by Misty Evans
As Father Bailey went on to describe the liturgy of the hours of prayer, Celina studied the paintings on the walls of the rooms they were passing, each more impressive than the last. The stunning depths and colors of the pieces were amazing, and she peered closely at one to see who the artist was.
“Father Bailey?” The words slipped out in surprise, and she cringed, hoping she hadn’t said it too loudly.
The monk paused beside her. “I’m afraid you have found my one guilty pleasure, Miss Davenport. I used to paint, using various grapes from our very own vineyard to color my paints.”
Gesturing towards the painting before them, Father Bailey’s face flushed with excitement. It was a vivid painting of what Celina could only assume was the vineyard, rows of winding deep green vines plump with grapes just ready for the picking. The colors were amazing, swirls of green, purple, and blues threading seamlessly together. Celina wasn’t an art expert by any means, but she knew high quality work when she saw it. Father Bailey’s work was amazing.
Cooper studied the painting, equally impressed. “You’ve quite a craftsmanship there, Father. These look like they should be on the wall of an art studio.”
The light in the man’s eyes dimmed, and he cleared his throat, stepping away from the painting. “Ah, yes, well, thank you, but you are much too kind. You’ll find my paintings throughout the bed and breakfast, though I no longer apply myself to the craft. With the winery and the bed and breakfast being so successful, I’ve found myself far too busy to take up a brush in the past twenty years.”
Celina frowned. The way Father Bailey spoke of painting with such enthusiasm told her it was a pastime he greatly missed, but the pride in his voice was gone now, replaced with a wary edge. Celina couldn’t help but wonder, was it really his choice to stop painting, or was it someone else’s?
“Father Bailey, I’ve been looking all over for you.”
A fellow monk approached, his dress an exact replica of Father Bailey’s save for the darker color of his hair. Celina guessed him to be in his late thirties with his welcoming smile and sparkling green eyes. She detected a slight Spanish accent, though his lighter coloring spoke of a mixed heritage.
“Ah, Father Lopez, how good of you to arrive. I was about to show Miss Davenport and Mr. Harris to their room.”
Father Lopez withdrew his hands from the insides of his robe to shake their hands. “Welcome to the Abbey of Our Lady of Benedictines. Or, if you would rather, just the Abbey is fine. Some guests find saying the entire title is a bit of a mouthful.”
Cooper chuckled. “I can see where that would be a problem.”
“Yes, especially after they’ve been out visiting the vineyard.” Father Lopez’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “Father Bailey, I can take care of our guests if you would like to attend None.”
Father Bailey withdrew a handkerchief from the folds of his robe, using it to mop his forehead before slipping it back. “Of course, thank you, Father. It was a pleasure meeting you both. If I don’t see you again, I do hope you enjoy your stay.”
Both of his hands enveloped Celina’s warmly and she gave him a smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you as well, Father. I do hope we see you again before we go. I’m a photographer and I’d love to talk to you about your painting. Your use of light and texture are mesmerizing.”
Peering into his gaze, Celina was startled at the deep sorrow reflected there. “I’m sorry, Miss Davenport. These days, I know far more about grapes than art.”
It was the deep sorrow that gave her pause, for it was one she was all too familiar with. The sorrow that came from a painful past.
Even though they’d just met, her heart pinched at the thought of this nice man having suffered anything. Who could have hurt him so badly to leave that kind of scar?
From the corner of her eye she saw Cooper watching the monk walk away, a speculative look in his eye. She knew that look; the wheels in Cooper’s head were turning. Something was off about the kindly monk they had just met, and she wasn’t the only one thinking it.
Father Lopez’s soft voice broke into her thoughts. “If you would follow me I’ll take you to your room.”
Celina forced a smile, giving him her attention. She could talk to Cooper later, preferably without an audience.
“That’d be great.” Gathering the suitcases in one hand, Cooper slid a hand to the small of her back, guiding her down the stone hallway. Celina’s skin prickled with awareness as the heat of his hand seeped through her t-shirt, and she inched closer to him. Everything about Cooper was comforting, from the way he spoke with such authority, to the way he held her in his arms. She couldn’t imagine loving him any more fiercely than she did.
And yet, worry over the baby crowded the back of her mind.
“Father Bailey’s painting of the vineyard is one of my favorites,” Father Lopez said. “When I first arrived, I took painting lessons from him. He was quite the master and I desperately tried to copy his work. A losing battle, I’m afraid. Some artists are divinely inspired, and he was certainly that.”
The pride in Father Lopez’s voice was unmistakable, prodding questions in Celina’s mind. “He told us how he’s too busy to paint these days. I find that incredibly sad, a man as talented as he is not putting it to use.”
Down and around a corner, Father Lopez led them, their shoes squeaking on tiled floors.
“I completely agree, but alas, I’ve not been able to change his mind in all the years I’ve been here. Many people used to come from far and wide to purchase his paintings. What you see on the walls is all that is left of those days, I’m afraid.”
“How long have you been here, Father?” Cooper had to move over when a family of four came out from one of the rooms. Two kids, a boy and a girl, sprinted by them, ear-to-ear grins and talking about what they were going to order for dinner.
Father Lopez paused, appearing to calculate the years in his head. “Twenty-one years since I said my vows and joined the brotherhood.”
Celina startled at the number. “Twenty-one years? Can I ask how old you are?”
The monk chuckled, obviously amused. “Of course. I recently turned thirty-eight.”
Celina somehow managed to keep her jaw from dropping. Thirty-eight? The same age as Cooper. Judging by his baby smooth skin, she had him pegged for much younger.
Cooper, however, was less conservative than she was, letting out a low whistle. “Impressive, I never would have guessed that.”
“I get that a lot,” he agreed, as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. “Joining the brotherhood was the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do with my life; it was God’s will. When I came to visit the monastery and met Father Bailey, I knew this was to be my calling, here, with him.”
They came to a large wooden, arched door with a metal lock that looked straight out of the eighteenth century. Celina leaned against the wall outside the door. “What is it that you do here?”
“I aid Father Bailey by overseeing the grape crops. There are only eleven monks residing in this monastery, and we all work in the vineyard between hours of prayer. Father Bailey is the senior monk here at the Abbey.”
“And how long has Father Bailey been here?”
“Father Bailey has been here for over thirty years. His love of this monastery, the vineyard and all who visit, is what drew me here. It truly is a peaceful house to do God’s work in.”
He motioned at the door. “This is the Harvest Room. I apologize that we do not have an elevator, but you will find two staircases. The one we used takes you to the front desk, the other down the hall and around to the right, leads to the rear of the building and out to the grounds.”
Cooper took the iron key the monk held out. “Thanks, Father. We appreciate the help.”
“Not at all. We are pleased to have you here, and hope you enjoy your stay. I should tell you there has been a lot of rain in this area of late, and guests have reported mudslides in the nearby woods, so we do ask that you be ca
reful should you venture that far. If there’s anything else you need, just pull the bell rope in your room and someone will see to your needs.”
Odd, Celina thought, flashing a smile as Cooper as Father Lopez left them. What place has a bell rope in their room?
A moment later, she understood why. “There’s no phone, no TV, no…anything.”
Though sparsely furnished, the suite boasted a comfortable-looking king size bed, with a white down comforter tucked over the top and a cedar chest resting at the foot. There was a freestanding armoire on the far side of the room, its rich, cherry finish gleaming in the late afternoon sunshine streaming through a beautiful bay window.
The only other furnishings were a matching dresser and a bedside table with a reading lamp. A doorway led into an attached bathroom, which, Celina was happy to see, didn’t look like they had to share with any other guests. Score one for The Beast.
Cooper set their suitcases on the cedar chest, glancing around the room. “Dyer said it was old school. I suppose keeping electronics out of the rooms gives it a more authentic touch.”
“I guess.” Celina chewed her bottom lip. “What did you think of Father Bailey?”
Cooper shrugged. Unzipping his suitcase, he began unpacking items. “Nice guy, obviously organized, and a whiz at painting. Too bad he gave it up. He seemed pretty disappointed over that.”
Celina plopped down on the bed, stretching herself out over the comforter. Cooper hesitated at the dresser, his eyes darkening as his gaze swept her body.
Knowing what it did to him, she wiggled around on the bed, a coy smile curving her lips when he tossed the clothes in his hand on the dresser and stalked towards her. “It seems odd to me he would totally give up something he loves that much. I’m sure he’s busy, running this place, but you would think he could squeeze in some time for painting here and there.”
Coming to a stop at her feet, Cooper’s hands swept up her bare calves to her knees, his large hands causing goose flesh to break out over her skin. Pressing her knees open, he slid his body against hers, bringing him flush against her throbbing center.
“I think,” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, making her insides quiver, “that we can worry about that later. Right now,” his tongue slid up her throat, leaving a wet path that had her wet in other places too, “I’d like to focus on other things. Like getting you out of these clothes.”
Celina laughed. Threading her fingers through his hair, she brought his mouth to hers, sealing his lips with a scorching kiss.
Chapter Three
Hours later, Cooper still wore a satisfied grin as he let Celina drag him downstairs to seek out the restaurant from the brochure. Since he’d promised her food and the Koi pond, he wasn’t about to go back on his word.
God, he loved her. So much that it physically hurt. Making her happy this weekend was his number one priority. No more testing each other to see if they could make this relationship work. No more worrying over the shadows of the past. It was just the two of them, together, getting lost in each other.
As soon as they grabbed a bite to eat and stepped out to tour the grounds, he planned on scouting for the perfect place to pop the question.
He prayed like hell she would said yes.
As if on cue, his hands grew clammy and a knot tightened his gut. What if she didn’t want to marry him? What if she was happy with the way things were? Cooper knew she loved him, felt it in every touch and saw it in her every smile, but what if this wasn’t what she pictured for their future?
“Are you alright? You’ve got a death grip on my hand.”
Her question startled him, and he instantly eased up the pressure, not realizing he’d been holding her hand so tightly. Flashing a grin, he hoped she didn’t notice his unease. “Sorry, just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall. I know how I make you weak in the knees.”
She laughed, the husky sound warming his blood. “You’re so full of yourself, but I love you anyway.” She leaned into him. “I think I read somewhere that the restaurant isn’t attached to the building, that we need to go outside to find the entrance.”
Finding their way down to the main hall, they went out the door they had come in earlier. The restaurant nestled between a grove of trees, the scents of freshly baked bread and herbs filling the air around them.
Celina’s stomach growled loudly and they both laughed. “I suppose we’d better hurry.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
Her eyes widened before shifting away, suddenly absorbed in the rose bushes lining the walk to the front door of the restaurant.
What was that all about? He fought down the urge to ask. She’d been off the whole past week, not eating, not sleeping. At first he’d assumed it was because his schedule had been so screwy, but it seemed to be more than that. She seemed a million miles away, jumping at the slightest sound. Whenever he’d asked if she was okay, she’d brushed him off with an ‘I’m fine’.
Typical woman. Was there something more to it than she was letting on?
They stepped through the doorway of Le Vino d’Abbey, taking a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. The restaurant had been decorated with rows of vineyards painted on the walls, various town scenes, thick brocade window treatments, white linen covered tables and marked barrels placed strategically throughout the room. The whole effect made it feel as though you had been transported to a quaint French village.
“Oh my God. I think I might have just died and gone to heaven,” Celina crooned, her beautiful eyes glowing with happiness. “Everything smells so good.”
Dressed smartly in a crisp white top with black slacks, hair pulled into a bun at the top of her head, the hostess greeted them, holding up two menus with a smile on her face. “Good evening. Table for two?”
“Yes, please,” Celina said.
Cooper released Celina’s hand to cup her elbow as they followed the hostess to a table in the corner. Trying to be a gentleman, he moved to slide Celina’s chair back, tripping over the hostess and nearly knocking her to the ground.
“I’m so sorry.” He fumbled around, righting the hostess, his neck burning with embarrassment even though she assured him she was fine before returning to the hostess station.
Celina waited patiently for him to recompose himself, arching an eyebrow as he held her chair. “Hitting on another woman while you’re on a date, Harris? Bad form,” she tsked with a grin.
Having regained his composure, Cooper gave her a covert smack on the ass before she sat. Smug male satisfaction rose up at her gasp of surprise.
Sliding her chair in, he leaned down, pressing his lips to her ear. “Keep it up, sweetheart. There’s more where that came from.”
Dropping her elbows to the table, she cradled her chin in her hand, batting her eyelashes. “Oh, I hope so.”
A waiter appeared next to their table, wearing the same uniform as the hostess, save for a white apron wrapped around his middle that extended past his knees. “Good evening. Can I interest you in a bottle of the house wine?”
Cooper opened his mouth to accept, but Celina was already shaking her head. “Sorry, no wine.”
No wine? She loved wine.
At Cooper’s surprised look, she gave him a quick, nervous smile. “My stomach’s far too empty, and you know it’s been a little off this week. Probably just stress from work, but I don’t want to push my luck and end up with reflux.”
Cooper’s stomach tightened with worry. Celina never got acid reflux. Definitely something wrong.
“Right,” he said, turning back to the waiter. “Could you give us a few minutes?”
“Absolutely.” Giving a slight bow, he left them and headed to a nearby table of diners.
Grabbing her menu, Celina snapped it open, holding it up so that it covered her face. Which would have been perfectly normal given where they were, save for the fact that Cooper was beginning to get the feeling she was hiding something.
�
�Wow, everything sounds so good,” she said. “What do you think you’re going to try?”
Sliding a finger along the top of her menu, Cooper applied pressure until it sank down, revealing her flushed face. “What’s going on, Celina? Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
She waved a hand through the air, giving a tinny laugh. “I’m fine, really. You know it was a crazy week with both of our jobs and my stomach got a little off, that’s all. Plus, I haven’t eaten all day. I don’t want our weekend to be ruined because my stomach decides to rebel.”
It made sense, yet Cooper still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Like him, Celina was adept at hiding her feelings. Is that what she was doing now?
He trusted her implicitly, she’d never given him reason not to. Whatever was going on in that gorgeous head of hers, he would have to trust she would tell him when she was ready.
Dinner was delicious.
Celina couldn’t remember a meal she’d ever enjoyed more thoroughly than the food she’d just consumed. While Cooper had ordered the Magret de Canard, a lightly cooked duck breast, Celina had ordered the Sole Meuniere, a crispy, fresh fish sautéed in butter and lemon. Baby sickness aside, she tended to have more of an appetite in the evening hours, so polishing off every last bite on her plate wasn’t a problem.
Leaning back from the table, Cooper put his fork down, a satisfied look on his face. “Would you think less of me if I licked my plate?”
Celina laughed. “I’d probably join you. That was fantastic.”
“Dyer claimed the food was good. He wasn’t kidding. Your stomach’s okay?”
“Stuffed a bit, but otherwise, it’s enjoying the foodie hangover.”
“Save any room for dessert?”
As if by magic, a dessert menu dangled between Cooper’s fingertips and Celina’s mouth watered at the possibilities lying inside. “A little room. Share something with me?”
