A choking laugh escaped her, and she shook her head in wonder. The billowing treetops lining the river and tucked around the village sparkled dazzling reds and golds, lit by autumn’s fiery torch.
“’Tis beautiful, Nicholas,” she breathed, and then turned to him. She covered his hand with hers. “You must show me every corner.”
Nick’s eyes sparkled, and his smile told Simone he was pleased with her reaction. “And so I shall,” he promised. Gathering her reins with his, he said, “Would you care to ride ahead with me and meet your people?”
A spiral of nervous excitement coiled within her.This is your new life, Simone, where all will be different, better. Seize it.Tossing her husband a grin, she abruptly kicked her mount into surging gallop away from the treeline and down the wide dirt road leading to the bridge, grabbing for her reins as they were jerked from Nick’s loose grip.
He gave chase with a whoop and was at her side in moments, their horses matching strides. As the sweet-smelling breeze rushed over her face and into her ears in a deafening roar, Simone could not help but laugh aloud.
Nicholas was pleased to have Hartmoore in sight again, but what pleased him more was Simone’s reaction to his home.
He reined Majesty to keep pace with Simone’s gray, and her shout of laughter seized his heart. Their thundering hooves reached the wide bridge spanning the River Teme, and as they slowed their pace, the echoing beats were overcome by excited “huzzah”s from the crowd of villagers and guests awaiting them on the far side.
Nick seized Simone’s reins and edged slightly ahead of her, maneuvering the pair of them through the crowd. The villagers bowed deeply and stared at their tiny new mistress, and he heard more than one hushed whisper of “She’s so lovely!”
Simone smiled at them all, extending a slim hand from serf to nobility, murmuring, “Bonjour.Good day to you. I am most pleased to be here. How lovely to see you again.”
Nick was also accosted with greetings.
“Good to have you back, milord.”
“The grains from the final harvest are nearly milled, milord. Miller says—”
“Finally caught, are you, FitzTodd?”
Nick’s attention jumped from one person to another, just as Simone’s, as they seemed to be addressed by each person gathered beyond the bridge.
He could not recall a more joyous homecoming.
He urged Majesty forward, drawing Simone deeper into the village, the crowd following eagerly. Within moments, they had passed through the deep barbican and into the bailey. Nick saw Genevieve dart from the doorway of the keep, and she was before them even as Nick assisted Simone from her horse.
“Nicholas, my darling!”
He kept a grasp on Simone’s hand as he acquiesced to his mother’s welcome. She kissed him on both cheeks and then drew away, her eyes instantly finding the small woman at his side.
“Lady Simone, oh, but you are lovely!” Genevieve abandoned Nick to grasp Simone’s hands, pulling her from Nicholas and consuming her in a statuesque embrace. “Welcome to Hartmoore, my daughter.”
Nick cleared his throat. “Mother, you’re crushing her.”
The two women drew apart, laughing, and Nick saw wetness in both their eyes. Simone’s face bore an expression of immense relief. Had she been nervous to meet his mother?
“Thank you, Lady Genevieve. I am most pleased to be here.”
Genevieve glanced around Nick’s wife. “But where is your father, my dear? I assumed he would want to see his daughter to her new home.”
Simone’s smile faltered. “Nay, he…Papa had some pressing business to attend to in London before returning to Provence. I hope his absence does not offend you.”
“Offend me?” Genevieve said, shaking her faded blond head. “Of course not. Why, I”—Nick’s mother paused, a frown creasing her high forehead—“did you say Provence?”
“Oui,do you know of it?”
Genevieve nodded. “I once knew of a family du Roche of Provence, long ago. What is your mother’s name, darling? Perhaps I know of her as well.”
Simone looked decidedly uncomfortable, so Nick intervened. “Portia du Roche is dead, Mother. Simone lost her and a younger brother in a fire last year.”
“Oh my.” Genevieve blanched. “Forgive me, Lady Simone.”
Simone smiled and squeezed Genevieve’s hand. “Do not trouble yourself about it. But does her name seem familiar? Could you have known her? From Marseilles, perhaps?”
