Mistakes of the Heart (eBook, ePUB)
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was threatening. Low clouds hung over theThe village churchyard, and Christine felt the cold, damp winter air as she stood beside the freshly dug grave. Grief coursed through her for the kind man who had come to her rescue when the man she longed for most on Earth disappeared. But now Vasilis Kyrgiakis was gone, his heart finally failing him, as expected. Making her a widow.The word crossed her mind as she stood there alone, head bowed. Everyone had been very kind to her because Vasilis was so well-liked, though she was very aware of the rumors circulating because she was so much younger than ...
was threatening. Low clouds hung over the
The village churchyard, and Christine felt the cold, damp winter air as she stood beside the freshly dug grave. Grief coursed through her for the kind man who had come to her rescue when the man she longed for most on Earth disappeared. But now Vasilis Kyrgiakis was gone, his heart finally failing him, as expected. Making her a widow.
The word crossed her mind as she stood there alone, head bowed. Everyone had been very kind to her because Vasilis was so well-liked, though she was very aware of the rumors circulating because she was so much younger than her middle-aged husband. But since the neighborhood's leading family, the Barcourts, accepted their Greek-born neighbor and his young wife, everyone else did too.
For her part, Christine had been completely loyal to her husband out of gratitude even in his final moments, and she felt tears well up in her eyes when the vicar spoke of engagement and the coffin was slowly lowered into the grave.
Christine felt a little dizzy and looked up to regain her balance. Her vision was blurry, but she froze when she saw in the distance a car stopped next to the hearse in which her husband had been transported. And beside it was a tall, motionless figure, a man she knew very well. A man she hadn't seen for five long years.
The last man I would ever want to see again.
Anatole watched very quietly the scene unfolding in the church cemetery. A myriad of emotions coursed through him, but his gaze was fixed on the slender, delicate figure dressed in black, standing next to the priest at his uncle's open grave. An uncle he had refused to see since the absurdity of his wedding.
He felt a pang of rage. At himself, and at the woman who had tricked his uncle into marrying her. He still didn't know how she'd managed it, but it was his own fault it had happened. He didn't realize the ambition he was generating in her. An ambition that had triggered her to try to catch him first, and when she saw that she couldn't, she turned to her hapless uncle, an easy target.
The woman then became aware of his presence and looked at him. Her expression was one of absolute shock. And then, with an abrupt movement, Anatole turned around, got into the car, and sped off down the quiet country road.
Emotion washed over him again, bringing him back to the past. Five long years ago...
Anatole drummed his fingers on the dashboard in frustration. He was stuck in rush-hour London traffic, but that wasn't the only thing that had him in a bad mood. It was the prospect of the night ahead. With Romola. Anatole's obsidian-black eyes sparked. She saw him as a potential husband, and that was exactly what she didn't want. Marriage was the last thing she was looking for.
His vision blurred slightly as he thought about his parents' messy lives. They had both been married many times, and he was born only seven months after their wedding, proving that both had been unfaithful to their previous partners. They had also been unfaithful to each other, and his mother left when Anatole was eleven.
The village churchyard, and Christine felt the cold, damp winter air as she stood beside the freshly dug grave. Grief coursed through her for the kind man who had come to her rescue when the man she longed for most on Earth disappeared. But now Vasilis Kyrgiakis was gone, his heart finally failing him, as expected. Making her a widow.
The word crossed her mind as she stood there alone, head bowed. Everyone had been very kind to her because Vasilis was so well-liked, though she was very aware of the rumors circulating because she was so much younger than her middle-aged husband. But since the neighborhood's leading family, the Barcourts, accepted their Greek-born neighbor and his young wife, everyone else did too.
For her part, Christine had been completely loyal to her husband out of gratitude even in his final moments, and she felt tears well up in her eyes when the vicar spoke of engagement and the coffin was slowly lowered into the grave.
Christine felt a little dizzy and looked up to regain her balance. Her vision was blurry, but she froze when she saw in the distance a car stopped next to the hearse in which her husband had been transported. And beside it was a tall, motionless figure, a man she knew very well. A man she hadn't seen for five long years.
The last man I would ever want to see again.
Anatole watched very quietly the scene unfolding in the church cemetery. A myriad of emotions coursed through him, but his gaze was fixed on the slender, delicate figure dressed in black, standing next to the priest at his uncle's open grave. An uncle he had refused to see since the absurdity of his wedding.
He felt a pang of rage. At himself, and at the woman who had tricked his uncle into marrying her. He still didn't know how she'd managed it, but it was his own fault it had happened. He didn't realize the ambition he was generating in her. An ambition that had triggered her to try to catch him first, and when she saw that she couldn't, she turned to her hapless uncle, an easy target.
The woman then became aware of his presence and looked at him. Her expression was one of absolute shock. And then, with an abrupt movement, Anatole turned around, got into the car, and sped off down the quiet country road.
Emotion washed over him again, bringing him back to the past. Five long years ago...
Anatole drummed his fingers on the dashboard in frustration. He was stuck in rush-hour London traffic, but that wasn't the only thing that had him in a bad mood. It was the prospect of the night ahead. With Romola. Anatole's obsidian-black eyes sparked. She saw him as a potential husband, and that was exactly what she didn't want. Marriage was the last thing she was looking for.
His vision blurred slightly as he thought about his parents' messy lives. They had both been married many times, and he was born only seven months after their wedding, proving that both had been unfaithful to their previous partners. They had also been unfaithful to each other, and his mother left when Anatole was eleven.
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