Chapter 17
17
Julien never knew quite what to expect when he took the private route to La Maisonette and walked through his garden to climb over the fence and into the olive grove. Ellie knew he was coming back from Roquebillière this evening, and he rather hoped she might be sitting out on her terrace waiting for him. He had a bottle of wine in his hands, and they could prend un verre before he took her out to dinner.
There was a Michelin-starred restaurant in Vence that he hadn’t taken her to yet, and he knew she would love the intimate feeling of the small tables in the garden courtyard. He wanted to see her reaction to the stunning food they served, as well. Would she close her eyes and tilt her head back a little to focus on how delicious something was? The way he’d first seen her do when she was eating her favourite cheese?
The way she did when he kissed her? Or ran his fingers over her body with a gentle, teasing touch as a prelude to so much more?
Oh, mon Dieu … he’d been looking forward to getting home all day, and the anticipation of making love to Ellie had just reached an almost unbearable pitch. Perhaps a late dinner would be a good idea.
There was always the possibility that she would be oblivious to the time of day and in the middle of a task she was too passionate about to want to be interrupted. Something artistic perhaps, like her sketches. Or messy, like chipping plaster from stone walls. His mouth curved into a lopsided smile as he remembered the first time he’d taken this route to find her and he’d been concerned she was deathly ill, with the pallor the plaster dust on her skin had created. She might be out driving in her little red car, of course. Or riding her bicycle. Or…
Oh, la vache … what on earth was Ellie doing ?
Julien could see her on the other side of the olive grove as soon as he climbed over the fence. Pascal was keeping a safe distance away from her. One of the donkeys – Marguerite, it looked like – was standing right behind her, looking over her shoulder. Coquelicot was… almost unrecognisable because she was covered with a white, foamy substance. Ellie had a bucket at her feet and a large sponge in her hands and she, too, was covered in…
Soap suds, that’s what the substance was.
Ellie was also very damp. She had shorts on, with suds dripping down those gorgeous legs of hers, and a tee shirt that was covered in paint stains and… oh … it was wet enough to be very obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
She was also laughing.
‘I’m sorry, Coquelicot. I put too much shampoo in the water. I’ll have to go and get another bucket to rinse you off with. Probably lots of buckets. Don’t go anywhere.’
Ellie picked up the bucket, turned to see Julien coming towards her and promptly put it down again. Her face lit up with joy. She pushed curls back from her face, which left soap suds in her hair, and came towards him.
Julien, having had the idea of taking Ellie somewhere very elegant for dinner, was wearing a favourite pair of chinos and a freshly ironed linen shirt, but it didn’t occur to him not to put down the bottle he was carrying and take Ellie into his arms.
And kiss her.
Thoroughly.
So thoroughly they could well have ended up making love in the olive grove, except that Ellie pulled away with a sound of frustration.
‘I can’t leave Coquelicot all soapy. And I still need to shampoo Marguerite.’
‘Why?’
‘It seemed like a good idea. My sister Laura is arriving tomorrow to take photos of the house to use for the marketing campaign, and I thought the donkeys should look their best so they can be in the photos, too. I’ve left it a bit late in the day, though, and I’ll need to get them as dry as I can with the old towels. I can brush them in the morning.’
Several thoughts were competing for prominence in Julien’s head as he tried to listen. The reminder that this property would soon be sold, so the end point of his time with her was getting closer, was a bit of a shock. He couldn’t intrude on the time she would have with her sister, which meant that being with her was off the agenda for the duration of the visit, and his body was letting him know in no uncertain terms just how much he wanted to be with Ellie. Right now. And for as long as possible.
The awareness of how much he was going to miss this was trying to push its way in; right on its heels was the desire to make the most of every single moment that was left.
But he loved that she wanted to wash the donkeys so they would look good in photographs. He loved that she loved the donkeys and was no longer afraid of them, the way she had been when she’d thought she was rescuing Theo from certain death.
It would be so easy to love her , it was as simple as that – or as simple as it would have been in another time and place, before his world had changed beyond recognition. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t make the most of these moments of escape with Ellie. If anything, it made it more important to gather memories he would be able to treasure.
‘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 ?a.’
‘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.
‘ ?a 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.