Page 8 of The Magic of Provence (A Year in France #3)

Fi’s hand stilled. The urge now was to make it into a fist. Instead, she held it up in a universal ‘Stop’ signal. She was smiling, too, but shaking her head at the same time.

‘No,’ she said, in mock horror. ‘I don’t do babies. I’ll cuddle a foal any day of the week but human babies are too scary.’

Ellie laughed. ‘You’ll get used to them.’

Lili was also being carried by her mother and she had a fairy dress on – a mossy green froth of tulle that was embroidered with bright flowers and had butterfly wings attached to the back.

Both baby girls had soft headbands on that looked like daisy chains.

Jeannie looked like the proudest grandmother on earth as she kissed Fi and beamed at Lili.

‘Isn’t our Lili a wee poppet? She’s the dead spit of Laura at that age. I should have brought photos.’

Any lingering awkwardness at Fi’s reluctance to hold Bonnie went unnoticed as more greetings were exchanged.

‘You look gorgeous ,’ Ellie told her.

‘It’s the same dress I wore for Christmas. The only dress I own, in fact. I bought it for your wedding.’

Ellie’s wedding to Julien that Fi had found an excuse not to attend in the end because, despite loving that her sister had found such a happy ending to a heartbreaking time in her life, it had been too daunting to be a part of the celebration.

Thank goodness the black tiered dress, tights and ballet flats had been amongst the clothes she had hastily stuffed into her holdall before she escaped her room above the stables.

Fi was also grateful that she’d always worn her favourite necklace – a silver horseshoe on a long chain.

It was the only accessory she possessed now but it was all she needed with what was a remarkably flattering dress.

She knew she looked as good as it was possible for her to look.

And that gave her an odd frisson of something that felt like relief. Because, although she didn’t shift her gaze from her sisters and their babies, she knew that he was still looking in her direction.

Even the thought of looking back was sending enough colour into her cheeks to feel noticeably warm.

How ridiculous was that? Fi knew perfectly well how invisible she was to men in general and to attractive men in particular.

With a firm shove, she sent her thoughts in a different direction, reaching into the pink gift bag.

‘This is for you, Lili,’ she said, lifting out the soft toy. ‘Happy birthday, sweetheart.’

Lili’s face lit up and she reached for the toy.

Theo gazed up, his eyes wide with admiration. ‘ C’est un ane !’ he exclaimed.

‘A donkey,’ Ellie nodded.

But Theo was too excited for an English lesson. ‘ Tout comme Marguerite et Coquelicot . Papa ,’ he called to his father, ‘ regarde !’

Julien was coming towards them.

So was Noah. And the beautiful stranger.

‘There’s a book for you too,’ Fi told her niece.

But Lili wasn’t listening. She was watching her father coming towards her. Her face lit up in a huge smile and she held both arms out towards Noah, dropping the toy donkey. ‘Pa-pa,’ she crowed.

Theo swooped to pick up the toy and Noah took Lili from Laura’s arms, but he was smiling warmly at Fi. ‘We’re so glad you could come,’ he said. ‘It’s good to see you again, Fiona.’

‘You too. I’m very happy to be here.’

Holding his daughter prevented Noah getting close enough to kiss her but Julien stepped in to fill the gap, leaning to brush a kiss onto one of her cheeks and then the other. ‘Welcome,’ he said. ‘Can I get you a glass of champagne?’

‘Yes, please.’

As Julien turned away, Fi could see that Theo was showing the toy donkey to the stranger, who had crouched to be at the little boy’s level as he admired Lili’s gift.

Theo’s face was the picture of a child’s joy at being the centre of attention to someone important.

Someone who was looking as though every word Theo was uttering was of great interest.

Julien gave his head a shake. ‘How rude of me,’ he said. ‘You two haven’t met, have you? Christophe, this is Fiona Gilchrist – Ellie’s sister and ma belle-s?ur . Fi, this is Christophe Brabant – my oldest and dearest friend.’

‘Which makes him part of our family,’ Ellie added.

Yes, he certainly looked as if he was a part of the family. He straightened from his crouch, but not without ruffling Theo’s hair by way of apology at the interruption, before he stepped closer to Julien.

And Fi…

She could actually feel the distance shrinking between them, as if her own body was aware of him moving through the air towards her, even though she was keeping her gaze on Ellie.

‘We saw him out walking his dog just down the road as we arrived,’ Ellie said. ‘And he’s friends with Noah and Laura as well, so we had to invite him to the party.’

There was a note of something like an apology in her explanation, clearly intended for Fi.

Had she just realised it would have been a good idea to have provided a warning of the presence of a man she didn’t know?

Was she trying to assess how much reassurance, or possibly protection, her sister might need in this situation?

Fi lifted her chin a little. She didn’t need to be wrapped in cotton wool.

She wasn’t automatically afraid of every man she met.

She could handle talking to men in social situations.

She had male friends, for heaven’s sake, like Gavin – who’d taught her everything she knew about being a farrier.

Men were fine. As long as they didn’t try and cross her boundaries. Or startle her.

It was sweet that her family wanted to protect her but she was more than capable of protecting herself.

She knew the first signs of danger all too well and she could instantly douse any flicker that suggested a physical attraction, the start of a crush or worse, a signpost to the path of actually falling in love with someone.

Just over Ellie’s shoulder, Fi caught a glimpse of Laura laughing as she watched Noah lift Lili above his head, making their daughter shriek with glee.

Jeannie was raising her phone to capture a photo or perhaps a video of this happy family scene.

With the sun catching her golden-red curls and the sparkles on the wings of her pretty dress, Lili really did look like a fairy child.

It was easy to smile at the magic moment. Fi even managed to let her gaze touch that of Christophe – just for a heartbeat.

‘Hi,’ she said.

Oh, help… she could almost see the coating of shyness on the word as it hung in the air between them, but Christophe was smiling.

And what a smile it was. A heart-melting curve that was soft enough to suggest he was aware of her discomfort and to offer a reassurance that she had nothing to worry about.

Of course she didn’t. He was simply polite enough to be charming.

‘ Enchanté ,’ he said.

‘Christophe’s a vet,’ Ellie said into the slightly awkward silence that followed. ‘I met him the day I ran over Pascal with my bicycle.’

Fi went very still, hoping against hope that Ellie would pick up on her silent plea not to divulge the information that she’d once dreamed of the same career. It wasn’t something she wanted to talk about, especially when the rawness of why that dream had been destroyed had only just been exposed.

She seemed to. ‘You’ll love his dog,’ she added. ‘She’s nearly as big as a horse. She’s over there under the tree with Pascal, who fell totally in love with her when she was a puppy even though she was already twice his size.’

Fi followed the direction of Ellie’s gaze. The enormous black, tan and white dog was lying in the shade of one of the old olive trees.

‘Oh…’ Fi could feel swirls of anxiety evaporating into nothing around her like wisps of steam. ‘She’s a Bernese Mountain Dog, isn’t she?’

‘She is. Her name is Heidi.’

‘She’s gorgeous.’

‘She is…’ Christophe seemed to be searching for the right words. ‘The love of my life.’

Julien had returned with the glass of champagne for Fi.

‘I think the feeling is mutual,’ he said. ‘Heidi drools all over him. But’ – his shrug was expressive – ‘maybe it’s not so mutual… Cette chienne drools on everyone.’

Christophe clapped his hand over his heart as if he was wounded to the core, but he was laughing.

A ripple of sound that made Fi catch her breath and turn away.

She walked towards the table set up on the terrace and laden with food.

Theo, with some fairy bread in one hand and a handful of potato crisps in the other, was ducking under the tablecloth that reached the paving stones.

The magic mushroom birthday cake with its single candle took centre stage, along with the pretty butterfly cupcakes they’d baked yesterday and the colourful plate of flower-shaped fairy bread.

Some of the little posies of lily of the valley were in small vases to decorate the table, but the charcuterie board Laura had put together this morning had to take the prize for being the most spectacular offering.

There were several different cheeses, with slices of baguette to accompany them.

There were folds of salami and paper-thin prosciutto and small bowls of olives and the baby French gherkins called cornichons.

She could see bunches of grapes and tiny heritage tomatoes in shades of green and a red that was dark enough to be almost black, paté with a crust of ground black pepper, and those crispy Italian breadsticks – what were they called?

Fi bit her lip, lifting her gaze as she tried to remember. Her glance caught Ellie walking back to the house without Bonnie in her arms, but the baby wasn’t in her father’s arms either.

Christophe was holding her. Looking down at the baby’s face and rocking her gently while he was nodding at something being said around him.

Did he have a family of his own? He certainly looked as if he was more than comfortable with an infant in his arms. The shaft of longing that came from nowhere was sharp enough to be painful.

Because she wished that things could be different?

That she could hold Bonnie like that…? Or was it more to do with the person who was holding the baby?

She dropped her gaze back to the table.

Ah… grissini … that’s what they were called.

The relief of remembering was out of all proportion to the importance of the snippet of information. Why did it even matter?

And why was Fi so fascinated by this collection of food when she didn’t feel remotely hungry?

The answer to more than one of those questions came as she heard another rumble of laughter from the men nearby.

Three men, but it was so easy to distinguish one voice from the rest, even though no words were being spoken.

Christophe’s voice.

His laughter.

How could nothing more than a sound feel so much like a physical touch?

What was more puzzling, however, was why, instinctively, she felt like stepping closer, instead of running away.