“Bonjour,” Laura said, in better French than before.

He sat up to see her walk into the den carrying a tray with brioches, juice and coffee. She wore a navy T-shirt and jeans and was charmingly barefoot.

“Stay where you are. It’s Christmas morning and you deserve to be waited on.”

She put the tray on the coffee table and handed him a mug of coffee. His attention was drawn to her fragrance and the blond hair she’d left long. It hung over one shoulder.

“Joyeux Noël! Your housekeeper has been helping me with the pronunciation.”

Ping went the guilt again, for enjoying this moment with her. He was close to speechless.

“That sounded perfect. But you shouldn’t be waiting on me when you’re the guest.”

“I think we’ve graduated beyond that point.”

Her laughing blue eyes traveled over him, warming him in new places.

At the Chateau for Christmas

Rebecca Winters

www.millsandboon.co.uk

REBECCA WINTERS, whose family of four children has now swelled to include five beautiful grandchildren, lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the land of the Rocky Mountains. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favourite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels, because writing is her passion, along with her family and church.

Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to e-mail her, please visit her website: www.cleanromances.com.

Dedicated to my two wonderful grandmothers, Alice Driggs Brown and Rebecca Ormsby Hyde.

I had these grandmothers in my life until just a few years ago and consider them two of life’s greatest blessings.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE FINANCIAL DISTRICT of San Francisco was known as the Wall Street of the West. Nic got out of the limo into sunny, fifty-eight-degree weather and entered the high-rise that housed the headquarters of Holden Hotels on Montgomery.

There might be no snow in this city by the bay, but Americans were big on Christmas trees. The tall one in the foyer decorated with pink bows, pink angels and pink lights was dazzling. The hotel chain started by Richard Holden had become one of California’s finest.

Nic had checked in to one near the airport upon his arrival at 3:00 p.m., a half hour ago. A smaller tree decorated the same way with a giant Santa Claus in the corner had illuminated its foyer. He was impressed by its unmatched American ambience that would enchant children of all ages and nationalities. Once it might have enchanted him, but no longer. These days Christmas was a painful holiday he had to get through.

A security guard at reception in the lounge of the foyer looked up at him. “May I help you, sir?”

“I hope so. I’m here to see Ms. Laura Holden Tate. I understand she’s manager of the marketing department.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No. I’m here on urgent business and must speak to her as soon as possible.”

“Your name?”

“Monsieur Valfort. She’ll recognize the name.”

“One moment, please, and I’ll ring her secretary.”

Nic had to wait a few minutes for an answer. The man gave him a speculative glance before he said, “If you’ll take a seat, she’ll be down shortly.”

So she was in...that was good. Saved him from having to hunt her down.

The name Valfort had probably given Ms. Tate a heart attack. He’d purposely left off his first name to keep her guessing. But Nic wasn’t surprised she was willing to drop everything in order to investigate this undesirable intrusion away from the eyes and ears of her staff. He had to admit he’d been curious about a woman who’d shown no interest or love, let alone curiosity, over her grandmother’s welfare all these years. It demonstrated a coldness he couldn’t comprehend.

“Please help yourself to coffee while you wait.”

“Thank you.” Except that Nic didn’t want coffee and didn’t feel like sitting. He’d done enough of both on the flight from Nice, France, which, being on the Côte d’Azur, showed no signs of snow and coincidentally had been fifty-eight degrees and sunny when he’d left.

The errand his grandfather Maurice had sent him on was one he wanted over. He wasn’t looking forward to this meeting, let alone the other business his grandfather had asked him to carry out.

There would be fireworks, but with so many people coming in and out of the building, he planned to convince Ms. Tate to talk to him away from everyone. If this woman was as bitter and unforgiving as her mother, then he had his work cut out.

He looked in the direction of the bank of elevators, braced for a confrontation. Every time he heard the ding, he watched another group of well-dressed people step out. Though he didn’t have a picture of Ms. Tate, he knew she was a midlevel executive, twenty-seven years old and had been born with blond hair. Not a great deal to go on. At this point all he could do was wait until she approached him.

When he decided something must have detained her, he suddenly noticed an ash-blond woman with silky hair to the shoulders of her chic navy suit walking in his direction from the stairway door on long, shapely legs.

Out of nowhere Nic felt an unbidden rush of physical attraction. Not in years had that kind of powerful reaction to a woman happened to him.

This was the woman he’d flown all these miles to talk to?

Maybe he was wrong and she was meeting someone else, but no one else was standing by him. On closer inspection he noticed that her coloring and five-foot-seven-inch height could have been the way her grandmother Irene Holden would have looked at the same age. Irene had been an exceptionally beautiful woman.

Nic stood there stunned by the strong family resemblance. That had to explain why he’d been so taken with the woman’s looks. She had a certain elegance, like her grandmother, and wore white pearls around her neck as he’d seen Irene do many times. Their sheen was reflected in her hair.

The similarity of the two women’s classic features was uncanny, though the granddaughter’s mouth was a little fuller. Her mouth...and her eyes... They were a lighter blue than her grandmother’s.

But instead of the hint of wistfulness that was Irene’s trademark, he saw guarded hostility as her granddaughter’s gaze swept over him with patent disdain.

“I’m Laura Tate. Which of the Valfort men are you?”

Nothing like coming straight to the point with such an acerbic question, but he was prepared.

“Nicholas. My grandfather Maurice married your grandmother Irene.”

He heard her take a quick extra breath. Much to his chagrin, it drew his attention to the voluptuous figure no expensive, classy business suit could hide. She was Irene’s granddaughter, all right.

“Paul told me your business was urgent. It must be a life-and-death situation for you to make the long flight into the enemy camp.”

Nic changed his mind. This woman wasn’t anything like her delightful grandmother, which made him more irritated with himself than ever over his unexpected physical reaction to her.

“I’d rather talk to you outside in the limo, where we won’t have an audience.” He sensed her hesitation. “I’m not here to abduct you,” he asserted. “That isn’t the Valfort way, despite the rumors in your family.”

He noticed how her jaw hardened, but ignored the grimace and got down to the business of why he’d come. “I’m here to inform you that your grandmother passed away day before yesterday, at St. Luc’s Hospital in Nice.”

The second the news left his lips, Laura’s facade crumbled for a moment. In that instant her whole demeanor changed, like a flower that had lost its moisture. He knew he’d delivered a message that had rocked her world. For no reason he could understand, he felt a trace of compassion for her. Tears sprang to those crystalline eyes, bringing out his protective instincts despite his initial resentment of her lack of feeling for her own grandmother.

“My grandfather wanted you and your mother to hear the news in person. Since he knew he wouldn’t be welcome here, he asked me to come in his place. If you’ll walk out to the limo—the most convenient meeting place I could devise—I’ll tell you everything.”

Irene Holden had been his grandfather’s raison d’être. Nic was still trying to deal with the recent loss himself. He’d loved Irene, who’d been a big part of his life. Her death had left a huge void, one this unfeeling granddaughter couldn’t possibly comprehend.

* * *

Was it true? The grandmother she’d hardly known was dead?

If Laura were the type, she would have fainted. This tall, striking Frenchman dressed in an expensive charcoal-colored silk suit and tie had just delivered unexpected news that shook her to the very foundation.

He had to be in his early thirties and wore a wedding ring. She’d noticed something else—Nicholas Valfort spoke excellent English with a seductive French accent, no doubt just like the rogue grandfather who’d beguiled her grandmother. A man like this had no right to be so...appealing.

Is that what had happened to Irene—she’d felt an overwhelming attraction to Maurice the moment she’d met him? Like granddaughter, like grandmother?

The surreal moment made it difficult for Laura to function, let alone breathe, but she had to.

Without further urging on Nicholas’s part, she followed him to the front of the building. Once he’d helped her into the back of the limousine, he sat across from her.

She had an impression of vibrant black hair and hard-boned features, but all she could focus on were the moody gray eyes beneath black brows, studying her as if she were an unpleasant riddle he couldn’t solve and frankly didn’t want to.

“I brought these pictures of her with me. Please feel free to keep them. They were taken in the last year before she became so ill with pneumonia.”

Laura groaned. Pneumonia?

He opened an envelope on the seat and handed her half a dozen five-by-seven color photos. Five of them showed her grandmother alone in different outdoor settings. The last one had caught her standing in a garden with a man who had to be her second husband, Maurice.

The same Valfort characteristics of height and musculature in the photo had been bequeathed to the arresting male seated across from Laura. But unlike him, the man’s hair in the picture had turned silver.

She studied the photos for a long time. Her grandmother had still been beautiful at eighty. Pain caused her throat to constrict.

“I brought her body on the Valfort corporate jet. Maurice called the Sunset Mortuary here in San Francisco to meet the plane. Here’s their business card.” She took it from him, cognizant of their fingers touching. Something was wrong with her to be this aware of him when she was in so much turmoil.

“They’re awaiting your family’s instructions. When your mother broke all ties with Irene, she told her that neither she nor my grandfather would ever be welcome at her home in this life.”

Searing pain shot through Laura. Her mother had said those exact words to Laura’s grandmother? Laura didn’t believe it. This man was biased and had colored the situation with his own judgmental version of the scandal. Still, it was so horrifying, the tragedy of it all overwhelmed her.

“My grandfather is still honoring her wishes, thus the reason I’m here in his place.”

That was another lie. His grandfather was a coward or he would have come himself!

“Maurice realizes your grandmother should be buried next to her first husband, Richard, and surrounded by her family.”

So in death Richard was finally remembered? The heat of anger and pain washed over her. “How thoughtful of him.” She hadn’t been able to hide the sarcasm.

Calmly he said, “If you have questions and need to talk to me, I’ll be staying at the airport Holden Hotel. You can reach me there until tomorrow morning, when I’ll be flying back to Nice at seven a.m.

“One more thing. Your grandmother had a will drawn up several years ago and left something specific in it for you. Unfortunately it means you will have to fly to Nice and meet with the attorney within the next seven days. After that, he’ll be out of the country for two months. It was her hope that your mother’s feelings wouldn’t prevent you from claiming it. She never gave up hope of a reconciliation.”

At the revelation, Laura couldn’t stifle a quiet sob.

“Should you decide to come, phone me and I’ll arrange for the Valfort jet to return to San Francisco and fly you to Nice. My grandfather insists on doing this for you to honor Irene’s final wishes. I’ll meet you at the Nice airport and drive you directly to the attorney’s office. This is my business card.” He handed it to her. “You can reach me at Valfort Technologies any time.”

He didn’t work for the fabulously wealthy Valfort family? They’d been hoteliers since the early 1900s. That much she did know about them. Why on earth would he stay in a Holden hotel after what his grandfather had done to their family? Or did he have a sick desire to see how the Holdens were doing business without the founder?

“Do you have any questions, Ms. Tate?”

At this point her emotions were in chaos. “Only two right now.” She fought to keep the tremor out of her voice, but to her alarm, she had difficulty keeping her eyes off him. “Did you know her well?”

“Very” came the grating sound of his voice.

Laura sensed a wealth of meaning and possible rebuke behind that one word, stabbing her until she could feel herself bleeding out. But this man knew nothing about the private history of the Holden family and the horrendous gulf caused by his grandfather. She bristled at his unspoken censure of her.

Narrowing her eyes on him she said, “Am I to assume she was happy with your grandfather?”

“With him, absolutely.”

What exactly was that supposed to mean? “That’s your interpretation, of course.”

She got no response from him. His sangfroid crept under her skin. So did his lack of explanation that spoke volumes about the underlying issues of a marriage that had brought so much grief to her mother and to Laura personally.

Laura averted her eyes, needing to exit the limo and be strictly alone while she absorbed the gut-wrenching news about her grandmother’s death.

All these years without contact. Laura hadn’t seen Irene since she was six. Year after year she’d secretly yearned to visit her and get to know her. But loyalty to her mother, Jessica, had prevented her from getting in touch with her. Now the lovely older woman in the photos was gone... Death was irrevocable.

Another small sob escaped her throat. She traced her grandmother’s features with her index finger. These few pictures were all Laura would ever have of the woman who’d brought her mother into the world and raised her. The pain of loss over an opportunity never seized was excruciating. How empty and pointless that loyalty seemed now.

Without lashing out at her, Laura would have to search her soul to find the right words to tell her unforgiving mother that Irene was dead. She lifted her head, looking at Nicholas through dull eyes. Tears trickled down her throat, yet it was hard to swallow.

“It’s evident this was a task you would have done anything to avoid. Your loyalty to your grandfather deserves a medal. I suppose the least I can do is thank you for tearing yourself away from business to come all this way with her body.”

“You’re welcome.”

His cool reply had her floundering. Clearly this man found his errand repugnant. But as much as she knew anything, she realized he was a true gentleman, a quality she valued highly in a man. Otherwise he would have flung all this in her face with the greatest of pleasure. His restraint taught her a lot about his character, adding to the potent charisma no man of her acquaintance possessed.

He got out of the back to help her. As her body brushed against his by accident, an unlooked-for awareness of his male presence leaped to life, threatening her in ways she’d never experienced before. The knowledge that he was married only made her reaction to him that much more shocking. She clutched the photos and cards before running toward the building without looking back.

* * *

“Telephone, Nic. Line two.”

Nic had been making corrections to a drawing on the computer. “Merci, Robert.”

After three years, his stomach no longer clenched every time a call came through for him, whether it was on his cell or the landline at work. For the first year following his wife’s disappearance, he’d imagined every call would be from Lt. Thibault, the investigating detective on the other end, phoning to give him news of Dorine.

“It’s five. I’m heading home and will see you after Christmas.”

That’s right. It was December 23. Nic’s assistant, Robert, was going home to a wife and two children. Nic wouldn’t be going home to anyone. Except to spend a little time with his family and siblings, he would work through this holiday.

Three years ago he and Dorine had spent Christmas with her family in Grenoble. They’d only been married five months before her disappearance in January. Their marriage had been of too short a duration to put down roots with children.

Robert paused at the door. “Thanks for the gifts. Pierre and Nicole will love them.”

He lifted his head. “My pleasure.”

“Nic—everyone at the research park is hoping Père Noël will bring some news that will give you closure, mon ami.”

“After three years that hope is all but gone, but I appreciate the thought. Joyeux Noël.”

Once the door closed, he pressed line two, putting the call on speakerphone while he worked. “This is Nic Valfort.”

“Mr. Valfort? This is Laura Tate.”

His head flew back, recognizing her California accent. That was another trait she had in common with Irene. Instead of forgetting this woman, to his amazement she’d managed to intrude into his thoughts. Up until he’d flown to San Francisco, his love for Dorine and the reason for her disappearance had been the only things on his mind.

Several times in the limo parked in front of Holden headquarters over a week ago, he’d heard little sobs catch in her throat. He’d had difficulty reconciling Ms. Tate’s icy demeanor at one moment and the tears that welled in her eyes in the next. She was an enigma he didn’t want to think about. There’d been no word from her since they’d talked.

To his chagrin the two questions she’d asked him had left an indelible impression. Once he’d told her he knew Irene well, her question about her grandmother’s happiness with Maurice had haunted him. Had it been a ploy to convince him she cared when she didn’t? Had she hoped to give the impression she wasn’t the unfeeling person he’d imagined when they both knew the truth?

The seven-day window he’d given her to meet with the attorney had already closed, so he couldn’t understand why she was calling.

“Is this a bad time, Mr. Valfort?”

Bad wasn’t the right word. More that he’d been in a state of grief-stricken limbo for an endless period of time without knowing the whereabouts of his wife. If she’d run off with another man, he was still having trouble believing it. The woman he’d fallen in love with couldn’t have done it, but his sessions with the psychiatrist convinced him it was possible.

Any other reasons why she’d disappeared had tortured him for so long he was desperate for any news, no matter how ghastly, in order to have closure. As for his grandfather, he was in bad emotional shape for another reason. Maurice had lost two women he’d loved and married. In his grief for Irene, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Both womanless men made a pitiful pair. Might as well answer this woman’s question with one of his own. “What can I do for you, Ms. Tate?”

“Am I too late to meet with the attorney?”

He grimaced. She couldn’t manage to see her grandmother in life, but she wanted to know what her grandmother had left her in death. How predictable. “You’ve missed the deadline by two days. He’s already left on vacation.”

A small cry of frustration escaped her throat. “I was afraid of that. Because of some personal matters and the graveside service for her, I couldn’t get here any sooner.”

His thoughts reeled. “Here? As in—”

“I’m at the airport in Nice.”

Nic’s adrenaline kicked in for no good reason. He jumped up from his swivel chair in surprise. “How did you get here? On a commercial plane?” She hadn’t called to arrange for the Valfort jet.

“The way most people do.”

Most people? “Not the Holden corporate jet?”

“I’m not that high up the chain.”

“Not yet, you mean.”

“In other words you’re assuming I’m an ambitious female working my way up to the top of the Holden Corporation. Haven’t you learned yet? It’s still a man’s world in certain venues. Shall we get straight to the point? Your grandfather was decent enough to take care of the arrangements for my grandmother and send you to do his errand. That was more than my family could ever have expected. But I would never have taken him up on his offer to fly me here.”

Nic’s brows furrowed in resentment. Maurice had bent over backward trying to do the right thing. “It’s too bad you’ve wasted a trip. Call me in two months. By then the attorney will be back and you can make arrangements to collect your inheritance.”

“Whatever you insist on believing, I have no interest in one.” After a slight pause, she said, “I should have phoned first, but as you say, it’s too late now. Before I turn around and fly back, do you think your grandfather would accept a phone call from me? Or is his opinion of me as bad as yours?”

That all depended on how grasping she was. If she thought she could get Maurice to tell her what her grandmother had left her in the will before the attorney could read it to her, then she was in for a big surprise.

“Hello? Mr. Valfort? Are you still there?”

“Yes.” But he wasn’t sure he wanted her to talk to his grandfather right off. Maurice had tender feelings for Irene’s granddaughter even though he’d never met her. Nic didn’t want him hurt because Laura hadn’t inherited Irene’s sweetness. Death had a way of making all of them vulnerable one way or another. He needed to vet her first.

“My grandfather isn’t available right now. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll pick you up at the airport terminal.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll go to a hotel to call him and fly home in the morning.”

“I’m afraid it’s very necessary if you hope to make contact with him.”

“You mean I have to get past you first.”

He bit down hard. “He’s in deep grief, Ms. Tate. I want to protect him. You and I need to talk first, but not over the phone.”

That seemed to take her by surprise. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind—”

Mind? She could have no idea how determined he was to find out what she was up to.

“My grandfather would expect me to accommodate you.”

“But this will be putting you out.”

Now she was going polite on him? He frowned. Was it part of her act? Whatever, she was doing a good job of it. “Au contraire. Since you want to talk to him, something I didn’t expect from you, my grandfather would never forgive me if I ignored your request and let you get away.”

Nic hated to admit it to himself, but he was curious to see her again. Maybe the second time around she wouldn’t impact him in the same way as before. It was something he had to find out.

A pause ensued. “I know this is another one of those tasks you don’t want to do.”

He let go of the breath he was holding. “You’re wrong. This is the one Christmas present my grandfather hadn’t counted on.” If she was sincere, her arrival might just have saved Maurice from falling into a slump he’d never climb out of. Nic needed time to find out if avarice had brought her here or not. “Watch for me in front of the terminal. I’ll be driving a four-door black Mercedes.”

“I’ll be there.”

He heard the click. Making one of his gut decisions, Nic decided to take her to his house. That way no one in his family would know what was going on. Their disapproval of Maurice marrying a foreigner had never truly gone away.

Now the gorgeous granddaughter had arrived. Out of the frying pan...

Laura’s physical resemblance to Irene would be a doubly powerful reminder of the woman who’d captured Maurice’s heart. Depending on the outcome, more underlying animosity was in store. This had to be handled discreetly for now. Nic and his grandfather had always enjoyed a certain affinity. His loyalty to the older man had never been in question and he wasn’t about to desert him now.

Since his grandfather wouldn’t be eating dinner for several hours yet, Nic would make the phone call from his den once she was ensconced. They’d proceed from there.

He drove out of his parking spot and wound around the technology park to the main road leading to the airport. Day before yesterday he’d decided he wouldn’t be hearing from Ms. Tate again, but he hadn’t had the heart to tell his grandfather yet. Now he wouldn’t have to.

Though the sun had set, she wasn’t difficult to spot. Like Irene, she had incredible dress sense. When Nic pulled up to the terminal, he saw that Laura drew a lot of attention in a long-sleeved speckled-tweed jacket and slim skirt. The form-fitting dove-gray outfit had white lace appliqués and fringe trim on the jacket. The effect, combined with the silvery-gold glints in her hair, had captured his attention.

* * *

Her impact on him was even more forceful than the first time. He levered himself from the car and walked around. She carried only one suitcase. Nic helped her inside and stowed it in the backseat. A light, flowery fragrance assailed his senses. “You travel light.”

“I didn’t plan to be here more than a few days. Thank you for coming to get me, Mr. Valfort.” That sounded halfway sincere.

“Nic.” He was tired of the senseless formality.

“In that case, call me Laura. I made reservations ahead of time at the Boscolo Excedra. If you wouldn’t mind dropping me there.” That five-star hotel had recently been restored with a futuristic-themed bar. No surprise she knew about it.

“My grandfather wouldn’t hear of it. Maurice asked me to take care of you before I left for California. For the time being, you’ll stay at my home. I’ll drive you there now and we’ll get in touch with him.”

Nic felt her glance. “Does your wife know you’ll be bringing someone home with you? No woman likes to be unprepared for an unexpected guest.”

She’d noticed his wedding ring, of course. He pulled into traffic. “As it happens, my wife is away for the present.” She was away, maybe somewhere still on earth, but more likely in heaven. He had no proof of either status. “My staff will see to your comfort. If Dorine were here, she’d want to meet you.”

His wife hadn’t been a Valfort and she’d liked Irene very much. At this point he realized he’d been thinking of Dorine in the past tense for a long time now. No stone had been unturned, no expense had been too great to find out what had happened to her, but there’d been no trace. During the first year, he’d lived for news of her. But for the last two years, he’d had the feeling in his gut she was gone forever. Like Irene...

Before long he took a turnoff and entered a wooded area that led to his home overlooking the coast. Dorine had loved the setting on sight and begged him to buy it before their wedding took place. Not too small, not too large. Perfect for several children who hadn’t had time to come along. Empty as a tomb with no one home except the efficient husband-and-wife staff who took care of things.

* * *

Provence come to life!

This villa with its red-tiled roof looked like one of the fabulous Provençal properties featured in high-end magazines sold throughout the world. Laura’s eyelids smarted with salty tears when she realized Irene would have been here many times enjoying the cypress trees and view of the blue Mediterranean.

Laura had traveled to Europe on several occasions and had been to Paris, but she’d avoided the South of France for fear the temptation to drop in on her grandmother would be too great.

What a colossal fool she’d been to honor her mother’s wishes to such a great extent! In doing so she’d denied herself the opportunity to know the woman Laura’s grandfather Richard had loved and married.

“Does your mother know you’ve come?” Nic’s deep voice broke in on her anguished thoughts.

“Yes.” She bit her lip. “She couldn’t stop me. We had a fight.”

“You mean she tried to?”

“Yes, but I refused to listen. I told Mother she was inhuman to be upset with me now that Irene was dead. I wish I hadn’t said it, but I did. Now I have another regret to live with.”

There’d been unpleasantness with Adam, too. The man she’d been seeing over the last few months hadn’t wanted her to leave without him. He was getting much too serious. This unexpected trip would give her a needed break from him over the holidays.

His aggression had made her uncomfortable. Maybe her mom had been right—she’d hinted that Adam was ambitious and wanted more than her love. After the way he’d reacted before she’d flown here, Laura had begun to fear the same thing, considering a fortune lay behind her name. Because of the painful history that had beset the Holden family, she had major trust issues. Laura wasn’t sure she wanted to be with him anymore.

“Family loyalty has its price,” Nic murmured, sounding distanced. “You’d be surprised how many times in the past I had to stop myself from phoning to demand you come and visit your grandmother. She loved you a great deal, but my grandfather wouldn’t have approved, so I didn’t act on my instincts. He always hoped you’d come on your own.”

His admission tugged at her heart. “No matter how much I love my mother, I should have followed my instincts, too. Now it’s too late.” She moaned the words. “Sometimes family loyalty demands too much, in this case more than I can bear—”

At this point she had the impression he didn’t know if he could believe anything she said. That was trouble with a tragedy that had torn families apart. She didn’t know if she could believe anything he said, either, but she was here now. For the sake of the grandmother she’d always loved in her heart, she wanted some answers.

Laura got out of his car before he could help her. The best thing she could do was avoid getting too close so they couldn’t possibly touch. Despite his poor opinion of her, she was afraid her attraction to him wasn’t going to go away. It was madness that she felt this awareness of him. He was a married man, for heaven’s sake!

Nic reached for her suitcase and walked her to the entrance. The minute he opened the door to the foyer, a large manger scene placed on the credenza greeted her vision. Moving on into the living room, it felt as though she’d stepped into a painting by Matisse, her favorite Impressionist.

The interior reminded her of his work The Black Table. Wonderful dark flooring and beams set a backdrop for flowers, blue-and-white-colored prints, priceless ceramics and paintings. Beyond the French doors was a view of the sea dotted with sailboats, even though it was winter.

She wheeled around. “Your home is wonderful!” The compliment flew out of her mouth without conscious thought.

“Thank you.” He lowered her suitcase. The man had a brooding sophistication he didn’t seem to be aware of. “If you’d like to freshen up, there’s a bathroom off the guest bedroom on your left at the end of the hall.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“I ate before I got off the plane, but maybe some coffee?”

“I’ll ask my housekeeper to prepare it and take your bag to your room.”

He was giving her the opportunity to compose herself. Nic had his emotions well under control—unlike Laura—and seemed to sense instinctively what she needed. The consummate host.

On her way back to the living room, she stopped to look at the photographs hanging in the hallway. One of the groupings caught her interest. The French-looking brunette in the photos had to be his wife. She was a cute little thing with stylish short hair. They were laughing together.

Laura couldn’t imagine feeling that happy and carefree. It depressed her that she’d never had a relationship like that. The more she thought about it, the more she knew she would have to end it with Adam. They didn’t bring out the best in each other. Look at the way Nic and his wife glowed in the photograph. You could feel their happiness.

Upset by her thoughts, she returned to the front room and found a tray of coffee and variety of cookies waiting for her. Nic was on the phone speaking his native tongue and stood behind one of the two sofas facing each other. Separating them was a tiled coffee table with a large copper tub filled with fresh-cut blue and red anemones.

While she waited for him, Laura wandered over to the doors. In the twilight, the terraced garden below the villa had taken on a surreal beauty.

“When your grandmother came to visit, she used to stand right there with that same expression on her face. She had several interests, especially gardening. Do you also have a green thumb, as you Americans say?”

He was good at making small talk. She needed to try, too. “I don’t know.” Laura had been studious in her growing-up years so she could go into her grandfather’s hotel business. It had been a man’s world then. Still was, in many ways. She had to work hard to make her mark, and spent a lot of time in the office. That’s where she’d met Adam, who was determined to rise to the top echelons of the company. They had that in common.

This trip to France hadn’t been on her agenda, but she’d seized at the opportunity to learn more about her grandmother. Laura had put her assistant in charge while she was gone, satisfied he could handle things for the few days she’d intended to be away.

She turned in Nic’s direction, bursting with questions. He was silent on several subjects, including his wife, but she needed to remember his personal life was his own. She felt his distrust, no doubt as great as her own. They were walking through a minefield, but especially after her rudeness to him in San Francisco, she had no right to expect information that was none of her business.

“Was that your grandfather on the phone?”

He nodded. “Maurice is coming now.”

CHAPTER TWO

LAURA SWALLOWED HARD. The man she’d been taught to hate would be here soon. What was the real truth about him and his affair with her grandmother? No one was all black or white. The muscles in her stomach started to clench with anxiety.

“The château in La Colle is only ten minutes away. Please help yourself to coffee while we wait.”

She sat across from Nic and sipped hers. “The word château conjures up images. Does it look like one of the Châteaux de La Loire?”

Nic eyed her over the rim of his cup with a bemused expression. “Would you believe me if I told you that when Maurice took her there for the first time, Irene thought he’d brought her to the château where Cinderella was born?”

This was the first time the man had allowed her to see behind that facade of suspicion. Laura couldn’t help but smile. “You made that up.”

He sat forward to reach for a cookie. One black brow lifted. “Ask my grandfather.” In the next breath he got up from the couch and walked into hall. When he returned, he handed her a five-by-seven photo in an antique frame, one she’d seen hanging among the others. “This is what the estate looks like. Hopefully it will satisfy your curiosity.”

With this picture he’d just extended an olive branch of sorts. Even if he wished his grandfather hadn’t put him in this position, she would take him up on it in order to uncover the truth. Nic had actually brought her to his home. She couldn’t have imagined it when they’d first met in California.

“Maurice said Irene lived for the day when you would come to visit and she would take you through it room by room, because you loved castles and princesses.”

“That’s true. I can’t believe she remembered that.”

He studied her for a moment, as if weighing her words. “Apparently you were taken with Cinderella, whose mean-spirited stepsisters had been cruel to her and made her sleep in the attic with the rats.”

“She told you all that? I do have a terrible aversion to rats. A married friend of mine has a little boy who loved the movie Ratatouille. I started to watch it with them, but I couldn—” She suddenly stopped talking. Good grief. She was babbling.

His mouth broke into the first genuine smile he’d given her. That’s when she realized how fabulous he was. Probably the most incredible looking and acting man she’d ever seen in her life. Laura had never met anyone remotely like him. Everything he said and did was starting to slide beneath her skin to draw her in. His wife had to be the luckiest of women.

Laura quickly looked down at the picture, only to cry out in wonder. After studying it, she lifted her eyes to him. “It does look like some of the pictures in my old fairy-tale book, the one my nana used to read to me. Your family home is beyond fabulous, Nic!”

“My great-grandfather Clement had the seventeenth-century château fully restored. He needed a lot of bedrooms and bathrooms so he could entertain business associates. There’s an original baronial-style fireplace, stone spiral staircases and an enviable wine cellar. The conical roof and spring-fed moat add the perfect ambience.”

“This is too much,” she cried softly. To think her grandmother had lived there for twenty-one years. “Did you love the château, too?”

“Bien sûr. My parents lived nearby. The whole Valfort clan congregated there whenever possible.”

“You must have had the time of your life!”

His smile slowly faded, letting her know his family had been in hell, too. That solemn pewter gaze of his traveled over her as if he were trying to figure her out. He had no idea that it sent an unwanted rush of guilty heat through her body. Heaven help her, but she was enjoying Nic too much in his wife’s absence. This had to stop.

All the talk about her grandmother having had an affair with Nic’s grandfather while she was still married to her first husband had horrified Laura for years. She couldn’t imagine getting involved with a married man. What would possess a woman to do that no matter how tempted?

Yet here she was feeling an attraction to this man who’d grown up disliking her and her family with the same disdain Laura had felt for his family. Was this how it had started with her grandmother? An attraction that eventually led to an addiction and in the end the two of them had thrown both families aside in order to be together?

One thing Laura did know. She shouldn’t be alone in this house with Nic any longer than necessary. Without realizing it, Laura pressed the photo to her chest, reminding herself that the only reason she was here was because of Irene. Not because of Maurice’s grandson, who was proving to be a disturbing distraction.

In a mournful tone she murmured, “My grandmother lived here all these years, yet I never once saw her after she married and moved away.”

Nic stood there with his powerful legs slightly apart, his hands on his hips in a male stance. “I heard many versions of the Holden-Valfort saga from my own relatives before I was grown up enough for my grandfather to sit me down and tell me the unvarnished truth about their situation.”

She lifted tormented eyes to him. “You condoned his version, whatever it was?”

Nic pursed his lips. “I love my grandfather without qualification. But I’d like to hear your version, if you’re willing to tell me. We’ll see if they match.”

She put the photo down on the table and got to her feet. “My grandmother disappeared from my life when I was six. I have a vague memory of her, but I know most of what I know from my aunt Susan, Mother’s elder sister, who has never married. She said that my grandmother had an affair with your grandfather even though his wife was still alive.”

“That would have been impossible!” Nic bit out.

“I’m just repeating what I was told. All this happened while my grandfather was battling cancer. Grandfather Richard died too young. Soon after his death, Maurice’s wife died, so he married my grandmother and they moved to France. Neither Susan nor my mother could ever forgive Irene for having an affair while their father was so ill.”

Nic’s face had darkened with lines, making her nervous to go on.

“They said your grandfather was an evil man whose ability to seduce her while his wife was still alive created the scandal. They told her to get out of their lives and never come back.

“When I grew old enough to understand what adultery meant, I could see why Mother and Aunt Susan had been so devastated. When I was told the truth, the bitter side of Mother’s nature came out. Our home was not a happy one.

“But over the years I’ve learned that no one is perfect and everyone makes mistakes. To remain so angry at my grandmother was wrong, no matter what she or your grandfather did. I told her I wanted to go see Irene. She forbade it.

“That’s when I suggested she get professional help, but she accused me of turning on her. It was awful. Every time I tried to reason with Mother, she’d shut me out and accuse me of not loving her.

“I made things worse when I tried to talk to my aunt Susan. She told me that if I ever attempted to get in touch with my grandmother, my mother wouldn’t be able to handle it and it could push her over the edge.”

The forbidding expression on Nic’s arresting face filled her with alarm. He moved closer. “That story is so wrong and twisted, it’ll tear my grandfather apart when he hears it.” To her shock he clasped her upper arms, drawing her to his hard muscled body. His intensity was a revelation. “Maurice is euphoric you’re here. Promise me you won’t tell him what you just told me.” A vein stood out in his neck. “Not yet, anyway.”

“I—I won’t say anything,” she stammered. Her silence on the subject appeared of the most supreme importance to him.

His energy drove through to her soul. He was close enough she felt the warmth of his breath on her lips. When she looked up, his dark gray eyes were pinpoints of pain. “Why did you really fly here?” he ground out. “Was the lure of the will so great, you had to find out what amount of money she left for you? Tell me the truth.” He gently shook her. “I can take it, but my grandfather can’t!”

She was devastated by his reaction. “I guess I’m not surprised by your accusation. Because of the hate on both sides, it appears you really don’t know one very important detail.”

“What’s that?” he demanded.

“My grandfather Richard left millions to our family—to me, personally. I’ve never wanted for money a day in my life and never will. The only thing I could never have was the joy of growing up around my grandmother. And though I’m loath to meet the man who took her away from us, I was determined to see what kind of man he is.”

Her eyes flashed with pain. “What kind of power does your grandfather wield to be able to entice her to give up her whole life in California and come live with him in France? She didn’t need money. My grandfather gave her everything!” Laura could tell her voice had risen. “Does that answer your question?”

A groaning sound came out of him.

“Mon Dieu,” he whispered, sounding utterly desolate. His hands slowly slid down her arms. But when he released her, she wasn’t ready. Her legs felt so insubstantial she grabbed for the wing-back chair so she wouldn’t fall.

While Laura was trying to recover from being held that close to him, she heard voices coming from the foyer. A woman and a man, both speaking French.

Shaken by the sound, she turned around and saw Nic’s housekeeper usher in Irene’s silver-haired husband from the photograph. He was dressed in a royal-blue sweater and cream-colored trousers.

In person he seemed young in demeanor for an eighty-one-year-old man whose face showed signs of recent grief. He was remarkably handsome and had passed on those genes to his grandson. Twenty-one years ago Laura’s grandmother had no doubt been swept right off her feet.

He crossed the room, staring at Laura with incredulity before he turned to Nic. “You must have seen it the minute you met her.” His French accent was more pronounced than Nic’s.

“Oui, Gran’père. Laura is most definitely Irene’s granddaughter.”

Maurice’s brown eyes swam with tears as they centered on Laura. “What she would have given to walk in this room and see you standing here! You’re ravissante, just like she was.”

From the first instant, all Laura could feel was love and warmth emanating from him. Though he and Irene had caused indescribable pain to her family, he couldn’t possibly be the man her mother and aunt had demonized. She cleared her throat, still shaken by those moments when Nic had reached for her in pain. “We meet at last.”

She had the sense he wanted to embrace her. Instead he held back and wept, pulling some tissues from his pocket. “It’s a miracle. When she passed away, I thought my allotment had run out, but it isn’t so. You’ve come. Please. Let’s sit.”

Once again she found a seat on one of the sofas. He sat next to Nic on the other. “How long have you been here?”

“I picked her up at the airport an hour ago,” Nic explained. “She made a reservation at a hotel, but I canceled it.”

She noticed Nic didn’t mention the name. He wanted to shield his grandfather from the fact that she’d chosen not to stay at the world-famous Valfort in Old Town. Laura hadn’t seen him do that. It must have been while she was looking at the photos in the hallway.

Maurice smiled. “Naturellement. You’ll come to the château tonight. I’m all alone, rattling around in the place.”

He wasn’t the kind of man who rattled. Irene’s husband seemed in excellent health. He was an exciting man, full of life and appeared athletic. She hadn’t known what to expect. Certainly not this.

“That’s very gracious of you, but I’d rather not impose when you weren’t expecting me.” No matter how taken she was by him at first glance, Laura wasn’t comfortable about accepting his hospitality. She wasn’t comfortable with Nic, either, for several reasons, but she’d had no choice.

Nic must have sensed her distress, because he said, “Laura’s staying with me tonight, Gran’père. The housekeeper has already made up one of the guest bedrooms for her. Tomorrow will be soon enough for the two of you to get better acquainted. Right now I believe she’s exhausted after her flight. It’s a long one across a continent and an ocean.”

Laura’s eyes met Nic’s for a second. She felt he was trying to break up this meeting, in the kindest way possible, of course. Was he still afraid she might say something about the will? She was pained over his suspicions, but she understood them. There’d been so much ugliness between the families—this was the result. Could they ever trust each other?

She would have preferred to stay at a hotel. It would have been the wisest thing to do, but clearly Nic had wanted to warn her not to hurt his grandfather before she met him. Maurice nodded. “Of course. Did Nic give you those pictures?”

“Yes. I love them.” Laura’s mother had refused to look at them.

“Good. I took those during our many walks. We must have logged hundreds of miles throughout our marriage, exploring the countryside. She was a walker.”

So was Laura.

The emotions Maurice evoked were choking her. “Nic told me you were very happy.”

“We were soul mates. I adored her.” His tears ran freely. “Up until the time she came down with pneumonia, we loved getting out every day together. No man could have been blessed with a better, more loving wife. I’m utterly lost without her.”

Touched to the core by the sincerity of his love for Irene, Laura stirred restlessly. “How long was she ill?”

“Two months. She caught a cold. It developed into a secondary infection and before we knew it, she had pneumonia. Two weeks in the hospital on a regimen of strong antibiotics and the doctor was certain she would rally, thus the reason you weren’t notified. But overnight she took a sudden, cruel turn for the worse and left this world quickly with one wish...that you and your family would know how terribly you were all loved.”

Unable to prevent the tears, Laura got up from the couch and walked over to the French doors, too heartbroken to listen to any more tonight. Nic’s words kept running through her mind: That story is so wrong and twisted, it’ll tear my grandfather apart when he hears it.

After listening to Maurice’s outpouring of love, she understood why Nic had asked her not to destroy this man while he was in mourning. This was no act, on Maurice’s part or Nic’s. She doubted she would ever repeat her version to his grandfather. There’d been enough suffering. Laura had lived an abnormal existence for years because of it. The bitterness in her household had tainted her life. She wanted no more of it.

“We’ll get together tomorrow, Gran’père.”

At the sound of Nic’s voice, Laura turned toward them. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Mr. Valfort.”

“Call me Maurice.”

“All right then. Maurice it is.” Moisture blurred her vision. “Thank you for sending Nic with my grandmother’s body and arranging with the mortuary. In light of the history plaguing our families, it was a wonderful, noble thing to do. I’m indebted to both of you.” Her voice caught.

His features sobered, showing his full years for the moment. “I must confess it was hard letting her body go.” He broke down once more, clearly overcome with grief. “But I can always depend on my grandson to help me.”

Her throat swelled, making it almost impossible to articulate. “He was very gracious.” In light of the way she’d treated him, Nic was a saint. “Two days ago the family held a graveside service for her. She was buried in the family plot.”

“Just as it should have been.” The tears in his tone tore her apart. “But in return, you’re here. I thank God you came.” His voice shook. “How she prayed for this day.”

Laura felt the same way. “I wanted to meet you,” she assured him in all honesty, but she just hadn’t expected this feeling that he and her grandmother had been wronged in some tragic way. “She had to have loved you beyond anything.”

“Not beyond anything,” he contradicted her. “A day didn’t go by that your name wasn’t mentioned. She longed for her little granddaughter.”

Laura couldn’t take much more. Neither could Maurice, apparently. Nic put a comforting hand on his grandfather’s heaving shoulder. “I’ll walk you out.”

She watched them go, but he didn’t leave her long. When Nic returned, his middle-aged housekeeper was with him.

“I did that flight a week ago and it wiped me out. Arlette will bring you a light supper. Sleep as long as you want and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think I could fall asleep yet. I need to relax. If you don’t mind, I’ll call for a taxi to drive me into Nice.” His head swerved in her direction. “I want to go down to the waterfront and soak in the atmosphere for a while. It will help me get a feel for the place where she lived all these years.”

His chest rose and fell visibly. “Your grandmother used to walk along the Promenade des Anglais with Maurice at night. They’d stop to listen to music from the mid-’60s at a local brasserie. The place features chanteurs who sing the songs Brel and Aznavour made famous.” He rubbed the back of his neck absently. “I’m wide-awake myself and will be happy to drive you.”

“No, no. You’ve done enough. I won’t stay out long. I’m used to being out at night in San Francisco. A half hour is all I crave.”

His eyes narrowed on her features. “Are you refusing me because you can’t forgive me for insinuating something about you that is patently untrue?”

No. She was refusing because he was a married man. But if she said that to him, he’d think she was a very unsophisticated, silly woman instead of an executive at Holden who did business with married men all the time.

“If I accept, are you going to accuse me of deciding to leave the villa so you’ll feel obliged to take me?”

A half smile escaped Nic. “Maybe I’m using you so I can enjoy a little diversion before I call it a night.”

His wife had to have an awfully good reason to be away. If Laura were his wife...but she had to stop her thoughts right there. “Then I won’t say no to your chivalry.”

“I never expected to hear that particular word fall from your lips.”

Her brows lifted. “I never expected you would willingly accompany me anywhere.”

His chuckle followed her down the hall as she went to the bedroom for a sweater. He waited for her in the foyer and they walked out to his car.

Laura couldn’t believe it, but they actually rode in companionable silence to the famous beachfront. Laura loved seeing the Promenade des Anglais, with its Italianate buildings, as portrayed in the many paintings of Nice. It ran parallel to the water. There was a magical feel about it.

He found a parking spot on a side street and they walked about a block and a half to the Oiseau Jaune. She could hear the music on their approach.

By some miracle Nic found them an empty bistro table among the crowd on the walkway and signaled a waiter. He ordered them mint tea.

Laura sat back, soaking up the authentic French atmosphere. “When I was in the Tetons of Wyoming last year, I went to a French restaurant in the mountains where they featured a singer who sounded like Charles Aznavour. This singer reminds me of him. I didn’t understand the words, but I loved it. I have to admit, there’s no place on earth like this. I can’t believe I’m here.”

“My grandfather can’t believe you’ve come, either. I doubt he’ll sleep until he sees you again tomorrow.”

She fought tears. “To think I’ve missed this by staying away the whole time.”

He angled a glance at her. “You were a victim of circumstances. That’s what we’ve all been.”

Laura took a deep breath. “I appreciate you bringing to this particular brasserie. For as long as I can remember, I’ve adored the sound and feel of this kind of music. You know, an accordion, a violin. Maybe a clarinet. It’s so French. There’s something about the tunes in your language that bypass conscious thought and find the romantic in you. But I do wish I knew French to get the full effect.”

“You’re Irene’s granddaughter, all right. She had romance in her soul, too, and loved this place.”

“That’s nice to hear.”

“I’ll translate for you.”

She glanced at him. “Please. I’d love to know what he’s saying.”

Nic’s eyes were veiled. “‘Let’s dance the old-fashioned way, my love. I want you to stay in my arms, skin against skin. Let me feel your heart, don’t let any air in. Come close where you belong. Let’s hear our secret song and dance in the old-fashioned way. Won’t you stay in my arms? We’ll discover higher highs we never knew before, if we just close our eyes and dance around the floor. It makes me love you more.’”

Oh...oh... Trembling, Laura looked away, spellbound by the words, by the way he said them, by his Gallic male beauty. She’d never known such a moment, such a night.

After twenty minutes the singer took a break. Laura smiled at Nic. “This was wonderful.” Her voice shook. “I feel I’m really in France now and think I can sleep. How about you?”

“You’ve given me a new appreciation for one of my country’s greatest assets. If your San Francisco legs are ready, I’ll take you on a walk up to Castle Hill before going home. We won’t go up all the way, but there’s a wonderful view of Port Lympia to the east that’s quite magical this time of night.”

“Tell me about this place,” she murmured. Anything to hear his deep voice speak English with that wonderful French accent.

“Castle Hill juts out a bit, like the Acropolis in Athens, but much greener, of course. It was named for a fortified castle and was redeveloped by King Charles-Felix of Savoy in the 1830s because of its amazing view. He added a landscaped park and an artificial waterfall.”

Laura decided she’d been whisked away to a different universe as they climbed a ways above Nice. The music and the words had seeped into her bloodstream, where they would stay. To be out walking in such spectacular surroundings with this man was her idea of heaven.

She looked out at the sea. The romantic night called to her. Maurice had said he and her grandmother had walked hundreds of miles together. Now that she was in the South of France, she longed to see its wonders and clear her head. To see it with Nic left her breathless.

Eventually they returned to his car, but inside she rebelled that any of this had to end.

Wrapped in the beauty of the night, she closed her eyes and rested her head against the window during the drive back to the villa. Laura couldn’t relate to the woman who’d flown to Nice earlier.

A change had come over her. Nothing was as she’d thought. Everything was different. The lines weren’t clear anymore. She was terrified of what was happening to her.

* * *

The next day Nic was sitting at the dining room table reading the newspaper without absorbing any of it. He was troubled that he’d offered to drive Laura down to the waterfront last night. What had possessed him to take her walking afterward?

He couldn’t understand himself. His family would never understand. If any of them had seen him with another woman while he was still waiting for word about his wife, it would shock them in a cruel way. But to know he’d been with the enemy when they didn’t know she’d even come to France...

Ciel. What was wrong with him? Why had he done it?

Nic put down his coffee, crushed by guilt. Apart from Arlette and Jean, who lived in the back, Laura was the only person to have slept in his house since Dorine had gone missing. He’d let her stay here because he knew it was what his grandfather wanted.

And because you were trying to uncover her true agenda. Look how that turned out for you, Valfort!

He heard footsteps and lifted his dark head. Every time he saw Irene’s granddaughter, she looked sensational. Yet beneath the surface he sensed her struggle over a situation that had plagued all of them for years. He discovered his own emotions churning. Today she’d dressed in chocolate-colored linen pants and a café au lait–toned blouse with a chic mandarin collar. She’d fastened her hair back with a tortoiseshell comb.

He got to his feet. “Bonjour, Laura.”

“Bonjour,” she mimicked him before putting up her hands. “Don’t laugh. I only took Spanish and never could get the hang of the accent to my teacher’s satisfaction.”

Nic chuckled as he pulled out a chair for her. “Join me for brunch.”

“Thank you. This looks delicious. I’m sorry I slept so late. The fabulous walk after the music last night lulled me into a deep sleep.”

“No apology needed after that long flight.” He saw signs she’d been crying.

She sat down and took a serving of quiche and fresh fruit. “How did my grandmother do in the accent department?”

“Exactly like you in the beginning. But she worked hard at it. Within two years she sounded French.”

“So it is possible.”

“Of course.”

“There is no ‘of course’ about it. I work with people who’ve been in the States for years and they still sound like they came from somewhere else.”

“An accent is something you have to cultivate. But in truth, your grandmother had an excellent ear.”

“Being married to Maurice, she was no doubt motivated,” Laura quipped. “It’s evident he’s an exceptional man. He couldn’t have been kinder to me last night. I hope I didn’t hurt his feelings by not accepting his invitation to stay at the château.”

“My grandfather made the gesture in hope, but I interceded to give you time to adjust.”

“I know, and I’m very grateful. For what it’s worth, I apologize for the way I treated you in San Francisco. Or maybe I should say, the way I didn’t treat you. You were sent into a hornet’s nest.

“Given the lovely evening out you showed this tourist last night, I should have taken you to some special spots in San Francisco. We could have eaten at my favorite restaurant at Fisherman’s Wharf, ridden a trolley, driven up to Twin Peaks for the greatest view. Forgive me for being incredibly rude when you were only carrying out your grandfather’s wishes.”

“Just as you were holding up your end to the best of your ability,” he inserted.

Now that Nic was getting to know Laura, he’d been forced to alter all his old concepts about her. With the gloves off, this woman was showing the perception and human insight she shared with her grandmother. It took that kind of depth to have attracted his grandfather. In truth, it attracted him.

He couldn’t believe that in so short a time Laura had stirred up feelings inside of him without any design on her part. How had Nic allowed himself to get in this position when her family had wronged his over several decades? Since he was in love with Dorine and always would be, neither Dorine’s nor Nic’s family would be able to understand him having a desire to be with another woman. But for it to be Laura?

Their shock if they knew she was his houseguest filled him with despair. He would never want to let his family down, or Dorine’s, but Laura’s presence beneath his roof was important to Maurice. Unfortunately, no matter how pure Nic’s intentions, their disapproval would pour down on his head once they found out.

“To be honest, I’m ashamed of my behavior,” she confessed.

“No more than I. Yet we’ve survived our second skirmish intact. Are you ready for the third?”

Her inquisitive gaze darted to his. “Do I take it you’ve already talked to Maurice this morning?”

Nic nodded. “He and your grandmother were early birds. Naturally he would like to come over. How do you feel about that? No one else will be here to disturb us.”

She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Please tell him to come. Will someone drive him?”

“Not my grandfather. He says driving is his one pleasure at this point and he refuses to give it up.”

“It must be so hard to find himself alone. To have lived with someone all those years...I can’t imagine it.”

“To be sure, he’s struggling. He’s also apprehensive of your true feelings.”

She bit her lip. “Whatever the problem with my family, I wasn’t a part of it except to feel the fallout. You have no idea how eager I am to talk to him.”

That would thrill Maurice no end. “Bon.” He pulled out his cell phone and rang his grandfather to give him the go-ahead. The older man sounded elated before they hung up.

“Nic? Does your family know I’m in Nice?”

“Not yet. For the time being this meeting is just between the three of us. My grandfather is aware this is new ground for all of us.”

Those lovely blue eyes were filled with anxiety. “Is the animosity as bad on your family’s side?”

Time to tell the truth. “To this day none of his siblings or my parents or my aunts and uncles have approved of Maurice’s second marriage. They couldn’t very well banish Irene from the family, but they kept their distance so that she always felt like an outsider—except with Maurice, of course.”

“And you.”

He nodded.

“That means all of you have been in pain, like my family. How tragic,” she whispered.

“Tragic is the right word. They thought my grandmother Fleurette was perfect. I did, too. At the end she suffered from a severe case of arthritis that deformed her extremities and kept her bedridden.

“My grandfather waited on her with such devotion and grieved for her so terribly, none of us thought he would ever get over his loss. When he announced he was getting married again less than two years after the funeral, it was hard on the family to comprehend.”

“Two years?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought—”

“I’m afraid you don’t have all the information,” he muttered gloomily. “There’ve been huge lapses of the truth on both sides of the Atlantic.”

A distressed sound escaped her throat. “Whatever the truth, both sides of our families have suffered a lot of grief that I find appalling.”

“You’re not alone on that score. My family would have understood his finding a woman—or several women—to be with. But to actually get married again to a woman from another culture and bring her to the family home to live was a particularly bitter pill to swallow. It turned out she was the widow of Richard Holden, another hotelier who’d put Holden Hotels on the map in California.”

Nic sat forward. “Did you know your grandparents and mine met at several world conferences with other hoteliers while they were in business?”

“What?” she cried.

“It seems the four of them struck up a friendship and did a little traveling together.”

Aghast, Laura shook her head. “I didn’t know about the travel.”

“I’m not surprised. As they say, the devil is in the details, and you weren’t privy to them. Maurice was saddened when he learned Richard was dying of cancer and visited their home several times before he passed away.”

“Was your grandmother still alive at that time?”

“Mais oui. She went to Richard’s home with him.”

“So the idea of an adulterous relationship—”

“Is preposterous,” Nic concluded for her. “It was two years later before arthritis turned on Fleurette and put her to bed. After her death my grandfather finally rallied and started working all hours. A year later there was an international conference in New York where several hoteliers were being honored. He discovered Irene was there to receive an award posthumously for Richard.”

“So that’s how they met again.”

He nodded. “I leave it to your imagination to figure out what happened. Two strong people who’d been friends earlier and had a great capacity to love discovered they wanted more and fell in love.”

Laura was fighting her emotions. “What a romantic story.”

“Yes. My grandfather flew to California constantly to be with her. He tried to get to know your mother and aunt, but it wasn’t meant to be. When he proposed, she said yes and they got married.”

“Where?”

“In California. They had a private civil ceremony performed by a justice of the peace. He planned to settle there with her so she wouldn’t have to be uprooted from your family. They could travel back and forth to France. Maurice had decided to install his brother, Auguste, to be in charge of the corporation while he consulted from a distance. But it wasn’t meant to be, at which point Maurice brought her to France. He’ll fill you in on the details.”

“Their marriage shouldn’t have decimated both families,” Laura cried softly. “What’s wrong with all of them?”

He shook his head. “I was twelve at the time. After hearing the family talk, I wasn’t prepared to like your grandmother, who was taking the place of my minou, but that changed when he brought Irene to Nice to live and I met her. She was one of the most charming women I ever met, and it was clear to anyone they made each other happy. She became my unofficial English tutor.”

Those blue eyes lit up. “Really?”

“We both enjoyed our informal sessions.”

“You helped each other.”

“Yes. As I grew older I heard the word opportunist in regard to her come up in hushed conversations at family gatherings. But that was absurd, since Grandfather told me she had plenty of her own money.”

Laura pushed away from the table and stood up. “I don’t understand any of it, particularly not the lie or the depth of my mother’s and aunt’s venom. After what you’ve told me, it doesn’t make sense.”

“I agree there’s a big piece missing and had hoped you could enlighten me. Perhaps my grandfather will be able to shed some more light on the subject. Would you like to go down to the garden while we wait?”

“I’d love it. I’ll get my sweater.”

She joined him in another minute wearing a white cardigan. He opened the French doors onto the patio. From there he led her down stone steps to the garden.

“You’d never know it was winter here. Look at that exquisite array of flowers! Everything from pink to red and purple. No wonder they call Provence God’s garden.”

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