Page 38 of The Magic of Provence

That dreams could come true.

Christophe had said it so well, when they’d been talking about her father on the way to the forest, and he’d said that something traumatic could damage your life. That it could steal what makes you the person you want to be.

Good grief… Had that been only this morning?

Surely that wasn’t enough time for it to feel as if she’d taken a huge step forward in her life? Not only that, but to feel as if she might be brave enough to take another step?

That she could actually see the person that had been stolen from herself? The person she desperately wanted to be?

A lover.

A wife.

A mother.

Part of a family that wouldn’t exist without her.

In a home with a kitchen like the one behind her with light glinting from the copper pans and, already, an aroma of hot food that had persuaded Heidi to go back inside. Fi wasn’t quite ready to follow her. She needed just another moment or two, hidden in the darkness out here in a small garden that was fragrant with delicious herbs.

* * *

What was she doing?

Oddio… was she crying?

She hadn’t seen him come out of the kitchen to tell her that her dinner was ready. The way she was standing so still in the dark, with her head bowed and her hands covering her face, certainly made it look as if she was deeply upset about something.

Christophe didn’t hesitate to go towards her and he wasn’t thinking of anything other than offering comfort when he put his arm around her shoulders.

‘What is it,amore?’ he asked. ‘What is wrong?’

Her gaze was startled as she looked up. The light from behind him caught her eyes and it reminded him of when he’d seen them lit up by a shaft of sunlight filtered through the shifting mass of leaves above them in the forest. He’d noticed the flecks of gold in her hair then, but he hadn’t registered that they were in the depths of her eyes as well. They weren’t simply brown, they were an intriguing shade that made him think of burnt caramel.

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Fi said. ‘I was smelling the basil. See?’ She opened her hands to show him the sprig of green leaves, crushed a little between her palms. She turned beneath his arm at the same time, which made it an invitation for him to dip his head and inhale the peppery, slightly minty perfume of the herb.

Without thinking, he put his hand beneath hers to bring the leaves closer to his nose. He took a deep breath and, as he lifted his head, he let it out in an appreciative sigh that was almost a hum.

He was also looking straight into Fiona’s eyes.

And she was looking back. And it felt… different.

So different to that first time they’d met and she’d barely been able to let her gaze touch his for the space of time it took a heart to beat once.

He couldn’t sense the fear that he’d been aware of then, either.

There was something else there.

Something utterly compelling.

And, in that moment, Christophe knew he hadn’t been honest with himself. Hewasattracted to Fiona Gilchrist and it was an attraction with a power he’d never experienced before. The only sensation he could compare it to was how he’d felt when he’d been so insanely in love with Marcella – when he’d been a teenage male with raging hormones and no life experience whatsoever.

That wasn’t who he was now. He’d had more experience in the realm of romance and sex than he’d ever expected or, to be honest, had really wanted.

Perhaps he’d been aware of that undercurrent of power when he’d first laid eyes on this woman, and maybe he’d not only sensed the fear in her but had felt an echo of it within himself and had been more than happy to back off.

To keep them both safe…

And that’s exactly he should be doing again, right now, but somehow the message wasn’t getting from his brain to the rest of his body. Even the tiny muscles around his eyes were refusing to move and this intimate, almost physical, feeling of their gazes touching was getting completely out of control.

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