“Why?”
“Because I won’t risk leaving them to the looters when they decide to take the château away from me.”
Her gaze shifted to his face. “You’re so sure it will happen?”
He nodded. “It will come. There’s amadness in the land and it’s growing worse every day.”
“Then why do you remain?”
“It’s the country of my birth. I keep hoping…” He shook his head. “But I won’t blind myself to realities because I want to remain here. The family must survive if all else perishes.”
She studied his expression. “The family. That’s why you would like a child by me. You want a child to help the Andreas family survive.”
“Perhaps.”
“It wouldn’t help. The child wouldn’t have the Andreas name.”
Jean Marc’s gaze met her own. “That’s true. Certain adjustments would have to be made.”
“And, besides, we both know I’m not with child.”
He smiled faintly. “Yes, we do. However, one can never know what tomorrow will bring.” He gazed once more at the château. “Do you wish to go ashore with me? The château has been closed since my father died and there are no servants to make you comfortable.”
She was surprised at the abrupt change of subject. “How long will we be anchored here?”
“Several hours. I want to supervise the loading to make sure they’ve missed nothing of importance to me.”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “I do want to go ashore.”
The rose garden they passed through on the way to the chateau in which Jean Marc had grown up was a wild tangle of thorn-laden shrubbery.
Juliette asked, “Why did you close the house after your father died?”
“I was seldom here. It was more convenient for me to buy a house in Marseilles and conduct my business from there.”
“But it’s so beautiful here.” She gazed out over the myriad paths and graceful fountains of the garden that stretched as far as the shimmering blue-green waters of the Golfe du Lion. “This garden must have been lovely at one time.”
He nodded. “One of the most beautiful in France.The garden’s actually older than the château. It was designed by Sanchia Andreas in 1511 when the island was first purchased. The château was built later.” He climbed the stone steps and inserted the large brass key he carried into the lock before calling back to Captain De Laux over his shoulder. “The Jade Salon, first, Simon. It’s on your right. Have the men pack everything very carefully.”
“You want the furniture loaded on the ship too?” Simon asked.
“Everything. Nothing’s to be left behind that can be transported.”
“So that’s why you wouldn’t let me negotiate a return cargo at La Escala. The furniture will fill the entire hold.” Simon turned and began giving the orders to the sailors straggling through the garden behind him.
Juliette followed Jean Marc into the château, gazing curiously around the huge foyer.
Dust and cobwebs had claimed the hall. Sheer lacy webs surrounded the candles in the chandelier and clouded the Venetian mirror on the wall. Grime dimmed the glory of the stained glass windows that formed an arched cupola over the entire foyer and cast rainbow prisms of color on the teak tiles of the floor.
Jean Marc opened a handsomely carved oak door. “This was my father’s study. There are a few journals I want to pack myself.”
Juliette followed him into the room and closed the door. Dust and cobwebs again, though all the cushioned pieces of furniture in the room were covered with sheets of linen.
Jean Marc was gazing at the painting over the fireplace.
The woman in the portrait wore a blue satin gown with wide skirts. Her classical features were flawless, her form slim yet voluptuous. Long dark lashes veiled deep blue eyes and her long golden hair was styled in a coiffure that had been popular when Juliette’s mother had first taken her to Versailles. “She couldn’t be that beautiful,” Juliette stated positively. “The artist flatteredher. My teacher, Madame Vigée Le Brun did that all the time with her subjects. Did she paint this portrait?”
“No.”
