‘I have a…’ The word in English escaped him, perhaps because his brain was still trying to grapple with an underlying sense of urgency that came with the reminder that their time together was limited. ‘Un tuyau d’arrosage. You know?’

  ‘No…’ Ellie was laughing. ‘I have no idea what that is.’

  ‘It might help get the soap off. It’s for putting water on the garden.’

  ‘Oh… a hose?’

  ‘Oui, c’est ça.’

  ‘Perfect.’ Ellie stood on tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. ‘I couldn’t find one, and I didn’t want to go to the bricolage two days in a row.’

  It was Julien who pulled away this time. Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t want to move at all, and the sooner they got those donkeys clean, the sooner he could give making love to Ellie his undivided attention.

  ‘You start making Marguerite soapy,’ he said. ‘I’ll get the ’ose.’

  The donkeys seemed to like getting soapy with the vigorous massage that went with it. They weren’t so keen on getting drenched with cold water from the hose. They were too polite to walk away, but they shook themselves repeatedly, initially creating cloudbursts of soap suds that covered both Julien and Ellie and were, inexplicably, the funniest thing that had ever happened to him.

  Or perhaps he just wanted it to be the funniest thing ever because he wanted to hear the sound of Ellie’s laughter. To imprint it in his memory so that he could find it whenever he needed to.

  Because it made him feel, also inexplicably but undeniably, the happiest he’d ever been in his life.

  The scattered soap suds became much colder sprays of water as the donkeys were rinsed and, by the time Ellie was rubbing them down with towels and Julien was rolling up the hose that had gathered a layer of sticky mud, it was obvious that they would not be going out anywhere for dinner.

  ‘I’m sorry about your clothes,’ she said.

  He shrugged. He could actually feel the touch of her gaze as if it were roaming over his bare skin instead of clothes that were not only soggy, but were now liberally streaked with mud from rolling up the hose.

  Ellie kept a straight face as she lifted her gaze to his.

  ‘I’ll wash them for you,’ she offered. ‘But you’ll have to take them off.’

  Julien’s lips twitched despite his own attempt to keep a straight face. ‘D’accord…’

  ‘Come with me, then.’ Ellie gathered up the towels. ‘It’s still more than warm enough out here to dry out damp donkeys, but I’m getting cold.’

  ‘You need a hot shower.’ Julien nodded. ‘And so do I.’

  The mental image he suddenly had of soaping every inch of Ellie’s body was enough for him to decide that the pleasure of anticipation had run its course. He was more than ready for the real thing, so he turned to start walking towards where Pascal was still patiently waiting on the lemon orchard side of the fence.

  ‘I don’t have a shower,’ he heard Ellie say behind him. ‘But I do have a lovely old bath.’

  The last time Ellie had shared a bath with anyone had been when she was small enough to fit between her older sisters. It seemed like a romantic thing to do now, but she was finding herself oddly nervous as she started filling the tub and went out to the terrace to borrow some of the large candles she had recently placed inside the ornate holders. Julien had poured wine into two glasses, and he followed her upstairs.

  With a window that was small enough not to let in much of the fading daylight, the candlelight made it less daunting to remove every stitch of her clothing without the distraction of spiralling arousal, but this still felt… odd.

  Intimate but so ordinary at the same time.

  Also awkward. Bathtubs weren’t really designed to hold two adults, so it wasn’t easy to find a way to arrange their legs as they sat facing each other, and Ellie needed to be careful of the taps behind her back. But then Julien leaned over the edge to pick up the wine glasses and handed one to Ellie. The water stopped sloshing and the flickering light from the candles was suddenly perfect.

  As perfect as the way Julien was smiling at her.

  ‘Ça va?’ he murmured.

  Ellie took a sip of her wine. The query had reminded her of the exchange in the bricolage yesterday. So she shrugged.

  ‘Ah, tu sais…’ She managed to find just the right note of nonchalance. ‘Le train-train…’

  Julien almost choked on his wine as he burst into laughter.

  ‘What? What did I say?’

  ‘Le train-train…’ Julien managed to stifle both his laughter and his coughing. ‘It means… pas grand-chose – nothing special. Just the same as usual. You might say “same old, same old”?’

  Ellie was grinning now. Any awkwardness had been swallowed by the laughter.

  ‘My bad,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve never, ever done this before.’

  Julien’s foot moved to stroke her thigh as they both took a sip of their wine, studying each other’s face over the rim of the glasses.

  ‘And is it good?’

  ‘I like it,’ Ellie smiled. ‘Apart from the taps.’

  ‘Ah…’ Julien took their glasses and put them on the floor beside the bath. ‘Turn around,’ he commanded. ‘So you have your back to me.’

  The candles flickered and small waves threatened to splash over the rim of the tub as Ellie turned herself around. Julien put his arms around her and drew her against his body, where she nestled between his legs. When she tilted her head back to rest it in the dip just under his collar bone she could look up and see his face.

  He wasn’t looking down at her. He was reaching behind him now, to where the lavender-scented soap she had bought in Tourrettes-sur-Loup was sitting, along with an artificial spray of lavender bloom, in the small ceramic saucer that had come with it. She had a heartbeat to simply soak in the profile of his face, feeling his skin slip against hers at the same time. She was also feeling something very similar to that overwhelming rush of emotion she had been reintroduced to only a matter of hours ago. That warm, liquid, totally heart-melting sensation of pure love.

  The words almost escaped her.

  I love you, Julien…

  But Ellie pressed her lips together to stop them being heard. Because she didn’t want to spoil this moment by reminding him of what he’d lost in his life. By creating an echo of what his wife must have told him a thousand times.

  Besides, coherent words were about to get a lot harder to find. Julien had soaped his hands and placed them on her shoulders and was stroking them down the front of her body to cover and outline the shape of her breasts, just above the level of the water in the bath. He bent his head at the same time, and she could feel his lips and his tongue against her neck.

  Her breath came out in a sigh that became a groan of pleasure as one of Julien’s hands slipped below the level of the water so that his touch became breathtakingly intimate. He knew exactly where to find what he knew would coax her over the edge very quickly, but she knew he was probably just teasing her a little now. He had a gift for taking her right to that edge and then slowing things down so that, the next time, it would become even more intense.

  It felt like he had the ability to slow down time itself. Ellie could only hope that when it was her turn to give him this kind of pleasure – which might have to wait until they were out of the bath and in her bed – he would feel the same way. As if, for whatever time they had together, the outside world ceased to exist and the passage of time became completely irrelevant.

  Le train-train?

  Aye… that was going to be a joke for ever, because this was so special that Ellie knew she was never going to find it again.

  18

  Julien stayed away from La Maisonette while Ellie’s sister was visiting.

  Had that been because he didn’t want to watch them getting ready to sell the house, which would make the ticking of that clock feel even louder? Or was it that meeting a member of her family might make it feel that things between them were more significant than they were and would mean it was time to escape?

  Julien wasn’t ready to escape.

  Not yet. Not until he had to.

  Sitting on this terrace with Ellie close enough to touch without even having to reach for her, savouring the last drops of an excellent glass of wine, with a small, white dog sound asleep in shade that was merging with the fading light of sunset, was…

  It was perfect, that’s what it was.

  It felt like Julien had come home after being away for too long, which was strange because it had only been a couple of days.

  Not that he was about to try and analyse why it felt like this. He simply wanted to enjoy it.

  ‘So it was good? To have your sister here? She must have been very happy with what you’ve done to the house.’

  ‘She was.’ Ellie opened a big envelope that was on the table. ‘She printed out some of the photographs she took while she was here. Look… here’s one of the donkeys asleep under the olive trees. And one of my bicycle.’

  Julien smiled, remembering the day that Ellie had fallen off that bicycle because Pascal had run out in front of her. He, shifted his hand just enough to brush the skin of her arm with the back of his hand. He knew it would still be there. The sensation that was like a faint electric current. Something he’d never felt with any other woman, no matter how attracted to them he’d been.

  But this was Ellie.

  And she was different.

  ‘Here’s one of Margot. And I love these close-ups of the flowers on the front door, and the door-knocker.’

  The door-knocker, shaped like a delicate female hand holding an apple, was shinier than Julien had remembered it being.

  ‘Did you polish it?’

  Ellie nodded. ‘Laura thought it was new, but I said it had just needed a bit of love. Like everything else in La Maisonette.’

  She was tilting her head towards Julien, although they were too far apart to kiss. She turned her arm so that when his hand reached her wrist she could cup her fingers around it. When Julien turned his hand over, it felt like the most natural thing in the world for their fingers to interlace. Loosely, so that they could still move and play with each other in a slow, gentle dance.

  ‘And she took so many photos of the flowers I painted on the walls in the other bedroom. She knew why I’d avoided going in there for so long. She almost cried… and Laura never cries.’

  The child’s bedroom.

  Julien said nothing for a moment, but he knew she would feel the change in the pressure of his fingers against hers. That she already knew he’d understood how significant her caring for Theo had been that night and that he’d been so proud of everything she’d achieved in her time in his country. That he would always be in awe of her courage and her creativity and her ability to offer love. He couldn’t go there again, knowing how hard it would be to survive the aftermath, but he was confident that Ellie would be brave enough one day – not just with a lover but as a mother as well. That she would find all the love she so deserved to receive in return.

  ‘She must be so proud of everything you’ve done here.’

  ‘I think so.’ Ellie smiled. ‘I didn’t really see much of her, though. She spent more time with the estate agent than me. She said it was business – they were making up the marketing information for the property and he was taking her to some of the highlights this area has to offer. They even went as far as the lavender fields in Provence so that she could include them in the brochure, but I think there was more to it than that.’ Ellie shook her head. ‘Not that Laura would admit it. Quite the opposite, in fact. She even told me that she never wanted to be in any kind of serious relationship. Ever.’

  ‘Oh?’ Had Ellie’s oldest sister been through as much of a disastrous marriage as he had himself? ‘Why not?’ he asked. ‘Has she had her heart broken?’

  ‘It’s more that she’s afraid of relationships, I think. She’s seen too many examples of how bad they can be.’

  ‘Like yours?’

  ‘Mmm.’ Ellie was biting her lip. ‘But it goes deeper than that. It was about what happened in our family and how we lost our father. She was the oldest, so she was far more a part of it than me, or my other sister, Fiona.’

  ‘You had trouble? With your father?’ A chill ran down Julien’s spine. Had Ellie been abused in some way? Physically? Sexually? The thought made him feel ill.

  Ellie caught his gaze for a heartbeat. ‘It’s a long time ago. I won’t bore you with it.’

  She began to slide her hand away from his but it felt like it was stretching something important. Something that would break as soon as he couldn’t feel her skin against his, so he caught her hand and held it tightly. As if he could protect her from what had happened so long ago?

  ‘I want to know,’ he said. ‘Please… tell me.’

  He let her sit in silence for a long minute while he refilled their glasses. And then he waited patiently, and Ellie began to fill that silence with her memories of happiness and hurt from her early childhood. It was clear that she had adored her father and had the kind of pleasure Julien hoped Theo would remember from playing with his papa or listening to him reading a story.

  ‘But he was an alcoholic,’ Ellie continued softly. ‘He was getting drunk in the daytime and he lost his job. He got angry a lot, and I know Mam and Laura got scared. And then something happened. He hit another man and hurt him badly, and then… he just disappeared. He ran away…’

  Julien could feel the confusion that the child Ellie had been left with. The fear and grief when her father simply vanished from her life, but the relief that was mixed into the emotional turmoil, that her mother and sisters didn’t need to be scared any longer. Thank goodness Theo had been too young to have memories of his mother that would last a lifetime. And that he had no knowledge of what might have created his father’s – guilty – sense of relief. He never would. Julien would make sure that he believed his mother had loved him so much that the thought of leaving him would have been incomprehensible.

  ‘Look…’ Ellie pulled a smaller envelope from amongst the newly printed photographs. ‘These were inside a book I found in the garage. This is my father and his brother. It was taken in Cornwall in the nineteen-fifties.’ She put another couple of faded photographs on the table. ‘This one’s really old. We thought the woman might be our grandmother on our father’s side of the family. She was French. We didn’t know that until we heard about this house that my uncle had owned and we had inherited. The church looks French, doesn’t it?’

  It was a wedding photograph of a couple standing in front of a church. There was a bell tower to one side and the rest of the church was quite plain apart from a round image of a saint painted on the highest part of the front walls and a gilded figure on the roof above it.

  Julien frowned. There was something familiar about the church. He picked up the other photograph. Perhaps these were the same two boys from the photo taken in Cornwall, but this was when they were much younger. One of them looked no more than Theo’s age here, squatting beside a small channel of fast running water in the middle of a cobbled street, watching his brother put a toy boat into its current. A woman was watching them, seated in a café amongst other shops on the street, and she seemed to be laughing.

  Julien’s eyes widened. ‘I know this place.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘It’s a small town called Saint-Martin-Vésubie. It’s very close to where my grandmother lives in Roquebillière.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Oui… I thought I recognised that church in the other photo, but this…’ Julien pointed at the small boys and their boat, which they were about to float down the tiny man-made river in the cobbled street. ‘I know that café. I have eaten there. And this gargouille in the main street is very distinctive.’

  Ellie tried to repeat the word but stumbled.

  ‘A gargouille,’ he repeated slowly for her to copy. ‘It’s a channel. An old word for a throat, I believe.’

  ‘Oh…’ Ellie’s interest had been caught, which was a good thing. The sad memories of her childhood were being pushed to one side. ‘That’ll be where gargle comes from. And gurgle?’

  Julien nodded. ‘And gargoyle. That’s why the creatures were placed on the roofs of buildings – to channel the water away when it rains.’

  ‘When il pleut comme une vache qui pisse?’

  Julien’s laughter faded into a smile. He usually only felt this soft sensation in his chest when Theo did or said something so adorable it made his heart melt.

  He loved the way Ellie could do this…

  The way she could notice or remember – and capture – a tiny thing that could touch others was part of the way she looked at life and one of the things that made her so good to be near.

  ‘Oh là là… tu es adorable,’ he said. He didn’t bother translating his words. Instead, he reached out to touch her cheek. The way his fingers traced the outline of her face felt so familiar now – like the way something caught in his chest when Ellie tilted her face into his touch. Her chin was the perfect fit for the cup his hand could create, and her eyes were closing already in anticipation of his kiss as he leaned towards her.

  A long, slow, delicious kiss…

  And then another.

  But then Ellie rested her head on his shoulder and Julien moved his arm to provide a protective circle. Because he didn’t want her to move anytime soon. When they did move to go upstairs to her bedroom, it was quite possible that she wouldn’t want to make love in the aftermath of remembered trauma and sadness, and that would be fine by him. He would be more than happy to simply hold her like this and feel her fall asleep in his arms. To keep her company.

  And to keep her safe.

  Maybe that was why he responded the way he did when she spoke again.

  ‘I’d like to go there,’ she said quietly. ‘To where these photographs were taken. Would it be hard for me to find?’