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“I’ll bet.”
“How beautiful,” she said in awe a while later as they passed the ancient village of Saint-Jea
Marco gri
He made his way out of the village, eventually driving onto a thickly wooded road that was so twisting, Emma quickly couldn’t say which direction she was facing anymore. She kept catching a glimpse of the Mediterranean in the far distance and a burnt red slate roof nestled among lush green treetops. Finally, Marco pulled into a secluded drive and there was the villa before them, a white limestone structure with a red roof, sprawling and enormous, yet nestled quite comfortably in the forest and cliffside, almost as if it had been there so long, it had become part of the natural landscape.
“La Mer,” she breathed out, staring wide-eyed at the ancient home. “Va
Marco gave her a swift, speculative glance, and she wondered what he’d heard in her voice. He brought the car to a halt. “That he does,” he said. “He’s a little happier, when he’s here. I don’t understand why he doesn’t live here all the time, but . . . that’s not for me to decide.”
Emma glanced at him. She had an uncomfortable suspicion of why Va
A minute later, a dark-haired, aproned, middle-aged woman who introduced herself as Mrs. Denis led them into a circular, sunlit entryway that featured a white alabaster grand staircase and windows that went up for three stories. Such a lovely, bright, airy home, Emma thought admiringly as she stared around in awe. Even though the finishes were ornate, there was an ope
“Is that bread baking?” she asked Mrs. Denis.
The housekeeper smiled. “I am always baking something.”
“Lucky for us,” Marco said amusedly.
Down a hallway, Emma saw a huge terrace that was open to the interior. Fresh sea air wafted into the elaborate entry hall. Bright flowers in huge clay pots waved in the gentle breeze on the terrace. Mrs. Denis noticed where Emma looked.
“Come,” she said in her French-accented English. “You’ll sit on the terrace and I’ll bring you some refreshment. Va
“Thank you, that’d be nice.”
“I’ll just put your bag upstairs and see you later,” Marco said.
“Thank you so much,” Emma replied warmly. “For everything, Marco.”
“Not a problem. You enjoy yourself. I have a feeling you might be able to get Va
“I’ll try,” Emma said, returning his friendly wave before she followed Mrs. Denis outside.
“I’ll just go and get your tea and make sure Marco gets something to eat before he goes. He always has an appetite. I wish I could get him to share some of it with Va
Emma walked out onto the terrace, her mouth falling open in delighted awe. The stone terrace was huge, ru
Resigned to his sadness?
Perhaps it was because of the trace of wistfulness in his tone when he’d talked about Adrian and him at La Mer as boys. Maybe it was because of the glimpses she caught of him when he made love, and she saw beneath the aloof surface to his fierce, savage soul.
Her thoughts weighed on her. Why couldn’t he make La Mer his permanent home? Why couldn’t he completely reclaim the happiness he’d once felt there?
And . . . tell Va
Some of Cristina’s final words rose to haunt her at that moment, a sad, poignant reminder in such a su
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Mrs. Denis said from behind her. Emma turned from the stone wall and saw the housekeeper laying a tea service on one of the wrought iron tables. Formerly, “tea” meant a bag and hot water in one of Emma’s mismatched mugs, but since Va
“I’ve never seen anything to compare to it,” Emma agreed as she walked over to the table. “How long have you worked at La Mer?”
“It’ll be twenty-five years this winter,” Mrs. Denis said, setting the delicate antique teapot on the table along with a tiered plate filled with cakes, slices of aromatic, thick whole-grain bread, and a dish of butter. Emma’s mouth watered. “It’s hard to believe, especially since La Mer hardly ever changes. It’s the same old house I remember from my first weeks here.”
Emma smiled and sat when Mrs. Denis pulled back a chair at the table for her. “Some things should always remain the same. La Mer is definitely one of those places. I can see why Va
“He does love it here. I only wish he’d be in residence more,” Mrs. Denis said. Her gaze sharpened on Emma as she set down the teapot. “I’ve never heard the tone in his voice before—the one I hear when he speaks of you.”
Emma’s fingers fumbled the silver cake knife she’d picked up. She looked at the housekeeper in surprise. “Really?”
Mrs. Denis shook her head, a sparkle in her black eyes. “If I had to guess, I’d say that Va
Emma felt her cheeks heating. “That’s so nice, but it’s not as if . . . that is . . . Will Va
“Yes, but I just called to tell him you’d arrived,” Mrs. Denis said, stepping back, her hands folded at her waist. “He asked me to tell you to rest up after your trip. He’s going to take you to Ca