Page 16 of Falling for Provence

It was only now that Julien remembered an impression he’d got when he’d first seen his son in the woman’s arms. It was only now that he realised what it was that had seemed obvious about the way she had been holding Theo. Cradling him against her body with the kind of protective intensity that Julien would automatically associate with a mother.

Had Theo felt that? Had it made him remember his own mother? Surely not. He’d been only a baby when Sarah had died.

It was possible, however, that such a young child could be aware of something missing from his life. Something that couldn’t be replaced by even the most loving father and grandmother.

Merde. Julien pushed his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes for a long moment. It didn’t matter whether he never saw the woman next door again.

Something had changed… and he didn’t like it.

Pas du tout.

5

It came out of nowhere.

Maybe she would have seen it coming if she hadn’t been enjoying herself so much on her first excursion on the red bicycle. Ellie hadn’t needed to risk the main road to get to the village of Tourrettes-sur-Loup, and she’d just had a delightful hour or more exploring a village that she found even more appealing than St Paul de Vence. It didn’t have the flower-cobbled streets, but it was just as charming and… more real, somehow. Real people lived here, and there were everyday shops to be found when she returned to the central square.

A boulangerie to get some fresh bread. A fromagerie, where she’d found eggs as well as new cheeses to taste, like the tempting-looking Époisses and the intriguingMorbier with a dark line through its centre. Anépiceriewas the last shop she visited, with an impressive array of fresh fruit and vegetables, including some delicious-looking carrots with their greenery still attached.

Her eye had been caught by the way the carrot tops, poking out of the basket, were catching the breeze, and her confidence in recapturing her bike riding skills was far greater on her returntrip. Enough to make her increase her speed on this downhill slope so that she could feel the wind in her hair and not just see it in the carrot tops.

Ellie had had a great big smile on her face. Until it happened.

Until her peripheral vision had caught the small, hairy dog shape that was doing a kamikaze bolt across the road. Ellie jammed on her brakes, yanking on her handlebars at the same time, in an attempt to avoid a collision, and she’d felt the loss of her balance even before her front wheel clipped the dog. She heard its yelp of pain seconds before she toppled sideways into the stone wall and gave her own yelp. She also heard the skid of a car braking too swiftly behind her and, a second later, the sound of rapid footsteps.

‘Ça va? Vous êtes blessée?’

The bicycle was being lifted from her body, but Ellie kept her eyes closed a moment longer. Because that voice sounded disturbingly familiar, and it wasn’t simply that he was speaking French.

‘Oh.’ The voice was closer now. ‘It’syou.’

She opened her eyes. Yep. There was that intense stare again. She pushed herself up on one elbow.

‘I could have run over you,’ he said. ‘What happened?’

‘There was a dog…’ Ellie sat up. ‘He ran out in front of me. Oh, help… I hit him.’ Her gaze skimmed the pile of produce that had spilled from her basket. The wrapped cheeses, broken eggs, scattered carrots and the baguette that had slipped from its bag to land in the dust of the road would have to wait. Where was the dog?

It was hunched beside the wall. Shivering. If holding one front paw in the air wasn’t enough of an accusation, the expression in its eyes certainly was. This small, nondescript animal could not have looked more miserable.

‘Areyouhurt?’ The note of concern in his voice was enough to make Ellie’s gaze swerve back to her neighbour in astonishment. It sounded genuine, and she also had the impression that he hadn’t stopped staring at her.

‘I… I don’t think so.’

‘You’re bleeding.’

His hand caught her wrist, tilting her arm so that Ellie could see the blood on her elbow.

‘It’s just a graze.’

‘Can you bend your arm? Wiggle your fingers? Does anything hurt?’

Ellie bent her arm and wiggled her fingers. Her elbow could well be bruised, but any discomfort was overridden by the sensation of that loose grasp on her wrist. The awareness of skin on skin was intense enough to be disturbing, and she pulled away from the touch. He let her go instantly.

She turned to look at the dog again. ‘I thinkhemight be hurt, though…’ A horrible thought occurred to her as she realised how close to her gate she was. ‘He’s notyourdog, is he?’

‘Non.’ With a sigh, the man straightened and walked the few paces it took to reach the dog and crouched beside it. Ellie got to her feet and watched as he cautiously patted the animal on its head and then ran his hands over its body. It made her think of him checking out his own son after he’d wrenched him from her grasp. It was a focused attention, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. He left the dangling paw till the end and had barely touched that leg before the dog yelped in pain.

‘It could be broken,’ he said. ‘He needs to go to a vet.’

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