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As the door closed she nestled deeper under the covers, the hollow sadness returning more intensely than before.

Now that sadness was not for the death of the child who had lived for such a short time in her body but for something precious and golden that had warmed her since she was a small child.

Had the Philippe she had adored ever really existed, or had he changed as the world changed?

She felt the tears run down her cheeks but made no attempt to halt them.

A woman had the right to weep when a dream died.

“What are you doing?” Juliette gazed at Catherine in astonishment as she watched Catherine coming slowly down the steps. “Go right back to bed. The doctor said—”

“I feel fine,” Catherine interrupted and then grimaced. “No, not fine. I was so sore it took me almost an hour to dress myself.”

“You should have called me.”

Catherine looked at her in surprise. “Why? I knew I could do it. I had only to persevere.”

“But you’re too ill to—” Juliette stopped and sighed.

“I’m doing it again. I swore I wouldn’t smother you with attention and immediately I break my promise to myself.

” She winked. “But it’s all your fault What can you expect when the first thing I see is you looking as if a carriage had run over you? ”

Catherine smiled. “It’s the way I feel. A very heavy carriage like that berlin Cecile de Montard left the abbey in that—” She stopped and drew a deep breath and went on quickly to another subject. “Where’s Philippe? I wish to see him.”

“He left to go to the fields.”

“Which one?”

Juliette shrugged and shook her head.

“Probably the north field. There was a good deal left there to pick a few days ago.” Catherine started for the door. “I’ll see you in a little while, Juliette.”

“Wait. I’ll order a wagon.”

“A wagon?” Catherine laughed. “To take me to the field? It’s only a little over a mile away. Two days ago I worked from dawn until late afternoon in that same field.”

“Philippe told us.” Juliette regarded her with an odd hint of sadness as her glance traveled from Catherine’s golden-brown face and down her slim, strong body. “You look…different.”

“I’m stronger. Vasaro has been good to me.”

“I see that it has.” Juliette turned abruptly away. “Well, if I can’t convince you to be sensible, I’ll go and get my sketchbook. You’re right, this is a splendid place to paint.”

Catherine had a distinct impression she had hurt Juliette in some fashion. “Juliette, what did—”

“Run along. But don’t expect me to care for you if you collapse on the way home.” Juliette quickly climbed the steps. “I’ll be too busy sketching.”

“I won’t expect it.” Catherine gazed after her, troubled. “I’ll be back soon, Juliette.”

Juliette nodded and glanced back over her shoulder. “Why are you just standing there? You know I’ll worry until you get back.”

It was the sort of roughly affectionate thing Juliette had said a hundred times to her at the abbey and Catherine felt a sudden rush of nostalgia for those days of shared childhood.

No, not shared. She had been the child. Juliette had always been the one who saw life as it was.

“Don’t worry, I’m really quite strong now. ”

“I know.” For an instant Catherine thought she saw the glitter of tears in Juliette’s eyes. “I know you are.” She hurried up the steps and out of sight.

Catherine stood looking after her. Should she follow Juliette and learn why she was so upset? She decided against it. Juliette had been near tears and wouldn’t welcome anyone seeing her so vulnerable. She could talk to her later.

She slowly turned, opened the door, and left the manor to seek out Philippe.

Philippe jumped down from his horse as soon as he saw Catherine approach and rushed forward, a smile lighting his face.

“Catherine, you’re looking wonderfully well.

I was afraid that you would…” He trailed off lamely.

“I know you were shocked at what you saw, but you didn’t understand.

Lenore is a sweet woman but she means nothing to me. A man must have amusements.”

“Must he?” Catherine’s gaze searched his face.

He was genuinely upset for her sake and not because he had been caught in a situation that could prove awkward for him.

Philippe was no monster, but he also was not the golden young god she had worshiped.

He was a man with faults like any other man, but one of those faults she could not tolerate.

“I don’t know what you ‘must’ do with women, Philippe, but I do know a man must take responsibility when what he does results in a child. ”

“Lenore’s not with child. Where did you hear that?” He stiffened, his gaze wandering to the field below. “Michel.”

“Michel.”

“I didn’t think he knew.” Philippe frowned thoughtfully. “I suppose one of the pickers must have told him about his mother.”

“Michel is your child. How can you treat him as if he were nothing to you?”

Philippe kept his gaze averted. “I’ve not been ungenerous.”

“Not if he were some other man’s child, but he’s yours.”

“Listen to me, Catherine. You know my branch of the family has no money, and when Jean Marc gave me the post here it was a gift from heaven. I couldn’t have a parcel of bastards running around the estate,” Philippe said desperately.

“Jean Marc would never have stood for it. I knew when he put me in charge of Vasaro I’d have to act with some circumspection. ”

“So every time you got a woman with child you gave her money and sent her away.”

“Or married her to one of the other pickers. Mother of God, there weren’t that many of them.

” Philippe’s face was white, but there was no guilt in his expression.

“Catherine, you’re too innocent to know about these matters.

This is the way these things are done. I hurt no one.

The women were glad to take the money and go. ”

“And what about Michel?”

“Michel is well taken care of by everyone at Vasaro.”

“Everyone but you.”

“I told you. I give a sum to whichever family Michel chooses—”

“Stop it,” she interrupted. “It’s not enough.”

Philippe was silent, gazing at her miserably. “I tried once or twice to talk to Michel, but he made me uncomfortable. He’s…”

“Not like other children?” she finished, gazing at him incredulously. “How could he be?”

“I don’t understand him.”

Michel’s words suddenly came back to her. Monsieur Philippe enjoys the flowers but he doesn’t understand them . “That’s a pity. I think he understands you very well.”

“What are you going to do?” He tried to smile. “I suppose you’ll tell Jean Marc? He’ll send me away from Vasaro, you know.”

“No, I’m not going to tell Jean Marc.”

An expression of relief brightened Philippe’s features. “That’s kind of you.”

“I won’t tell anyone. You love Vasaro and you serve it well.” She met his gaze. “But I can’t look at you right now. I want you to go away for a time.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Go visit your mother and sisters for six months. Leave today.”

“But you’ll need me at Vasaro. You don’t know a tenth of the things you should about running the property.”

“Then I’ll learn them from Monsieur Augustine and the pickers and Michel.” She paused. “And when you return you’ll find Michel has moved up to the manor and will be raised as a gentleman.”

“But the son of a common picker wouldn’t be comfortable at—” Philippe saw the hardening of her expression and hurried on. “I can’t acknowledge him. Jean Marc would be angered and send me away.”

“Jean Marc doesn’t own Vasaro. I decide whether you go or stay,” Catherine said. “But I have no desire for you to acknowledge Michel. It’s too late.”

“Yes.” Philippe nodded quickly. “I’m glad you see I meant no harm. If you like, I’ll try to become better acquainted with him.”

“Oh, no.” Her tone held irony. “Not when he makes you uncomfortable.”

She turned and walked away from him.

“The Wind Dancer,” Catherine murmured as she crossed the bedchamber toward the window seat where Juliette sat sketching. “But won’t it be dangerous going into Spain at this time?”

“I don’t see why.” Juliette’s pen moved with lightning strokes over the pad on her lap.

Her gaze was on the pickers in the field below.

“After all, I speak the language and we’re not at war with Spain yet.

After he lands at La Escala, Jean Marc will buy horses and travel overland just below the Pyrenees to Andorra.

If I’m questioned by guards, we can always say I’m fleeing France for my grandfather’s home.

God knows, there are enough émigrés these days to make that appear true.

No, I shall do splendidly.” She grimaced.

“And we have Francois to protect Jean Marc.”

Catherine looked startled. “Francois is supposed to protect Jean Marc?”

“Danton says that is Francois’s purpose in accompanying us.” A smile tugged at Juliette’s lips. “I find it amusing too. It’s like a panther protecting a tiger, n’est-ce pas ?”

“And what does Jean Marc say?”

“He thinks Danton sent Francois to see what he’s doing in Spain. Which is probably correct.”

“I’m confused. You keep saying Jean Marc, yet you tell me you also are going.”

“I am.” Juliette sketched in a plump baby kicking joyfully in a straw basket next to one of the pickers. “But Jean Marc says I’m to stay here at Vasaro and has convinced everyone he’ll have his way.”

“He usually does,” Catherine said. “I wish you would stay here. I don’t like the thought of you leaving again.”

“I told you why I must go. How can I expect Jean Marc to give me the money for the Wind Dancer if he finds it himself?”

“He said he’d still give it to you.”

“We made a bargain.” Juliette’s jaw set stubbornly. “A bargain must be kept.”

Catherine sat down on the window seat and leaned back against the wall of the alcove, her gaze on Juliette’s face. “I believe you’ve changed too.”

Juliette shook her head. “I’m always the same.”

“No, there’s something…softer.”