Invitation to Provence(61)
“Mademoiselle Clare, will you please dance with me?” he said. Clare said of course, and excused herself from Scott and slipped into Jarré’s big arms with a sigh that sounded very much like contentment.
The moon lifted higher over the chateau, lightening the sky to a milky dark blue that almost matched Rafaella’s dress. Her granddaughter came and sat on her knee, and she felt herself melting with tenderness. She looked around at her friends, true friends all of them, dancing and enjoying themselves, at her lovely niece and at Jake, who was obviously falling for her. And at Scott, whom she’d been so lucky to find, and whose eyes followed Clare a little jealously as she danced with Jarré. She looked around for Haigh, smiling when she saw him. He’d taken off the smoking and was sitting with a group of the local men whom he’d known as long as she had, sipping the good brandy and recalling old times. And then she looked at Juliette, twinkling with diamonds and complaining loudly that her feet were killing her—until she just slipped off her shoes and danced barefoot. The Pomeranians, released from their luxury prison, yapped and snapped and Mimi and Louis watched them adoringly, while Criminal surveyed the scene with an air of disdain, then slunk off down the driveway on business of his own.
Rafaella could remember many nights like this, when the Lover was still here, but she pushed those memories away and hugged her sleepy grandchild closer. Tonight she would only live for the moment.
It was almost two o’clock before the last of the stragglers wound their way back down the driveway, depositing many kisses as they went, assuring Rafaella this was the best party of their lives.
And a while later, standing at her bedroom window, Rafaella saw Franny and Jake walking down the chesnut allée. Jake’s arm was around Franny’s shoulders, and her body inclined instinctively into his. Rafaella sighed. She could not imagine anything more perfect than the young man she’d loved as a son falling for the young woman she had just acquired as a niece. It was the perfect ending to a perfect night. Even if, like Juliette, her feet were killing her and even though Mimi and Louis were already snoring on her bed, accompanied by a couple of traitorous Pomeranians, too exhausted even to wait for her to climb in next to them.
47
THE LIGHTS illuminating the chateau dimmed, then went out. The lanterns and the strings of fairy lights were extinguished in a sequence of receding stars, leaving only the moon, low now in the midnight blue sky. It shed a softly filtered light onto the trellised gazebo where Franny sat with Jake.
Crickets chirped, quieter now that it was so late, and the birds disturbed by the lights and noise finally retreated to their nests and settled down. The chateau was a dark silhouette against the sky. Everyone was asleep and they were the only two people left in the world. The night air was thick with the perfumes of the garden and the reedy green smell of the lake. Breathing it in, Franny thought it was like the Marten wine, sensual, alive, delicious.
“Franny?” Jake was holding her hand in both of his.
She turned her hand palm up in his, trustingly. “What is it?”
“It may sound ridiculous,” he said, “I mean, we hardly know each other… .”
“But I know you,” she said, “I know who you are. That night at my house, I warned myself against you. I told myself I was already having trouble with another man. I said all the proper things to stop myself from falling for you. And then you didn’t call me and I knew it was too late. I’d already done it.”
Jake studied her palm as though he were reading his future there. “I’ve made some decisions these past few weeks,” he said in a low voice, and Franny bent her head to catch his words. “After Amanda died, I used my work as a way to stop from thinking about what had happened. It kept my mind occupied. I always had to be alert, always one move ahead. Not only did I have to think for myself, but I had to put myself in the bad guys’ heads, know how they would make their next moves. Sometimes, it was a dance with death but I didn’t care—live or die, it was all the same to me. I even enjoyed that dance. Other times I couldn’t stand it and then I’d take off for the cabin, collect my dog and my horse and hole up for a few weeks, talking to no one, thinking of nothing except about one day maybe buying a real ranch, having miles of nothing but pasture and woodlands between me and the nearest human being. I enjoyed my isolation. I wanted to share it with no one. And then I met you, Franny, and my life changed.”
She put her hands on either side of his lean, tanned face, feeling the early-morning stubble under her fingers. She looked into his gray eyes, pale in the moonlight, then leaned closer and slowly, softly traced his lips with her tongue. She lifted her mouth just long enough to say, “I know. And I love you.” And then she kissed him.
He caught her to him. “God, oh god,” he whispered, “I thought you were going to tell me you couldn’t take the responsibility of a man like me, a man with a wounded past.”
“Remember at dinner, the night I first met you? You asked me who I saw. And I told you I saw a good man. It was the truth, Jake. That’s why I was so hurt when you didn’t call. That night I slept with my face on the pillow you’d used, like a dopey teen in the throes of first love. And you know what? It was first love. Nothing else counts.”
“About Amanda,” he began, wanting her to understand how he felt about his late wife, but she silenced him with a raised finger.