Page 78 of Echo in the Wind

She kissed his warm forehead and, carefully disentangling herself from his arms and legs, silently crawled from the bed. Quickly, she donned her chemise and robe. She did not want the servants to find them in “twisted sheets”, as he had once said.

No one was in the corridor as she slipped into her bedchamber and brushed the tangles from her hair.

When Gabrielle entered, along with the morning sun, Joanna called for a bath.

Soaking in the hot water, she wondered where this new path would take her and whether she would have any regrets.

Chapter 19

Jean left his chamber, slightly annoyed the vixen had deserted his bed without waking him for a last kiss or more. Images of her willowy body and beautiful breasts flitted through his mind. He had made her his, and he was almost certain she had reciprocated by claiming him.

At the foot of the stairs, Lefèvre waited wearing another shockingly bright suit. Before it had been bright orange; this one was the color of immature grapes. Jean tried not to cringe. Only his softhearted brother Henri could have retained such a one.

“Bonjour,” he said to the butler and strode into the small dining room where his family had always eaten their morning meal.

He thanked Sophie for the coffee she handed him and took his seat at the head of the table, adding the cream that made the drink café au lait.

Feeling sated from the night before, but bleary-eyed for lack of sleep, he drank half the cup before turning to the only other person at the table.

His niece sat watching his every move as she quietly ate her eggs and brioche and sipped her chocolate. “I always waited for Papa to drink his coffee before I spoke.”

“Wise child,” he muttered, turning his attention to his brioche and berries.

A tear rolled down her cheek. To speak of her papa must be painful. Reaching across the corner of the table, he took her hand. “I know you miss your papa, Zoé. I miss him, too.” In truth, Jean had missed Henri for a very long time.

She nodded and wiped away the tear. “’Tis not so bad since you came, mon oncle. ’Tis almost like having him here again. He was in Paris much of the time before the accident. I was so happy to have him back.” She looked down at her plate. “I kept pretending he was away again on one of his trips, even though I knew he was gone and not coming back.”

Jean squeezed her hand. “Perhaps one day I will take you to England. Would you like that?”

“Oh, yes! When I grow up I want to travel on a ship like you!”

He laughed. “Well, maybe not exactly like me.” He popped some of the ripe strawberries into his mouth, thinking they tasted like Joanna.

He rather enjoyed his niece’s company. She reminded him of Claire at that age. He would gladly act as Zoé’s guardian. Holding his grandson Jean Nicholas and his lovemaking with Joanna raised the possibility of fathering another child. Until now, he had not considered it. What would he do if their lovemaking produced a child?

“What did you want to be when you were my age, Oncle Jean?”

Roused from his musings, he thought for a moment, remembering the long days of summer when he and Henri walked together among the vines, planning their lives. “I wanted to grow the best grapes in Saintonge and to make the finest cognac in all of France.” Winking at his niece, he added, “For a short time, I even entertained the possibility of becoming a violin virtuoso.”

She gave him a look of pity. “You didn’t get to do those things, did you?”

“Non. But sometimes, Zoé, when one dream dies, another is born. My new dream was to become a ship’s captain and master the sea. Eventually, I discovered I love the sea more than I do the land.”

“I cannot wait to sail on your ship!” she exclaimed.

He patted her hand. “You will and soon.” He downed the rest of his coffee and finished his meal, then rose from the table. “I don’t suppose you know where I can find M’sieur Bequel.”

“When I came in, he was speaking with Monsieur Giroud, who wants to take you into the vineyard today to show you something.”

Amazed at all the girl gleaned from keeping her ears open, Jean made to leave.

Zoé said, “If you agree, Oncle Jean, I was hoping Lady Joanna and I could go to Saint Jean d’Angély. I want to show her the abbey church and the market.”

“I would like that,” said Lady Joanna from the doorway where she appeared, looking beautifully poised in a sky blue gown. Her cheeks were slightly flushed.

No one would guess she had spent the night in his bed where there had been very little sleeping. He desperately wanted to take her upstairs and make love to her again. Instead, he said, “Good morning, Lady Joanna.” He could not very well call her “Joanna” in front of his niece.

He pulled out a chair for her, catching a whiff of her floral scent. Was he imagining things or did she ease herself into the chair more carefully than usual? Now that he thought of it, she might need a few days to recover from their night together. And then what would he do? They could never go back to the way things had been, but how would they go forward?