They ate in bed. She faced him. “I’ve never been this happy in my life. If my stepsister hadn’t loved Raoul the way she did, we would never have met. The thought of that...” She couldn’t finish.
“I don’t like to think about it either, so we won’t.” He moved the tray to the floor, then pulled her into him. “I’ve been so impatient to make you my wife we haven’t talked about the practicalities of being married.”
She raised up on her elbow. “You sound worried.”
“In a way I am. Your mother lost your stepdaughter, then your stepsister. Soon Alain will be living with his father. Today I took you away from her. I want both of you to be happy.”
Tears stung her eyes. She was married to the most remarkable man in the world. Nathalie flung her arms around him. “I love you for thinking of her and caring about her. There’s no one like you, but La Gaude isn’t that far away from Vence. We’ll work things out.”
“What if she moved to Vence? I’d help her get into a house near our villa. She wouldn’t have to work anymore and could have time for friends as well as being a grandmother. Raoul’s house is only two streets away from us. I’d like to be there for her and offer support if the idea appealed to her.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re so generous and amazing. What did I ever do to deserve you?”
“I keep asking that question about you. The women who’ve been in my life have been so different from you. There’s nothing shallow about you. You’re an exceptional woman in every way, Nathalie. It means you’ve had exceptional parents. I see the way you are with Alain. The love you’ve shown him is a revelation.”
“He’s easy to love,” she said in a broken voice.
“The day I saw you get him out of your car, he reached for your hand. I thought he was your son. There was a tenderness in the way you treated him. It was a defining moment for me where you’re concerned and brought tears to my heart. I knew at that moment I loved you desperately.”
“Oh, Dominic.” She half sobbed and clung to him. “Do you know when I knew I loved you forever? I was telling you about the man I was trying to find. And even after you thought I loved him, you offered to help look for him because that’s the kind of unselfish person you are. You even said you’d talk to your vintner friends. You don’t know what that did to me. That day, like all the others with you, will live in my memory.”
“Nathalie—”
He caught her to him and started making love to her again. Far into the night he swept her away. She couldn’t believe it when morning came. He was already awake, kissing her so she’d wake up.
“It couldn’t be time to go to work!”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“I can’t leave you.”
“You think I want to let you go? But we’ll have tonight. I’ll pick you up at five.”
“I can’t bear to leave you, but I have to. I’d better hurry and shower.”
“Go right ahead. Of course, I’d be happy to help you.” His grin turned her heart over. “But it might make you late for work by six or seven hours.”
Blushing from head to toe, she grabbed the robe he’d taken off and ran to the bathroom to get ready. Within ten minutes they were both dressed and walking out to his car.
En route to the pharmacy, she clung to his hand. “If this is the way it’s going to be from now on, I can’t do it. Leaving your arms this morning has been agony.”
“How do you think I feel? I’ll be in my office all day watching the clock until it’s time to come and get you. My assistant, Theo, will tell me to go home because I’m worthless. This is why we’re going to need a honeymoon soon.”
“Where will we go? I don’t know if I want it to be far away. Traveling to get someplace will take time away from lying in your arms.”
“Then we won’t go anywhere. We’ll just stay home and go out on the cruiser for weeks on end. We’ll explore the other sites of Les Calanques to our hearts’ content.” He’d pulled up in front of the pharmacy.
“Do you promise?”
He caught her to him and kissed her long and sensuously. “Anything you want.”
She kissed his jaw before getting out of the car. “There’s nothing else in life I want but you.”
“In that case, be ready to leave Vence right after work. I’ll pack for you.”
Her eyes lit up. “What have you got planned?”
“You’ll find out.”
“Dominic—”
“I’ve cleared it with your mother.”
He drove off, taking her heart with him.
* * *
When Dominic drove up to the pharmacy at five, his brand-new wife came running out. His heart leaped at the sight of her. Once in the car, he reached for her and kissed her with abandon. But too many onlookers caused him to relinquish her mouth.
“Let’s get out of here.” He started the car and merged with the traffic. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the airport. We’re flying to Paris on my private jet.”
Paris?
“For how long?”
“Two days. We’ll eat dinner en route. I own an apartment there where we can be private and make plans for our future.”
She let out a squeal of joy. “I feel like I’m in a dream.”
“Before I met you, I didn’t believe in dreams and planned to go back to Paris.”
Nathalie gazed at him in alarm. “When?”
“Once the harvest was over. My father has recovered and I had no desire to remain on the estate any longer. In fact, the morning I had to help do Etienne’s job at the tent, I was already making plans to leave for good. And then you sat down in front of me, and every coherent thought left my mind but one. Who was this gorgeous creature who’d come out of nowhere? Suddenly the idea of leaving Vence held no appeal. That was longest weekend of my life waiting for Monday to roll around so I could talk to you. Until I saw you, I’d been holding my breath for fear you’d changed your mind and wouldn’t come.”
She leaned closer and put her hand on the back of his neck. “There was no chance of that, mon amour, not after meeting the most exciting man to ever come into my life. Whether you were Antoinette’s lover or not, I knew I had to see you again and get to know you no matter how brazen I was. I had no willpower where you were concerned.”
He reached for her hand and kissed the palm. “We were meant to be, Nathalie. Whatever life has in store for us, we’ll face it together.” They’d reached the Nice airport and he drove to the private jet section where his jet stood on the tarmac.
Dominic looked into her eyes. “Are you ready?”
“I was ready the moment our gazes collided beneath the tent,” her voice trembled. “It was like falling into space, and you were there to catch me. Don’t ever let me go.”
“As if I could. You’re my heart.”
“And you are mine. Forever.”
* * *
Look out for the next story in the Escape to Provence duet
Coming soon!
And if you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Rebecca Winters
How to Propose to a Princess
The Prince’s Forbidden Bride
The Princess’s New Year Wedding
Wedding the Greek Billionaire
All available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Beauty and the Brooding Billionaire by Donna Alward.
WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM
Be swept away by glamorous and heartfelt love stories.
Emotion and intimacy simmer in international locales—experience the rush of falling in love!
4 NEW BOOKS AVAILABLE EVERY MONTH!
Beauty and the Brooding Billionaire
by Donna Alward
CHAPTER ONE
JESS TOOK ON
E look at the lighthouse and knew that the search had been worth it. After weeks of wandering, and months before that of her pencils hovering over her sketch pad, the battered white-and-red lighthouse on Nova Scotia’s east coast stood firm against the brisk, briny wind.
In some regards she wondered if the lonely structure was her. Tall, a bit battered from the winds of life, but still standing.
Her agent was after her to do another show. “Your last one was such a success,” Jack had insisted. “An original Jessica Blundon commands top dollar right now.”
“You can’t rush the muse,” she’d replied, deliberately keeping her voice light. “I don’t paint to order.”
She hadn’t been painting at all. Not since Ana’s death. Her mentor. Her best friend. The older sister she’d never had. Losing Ana had devastated her and killed her creativity. Her life had suddenly become colorless and empty. No significant other. No children. No best friend.
She’d isolated herself far too much. So after a good year of grieving and moping, she’d decided to stop hiding away and go in search of what her life was going to look like. The best place to start, she figured, was finding her passion to paint again.
And while she didn’t “paint to order,” she did do this as her career. Like most creatives, it was impossible to separate what she did from who she was.
The biggest shock had been that when she was finally ready to put brush to canvas, she couldn’t. The block had been real and infuriating, until about six months ago, when she’d finally started sketching.
And traveling. She’d left behind the waters of the Great Lakes—Chicago—and gone west, to Seattle first, then San Francisco and down the coast to San Diego. The Pacific had been beautiful, but it wasn’t what she was looking for. She was searching for that feeling, right in her solar plexus, that told her when something was just right. The Gulf of Mexico hadn’t been it, either, though she’d adored her time in New Orleans and along the panhandle. She’d come closer to finding “it” the farther north she’d gone; past the barrier islands in the Carolinas, to the beaches of New Jersey and then the rugged coastline of Maine. On a whim she’d jumped on the CAT ferry in Bar Harbor and headed to Canada. She’d sketched lonely beaches, colorful coastal houses, gray rocks made black by the ocean waves. Trees budding in the mild spring weather. All lovely. But nothing that had felt inspiring. Nothing that created the burn to create.
Her sketchbook was full of drawings, but the lighthouse before her? It was that punch-to-the-gut feeling, and she relished the trickle of excitement running through her veins. “This is it, Ana,” she murmured. “It’s time.”
The brisk wind off the ocean tossed her hair around her face and bit through the light cotton shirt she wore. May was definitely not Nova Scotia’s warmest month, even though the sun shone brightly and warmed a spot between her shoulder blades. She needed to get a different vantage point. The angle here was too sharp. But the lighthouse stood on a bluff jutting out toward the sea, and the only path to it seemed to be from the property before her. And the gate that baldly pronounced Private Property—Do Not Enter.
“Private property,” she grumbled, peering over the metal barrier. She couldn’t see the house from here, and the drive led to the left while the lighthouse was off to the right and then south. Lips set, she swung her bag over her shoulder and put her foot on the bottom railing of the gate.
“Not electric.” She grinned and then nimbly hoisted herself over the metal railings and landed on the other side.
It didn’t take long for her to get a glimpse of the house. It was an imposing but beautiful structure, with gray siding and stonework and what would be marvelous gardens in another month or so. Fledgling hostas, their leaves still tightly furled, and a variety of tulips and hyacinths kept the beds from looking sad and naked. Jess expected that there were other perennials beneath the surface waiting for the summer warmth to wake them. The house had a fantastic panoramic view of the Atlantic coastline, and a sloped lawn led to what appeared to be low cliffs. She wondered if there was a beach below. And she’d like to look, but first she wanted to skirt the property and get to the isolated lighthouse, so she could take some pictures and perhaps make a sketch or two.
The ground was hard and rocky beneath her feet as she set off to the lonely tower. She’d made a friend at the nearby resort, and Tori had told her about the hidden gem, suggesting its semi-neglected state might add to its allure. She hadn’t been wrong. The weather-beaten clapboards on the outside were in sad need of fresh paint, and as Jess got closer, she realized that the gray wood was worn surprisingly smooth from wind and salt. There was rust on the hinges of the door, and she wondered if the thing would even open or what she might find inside if it did. Dirt? Mice? Other creatures? She looked way up to the top, where the beacon lay, silent and still. Did it still work?
The lighthouse was full of character and secret stories. Her favorite kind of subject.
After her cursory examination, she pulled out her camera and started taking shots. Different angles, distances, close-ups, and with the Atlantic in the background. The ocean was restless today, and she loved the whitecaps that showed in her viewfinder, and the odd spray from waves that crashed on the rocks below.
After she took the photos, she thought she might like to get a few of the house, too. It was more modern and certainly very grand, but still with that lonely brave-the-elements esthetic that she loved. She swung around toward the property and came face-to-face with a pair of angry eyes. The man they belonged to gave her a real start.
“You’re trespassing,” he said, his voice sharp and condemning.
He looked like a hermit. It was hard to tell his age, because his hair was shaggy and his beard was in dire need of trimming, but she guessed maybe forty, or a little older. The brown shirt was wrinkled and slightly too big for his lean frame, and he wore faded jeans and worn boots. All in all, he was a little bit intimidating. Not just his looks, but the expression on his face. He was angry, and he wasn’t bothering to hide it.
Somehow, though, she found him rather compelling. Rugged and mysterious, and beneath the scruff his looks were quite appealing. She rather thought she’d like to sketch him. And while he was intimidating, he didn’t seem...dangerous. Just grouchy.
“I was only on the property for a few minutes. I stayed right along the edge until I got to the lighthouse.”
“The lighthouse is on my property. I’m assuming you saw the sign, and chose to ignore it.”
She didn’t have an answer to that, because it was true. Except she hadn’t realized that the lighthouse was on his private property. Weren’t they usually parkland or municipal or something? How many people owned their very own lighthouse?
She put on her most contrite face. Despite his abrasive manner, it appeared she was in the wrong here, not him. If she wanted to have access to this perfect aspect, she needed to appeal to his...friendly side? If he had one.
“I’m really sorry. I truly didn’t realize the lighthouse was part of your property. I’m an artist, you see. I’d heard about it from someone at the Sandpiper Resort, and they assured me it was worth checking out. I wouldn’t have trespassed if I had realized I wasn’t just, well, cutting across your lot.”
He crossed his arms.
Now she was getting annoyed. Had she done anything so very awful that meant he had to be so...disagreeable?
She tried again. “I’m Jessica Blundon.” She held out her hand and smiled.
He didn’t shake it. Instead, his dark eyes assessed her from top to bottom, making her feel...lacking. One of his eyebrows lifted slightly, a question mark. She held his gaze, refusing to cower. If his goal was to intimidate her, he was failing. Despite his horrible manners, she did not feel the least bit threatened. This dog’s bark was worse than his bite, she figured. There was something in his gaze that she responded to. He wanted to be left alone. It wasn’t long ago she�
��d felt the same, so she merely lowered her hand and wondered what was hidden behind the beard and longish hair and grumpy exterior.
“Well, Miss Blundon, you’re on private property. I’ll ask you to delete those photos off your camera and go back to where you came from.”
Her mouth dropped open. He was actually going to get her to delete her pictures? She closed her mouth and frowned. “Is that really necessary? I mean, it’s not like the lighthouse is some giant secret.”
“It’s my lighthouse, on my property, and I don’t want you to have pictures of it.” He reached into his pocket and took out a cell phone. “You can delete them or I can make a phone call and have the cops out here.”
Now he was being utterly unreasonable, and any curiosity or sympathy she’d felt fled. “I could walk away and take my pictures with me. Unless you’re planning to personally restrain me.”
She lifted her chin, met his gaze. Something flared there, and nerves skittered along her spine. Not of fear. But of awareness. Mr. Hermit was enigmatic, and no matter how much he tried to hide behind his ragged appearance, he was actually quite attractive. There was something familiar about him, too, that she couldn’t quite place.
His gaze dropped to her lips, then back up again to her eyes, and for the first time, his mouth curved in a slight smile. “Good luck,” he replied. “I know your name and I know you’re at the Sandpiper. Not too hard to tell the RCMP where to look.”
He’d call the Mounties. He’d really do it, over a few stupid pictures. She lifted her camera and glared at him. “Fine. I’ll delete the damned pictures.” Her heart broke a little bit just saying it. She needed them. The first true inspiration she’d had in two years...darn it. She held his gaze and got the sense he wasn’t bluffing.
“You could just give me the memory card.”
“I don’t think so. It wasn’t blank when I got here. I’ll delete the ones I took just now but that’s all. And you’re being a jerk.”
Falling For Her French Tycoon (Escape To Provence Book 1) Page 15
