Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
We headed off after an early breakfast, and it took just as long to get out of Paris as it did to drive to our next destination. Thankfully, Roman was busy concentrating on weaving the bus through the congested traffic and following the GPS, so I didn’t have to worry about him returning to last night’s crazy conversation.
Just to be sure he didn’t, I put my tour guide hat on and went into overdrive, drawing my group’s attention to as many sights and revealing as many interesting facts as I could along the journey. It wasn’t hard. Like the rest of Europe, Paris and its surroundings nearly always had something to see out the window and there was an abundance of history to cover.
Half of the passengers slept through most of it. But Sunny had already told me that many of them didn’t crawl into bed until three a.m., so I assumed it wasn’t me making them nod off. If only they knew what they were missing.
A shocking reality slammed into me. In six months, I was going to miss all this too .
Europe. The magical continent that had history on every corner. I wanted to slap myself. I’d wasted so much time.
Shoving that shit from my brain was not so easy this morning. Not when we were about to visit one of my favorite places in Europe.
At nine a.m., right on schedule, Roman turned the bus onto the road for Chateau de Fontainebleau.
I pressed the button on my microphone. “Okay, sleepyheads, drag yourselves out of those wet dreams. It’s time for history and high tea. Ahhh, my favorite combination.”
I gave them a minute before I began my spiel about one of the most impressive buildings in France. “We’re about to arrive at Chateau de Fontainebleau. This magnificent building started its life as a medieval castle in 1137, and over the centuries, it’s grown to be one of the largest French royal chateaux. The who’s who of French royalty have resided here including Louis the Seventh right through to Napoleon the Third. If only these walls could talk, huh?” I rattled off a dozen interesting facts until Roman parked the bus in the allocated parking bay and killed the engine.
“Righty-ho let’s go. Follow me please.”
I hooked up the microphone and turned to Roman. “Okay. I’ll see you in about two hours. You got a book to read or something?”
“Nah, I’ll just have a wander around.”
“Okay then. Don’t get lost.”
“Never.”
All my previous drivers stayed with the bus, and I had no idea what they did during that time. The older ones usually brought a book, but the younger ones messed around on their phones. They must’ve been bored out of their brains. If I were them, I’d be trying to sneak into the chateau and check it out for myself .
After all the passengers had disembarked, I guided them along the avenue of expertly manicured gardens.
Beth, one of the English tourists, pointed ahead. “Look at that fountain.”
I paused at the fountain and waited until most of the group had joined me. “The fountain was a gift King Henry the Fourth received from the Pope.”
“Are those dogs pissing?” Anthony laughed as he pointed at the hounds positioned on the four corners of the statue.
“It’s damn ugly.” Mike scrunched up his face. “The dogs look like they’re in agony.”
I grinned at Mike. “If you were peeing all day, you would be too.” A few people laughed. The stunning smile Mike flashed at me made my heart skip a beat.
Mike’s hot for you. Roman’s comment from last night slammed into my brain.
No way was that true.
Guys as extraordinary as Mike would never be interested in a woman like me.
The fact that I’d even considered it made me feel foolish. My smile evaporated.
Jesus, Daisy. Get a grip on yourself.
I pointed at the statue towering above the peeing dogs. “This is a statue of Diana, the Roman goddess for hunting. She’s a fitting choice to represent the chateaux medieval, fox-hunting roots. The original fountain was moved to the Louvre in the 1600s. It was only once the replica was in place that they added the hounds and stag heads.”
Trying to calm my inner demons, I led the troops into the building and when I stopped, they assembled around me in a semi-circle. Aware that my voice echoed off the marble tiles, I lowered my volume a few notches. “Wedding and prom-night photographers from all over the world should be thanking the French for this piece of architecture.” I pointed to the horseshoe-shaped staircase that curved in perfect symmetry from the ground floor to the first. “This is reputed to be the first ever curved staircase.”
Continuing through the building, I pointed out one fascinating aspect after another. The varieties of ancient architecture represented the numerous royal members who’d lived here. Each one had wanted to make their mark.
Unfortunately, the abundant art pieces were mostly replicas as the originals were all now safely secured in various museums around the country. The exquisite décor was dominated by rich colors of ruby, emerald, and, of course, gold. As I rattled off dozens of details, my group responded with varying states of interest. Those who were into history were on my tail; those that were on the tour to chase some tail, like Mike and his mates, hovered at the back.
We arrived in the grand ballroom, decorated in masterpieces ranging from a series of frescos framed in richly sculpted stucco to spectacular portraits of some of the royalty who’d resided at the chateau over the centuries.
“Oh, wow. These are magnificent,” Claudette murmured as she stepped up to one of the frescos.
“Aren’t they incredible?” I agreed. “You’ll note the artist has used mythological scenes to depict the virtues of the king. See here and here?”
Claudette followed my direction. “Oh yes, I see.”
In the center of the room was a long table decorated with regal flamboyance fitting for royalty, except that the gold candelabras and cutlery were replicas, and the crystal glasses were not of any real value.
“All the flowers on the table. . .” I directed the attention of those near me to the stunning flower decorations dotted along the white tablecloth. Bunches of purple pansies. Bright yellow tulips with lush green leaves. Vibrant orchards, rich with pink pigment. Cute hexagonal vases overflowing with hydrangea blooms. And dozens and dozens of ruby-colored long stem roses. “These were all picked from the chateaux flower beds that were originally created in the seventeenth century.”
My group was beginning to spread out around the table. “Okay, listen up. This is where I leave you to enjoy your high tea. Please take a seat. But whatever you do, don’t touch anything that isn’t on this table. Unless you want to wrestle with Bruno.” I nodded at the security guard in the corner who made Dwayne Johnson look like a figurine.
“Enjoy your high tea. I’ll meet you outside once you’re finished.”
As I strode away, their chatter escalated.
Over the next hour, the chateau staff would offer them enough savory and sweet treats to feed a small nation. When I’d first started this job, I’d indulged in the high tea six times. That was enough. After each of those times, I’d waddled away like a pregnant pig and wallowed in a food coma for a week.
Refusing to even glance at the trays of food coming out, I bolted from the room. Outside, I followed the cobblestone path, making my way toward the majestic horse stable at the back of the chateau. Most guests weren’t allowed to venture to this part of the estate. But by chance, I’d bumped into the stable master on my tenth visit, and he’d offered to show me around. Now, each time I visited the chateau, I went to the stable while my passengers ate themselves silly.
Shit . After today, I’d only visit this place five more times.
My stomach shrunk to the size of a walnut at that shot of reality.
Adorning the stable entrance were two life-sized brass horses rearing up on their hind legs. I stepped over the grand threshold, giving my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the filtered light. Scents of hay and horse welcomed me. In keeping with the grand theme, giant mahogany wooden beams lined the vaulted ceiling and walls. Each horse stall was decorated with carved stone arches, and some of the horses had their noses over the doors, peering into the central walkway.
“ Bonjour, Luca. C'est Daisy .”
Luca stepped from a stall farther along and his smile cracked through his red beard. For the first time, I noticed how truly handsome he was. Or maybe my newfound awakening was allowing me to see what’d been in front of me all along. “ Bonjour, Daisy. Comment allez-vous ?
“I’m good, thank you. How about you?”
“Same as usual.” Luca had been the stable master here for as long as I’d been visiting. His riding boots clicked on the terracotta tiles as he walked toward me. His white jeans hugged his narrow hips like he’d been poured into them.
When he neared me, a beam of sunlight piercing through a window high above us shimmered in his crystal blue eyes like it was a sign from God. Though what the sign was had me stumped.
He was about eight inches taller than me and built like a man who’d had a manual labor job his entire life. Luca arrived at my side and leaned forward, and we kissed each other’s cheek. “Your timing is perfect.” He spoke in English for my benefit. “Would you mind helping me with Mon Petit Chou?”
“Of course. What do you need?” Mon Petit Chou was Luca’s nickname for the beautiful little foal born five months ago. It translated to Little Cream Puff, and as her coat was a perfect blend of caramel with cream patches on her rump, the nickname was perfect. Her official name was a combination of her pure-bred parents’ names and wasn’t anywhere near as cute .
“She must’ve run into a fence or something this morning; she’s cut her shoulder.”
I gasped. “Oh no. Is she okay?”
“Not sure yet. I need to take a closer look.”
I followed his lead, hustling toward her stable. Mon Petit Chou was just one day old when I saw her for the first time and for some reason, the little foal and I bonded immediately. While I could walk right up to her, she apparently didn’t like men.
I found it amusing. Luca . . . not so much.
Mon Petit Chou had her hind legs backed up to a corner. When I pushed through the stall door, she lifted her nose and whinnied.
“Hey, girl.” I strolled up to her, nice and casual, and placed my hand on the side of her face. She nuzzled me in reply.
Luca approached from the other side, and Mon Petit Chou reared her head. “Shhh, steady there,” his gentle voice cooed.
I came around to the same side as Luca. “Oh my god. That looks bad.” The cut on her shoulder was about five inches long. Blood dribbled from the wound down her lovely cream coat.
“I think it looks worse than it is.” He touched her wither and Mon Petit Chou shuddered.
I ran my hand down her nose and while I spoke to her, Luca examined the wound. “How bad is it?”
“It’s only a flesh wound—shouldn’t need stitches. Can you talk to her while I sort this out?”
“Sure.” I cuddled her head to my bosom. “Hey, girl.” She nuzzled in and seemed to like it. I’d been around horses before, but I’d never known a horse to be so affectionate. Her long lashes closed and as I scratched behind her ear, she nodded as if encouraging me to continue.
Luca collected a bucket and what looked like a fishing tackle box from outside the stable door, and Mon Petit Chou ground her teeth as if annoyed by his presence.
“Keep her steady.” He pulled on plastic gloves.
“I’ll try.”
Luca dipped a cloth into the bucket of water. When he stood, concern drilled onto his features. He didn’t just care for these horses; he loved them.
With each gentle touch to Mon Petit Chou’s wound, the foal shivered. Blood and water dribbled down her shoulder onto the straw-covered concrete floor. Luca whispered a monologue in French, and although I could only decipher a few words, his tone was a soothing melody.
Luca looked at me. His incredibly blue eyes lured me in, and I wanted to dive into those shimmering pools. It was like he was reaching right into my brain.
Butterflies danced in my stomach and my girly bits seemed to come alive.
Lordy. I better simmer down these stupid feelings, or I’ll pass out.
Mon Petit Chou nuzzled me as if she’d noticed my divided attention. I giggled and rubbed her ears. Her long lashes lowered again, and she seemed to fall into a trance.
Luca rubbed white cream along the cut, taking his time with delicate touches and when he finished, he gathered the blood-soaked cloths into the bucket and pulled off his plastic gloves. “There you go, girl.” He curled his palm over her nose and Mon Petit Chou bobbed her head as if saying thank you.
Luca gave the foal a scoop of grain and as she tucked into the feed, I followed him out the gate. We fell into stride, strolling to the far corner tack room where all the equipment was stored in custom-built compartments. As Luca shifted from one spot to the next putting the bits and pieces away, my eyes absorbed every flex and bulge of his sexy butt. My body purred .
Jaysus, girl. Calm your farm.
With my back to the wall, I watched my French horseman. I guessed him to be about twenty-eight years old. His physique was a work of art, broad shoulders, narrow hips, muscles in all the right places. He’d make men jealous, and women drool. Nothing like William. Shit. Why do I do that comparison bullshit? My ex-fiancé should be a distant memory, not slamming into my brain when I least expected it.
Fuck off, William. Get out of my head .
Luca turned to me, gliding his tongue over his lips. Lips that I wanted to kiss. The urge came from nowhere. It was so strong I could already taste him.
My girly bits squirmed.
Down girl.
He returned to my side and rested his hands on his hips, and a sexy smile cut through the lingering concern on his face. “Thanks for your help; I was wondering how I’d get her to keep still. She’s a feisty one.”
Yeah, just like me. Oh, God, where’s that straitjacket?
He pulled the band from his hair and his long red locks tumbled around his shoulders. My breath caught. Holy cowboy.
I’d only ever seen Luca with his hair in a top knot. It was longer than I’d thought. And a burnt orange color highlighted with rust. I couldn’t resist a moment more, but applying restraint, I reached up on my tippy-toes and planted a kiss on his cheek.
He blinked at me. “What was that for?”
I fought the blaze of heat racing up my neck, but it was pointless. “For looking after Mon Petit Chou.”
His smile broadened. “That’s my job.”
“Yes, but you have a special way with these horses. ”
He smirked. “If only I had that way with women.” The twinkle in his eyes shifted his comment into a suggestion.
My body heated in all the right places.
He leaned forward, placing his hand over my shoulder and onto the wall behind me. Our bodies were inches apart. His heat enveloped me. I inhaled his manly scent. My breath hitched at the desire in his eyes. Lordy .
“What’re you doing now?” His words were a throaty whisper. His pupils were large disks, almost consuming his beautiful blue irises.
Luca was flirting with me. Me! That didn’t happen. Ever. Flames licked a seductive dance low in my belly. “I ummm . . .” I twirled one of my curls around my finger, and realizing how stupid that must look, flicked it away. “I don’t have any immediate plans.”
He leaned over, closing the distance between us, and pressed his lips to mine. Oh. My. God. I froze and melted at the same time. My insides curled. My pussy pulsed. His lips were heaven, and he smelled divine.
It was a brief kiss . . . too brief, and when he pulled back, my heart skipped a beat at the want burning in his eyes.
Luca cleared his throat. “I can think of something to keep you occupied.” It was no longer a mild suggestion. Luca wanted me.
I swallowed. My insides twitched. A zillion glorious sensations tantalized my flesh.
Was this really happening?