The Promise of Provence (Love in Provence Book 1) (20 page)

When they were called into the dining area, the women gasped at the candlelit setting. Once again the colors were soft and earthen. The lighting was so cleverly blended, it was hard to believe that anything more than candles created the ethereal effect.

Everyone at the table chose the
specialité de la maison
. Katherine was surprised the teenagers were interested in such fine food, but they explained they had been holidaying in this part of Provence every summer for ten years. They were almost as knowledgeable about the food as their parents.

“That’s so wonderful! Travel is the best educator, is it not?” Katherine commented, and they all agreed.

Not long afterward, Katherine noticed Matt come into the dining area and sit alone at a table for two. Looking around, he noticed her and waved with a smile. Katherine waved back, returning the smile.

Wine flowed through all five courses, shifting from sauvignon blanc to a full-bodied Bordeaux to complement the main course,
queue de boeuf à l’orange.

The teens were anxious to get on to other activities once their meals were finished.

“Undoubtedly of a digital nature,” muttered their father as they excused themselves and politely said goodnight to Katherine. The owners of the inn appeared in the dining area to invite the ten remaining guests to join them on the terrace for a
digestif
—a cognac.

“On the house, as you say in America,” M. LaFontaine said with a grin. “
C’est offert par la maison . . . un cadeau
. . . a gift, if you please.”

Although Kat felt she had consumed more than enough alcohol, the other guests cajoled her into one more. The next thing she knew, Matt was pulling out a chair for her at a long table where everyone was gathered and chatting amiably.

“How can you not want to sit and enjoy this amazing setting?” Matt asked as he sat next to her. “It’s like something out of a magazine, isn’t it?” Katherine nodded with an appreciative smile and agreed it truly was enchanting. Again, candlelight and torches in the garden accompanied the glow of a nearly full moon. Soft jazz played in the background, and conversation flowed easily as everyone introduced themselves.

Along with the British couple, there were two couples from Paris and another from Germany, with Katherine and Matt being the only North Americans. M. LaFontaine mentioned there was another couple from the United States staying at the inn.

Everyone was interested in hearing about Katherine’s mini-Mayle motor trip that day. No one was aware of the story about the statue in Cadenet, and she enjoyed sharing it. Most of the guests had visited the area in the past, and there was much trading of restaurant names and helpful tips about lesser-known places to see. When Kat mentioned she was going to hike through the Cedar Forest outside Bonnieux on Saturday morning, the British couple told her they had already done this, and described their experience.

“As you may know, since you seem to be a well-informed visitor, it’s an easy walk, but lovely. Only one and a half hours full circle, but the views are expansive. There are signs throughout so you know what you are seeing, and we really appreciate that. It gives an excellent overview of the Petit Luberon.”

One of the couples from Paris said they planned to do the walk and suggested Katherine might like to go with them. She replied it would be fun to have company.

Lucille and Hubert seemed a delightful couple. She was a tall, slim French beauty, blond with a flawless complexion, and he was a charming dark Italian with sparkling eyes that matched an infectious sense of humor. They were enjoying their first week away from their ten-month-old daughter, Alice, but at the same time suffering the pangs of withdrawal, as new parents do. Photos of the sweet child were passed around for everyone to admire.

“Well, if y’all don’t mind,” piped up Matt, his Southern drawl slipping in, “maybe I could tag along?”

“
Perché no . . . er, scusi
. . . as you say, why nota?” Hubert answered.

“The more, the merrier!” Matt exclaimed.

“Get an early start,” advised M. Lafontaine. “Tomorrow is supposed to be as hot as today. Even though you will be sheltered in the forest, the heat will find you!”

The hikers agreed to meet in the lobby at 8:00 a.m., ready to leave, and Matt offered to drive.

“In that case, I’m going to stumble off to my room,” laughed Katherine. “I’ve enjoyed way too much libation this evening!”

“That makes two of us. Allow me to escort you,” said Matt, rising to leave with her.

At the foot of the staircase to Katherine’s room, she turned and casually extended her hand. “Thanks. See you in the morning.”

Taking her hand, Matt said, “
Merci beaucoup!
Let’s be French.” Leaning in, he grazed each cheek with his in the French way.

Caught a little off guard, Katherine smiled politely and turned to go up the stairs. His behavior seemed more pushy than gracious, she thought with displeasure.

“Bonsoir,”
she said.

“
Bonsoir
, Kathy!” He didn’t see Katherine wrinkle her nose in annoyance as she quickly opened her door. Inside her room, she rolled her eyes, wondering why some people automatically used common nicknames without asking.

Closing her door, Katherine discovered a handwritten note on the desk indicating she was more than welcome to stay another night in the room.

I’m okay traveling on my own, and every day seems to reaffirm that
, she thought contentedly.

Sitting up, she filled out a menu form to hang on her door, ordering a glass of orange juice and croissants for breakfast, then slipped into her nightgown. Sinking into the luxurious comfort of the plump mattress and collection of plush pillows, a smile lingered as she fell asleep in an instant.

20

After a restful night with fresh air streaming through the windows and breakfast at a small table by the open French doors, Katherine arrived in the lobby to find Matt, Lucille, and Hubert ready for the hike. She apologized for keeping them waiting, but they assured her they had all just arrived that minute.

Instructions in hand, they climbed into Matt’s car and headed off for the Cedar Forest. The morning was clear, but already a hint of the heat to come was in the air.

Three hours later the bedraggled foursome arrived back and in no time
were submerged in the pool. It had been a hot morning for a hike—even an easy one—and the cool water was just the tonic before they continued
with the agenda they had cooked up while walking. Katherine’s plan was to
visit Ménerbes, then explore the countryside, looking for the ancient stone
bories
and
dolmens
. On the way back to the inn she would stop
at
Lacoste. It was decided all four would go together, and Katherine was
happy to have their company. They were delighted she had provided a tour.

After a light poolside salad, Katherine phoned Joy to let her know she was staying an extra night at the inn.

“Pico will be sad,” Joy told her. “He keeps walking down to the farmhouse to see if you are there. But I’m so glad you are having such a lovely time.
À demain!
”

When the others had finished their meals, Matt offered to continue his chauffeur services, and they wound their way the short distance to the hilltop village of Ménerbes.

Once again, the views were breathtaking.

“This is the nature of Provence,” explained Lucille. “One gasp after another and all in the name of beauty.” She had grown up in Normandy, and her stories caused Katherine to decide she must visit that area one day.

Ménerbes was the town Peter Mayle first immortalized in his 1989 book
A Year in Provence
. He was so successful in painting an immensely appealing village and way of life with his words that he eventually was hounded by the tourists who sought out his house. He had done too good a job describing the joys of the area. Everyone felt he was just the type of person with whom it would be lovely to sit and sip wine while listening to his amusing tales. Katherine read aloud that since he had moved to a more private property, the town had returned—somewhat—to a quiet medieval village exquisitely poised over the Luberon Valley. Exploring the paths and laneways past grand village houses and up to the massive Citadelle provided wonderful views over the countryside.

Stopping at a café in the Place de l’Horloge for a break, they consulted travel information on Katherine’s Kindle and decided to take a small detour out of town to the Musée du Tire-Bouchon, or Corkscrew Museum. It displayed more than a thousand corkscrews, and Matt wanted to buy a souvenir there.

The winding drive was thrilling, and Katherine had to admit Matt was doing a remarkable job of navigating the twists and turns.

“I love this kind of driving,” he assured them with a wide grin. “You don’t find roads like this in Florida. It’s all flat swampland.”

Next on the agenda was the village of Lacoste with the castle ruin of the Marquis de Sade, now owned by Pierre Cardin. Parking at the bottom of the hill, they stopped for a beer at the Café de France, with its popular hanging terrace. Then they continued past the
mairie
and back into the Middle Ages as they walked on the cobblestones through the Portail de la Garde, into the ancient heart of old Lacoste. There were no shops or cafés here, but a delightful jumble of ornately decorated doors, mullioned windows, and intriguing architectural details. And of course the castle.

Dominating the town at the top of the hill, the castle was still in partial ruin, although restoration had been ongoing since the 1950s. The town was busy with activity in preparation for the music festival held every summer in July and August. Looking over the schedule of concerts, the four visitors bemoaned the timing.

Watching Lucille and Hubert stroll hand in hand all afternoon with the occasional PDA, Katherine felt a pang of regret at her lack of romantic memories. James had considered any public show of affection to be juvenile.

Maybe I just don’t inspire it.

The heat was getting to all of them, and an ice cream cone was deemed a necessity as they walked back down to the car. There were few villages where there was not a
glacier
selling its own brand of delicious ice cream.

“Katherine, I can’t believe you would want to trade your nice modern facilities in Canada to live in a three-hundred-year-old house with bad plumbing and no air conditioning,” Hubert commented.

“And who knows what other problems,” added Lucille.

Katherine chuckled. “I guess when you have lived with these kinds of villages around you all your life, and so much history, you feel differently about them. Perhaps I’m not being realistic, but I have to say the attraction is overwhelming. I feel the challenge would be worth it!”

The young couple offered a viable argument about the negatives of taking on such a challenge, based on experiences of relatives and other friends living in such villages.

“It’s not as romantic as tourists have a tendency to think.”

“My head tells me you are undoubtedly right,” Katherine agreed, “but my heart wants to think otherwise.”

Matt added, “Y’all know this is my first trip overseas, and I think it’s cool here—even though everything is so old. I mean, duh, of course it is. I like it too, but I don’t think I’d want to live here.”

They were all noticeably quieter on the return trip—tired but happy, as Matt said—and he suggested they go out together for dinner.

Lucille and Hubert had dinner reservations in Bonnieux. Although they offered to see if two more guests could be added, Katherine declined. She felt a strong desire for a long soak in the tub and then a quiet meal at the inn.

Matt suggested she join him to eat and she politely agreed, although in truth she would have preferred the evening to herself.

“Meet you at 7:30 in the bar?” he asked.

Katherine nodded and left for her room.

Matt was sitting in the bar when Katherine arrived, and she suspected he had begun without her. Ordering a Ricard, she took a satisfying sip of the refreshing anise-flavored drink and settled into a comfortable tub chair.

“That’s one drink I’ve never particularly liked,” Matt commented.

“I first tasted
pastis
over thirty years ago when I spent six weeks at an immersion school on the Riviera,” Katherine told him. “I didn’t like it the first time, but I slowly developed a taste for it. Now I love it, probably because it makes me think of France!”

Matt was drinking scotch, and he had two more while Katherine nursed her drink. Just after eight, they were told their table was ready. Feeling as if she had been eating her way through the last two days, Katherine decided to simply have the
sole meunière
. Matt ordered rack of lamb. Through dinner they chatted amiably about life in France, as they saw it, compared to life in North America. She already knew he was married with two grown children, and he knew she was divorced with no children. He had called her Kathy once more in the morning, and she had politely explained that no one called her that. He had said she could call him Matty if she wanted, and they had both laughed at that.

He was a nice enough guy, just a bit loud and opinionated, she had decided. He was certainly thoughtful about driving them around and seemed to appreciate the sightseeing as much as everyone.

Lucille and Hubert, after years in Paris, were more jaded about their culture. Katherine had enjoyed their company today, sharing opinions and experiences.

When Kat had first joined him this evening, Matt politely consulted with her about the wine list and ordered a bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé to accompany dinner. Very nice. The fact that he proceeded to drink most of it, not so much.

As the meal progressed, he became more flirtatious, making the odd comment with less than subtle sexual innuendo. To a point, Katherine was mildly pleased having dinner with a man who appeared to appreciate her, but little warning bells were going off, and it seemed like a good time to end what really had been a lovely day. Ordering a decaf cappuccino, Katherine decided to skip dessert, and Matt agreed that was a wise move. He ordered a cognac instead, and his slurring became more noticeable. Not wanting to appear rude, Katherine lingered just long enough over her decaf before saying she absolutely had to get to bed. This had caused his eyebrows to rise in a salacious manner, which Katherine chose to ignore, but he had remained a gentleman as he stood to say goodnight and walked her to the lobby.

“Let’s be American tonight,” he said, leering, as he swooped Katherine into a hug. She turned her head just in time as he landed a sloppy kiss on her cheek and released her, much to her relief. Katherine wasn’t certain what to do, so she smiled and touched his arm as she thanked him for dinner, which he had insisted he pay for.

“This was a lovely day, Matt, and you were very kind to drive us around. It was good fun.”

“It certainly was,” he agreed, stumbling back slightly.

Katherine took advantage of that to head to her room, turning back to wave, which gave a certain note of finality to the evening. She would see the group over breakfast in the morning and say her good-byes then. As she closed her door, she blew out a sigh and wondered if she had overreacted to his behavior. It had been so long since she had even considered being in a situation like this, she wasn’t sure she was really thinking clearly.

Standing at the balcony railing, she looked out over the pool, now deserted and washed with moonlight along with the fading glow from the garden torches. The air was hot, much more so than the evening before, and an impulsive idea took over. Changing into her bathing suit and robe, she decided she wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.

As she walked quietly through the bar and out to the terrace, she noted that no one else was about. Going to the far end of the pool, she draped her robe over a chaise and slipped into the still water. Submerging, she swam underwater to the other end and then glided back and forth in laps, doing a smooth, silent breaststroke. The moonlight bathed her. Absolute silence surrounded her, with the exception of the small ripples of water as she swam effortlessly.

At some point she became aware that the garden torches had gone off completely.

Probably on timers
, she thought.

Even though the garden was dark, the main rooms of the inn still glowed. Katherine thought it was probably about time she went in, but lingered at the deep end for a few minutes. Resting her chin on her crossed arms on the pool edge, she let her gaze float through the gardens and olive grove and up to the star-studded night sky.

Magic
, she sighed.

A sudden movement of water startled her, and she realized she was no longer alone.

“Don’t worry. It’s just your pal Matty,” she heard as she turned to look behind her. Seeing him already chest deep in the pool, she shook her head with annoyance.

“Well, you did give me a start,” Katherine scolded.

“You looked so lonely out here, I thought I should keep you company.”

“Nope! Not lonely at all. I was enjoying the peace and quiet.”

By this time Matt had reached the end of the pool and was leaning on the edge beside her.

“You’re right,” he said. “It is peaceful . . .” He hiccupped. “Uh . . .
excusez-moi
, I think that last beverage did me in.”

“Time for me to go in,” said Katherine, hiding an uneasy feeling. She began to swim to the shallow end, adding, “But do stay and enjoy this.”

Matt swam alongside her, causing her to move closer to the edge of the pool. As soon as she could touch bottom, she stopped to pull herself out of the water. Before she could, he was behind her, his arms trapping her on either side.

“C’mon Kathy, don’t be in such a hurry. This is the perfect place for romance.”

He ran his lips roughly over the back of her neck and locked his hands over hers so she couldn’t find the leverage she needed to get out.

For a moment, Katherine was completely panic stricken, then sickened.

How the hell can he be so ignorant . . . so presumptuous?

Keeping her cool despite the flash of panic, Katherine said resolutely, “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re a married man and there’s nothing between us.”

With a bit of a snort he said, “Married, shmarried. Didn’ we have a beautiful day together?” Pressing into her back, he added, “And there’s somethin’ between us now.”

To her horror, Katherine realized he was naked and ready for action as he rubbed his hardness against her.

Her stomach tightened and her pulse began racing. This was not a good situation. He was drunk and he was strong. His hands had moved to her shoulders now, slipping the straps of her bathing suit down. He had her arms firmly in his grasp, so getting out was still impossible.