Nothing Like Love

by Abigail Strom

  “Of course I do,” Isabelle said with a warm smile. But as the three of them headed for the exit and the car that awaited them, Simone sensed a certain petulance behind the other woman’s politeness.

  What Zach had proposed was perfectly reasonable, not to mention polite, and Isabelle would have looked petty if she’d disagreed. But it was obvious that Isabelle was put out that Zach didn’t want to be alone with her immediately, and that he was willing to delay a tête-à-tête for even a short time.

  But Simone wasn’t going to worry about the two of them. Since a hot, two-week affair with Zach was now off the table, she was going to focus on Ireland instead.

  Which turned out to be very easy to do.

  “Sheep!” she cried out a few minutes after they left the airport. The rolling emerald hills and peaceful farmland were more beautiful than she’d imagined, but it was her first glimpse of a flock of woolly white sheep that filled her with pure delight.

  Zach laughed. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen sheep before.”

  “I’m a city girl,” she reminded him. “I’m sure I’ve seen sheep sometime in my life, but if I have, it wasn’t like this. My God, the colors. Blue sky, green grass, white sheep . . . it’s like a painting.”

  “Simone’s an artist,” Zach explained to Isabelle. The two of them were sitting next to each other in the back of the limo, with Simone across from them.

  “Isn’t that nice,” Isabelle said. Her voice was almost perfect—warm and interested—but Simone caught a hint of brittleness.

  “What do you do, Isabelle?” Simone asked quickly. “Are you in theater, like Zach?”

  She was sure the answer would be yes, but Isabelle shook her head. “I’m just a wife and mother. Well . . . not a wife. Not for much longer, anyway.” She looked down, which allowed a lock of her beautiful chestnut hair to fall across her cheek.

  Zach reached for her hand and squeezed it, and she smiled at him gratefully.

  “Everything’s going to be all right,” he told her.

  Simone turned her eyes back toward the scenery rolling by. The sound of Zach’s voice—so warm and strong and comforting—gave her a pang.

  Isabelle was a lucky woman.

  Then she leaned forward and stared out the window. “Oh, my God. Is that a ruin?”

  They were passing a green meadow, in the middle of which stood a once tall, now crumbling stone tower.

  Zach looked out the window and then nodded. “It’s a round tower. Early medieval.”

  The tower was out of sight now. “Early medieval? That’s hundreds of years old.”

  “Closer to a thousand. I believe the round tower period is ninth century to twelfth century.”

  He seemed amused at her astonishment.

  “A thousand years old,” she repeated. “Of course, I know Ireland is full of historical sites, but that one was just sitting there. It’s not even a tourist site or anything. Are thousand-year-old ruins that common?”

  Zach laughed. “Like you said, it’s a ruin. The ones in better shape are tourist sites. And a thousand years is nothing. I’ll have to take you to Poulnabrone dolmen. That’s six thousand years old.”

  She tried to wrap her mind around that. “That’s older than the Pyramids. Isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Wow.” She grinned suddenly. “You know, America got all excited about celebrating a bicentennial. Being in Ireland makes me feel like a spring chicken.”

  He was still smiling at her. “I’m looking forward to being your tour guide. I’ll take you to the Rock of Cashel, Poulnabrone—”

  Isabelle put a hand on his arm. “Is there a chance that someone else could be Simone’s tour guide? I know you’ll be busy with the play, and I was rather hoping to monopolize your free time.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Simone said quickly. “I’ve got a map and twenty friends coming tomorrow, and some of them have been to Ireland before. Zach is all yours,” she said, looking at Isabelle.

  She’d never been a fan of girl-versus-girl competition, preferring to get out of the ring before any punches were thrown. As much as she liked Zach, she wasn’t about to compete for him—especially since it wouldn’t be a fair fight.

  She didn’t know their backstory, but based on the little she’d seen so far, she was guessing that Isabelle was The One That Got Away.

  It made sense, really. Zach was a romantic through and through. Of course he’d fall for a woman he couldn’t have—a woman who was fairy-tale beautiful and unattainable, which meant he’d never have to deal with the messy realities of a relationship.

  Not that she was one to talk. She avoided messy relationships, too—only her technique was a little different from Zach’s.

  One of her professors in college had talked about the medieval tradition of courtly love. At the time she’d thought it was one of the dumbest things she’d ever heard.

  Courtly love was when a knight fell in love with a married noblewoman. The relationship was all about yearning and honor and restraint, and it was rarely ever consummated.

  To her younger but already pragmatic self, who’d decided that sex without love was the best way to protect your heart without giving up guys altogether, the idea of love without sex seemed pretty pointless. Now that she thought about it, though, it could serve as another way to protect your heart.

  Courtly love wasn’t real. You always saw the best of the other person, and you never had to find out their worst. You could hold them up on a pedestal forever.

  Simone looked away from the beautiful couple across from her and out the window instead. If this great, unattainable love was suddenly going to turn real, how would they handle it?

  Hard to say. Zach really did have a lot of nobility in him, so he’d probably give it his all even if he was secretly disappointed. When dreams become reality, disappointment is inevitable, but if anyone would do his best to overcome that, it would be Zach.

  And if her first impression of Isabelle was accurate, she would do her best to live up to Zach’s romantic ideal of her. She was the kind of woman who’d wear makeup to bed. She wouldn’t want to fall off the pedestal he’d put her on. So maybe they’d have a decent shot at happiness, after all—never seeing each other clearly, never revealing their worst or seeing it in the other.

  Which was why Simone could never compete with Isabelle for Zach’s heart, even if she’d wanted to. Simone refused to be anyone’s ideal and she didn’t want to put anyone on a pedestal. She was too intimately acquainted with human weakness to put that kind of pressure on herself or anyone else.

  But Zach did idealize people, and Isabelle was his dream woman. Simone was a sexy, quirky diversion, but not his grand passion. Faced with a beautiful dream and an abrasive reality, there wasn’t a man in the world who wouldn’t choose the former.

  The car slowed as they approached a stone gate, and for a moment Simone forgot all about Zach and Isabelle.

  A gorgeous vista stretched out before them. Woods, gardens, green lawns, and a crystal-blue lake.

  The castle wasn’t yet in sight as the car began winding its way slowly down the long, twisting drive. Then they crawled to a stop.

  “What’s wrong?” Simone asked, and Zach lowered the window between them and the front seat.

  “Sorry, sir,” the driver said before he could ask a question. “Swans crossing the road. It’ll just be a minute.”

  Simone lowered her own window and craned her neck to see them. “Of course there are swans,” she said, watching the proud white birds strut their leisurely way across the road. “What’s a castle without swans?”

  “Do you know that it’s illegal to kill a swan in Ireland?” Zach asked.

  “Really? Why?”

  “Because of the Children of Lir. According to Irish legend, King Lir so adored his four children that their s
tepmother, jealous of his love, turned them into swans for nine hundred years. He decreed it a crime to kill any swan for fear it might be one of his beloved children, and it remains illegal to this day.”

  Simone was fascinated. “What a cool story. Is that really the—”

  Isabelle interrupted her. “I had no idea you were such a font of information about Irish history,” she said to Zach.

  This time it wasn’t only Simone who noticed the petulance in her tone. Zach frowned, and Simone had to hold back a smile.

  The way to Zach’s heart would not be acting like a spoiled brat. Isabelle should watch her step.

  The swans made it safely across and the car started up again. They came around a curve in the road, and Simone gasped.

  It really was a castle. Somehow, in spite of Zach’s description and the amazing grounds they’d been driving through, she hadn’t expected an actual castle.

  There were turrets and crenellated battlements and ivy-covered stone walls. There were arched windows and stained glass and a fountain in front of the entrance. Against the blue sky, banners fluttered.

  As soon as they drew up in front of the entrance, Simone was out the door.

  She walked a few paces until she was standing on the stone plinth in front of the fountain. She turned in a slow circle to take everything in, pausing for a moment when she caught a glimpse of ocean to the west, and then stared up at the magnificent three-hundred-year-old building she’d be staying in for the next two weeks.

  It was the perfect setting for a gothic romance, but Simone would have to be a side character. No one would ever cast her as the heroine . . . at least not for the kind of love story that would happen here. A screwball comedy set in Manhattan, maybe.

  At the sound of footsteps, she turned to see Zach and Isabelle coming up beside her.

  Now there was a couple worthy of this background.

  “I’d forgotten how lovely this place is,” Isabelle said softly, smiling at Zach and slipping her hand under his arm.

  He smiled back at her, but then he looked at Simone. “What do you think? Does it meet your expectations?”

  “Are you kidding? It’s amazing. How long—”

  The massive doors to the castle stood open, and now someone came hurrying out to meet them.

  It was a tiny female someone, and she flung her arms around Zach. “You’re here! You’re really here!”

  She seemed barely older than Zach. But when she took a step back and smiled, Simone saw the touches of gray in her smooth, dark hair.

  “Isabelle, it’s been too long,” she said. “How lovely to see you again.”

  Then she turned to Simone. “You must be Simone. My name is Julia Hammond, but I hope you’ll call me Julia. Zach has told me so much about you.”

  Zach had talked to his mother about her? What had he said?

  She could tell from Isabelle’s expression that she was wondering the same thing.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Julia,” Simone said. Suddenly she smiled. “It’s also nice to look a Hammond in the eye without getting a crick in my neck.”

  Julia laughed. “Yes, Zach definitely got his height from his father.” She took a step back and looked at all three of them. “Well, now, you must be tired from your travels. Shall I show you your rooms, or—”

  “If you don’t mind,” Isabelle put in firmly, “Zach and I were going to take a walk. But I’m sure that Simone would appreciate a chance to freshen up.”

  She flashed a warm smile, and then she took Zach’s arm and led him away.

  “Take good care of Simone,” Zach said over his shoulder.

  “Of course,” his mother said.

  “I’ll check on you when I get back,” he called out to Simone.

  She gave him a thumbs-up. “You bet.”

  Simone and Julia stood looking after the couple. Once they were out of earshot, Julia said, “I see Isabelle hasn’t lost her touch. She’s still brutally efficient when it comes to getting what she wants.”

  Simone turned startled eyes on her, and Julia smiled. “I know, that sounded harsh. But I find that the older I get, the more I like to speak the truth—especially since I can’t say a word to Zach. Isabelle is the only thing we’ve ever disagreed on.” She sighed. “I just thank God she’s married.”

  “But she’s not. I mean . . . she said she’s getting a divorce.”

  Julia raised her eyebrows. “Again? This will make the third time in ten years. Don’t worry, Simone—this is just something Isabelle does every so often when she wants to bring her husband to heel.”

  “You mean she jerks Zach around whenever she—” She stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry. This isn’t really my business.”

  “Don’t apologize. I started it. And while Zach probably wouldn’t be thrilled if he knew I was talking to you about this, I’m willing to endure the guilty pangs if you are.” She paused. “Unless, of course, you’re not interested, in which case I’ll drop the subject.”

  She leveled her blue eyes at Simone and waited.

  Under that direct gaze, she felt herself flushing. “I’m interested,” she said.

  Julia nodded. “Well, then. Let’s go inside, and I’ll show you the room I’ve chosen for you. Then I’ll order up a pot of tea and a plate of scones.”

  The castle was as spectacular inside as it was outside. Julia led Simone through a high-ceilinged hallway and up a grand staircase carpeted in peacock blue. On the second floor she went down another hall, opened the door at the very end, and gestured for Simone to precede her inside.

  The room was a suite decorated in shades of rose and green. The bedroom contained a fireplace, a king-size canopy bed, and enormous windows overlooking the lake. There was also a small sitting room beyond.

  The sitting room was round. “Is that inside a turret?”

  Julia nodded. “Yes, this is one of our tower suites. Like it?”

  Simone spun around in a circle and laughed. “I feel like a princess in a fairy tale. It’s wonderful.”

  “I’m so glad.” There was a tap on the door, and Julia moved aside to let a porter in with Simone’s luggage. “Why don’t you freshen up a bit, and I’ll go see about the tea and scones.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The tea and scones were delicious, although Simone was more interested in the conversation than the food.

  A waiter laid out their tea in the turret sitting room. Simone sat against velvet cushions on the curved window seat while Julia sat opposite her in a chair drawn up to the small, marble-topped table.

  Simone was on her third scone before her hostess finished her first. Luckily there were at least a dozen, not to mention a plate full of hot buttered toast and a pot of the most delicious tea she’d ever tasted.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, Julia . . . what did Zach tell you about me?”

  Julia added a lump of sugar to her cup and stirred it with a tiny silver tea spoon. “He called me a few days ago full of a scheme to help your neighbors. I gathered he hadn’t slept in a while, which may be why he was more chatty than usual. In any event, he talked about you for an hour. I hope you don’t mind, but I know about your artwork, your remarkable knowledge of Shakespeare, the night you filled in for an actor who’d fallen ill, and quite a lot of details about your childhood. I feel as though I know you, which of course is an impertinence. So if you feel at all guilty about discussing Zach’s personal life with me, don’t.”

  Simone learned that Zach had fallen for Isabelle when they were at university together, although the two of them had never dated. She’d chosen to marry an up-and-coming politician instead.

  “At the risk of sounding biased, why in the world would any woman choose another man over your son? This politician must be amazing. Is he another Nelson Mandela or something?”

  Julia laughed at that. “Hardly. No, Nigel
is a power-hungry political hack . . . but he’ll be prime minister some day. I think Isabelle took a cold look at her options and decided that being the wife of a prime minister would give her more power and status than being the wife of an actor . . . even if that actor became a movie star. And of course, if you’re married to a movie star, the spotlight will always be on him—whereas the wife of a politician can have influence in her own right.” Julia sighed. “I thank God every day that she made that decision, especially after Zach gave up acting and came back to London to turn director. Isabelle would never have stood for that. She would never have allowed Zach to give up the glamour of Hollywood for the relative obscurity of theater.”

  “Then why is she here now, glomming on to Zach and threatening to divorce her husband?”

  “Because she’s in a bit of a quandary. To be truly successful in politics, you have to care about your own career more than anything else. And while Isabelle wants to be the wife of a PM, she also can’t bear coming second to anyone or anything. Every so often it gets to her and she throws a tantrum to get attention. And she goes to Zach because she knows that if she were married to him, he would put her first.” She smiled. “My son is a bit of a romantic, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  Simone finished her tea and set down her empty cup. “I noticed. He idealizes Isabelle, doesn’t he? That’s why he can’t see her for what she is.”

  “Zach chooses to see the best in the people he cares about.” Julia paused for a moment, tracing the rim of her cup with a fingertip. “I’m almost glad his illusions about Isabelle haven’t been shattered yet, though. Because I’m about to destroy one of his illusions about me.”

  Simone stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  She sighed. “I’m getting remarried, you see. Most of my friends and family know, but I haven’t told Zach yet. He should have been the first, but . . .” She shook her head. “I wasn’t sure how he would react, so I told myself it would be better to wait until I saw him in person. Now I know I was just being a coward.” She sat up straighter, seeing something out the window behind Simone. “Well, speak of the devil. There’s the gent himself.”