U.S. Marines - Book 1 - Taking his Leave E-Book

Romano Arria

• Herausgeber: So Romance
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: U.S. Marines
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 355

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

After leaving London for South Carolina, Livia meets an American soldier on leave.

Livia decides to leave London and its high society behind to embark on an adventure in Beaufort, South Carolina. For the sophisticated, city-bred blonde, it is a journey into completely unfamiliar territory and a frantic quest for novelty. Her American stay becomes a thrilling odyssey the evening she has a chance encounter with Hudson Rowe, an impetuous captain with jade-green eyes, on a one-month leave before his return to the front lines…

Discover the first volume of the bestselling U.S. Marines saga and immerse yourself in a unique and sensual love story!

EXTRACT

—Watch your words, Lawrence. Just because you’re fifty-five doesn’t mean I’ll allow you to use that caustic tone when you speak about me. I’m still your mother, the one who carried you in my womb. Without me, you would be nothing. And I remind you that that backwater, as you like to call it, is the land I come from. I would never have left it if your father hadn’t gone there on vacation before meeting me and asking me to marry him. You should be proud of Beaufort. And if your daughter decides to live there for a while, you have no right to prevent her. Livia will live in the beautiful home I once shared with my parents in Old Point, in the historic district. Today, it’s Scarlett, my late sister’s granddaughter, who occupies it alone. It will be a chance for these two young cousins to get to know each other… and about time!
WHAT THE CRITICS ARE SAYING

Arria Romano, an author to watch for fans of sexy military men and young women determined to take control of their lives. - missnefer13500, Babelio

The plot is gripping and I really want to know what happens next. I'm off to read volume 2! - merlin63, BookNode

"A beautiful story, fast-paced yet still believable. The characters are very endearing, especially Hudson, the breathtaking captain... you really root for a happy ending!"! - raphMK, BookNode

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Arria Romano studies military history at the Sorbonne and is passionate about literature and art. For several years, she has been writing historical novels and romances—whether they take place in the past, the present, or are even shrouded in a veil of magic… as long as love and passion remain the central thread of the story.

Leseprobe

Cover

Title page

1

Belgravia, London June 2007

Over the rim of his tea cup, Lawrence Cartmell, a wealthy fifty-something with a colorful tongue, known for his brilliant political career and lion-like demeanor, was watching his daughter, the youngest of his two children, intently. He narrowed his forget-me-not blue eyes, fierce and piercing, the only genetic traits she had inherited from him, then casually declared with the nonchalance of someone who always knows what’s coming:

“I know you have something important to tell me, Livia.”

The aforementioned Livia slowly raised her head from her plate of scones, looked at her father for a long moment with a hesitant expression, then took a deep breath. Indeed, she had something to reveal, but it had to be done with the finesse of someone determined to see their plans through to the end, come what may. So, to give herself the necessary time to gather enough calm within, Livia first set about spreading clotted cream and strawberry jam on half of a scone.

Lawrence was growing impatient; he wasn’t in the mood to waste time given the mountain of work awaiting him in his office, but good manners forbade him from showing it. Among the perfectly educated and the most cunning politicians, patience and dissimulation were essential.

“Indeed,” Livia finally admitted. “Would you like a scone?” she continued, presenting him with the generously topped one, hoping to soften the remarks her father was sure to hurl at her once the confessions were made.

“No, thank you. I hope this time it’s something concrete,” said Lawrence, silently placing his cup back on its saucer.

Livia guessed her father hoped for an upcoming marriage with Miles Wharton, the son of a British businessman and Lawrence’s beloved protégé, the man on whom he had pinned all his political aspirations.

Alas, that was not the subject. Far from it.

“More concrete than ever.”

Livia bit gracefully into her scone, trying to stimulate her courage and eloquence, as the knot in her stomach that had gripped her since the morning seemed to tie her tongue. Sitting in the middle of the sumptuous drawing room of their family home, which her mother loved to adorn with new antiques acquired from the world’s most prestigious auctions, the young woman resembled a charming lady of centuries past.

Pale blonde, porcelain complexion, dignified and gentle expression, dressed with careful consideration, she mirrored the heiresses who populated London’s most affluent neighborhoods and presented as the spitting image of her mother, Irene, who sat next to Lawrence on a sky-blue chaise longue, exuding the distinction of a queen-consort beside her king.

With her light brown eyes, Irene watched her daughter with curiosity. Her nervousness boded ill; she sensed it.

“We’re listening, Livia.”

“I won’t be working at King’s College this year, as I’ve been transferred to another university for a year,” she confessed after placing half the scone back on her plate.

“Cambridge? Oxford?”

“No, abroad.”

“The Sorbonne, in Paris?”

“— No. It’s not in Europe.”

“Not in Europe?” Irene repeated, widening her eyes. “But where then?”

“In South Carolina. In Beaufort to be more precise.”

“Beaufort? You mean that backwater where my mother was born?” Lawrence almost choked.

“If I may say so, Beaufort is not a backwater. It’s a picturesque town, lively and rich in cultural and natural attractions.

“It’s neither London, nor Oxford, nor Paris, nor any other European city,” retorted Lawrence with a disdainful pout. “Why were you sent there? Did you disappoint King’s College?”

“No, Dad, I asked for this transfer.”

“What madness crossed your mind?”

“I need a change of scenery, to discover another universe…”

“A change of scenery and discovering another universe? How long is this going to last?” Lawrence interrupted, annoyed. “You’ve explored the world with us; we’ve shown you the most beautiful places on this planet, and you want to discover another universe?”

The fifty-something leaned back more firmly against the chaise longue and grumbled toward his wife:

“It’s certainly my mother who put the idea in her head to go there, to discover a part of her origins, I suppose.”

“Dad, I want to leave my comfort zone, to emancipate myself and confront myself in a place I don’t know, where I’m a stranger to everyone. I need to become independent.”

“You are incapable of independence, Livia,” Lawrence replied curtly, his expression austere. “In twenty-six years of existence, you have always been unable to take care of yourself.”

“Whose fault is that? You and Mom have always over­protected me!”

“Because you have always been a fragile and impressionable child,” he said mercilessly.

“That’s what you think. I can prove to you that I also have my own ideas about my future.”

“By going to settle for a year in South Carolina, in the American countryside, far from London and all the opportunities it can offer you? If Mimi left Beaufort in 1951, it’s because there was nothing there! You’ll waste a year of your life for nothing.”

“On the contrary, I’ll come back fulfilled and enriched with new experiences. And besides, after more than fifty years, the town has transformed.”

“Transformed? You’re kidding. All you’ll find there are alligators, shrimp, hicks, and U.S. Marines. Nothing beneficial for you.”

“The world does not revolve around London, Dad. Stop being so contemptuous. South Carolina is also a part of you.”

Lawrence shot his daughter a frosty look, but she did not let herself be intimidated and stood her ground, without insolence, but with conviction and firmness.

“And what does Miles think about all this? Do you think he will let his fiancée go to the other side of the world?”

Livia sighed, barely concealing her exasperation mixed with deep embarrassment.

“Miles is actually the other subject I wanted to discuss with you.”

“I don’t appreciate your first revelation, and by the way you mention Miles, I assume his will be even worse news, muttered the politician.”

“I can’t hide anything from you.”

Lawrence glared at Livia as she tried to continue her thought, but the unexpected intervention of a seventy-something with a white mane, dressed in a kimono as blue as her doe-like eyes, silenced her for a few seconds.

“My darlings, I have excellent news to share with you! she exclaimed, standing in the center of the drawing room, her eyes radiating an unalterable joy.”

“What now, Mom? Are you going to move to the other side of the world like your crazy granddaughter?”

Lawrence was being sarcastic, slightly dampening the elderly woman’s cheer, who immediately turned her attention back to Livia.

“Have you finally decided to tell them?”

“You knew about this crazy plan, Mom?”

“Yes, but I promised not to tell you before she did.”

“You encouraged her, admit it!”

“Livia wanted to travel, and I advised her on the destination. Personally, if you’ll allow me, Lawry, it’s a great thing for her to go discover South Carolina, the birthplace of several of your ancestors… especially after a disastrous breakup.”

“A disastrous breakup?” the Cartmell couple echoed, their eyes wide with astonishment.

The matriarch of the family, Millicent Swanson-Cartmell, famous in the neighborhood for her romantic extravagances, realized her blunder when she saw her granddaughter biting her lower lip, overwhelmed and nervous under the fiery gazes of her parents.

“Oops… you hadn’t told them yet, had you?”

“You spared me that pain, Mimi.”

“What’s this breakup story? Does it… does it concern Miles?”

“Who else would it concern? We broke up three weeks ago. I didn’t tell you right away because I was ashamed… she began before pausing, needing to continue her revelations. I discovered he had a double life with a Russian model. A man. Miles is gay. He didn’t think he was when we got together, but as the years went by, he realized he was irrevocably attracted to men… he assured me it wasn’t my fault, that it was just in his nature.

“I saw Miles the day before yesterday, and he didn’t mention a word to me!”

“I begged him to let me announce it to you myself.”

“I need a whisky,” Irene breathed out, on the verge of fainting.

Irene was sensitive, and a single piece of upsetting news was enough to justify consuming hard liquor. With a sudden movement, she rose from the chaise longue and moved toward an olive wood liquor cabinet to fetch a bottle of Old Pulteney. Millicent seized the opportunity to take her place next to Lawrence.

After what seemed like an endless silence to Livia, he continued in a hoarse tone, choked by an emotion that his daughter identified as a mix of dismay and simmering anger:

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I repeat, Dad, I was ashamed. Ashamed to have been with a man I loved and couldn’t keep. Even if he says it’s in his nature, I see this relationship as a personal failure. For three weeks, I’ve been wondering what was wrong with me, what was so wrong that a man would prefer to cheat on me with another…”

Irene returned with a crystal glass and the bottle of whisky, moved to see her only daughter so filled with pain, her eyes misty as she continued to clarify:

“I asked for a transfer far from here, in an environment different from what I’ve always known, hoping to heal, to start over without him. I need physical distance to avoid sinking into depression, to feel free… I can’t take London anymore, the circles we run in, and seeing him every time I leave the house… you know I’ve always wanted to have a personal experience in South Carolina, where Mimi grew up. So I considered this misfortune the trigger.”

Irene took a sip of whisky, her gaze distant, utterly dazed by the bombshell her daughter had dropped. Miles Wharton, the son-in-law every mother dreamed of having, one of the finest catches in the country, wealthy like a prince, ambitious, and as magnificent as Adonis, was actually gay?

No, this had to be a nightmare.

She took another gulp, the aggressive warmth of the whisky now flooding her palate, then murmured, her eyes filled with ashes, her mind emptied of grand dreams:

“Impossible… you looked so good together… you were destined to represent the youth and future in your father’s party…”

The matrimonial project between Livia and Miles had begun with financial and political interests, where two great fortunes joined forces to build one of the most influential powers in the country. The years that had passed had kindled affection between the two fiancés and ripened the fruit that their respective parents were preparing to savor.

But the delectable plan they had concocted had just exploded unexpectedly, detonating, reducing that long-term endeavor to dust.

The disappointment was indescribable.

“Why does this kind of thing always happen to you, Livia? What have we done to deserve this? Miles seemed so perfect… oh my God, what a disgrace for us…”

Livia, her throat choked with tears, listened to her mother, vowing not to cry anymore. Not now, in public, before the people she respected most in the world. No, too many tears had already been shed for Miles, that traitor who claimed to hold his values so dear while gleefully deceived her. Even if he swore it was against his will.

“Too perfect not to be hiding a heavy secret. Fortunately, we weren’t married yet.”

“At least you would have been compensated during the divorce, Lawrence replied bitterly.”

“Why do you always have to see the financial aspect?” Millicent interjected.

“Because it’s the only real thing, Mom. If women can’t bet on the genuine feelings of the men they love, at least they can count on their money.”

“You’re so cynical…”

“Realistic,” Lawrence retorted dryly as he stood up to begin pacing the drawing room.

Livia knew she was disappointing her parents with her romantic troubles and causing them worry with her new project, but it was an opportunity to assert herself, to show them that she could emancipate herself from their lineage, embark on an adventure, and seek the freedom she had never tasted before.

Instinctively, the young woman sought comfort from the furry ball lying beside her on one of the Louis XV armchairs in the room. It was Brünhild, her brave dog, a King Charles Spaniel with a Spanheim coat, barely four months old but already possessing a strong character. Gently, she scooped up the animal with both hands and placed it on her lap to cuddle it.

”We won’t be able to look after you like we do here in ­Beaufort.”

“I’m twenty-six today; I can take care of myself.”

Lawrence gave a sardonic smile that petrified her with exasperation.

“You’ve never set foot there. Do you even know what it looks like where you’ll be working, at that dubious university? And where on earth will you be living?

“Mimi helped me find accommodation. With someone trustworthy.”

Lawrence and Irene shot Millicent a sharp, resentful glance.

“Of course, Mimi is always complicit in your crazy schemes.”

“Watch your words, Lawrence. Just because you’re fifty-five doesn’t mean I’ll allow you to use that caustic tone when you speak about me. I’m still your mother, the one who carried you in my womb. Without me, you would be nothing. And I remind you that that backwater, as you like to call it, is the land I come from. I would never have left it if your father hadn’t gone there on vacation before meeting me and asking me to marry him. You should be proud of Beaufort. And if your daughter decides to live there for a while, you have no right to prevent her. Livia will live in the beautiful home I once shared with my parents in Old Point, in the historic district. Today, it’s Scarlett, my late sister’s granddaughter, who occupies it alone. It will be a chance for these two young cousins to get to know each other… and about time!”

“I didn’t know you had reconnected with the Swansons,” Lawrence observed, not hiding his surprise.

“It was little Scarlett who contacted me last year when she learned from her grandmother that she had family in London. That child is, since my sister’s death, the last representative of the Swansons. With me, of course. Putting her in touch with Livia is a wonderful thing, for both of them.”

A spark suddenly passed through Lawrence’s forget-me-not eyes, and he stopped walking to fix a gaze shining with sudden insight on his mother.

“I just understood, Mom. It was you who whispered the idea to Livia to go live in Beaufort to take care of this cousin we hardly know.”

“Oh come on, what are you singing about?” Millicent sighed, annoyed by her son’s discernment.

“You feel guilty for leaving your sister in the most painful moments of her life, and now you’re trying to make amends by sending Livia to play the companion with her granddaughter. It would be a way for you to relieve your guilt, wouldn’t it?”

“I only want Livia and Scarlett to get to know each other. They’re about the same age, and they need each other.”

“How might Livia need this stranger, pray tell?”

“This stranger is part of her family. Livia needs to find herself, to have new experiences, and what better way to do it then to meet a young woman and a land that are part of her family history? Plus, this stay there would also be an opportunity to help Scarlett maintain the house. If I didn’t know how to support my sister in the past, at least I can try with her last descendant…”

“And why don’t you go yourself, Mom?” Lawrence exploded.

He refrained from smashing the pretty Chinese vase placed on the nearby side table and took a deep breath. His relaxation therapist had taught him a breathing technique to avoid succumbing to a nervous breakdown.

“But I will accompany Livia for her immersion there. For the first few weeks.”

“But why did you encourage her to stay a year? A lot can happen in a year, especially in London!”

Livia, who had until then let her father and grandmother verbally spar, intervened:

“At first, Mimi only asked me to go for a month or two. It was the breakup with Miles that made me want to stay longer.”

“I’m sure there’s a way to cancel this project,” Irene mumbled, pretending to think.

“That’s out of the question, Mom. I’m leaving with Mimi there next week, whether you’re happy about it or not,” Livia protested firmly before softening. I know you’re upset with us, but this is a necessary experience and a duty to the memory of the Swansons. I can’t wait to meet my cousin!”

“You’ve set up a real cabal.”

And to emphasize his exasperation, Lawrence walked past his wife, snatched the bottle of Old Pulteney from her hands, and began drinking straight from the neck.

“Don’t count on my financial help for your nonsense.”

“Oh, we can do without it, Lawrence,” Millicent replied in a nonchalant tone that only increased her son’s displeasure.

Unwilling to stay another second in this drawing room where his mother and daughter were challenging him, he hurriedly left the room without a word or even a glance back, the bottle of whisky still in hand. Naturally, before disappearing, he made sure to slam the door violently, causing the three women and the crystal pendants of the chandelier fixed to the ceiling to jump.

Livia let out a sigh.

The toughest part was over.

2

In the heart of South Carolina July 2007

With joy in their hearts, Livia and Millicent barely refrained from running through Charleston airport to throw themselves into the arms of Scarlett Swanson. It took them only a few seconds to recognize their American relative, among all the people waiting for the passengers from their flight to appear at the arrival area. The latter had carefully crafted a cardboard sign displaying their two names in bold letters.

“Livia, Mimi!”

Scarlett couldn’t care less about appearing proper in public, and without a hint of hesitation, she weaved swiftly between the people blocking her path to reach them. The next moment, she was pushing their luggage cart aside to warmly embrace them one by one.

Just minutes earlier, the two young women had only known each other virtually, thanks to Millicent’s mediation, but watching their affectionate embrace, no one would have suspected it. After three months of phone correspondence, they behaved like two cousins who had grown up together, separated by a month or two of vacation.

“I’m so happy to see you! Finally meeting you, Livia, in the flesh,” Scarlett confessed, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

“Me too, Scarlett. I’ve dreamed of meeting my American cousin for so long.”

“Oh, your British accent! Scarlett exclaimed, her voice brimming with delight. I’m in love with it. And you are so beautiful.”

Scarlett accompanied her compliment with an appreciative glance, admiring her friend’s sleek silhouette, elegant and airy in her lovely chic and comfortable travel outfit, made up of a fine white cotton dress cinched at the waist with a thick brown belt, perfectly matched with a pair of cocoa suede wedges. And what about her impeccable makeup, her hair worthy of Anita Ekberg, her spacious Louis Vuitton suitcases, and her King Charles Spaniel, quietly asleep in a quality leather bag, signed by a name Scarlett had never heard of in South Carolina?

Livia resembled a diplomat’s wife on an official trip, and Scarlett adored all that sophistication unfolding before her, even if her own appearance was of an entirely different sort. First of all, Scarlett did not possess the sylph-like figure that Livia did, but rather generous, full curves that excluded tight-fitting clothes, for fear of giving her a vulgar appearance. Next, with her very long red braid, her riding boots, her jeans, her honey-colored Indian jacket, her lack of makeup, and—oh, horror—the little freckles that dotted her rosy cheeks and sun-kissed nose, she imposed herself as the modern heiress of Calamity Jane.

“You’re lovely too, Scarlett.”

The latter released a musical laugh, so genuine and joyful.

“Absolutely! You resemble your grandmother quite a bit,” Millicent added, adopting her Southern American accent, which she must have polished in the past under the influence of her British husband.

Millicent was dressed in a mauve pantsuit and a matching fascinator, as delightful as a macaron from a high-end French bakery. At her age, she had maintained her figure and exuded a vivacity that many young women would envy.

“How polite you are! I look like a farmer next to you. I would have liked to change to welcome you, but I took longer than expected helping a friend at his riding center in Kiawah Island. I told him about you, Livia, saying you were an equestrian enthusiast and would love to take long horseback rides on the beach. He would love to meet you and let you use one of his horses.”

“I’m thrilled! I can’t wait to discover South Carolina and do all those things you told me about. If you only knew how eager I was to come… it feels so good to leave London.”

— You’ll see, my angel, you’re going to fall madly in love with this country, Millicent interjected.

In the following minutes, the trio left the terminal from which Livia and Millicent had emerged to reach the underground parking lot. It was the moment for them to discover, not without an exclamation of wonder, Scarlett’s shiny vintage navy Beetle, identical to the star car from the movie The Love Bug, released in theaters in 1968.

“You weren’t joking when you said you drove your father’s collector car!” Millicent exclaimed.

“I present to you Blue Coco, my daddy’s jewel.”

“Your father was a car enthusiast, just like your great-grandfather.”

“Yes he was. After seeing the model in the movies, he did everything to get one. Before he died, he made me promise never to part with it and to take care of it as if it were the apple of my eye; that’s how precious this car was to him. So, what do you think of it?

“Magnificent. I would love to have a model like that,” Livia admitted.

“You can drive it if you’d like,” Scarlett said, opening the trunk to store their suitcases, assisted by her cousin.

“Livia isn’t particularly comfortable behind the wheel. The last time I trained her to drive, on a country road, we ended up in a pond. Luckily, there was only a little damage!” Millicent recounted with cheerful teasing.

“I’m a real danger on the road.”

Scarlett laughed again, with that melodious and contagious laughter that already heralded the joyful cohabitation to come between the young women.

“What a whimsical character.”

The trio then settled inside the Beetle.

“Mimi, I’ve made the old room of Grandma available for you. As for you, Livia, you’ll have my mother’s room, who has been living with her new husband in San Francisco for over ten years. Both rooms will be perfect for you. Spacious, tastefully decorated, each with a four-post bed, a large wardrobe, and a private bathroom.”

“You’re adorable, Scarlett,” Livia said, rewarding her with a grateful smile.

“Thank you for living here for a year! Since Dad and Grandma passed away, I feel terribly alone at home, she explained, darkening a little. It was a real downward spiral… when Dad passed away two years ago from cancer, Grandma fell into depression and followed him the next year… it will do me good to have company.”

“Don’t worry, Scarlett, we’re here now,” Millicent assured from the passenger seat, placing her hand on the redhead’s shoulder to convey her compassion. “We will rekindle our ties, and I will help you financially to maintain the house. As for Livia, you can count on her support, presence, and friendship. I want you both to be as close as sisters.”

Through the mirror of her rearview, Scarlett’s peridot green eyes studied Livia, who was settled in the back seat with her dog.

“Thank you so much for being here, and I’ll also be there for your daughter.”

Livia shot Scarlett a smile and leaned forward to touch her shoulder in a gesture as warm as Millicent’s.

“Do you see your mother often, Scarlett?” their grandmother wanted to know.

“I try to go to San Francisco once a year, especially in August. Sometimes for Christmas. But I have to admit I’ve always been closer to my father. I love my mother, but the further apart we are, the better we get along. I couldn’t explain it, but it’salways been that way.”

A Celtic rock song filled the vehicle’s cabin as Scarlett started the engine, and Millicent pleaded with her to play something with swing. Moments later, the trio was leaving the parking lot and gradually moving away from Charleston airport, heading toward the small town of Beaufort, two hours away.

The journey was filled with joviality and laughter. As she discovered the summer landscape, exotic to her but typical of South Carolina, where Millicent had grown up, Livia appreciated her cousin’s exuberance, innate charm, delightful simplicity, and humor. She hung on her every word, meticulously recording all the information about the region, the activities available, and the neighborhood she would be part of for a year.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Livia exclaimed when they reached downtown Charleston, her eyes sparkling with amazement.

Before her lay a city full of wonders, rich in bright colors under a scorching sun, with a serene and languorous rhythm. Charleston was the opposite of London. Small, straddling land and sea, unique with its colorful houses, its single houses so typical of its colonial heritage, its historic monuments, its iconic palm trees, and the carriages leisurely moving ­alongside cars, drawn by magnificent horses, it stood as the pearl of South Carolina.

Beyond Charleston, a lush countryside unfolded, with a humid subtropical climate where ancient oaks stood tall beside the swamps, great lakes, the remnants of old plantations, and the slightly mystical atmosphere of a land that had once been the theater of a tumultuous history.

After two hours of driving, the trio finally arrived in Old Point, the historic center of Beaufort, a charming little town of about twelve thousand inhabitants, resembling Charleston on a smaller scale.

“Back to my roots!” Millicent rejoiced as the car passed along Craven Street, this familiar street that had nurtured the memories of her childhood and adolescence.

Scarlett parked Blue Coco in the exterior garage space of a two-story wooden house, built in the image of the old ­Victorian homes typical of the South; very spacious, entirely painted white, but featuring a sky-blue front door and shutters. The combination of the two colors softened the solid and extremely square frame of the house, adorned at the facade with decorative colonnades. This house was an enchanting sight, so different from the Georgian mansion where Livia had always lived in London, massive and intimidating with its brick ­structure.

“Look, Livia, this is my parents’ house!”

Millicent jumped out of the car to hurry up the steps leading to the porch of the house, which was vast and carefully decorated, two rocking chairs languidly rocking back and forth.

“It’s even more welcoming in real life than in the photos you showed me. And the flowers growing all around… what a delight! Plus, there are bay windows,” Livia exclaimed, noticing the said windows on the left side of the house.

“Wait until you see the garden. It’s my haven of peace; the place where I love spending time when I’m off work,” Scarlett informed her.

Livia admired the white railings and colonnades that enclosed and supported the porch and the upper balcony of the house, not to mention the majestic American flag sprouting proudly from the upper railing in a grand display of patriotism.

The young woman naturally let her eyes roam over the other houses in the neighborhood, discovering a harmony of picturesque style. What’s more, the neighboring house that stood to the left had been built identically, with the only difference being that it was blue with white shutters, all closed. It appeared unoccupied, and at the sight of its peeling paint, it seemed the people living there cared little for its upkeep.

“That’s Hudson Rowe’s house,” Scarlett informed her. “He’s a close friend. If the shutters are closed, it’s because he hasn’t returned from his mission yet.”

“Mission?” Livia repeated, arching one of her fine blonde brows.

“Yes. He’s a captain in the U.S. Marine Corps, with the FORECON, to be specific.”

“The FORECON?”

“Force Reconnaissance. An elite unit in the Marines, trained for special operations, particularly dangerous ones. He can sometimes be away for months on end… it can even last over a year!”

Impressed, Livia absorbed the information, trying to picture the named Hudson Rowe.

“Their Latin motto is: Celer, Silens, Mortalis.”

“Quick, silent, deadly,” Livia translated as if she were discovering a Roman ruin, a little shiver running through her body.

“It sums up the character of their unit well. But don’t worry, all the FORECON guys I know are nice people in everyday life. You might meet Hudson one of these days, and I hope you do because he’s got a heart of gold. I’ve known him forever and he’s like a big brother to me.”

“How come no one lives here while he’s away?”

“His father died two years ago, and the old boy hasn’t managed to find himself a wife yet. Believe me, if there were one, his house wouldn’t look so haunted. I really need to tell him that!”

Still standing under the porch, Millicent intercepted snippets of their conversation and added:

“I didn’t know Paul Rowe had a grandson. None of the men in that family seem to want to leave the soldier’s life!”

“You knew the Rowes, Mimi?”

“Everyone knew each other in the neighborhood, a bit like now. I remember that Paul, who was the grandfather and a war hero, was a pretty strict guy, but he had a good heart and a sense of humor. Back then I babysat his son, Max. He must have been seven when I left the country. I never imagined he would die before me. In any case, it’s good to know he had a son and that you have a military neighbor.”

“You know, Mimi, there are military personnel almost everywhere in this town. We’re safe if someone declares war on us,” Scarlett joked.

Then, still filled with a sense of joy, Scarlett took Livia by the hand and invited her to follow her to the entrance of the house.

“Come discover your family home.”

Millicent and Livia were struck by the extravagant decoration of the interior, between the multicolored crystal chandeliers adorning every ceiling of the rooms, the antique furniture, some lovingly maintained, others patched up with makeshift means, like that delightful old gaming table made of rosewood, placed in a corner of the living room, supported by three Regency deer legs and a stack of old books as the fourth leg. Not to mention the purple velvet chaise longue, which harmonized with the collection of brightly colored Moroccan poufs scattered about on a beautiful Persian rug. This wasn’t the only rug gracing the room, but it was undoubtedly the most imposing and beautiful of all. The walls were painted ivory and adorned with bucolic paintings, their frames carved and covered in gold leaf, while the entire lower floor smelled of iris. Flowers seemed to be the emblem of this charming, whimsical house, reminiscent of a westernized caravansary.

“Good Lord, it feels like we’re in a fairy-tale tavern or something,” Millicent murmured.

“That’s the effect I was going for. I think this mix of styles gives off something of…”

And as Scarlett searched for the right word, Livia finished for her:

“Personal.”

“Exactly.”

“I feel I’m going to feel so good during my little stay. It will be a pleasant way to preface my spiritual immersion in Japan,” Millicent declared as she flopped down on the chaise longue.

“A spiritual immersion in Japan?”

“Mimi has decided to convert to Shintoism. That’s the big news of the year,” Livia added in a playful tone.

3

Marine Corps Recruit Depot, Parris Island One month later

No one was waiting for him.

Standing in the middle of the military base, surrounded by a regiment of his brothers-in-arms, Hudson Rowe surveyed the throng of women, sisters, mothers, brothers, fathers, and children, who, trembling with impatience and emotion, rushed to meet their beloved soldiers. For most of them, their absence had lasted nearly sixteen months. Sixteen months in unknown territory, leading a dangerous and uncertain life in the arid and impenetrable steppes of Afghanistan.

Hudson had been in the U.S. Marine Corps for fifteen years, and this was the sixth time he had returned from such a hellish mission. And as usual, among this vibrant assembly of emotional people, none had come specifically for him.

He had never felt more orphaned than in these moments of infinite happiness. Never so free either. This freedom was intoxicating, but sometimes left a bittersweet aftertaste, a lot like strong liquor. It was good to drink it up, but never to excess. To be drunk on freedom? Was it too dangerous? An illusion? A trap in which men loved to hide before realizing, always too late, that it led down the road to a deadly solitude?

He cast glances around him. A hundred American flags fluttered in the air to greet the soldiers, who could no longer hold back their tears of joy in the arms of their families. It was a scene filled with tender and passionate kisses, laughter, and joyous songs.

It was all joy, bliss, love, and tenderness. Hudson knew solidarity, brotherhood, friendship, empathy, pity, sadness, anger, hatred, and desire, but tenderness, sweetness, and love—this feeling capable of alienating a man’s body, heart, and soul, nourishing him as much as it could bring him down—were completely foreign to him… those emotions remained abstract ideas.

Lord… he had just celebrated his thirty-third birthday and was already starting to get old! At least, old enough to consider having a family, his own family, one he would build with a woman, the woman fate had destined for him since time immemorial, who he just hadn’t met yet.

“So, Rowe, still haven’t decided whether to come to ­Scotland with me?”

Hudson turned his gaze to one of his closest friends, a heavily built blond of the same age and rank as him, slightly shorter, nicknamed Scarface for the large scar that marked, like a seal of bravery and boldness, the entirety of his right cheek down to his chin. A souvenir from a breathless scuffle with a particularly tenacious Taliban fighter. But in terms of civil status, he was Keir Dalglish, a true Scotsman who had been conceived in Fort William and born in Edinburgh, before migrating to South Carolina at the age of three.

“You know I have to fix up my house.”

“You have four weeks of leave, and the only thing you can think of doing is fixing up your house? Can’t you take care of that on your next leave?” Keir huffed.

“When I find my house in pieces?”

“You’re exaggerating, it’s not in such bad shape.”

“It still needs a facelift. According to Scarlett, it’s pretty urgent.”

“Scarlett? Your neighbor the little witch tends to exaggerate everything.”

A sly smile blossomed on Hudson’s lips.

“I see you’re still mad at her for the bottle incident. If you think about it, the girl you were necking with screamed so loud she thought you were attacking her. She just wanted to defend her friend from a big guy like you. And with your face, it wouldn’t be crazy to think you just escaped from jail,” he teased.

“My face? If you try to make me self-conscious again, I’ll hit you, and we’ll see what yours ends up looking like,” Keir threatened, his expression so sullen that Hudson couldn’t help but laugh.

“We know I’ll always be the prettiest.”

“Brat! It’s a good thing you’re not coming with me to Scotland. Go back to your rundown house, your hysterical neighbor, and keep training your spider monkey without me.”

“It’s a capuchin.”

As if he knew he was being talked about, a small white-faced monkey suddenly popped out of the pocket of the backpack Hudson was carrying, then hopped onto the shoulder of the man who had become his master for a few weeks. The man and the beast had met in an Afghan cave, where Hudson and Keir had been hiding for several hours, trying to escape from a group of enemies. Thanks to the monkey, the two men had managed to outsmart danger, and since then, Hudson had named him Kismet. A word that had seemed to him an obvious choice, meaning “destiny” in Turkish.

In pure provocation, Kismet stuck out his tiny tongue at Keir, who responded with a toothy grin meant to scare him. And it worked, as the monkey hurried to hide in one of the pockets of Hudson’s cargo pants.

“A grouch, that’s what you are, Dalglish.”

“And you’re just an old bumpkin, Rowe. We’ve outrun death again, and you still don’t know how to enjoy life. Honestly, you don’t turn down a trip to Scotland!” Keir continued, giving him a light punch on the shoulder, hope alive in his body. “Pubs galore, spectacular hikes in the Highlands, salmon fishing, evenings filled with lyre and bagpipe music, hot nights with beautiful redheads with guttural accents… paradise! There will even be ruins to explore there, I know you love that.”

“Next time, Dalglish.”

“If we’re still alive!”

Hudson rolled his eyes. His brother-in-arms was far more spontaneous, hedonistic, and dynamic than he was. He had the devil in him, always wanting to move, travel, seize life with both hands, and enjoy the present moment. The notion of “carpe diem” was a life philosophy for him, his mantra, his motto, so much so that he had tattooed it on his left forearm, so every morning when he woke up, he would remember the ephemeral nature of life and the preciousness of the moment.

Hudson was of a more stoic temperament, more reflective and organized. A fan of schedules and goal lists, he stood out as an exceptional organizer, analyzing a situation and devising a plan while deploying all his strategic talents before acting. Keir was his opposite, the king of improvisation, a victim of his own impulses, and the most adventurous guy he knew. Alone, they were excellent soldiers, renowned for their bravery and daring, but together, their differing personalities came together to create an extremely competent duo, also inseparable from the small team they formed with their two other companions: John Arlington and Alexei Lenkov.

“Captain Rowe, Captain Dalglish, what are you going to do with four weeks of vacation?”

Hudson and Keir turned in unison towards one of the nurses of the U.S.M.C., Katharine Nguyen, known as Kitty, a pretty American-Vietnamese woman, sweet and kind in appearance, who turned into a real Lara Croft in conflict zones. A black belt in jiu-jitsu, a certified gourmet cook, multilingual, with real proficiency in Vietnamese, Pashtun, and Russian, this was a dangerously intelligent woman. She attracted her comrades as much as she frightened them with all her skills. Most officers and enlisted men chased after her, but it was common knowledge that she had a crush on Keir. The latter appreciated her in return, but he had to admit that Kitty scared him a little, certainly because of her large hazel eyes, penetrating and inquisitive, which seemed to dissect everything they saw.

Allowing himself a bit of sadism, Hudson always entertained himself with the discomfort she created in his friend.

“I’m going to spend twenty idyllic days in Scotland while Captain Rowe plays the homebody at his place. And you, Kitty?”

“Oh, Scotland, I’ve always dreamed of going there!”

“Ah, how convenient, Keir is looking for someone to accompany him…” Hudson began.

“No, this time I’m going solo. I’m going to join my cousins. You forgot, Rowe?” his friend interrupted, threatening him with his long anthracite-gray eyes, sharpened under thick, dark blond eyebrows.

“That’s a shame, if you had told me earlier, I would have come with you… but I’m already booked for the month,” Kitty replied, disappointed.

“Indeed, a real shame!” Hudson sighed, unimpressed by the threateninggray eyes directed at him. “Next time, you’ll plan something together.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to visit ­Scotland with you for the world, Keir. In the meantime, take care, gentlemen.”

Kitty punctuated her sentence with a wink at Hudson before moving closer to Keir to kiss him on his scarred cheek. Being quite tall, she had no trouble reaching that patch of skin, soft yet rough at the same time.

“Think of me during your holidays,” she whispered to him, loud enough for Hudson to hear.

“You won’t leave his thoughts.”

Kitty stepped away from a silent and bewildered Keir, her lips curling into a delighted smile, and disappeared as quickly as she had appeared, blending with the cheerful throng of uniforms and civilians to join her family.

Keir turned back to his companion and murmured loudly, pointing an accusatory finger at him:

“If she had said yes to Scotland, I would have killed you.”

“Come on, she’s not so bad”

“She’s creepy, you mean.”

“I thought you liked pretty, assertive brunettes.”

“And since when do you play matchmaker? Focus on your own hopeless case before trying to find me a girl.”

“My case is not hopeless.”

“You haven’t touched a woman in a year and a half! If that’s not a hopeless case! Trust me, you’d do great at a monastery,” Keir retorted fatalistically.

“Little brat.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how you do it.”

“The mind. Our first weapon. And besides, unlike you, it’s not my style to jump on every nurse and war correspondent that crosses my path.”

This is you talking! I’m sure you have erectile dyfunction, but you know you don’t need to hide it from me. There are treatments, to know...”

Keir had mastered the art of teasing his comrades, ­particularly Hudson. It was one of his favorite activities in life.

“I don’t have any problems with that.”

“Instead of playing handyman, I’d suggest you find yourself a woman. You’ll come back less irritable.”

Hudson nodded, pretending to be exasperated at first, before bursting into laughter. Soon, the two brothers-in-arms were embracing.

“How are you getting home, Dalglish?”