Page 75 of Echo in the Wind

“Dressed as you are, Mademoiselle, you grace the roses.”

She turned to see him smiling. “I grant you, Monsieur, breeches are more comfortable, but I have had enough of those for a while.”

He laughed. “I shall always remember you as you were when I first saw you. It took but a moment of careful perusal to realize you were no lad.”

“I suppose I should take that as a compliment.” She did not tell him she had thought him the devil himself the first night she’d seen him.

They walked along companionably for a time, sipping their tea and meandering among the roses.

Seeing no one about, she asked, “Something has been weighing on you, Monsieur. Might you confide in me?”

His expression turned serious. “I expect you will know soon enough. The accident that took the lives of my father and brother was no accident. Someone tampered with the axle.”

For a moment, she just stared, shocked. “But who would have done such a horrible thing—and why?”

“’Tis hard to say. Even when I was living here, my father was not popular with the people of Saintonge, especially his own workers. Add to that the unhappy state of the French people and you can see how it might have happened. So far as I know, there have been no riots in Saintonge, but there is always the possibility.”

“What will you do?”

“While I am here, I will investigate, ask questions. Someone is bound to talk.” He took her empty teacup from her hand and set it next to his own on a nearby bench. “Come, the sky is still blue and ’tis unusually warm. Let us speak of more pleasant things and enjoy the evening.”

Jean did not wish to speak of death, not with the beautiful vixen walking beside him. A soft and feminine woman with an inner strength he admired. With her, he wanted only to embrace life. Since that night in Lorient when he’d given in to temptation and kissed her, he had desperately wanted to do it again.

Not since Ariane had a woman reached inside him and taken hold of his heart like this one. Lady Joanna made him want things he thought never to have again. She made him want to love again. But what if he did, only to lose her? France was becoming more dangerous. With the attack on his family, perhaps England might be the best place for her.

He had only to look at her and his body responded with an overwhelming desire. But would she want him without marriage? Would such a woman, a lady of noble birth, give herself to him? That he even considered the possibility troubled him, for what would he do with her if she did? She hardly fit into his life, which, he reminded himself, grew more complicated by the day. Still, the thought tempted him as never before.

She walked ahead of him, the path narrowing between the tall hedges. The pink sash tied in a bow at the back of her small waist drew him like a banner. Her auburn hair fell in curls to her shoulders beneath her straw hat. He pictured it splayed out on his pillow.

“You should be leading me,” she said. “I am likely to get us lost.”

“I am only too happy to oblige,” he said. “If I remember correctly, there is a stone bench not far on.” Drawing up behind her, he inhaled her lovely floral scent and turned sideways to pass. She turned as well, toward him, bringing them face-to-face on the path.

She tilted her chin up and he gazed into her cognac-colored eyes. He had only to dip his head to bring their lips close. No longer fighting the desire welling up inside him, he brushed his lips across hers. “As you are destined ever to tempt me, Mademoiselle, I am destined always to succumb.”

She did not protest, but closed her eyes as their lips met. He reached his hands to her waist and she slid her palms up his arms.

Her lips soft and welcoming, she tasted of the plum she had eaten and the honey she had added to her tea. Intoxicated with her scent and her taste, he held her tightly, then kissed her deeply.

Drawn by the slender neck he had observed so often but had never dared touch, he left her lips to kiss the warm column. With a small moan, she tilted her head to expose the span of ivory skin to his lips.

When he slid his tongue over her ear, she melted into his body.

He did not release her until his mouth returned to hers and she had been thoroughly kissed. Finally, he raised his head.

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

He smiled. “’Tis a prelude to more if you want it, my lady.”

“I do,” she said in a husky whisper.

Taking a leap into an uncertain future, as he had done so many times in his life, he said, “I give you leave to change your mind. I do not forget you are a lady. But if you still feel the same when night falls and the household is asleep, come to my bedchamber. ’Tis the one next to yours. You do not need to knock. I will be waiting.”

Staring into his eyes, she slowly nodded.

“Oncle Jean!” came Zoé’s voice from somewhere close. “Where are you?”

He let go of Lady Joanna and moved beyond her. “Over here!” Then reaching for Lady Joanna’s hand, he pulled her along to the bench he had remembered. He invited her to sit while he stood. It seemed a more appropriate scene for his niece to come upon. He was glad his coat hid his body’s reaction to the exchange of kisses.