoken that passed between them.
Vivienne's lips curled in a soft, almost imperceptible smile. Her gaze softened, but it was fleeting.
Reginald stood in the library, watching them from the window. His frown deepened as he saw Evelyn leaning too close to Vivienne, saw the subtle way their bodies brushed against one another as they walked with Eva between them. His eyes narrowed. But he said nothing.
For now, the quiet evolution continued.