“I listen.” Juliette grinned. “Sometimes.” Her smile faded as she stepped back to permit Jean Marc to get out of the carriage. “You’re taking her back to the Ile du Lion?”
“The château on the Ile du Lion is closed. When my father died I found it inconvenient to keep it open.” Jean Marc helped Catherine from the carriage. “I spend most of my time in Marseilles and Paris now.”
“Then where will Catherine—”
“He’s only teasing you,” Catherine said quickly. “Jean Marc says I’m to stay here at the abbey until I reach my eighteenth year.…”
Relief surged through Juliette. “That’s good.” She caught Jean Marc’s gaze narrowed on her face and continued quickly. “For Catherine, of course.”
“Of course,” Jean Marc echoed softly.
“Your hair’s becoming damp.” Juliette stepped nearer and gently pulled up the hood of Catherine’s cloak to cover her hair. “Have you supped? They’re all in the hall eating now. You could still join them.”
“We had an enormous dinner before we left Paris.”Catherine smiled. “Why are you out here in the courtyard instead of at supper? I suppose you were painting and forgot to eat again?”
Juliette nodded. “I wasn’t hungry.”
“If you were so absorbed in your artistic endeavors, how is it you were in the courtyard when we arrived?” Jean Marc asked with a quizzical smile. “You wouldn’t, by any chance, have been waiting for Catherine?”
“No, of course not.” Juliette lifted her chin and gazed at him defiantly. “I wouldn’t be so foolish as to linger in this cold. I was merely passing by when I saw the coach approaching.”
“How fortunate for us.” Jean Marc motioned to the footman. “Get the basket of fruit from the carriage. Even though the mademoiselle has no hunger, perhaps she’ll be able to force down an apple or pear later.”
“Perhaps.” Juliette turned to Catherine. “Say goodbye and come along. It’s too cold out here for you.”
Catherine nodded and tentatively addressed Jean Marc. “It was very kind of you to have me for Christmas, Jean Marc. I enjoyed myself tremendously.”
“You’re easily pleased. I thought it time I paid some attention to you. I’ve not been an overly attentive guardian these last years.”
“Oh, no, you’re always so kind to me. I knew you were busy.” Catherine’s gentle smile was radiant. “And I’ve been very happy here at the abbey.”
“I doubt if you’d tell me even if you weren’t” Jean Marc took the large covered straw basket from the footman. “But I’m sure the Reverend Mother will be less concerned for my feelings. She’ll scold me for lack of attention but will give me honesty regarding your contentment here.”
“Catherine’s not dishonest,” Juliette said fiercely. “She would say nothing at all rather than lie to you.”
“I’m not maligning her.” A curious expression on his face, Jean Marc gazed into Juliette’s blazing eyes. “And if she’s happy here, I imagine her contentment has much to do with you.” He handed the basket to Catherine. “If I’m still in Paris, I’ll send for you again atEaster. Now, run along. Juliette’s right. There is bitter cold in this wind.”
“Au revoir, Jean Marc.” Catherine whirled and hurried across the courtyard toward the shelter of the arcade, calling over her shoulder, “Hurry, Juliette, I have so much to tell you. Jean Marc let me act as hostess at supper one evening and bought me a wonderful blue satin gown.”
“I’m coming.” Juliette started after her.
“Wait.”
Juliette stiffened when Jean Marc touched her arm. “Catherine is waiting for me.”
“I’ll keep you only a moment.” The snow fell heavily, cocooning and veiling them from Catherine’s view. Star-shaped flakes caught in Jean Marc’s thick dark hair and shimmered on his black cloak. He gazed intently at Juliette. “As usual, you’ve piqued my curiosity. You see, I don’t believe in this particular coincidence.”
She moistened her lips with her tongue. “No?”
“I think you’ve been standing here for most of the afternoon waiting for Catherine to come.” His hands slipped down her arms and he took her slim hands in his. His lips tightened. “Your hands are like blocks of ice. Where are your gloves? Have you no sense?”
His warm, hard grasp spread a disquieting heat through her wrists and forearms. Heat should have brought only comfort, but this sensation was somehow…different. She tried to pull her hands away. “I’m not cold. I…like the snow. I’m studying it to paint.”
“Juliette,” Catherine called from beyond the spiraling curtain of snowflakes.
“I have to go now.”
“Presently.” Jean Marc’s hands tightened on hers. “Are you as happy as Catherine here at the abbey?”
