PHILIPPE STOPPED IN the shadows between the old mill and the river. The bulk of the stone building loomed against the stars as he neared the water’s edge. The breeze dropped. There was no sound but that of the river dashing and splashing over the rocks below the narrow dam.
Moonlight illuminated the tracks he’d come to examine. A young female, running lightly over the moist ground, then stopping to drink her fill. But why alone? That was unusual and disturbing.
Something has driven her down from the mountains, he thought again, and wondered what it could be. If she came from the blasting site near St. Anne, she was in unfamiliar territory. That could be dangerous.
He followed her trail as it went up past the mill and into the orchards, zigzagging through the trees. He lost it on a stretch of rocky ground near a low stone wall, then across the field toward the village the tracks picked up again, circling the houses at a distance. She’d done it more than once, obscuring her trail.
Something must have frightened her then. Her tracks ran straight past the ruins of the old church and headed back toward the château as if drawn with a ruler.
There was no use searching any further tonight. She would likely find her way back up to her pack. Philippe loped back toward the bridge.
He was skirting the edge of the forest when he heard something crackling its way through. A good-sized creature by the sound of it. At any other time he would have investigated, but then he saw Jenna descending the steps from the terrace in her light-colored gown.
She moved as gracefully as the reeds trembling in the breeze.
His breath came more quickly as need flooded him, tangled with admiration and alarm. She was lovely and clever and different from any woman he’d known. And she wanted him with a woman’s passion. He imagined the heat of her molded against him, the yielding of her soft mouth. The sharp nip of her teeth upon his bare skin.
The decision would be hers, he’d said, and he would abide by the rules he’d set. The heat of desire warred with a bittersweet anticipation. How long would they stretch out this charade? How long until she was in his arms and in his bed?
He realized she’d turned her head and was staring across the moat to where he stood. Philippe melted back into the black mass of the forest, wondering exactly how much she’d seen.