Kate Fitzroy - Perfume Of Provence

“You must see the view of Nice from here — it’s really stunning. Your taxi probably took the Moyenne Corniche, high above the coast, but this little road is just as direct and ends up in the port. Look, you can see the boats in the harbour from here.”

“Yes!” she murmured, not thinking about what she was saying but every fibre of her body tingling in anticipation. “I’m sure you’re right — it was certainly high up above the sea. I felt quite giddy when I arrived in Eze!”

Not as giddy as I feel now, she thought to herself. They were standing so close she could feel the heat from his body on her bare arm. She obediently looked down at the large bay. It was certainly impressive. Large liners, private launches and a thousand lights reflected in the still dark water. She sighed as she felt him move behind her and, with his arms around her waist, pull her firmly towards him. The words fell from her lips.

“But what about your wife?” She pulled quickly away from him and, turning, saw his handsome face filled with anguish.

“Wife?” Jean-Michel repeated the short single word and it hung in the air above them.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Yes, your wife in London…” Rosie was almost in tears as she felt the perfect evening crashing around her. Never had she felt such desire, never had all her emotions been so aroused and yet she felt like hitting him as she watched his face struggle with emotion.

Finally he spoke. “I don’t have a wife! Whatever made you think that I did?”

Rosie, reeling in shock, turned back to stare at the view, blurred now by the tears that had sprung to her eyes. She felt his arms move tentatively back around her waist as he gently kissed the back of her neck. She spoke again, her voice choked with a sob. “Jean-Michel, are you sure?”

This was so ridiculous that suddenly they were both laughing and kissing at the same time. Then he broke away from her and said, “What about you? You’re not married, are you?” He was smiling but his eyes were anxious.

“No, not at all!” She opened her eyes wide.

“Rosie, Rosie, you are so beautiful… si belle ! Please don’t open your eyes any wider or I shall drown in them.” Jean-Michel began to kiss her ardently. His arms ran down her back as he pulled her hard against his body, engulfing her in himself. He was breathing faster, murmuring her name over and over. “Rosie, Rosie — I have found you at last.”

A great peace suddenly settled into her and she raised her arms, arching away from him as she gently cupped his face in her hands. “And I have found you, Jean-Michel. I knew it when I first saw you.” She ran her fingers through his strong dark hair and her mind flashed back to that moment at the airport when she had longed to do just that.

Somehow they drove on to Nice. He parked in a small street in the old town and there was no question between them that she was going to spend the night with him. He took her hand and led her into a dark, marble entrance hall and up endless flights of stairs to a small oak door on the top landing. He slid an enormous key into the lock and threw the door wide. “Welcome to my home!”

He went ahead of her, turning on light after light, illuminating the vast attic flat. Finally, he pressed one last switch and a large blind slowly rose revealing a panorama of the old town of Nice against the backdrop of the moonlit Mediterranean.

“It’s magical!” She gasped, running over to the balcony, and then he was behind her again, his arms encircling her, his head buried in her hair as he nibbled her neck. She turned to him and began to unbutton his shirt. Suddenly they were pulling at each other’s clothes, panting and gasping as finally their bare skin made contact. Jean-Michel dropped to his knees on the soft wool rug, pulling her on top of him. Rosie moaned with pleasure as his kisses covered her body. Her fingers dug into his back as desire flooded through her. Never had she felt such longing. Nothing in the world existed apart from him. She was empty without him.

He slipped his arm under her and carried her across to the large bed. The whole night stretched ahead of them. At dawn their love-making reached a new height of passion as, exhausted and still excited, they clung close to each other, unable to move apart. When sleep finally overcame them they fell into a light sleep, closely entwined.

The first rays of sunlight fell across the pillows and they awoke simultaneously and looked into each other’s eyes. Jean-Michel spoke first, his voice husky with sleep.

“Rosie, will you marry me as I’m sure that I’m not married and you’re not married at all?”

“Yes, Jean-Michel, yes, yes, yes, I will marry you!” Rosie hadn’t hesitated for a moment. They slept on as the sun moved across the room, picking out the story of their clothes strewn across the floor.

Rosie awoke from a dreamless sleep, finding herself still wrapped in Jean-Michel’s arms. She studied Jean-Michel’s face lying close to hers. She softly stroked his cheek, brushing the dark lashes with her fingertips. So he wasn’t a dream. Had he really proposed to her before they fell asleep?

Rosie’s eyes stretched wide in amazement as she suddenly remembered her acceptance. This was madness. Every fibre of her body made her feel it was right — not only right, but everything that she wanted. Yes, she wanted to marry Jean-Michel. But was her body making life decisions? What about her brain? Was she suffering some mad rebound sickness in the fallout of her relationship with Luke?

She slipped from the bed, pulling the thin counterpane around her as she went out onto the balcony. She realised she was looking at the market square and there, just in view, was the waterfall that had so amazed her yesterday. Could it really have been yesterday? The market traders were setting up their stalls; their voices rose up to her in the still morning air. She stretched, feeling the wonderful languor of her body in the cool air. Was this a holiday romance run wild? She looked back into the room and saw that Jean-Michel was sitting on the bed watching her. In that moment she knew that she would always love him and that her life was to be with him.

“Would you like that coffee now?” Jean-Michel called out to her. “I seem to remember promising you a coffee before our bodies took over last night.” He moved towards her, superbly at ease with his nakedness.

“Bonjour, ma belle Rosie!” He kissed her tenderly on the top of her head. “Are you wondering how it all happened?”

“Yes, I suppose I am in a way and yet it all seems so right,” she answered, looking him straight in the eye. If he should waver now then she wanted it all to be over quickly. If he showed the slightest regret or doubt…

“You do remember you promised to be my wife, don’t you?” he asked, raising his dark eyebrows quizzically although his eyes were very serious.

“Yes, I do!” she replied, equally solemn.

“Does that mean ‘yes’ you do remember, or ‘yes’ you still do want to say I do?” He was making light of the words but his look was more intent than ever. “Because if you have any doubts I want to know now. I can’t bear to—”

Rosie interrupted him, placing her finger on his lips.

“That’s exactly how I feel too. I have not the slightest doubt. I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’ve heard about love at first sight and this must be it!”

“Thank you, merci , ma belle Rosie. That is so much what I wanted to hear you say in the bright light of morning. I awoke earlier whilst you were still asleep and had a dreadful fear that it was too good to be true. I know it sounds crazy but I was sure from the moment I saw you walking down that goat-path… So now we know what all the fuss is about…love at first sight …un coup de foudre !”