Looking worried, Marie said, “Have we become too great a burden for you?”
“Not at all.” Suzanne paused a moment, struck by a new thought. “Heavens, Philippe is my stepson! That makes you my daughter-in-law.” She eyed Marie’s expanding middle. “And this is my first grandchild on the way. I must think of myself in a new way. Perhaps I should begin to wear a cap like the elder ladies do.”
Marie laughed, as Suzanne had hoped she would. “You, a grandmother! I cannot imagine that.” Her voice softened. “But you have been as a mother to us.”
“Then I shall give you a bit of motherly advice. Ask Madame Moreau if she needs any mending done. Having busy hands will give you less time to worry.”
“I’ll do that,” Marie said meekly. “I want to be useful, not a burden. But I don’t know how we’ll ever be able to repay you and your husband.”
“No need to worry about that now. You are family, after all.” She was happy to be related to Marie, and no doubt she’d become fond of Philippe when he wasn’t waving a rifle around. “Now I’ll find my husband and we’ll look into hiring horses, but I’ll come to say good-bye before we leave. We won’t be gone long.”
Marie gave Suzanne a swift hug. “I hope you and monsieur find the man you are seeking.”
So did Suzanne.
Chapter 23
The boy assigned to guide Simon and Suzanne turned out to be a Moreau grandson about ten years old. He chattered cheerfully as he led the way down a lane to the family farm. Apparently most of the meat and vegetables and dairy served at the inn were grown there, and his mother was the best cook in the world.
As the grandson skipped ahead of them, Simon took Suzanne’s hand and they strolled along the lane enjoying the birdsongs and vigorous spring greenery. Suzanne remarked, “There seem to be more and more people in our lives, so riding across country with only you sounds very appealing.” She glanced up at him through her dark lashes. “Positively romantic.”
He loved that she felt that way, but he was having second thoughts. “With France so unsettled and disturbing all her neighbors, it might be dangerous for the two of us traveling alone.”
“But you were an army exploring officer, yes? You must have spent much time in Spain riding alone through hostile territory, and here you are, alive and well,” she pointed out.
“I relied on my uniform and a fast horse to keep me out of trouble, but I’m wondering if it’s wise to take you.”
“You’d rather sleep alone with your horse?” she teased. “Travel always brings some risks, but this country is quiet and we will have good horses and weapons. Shouldn’t that be enough?”
“Probably,” he admitted. “But being a husband makes me feel very protective.”
“Protectiveness is a fine trait in a husband.” Her smile was angelic. “I have complete faith in your ability to keep me safe.”
He laughed. “How can I argue with that?”
“You can’t. We’ll be fine.” She shivered. “If Napoleon’s armies start to march, that will be quite another matter.”
“They will march,” Simon said grimly. “But not just yet. It will take him time to organize his forces again.” But damnably, it probably wouldn’t be much time.
The lane ended in the Moreau farmyard. Monsieur Moreau came out to greet them, having heard already about the inn’s unusual guests. He was a vigorous man in late middle age, and his shrewd gaze seemed to assess them for honesty and horsemanship.
“My grandson says that you’re interested in hiring a pair of saddle horses for a few days,” he said. “All my horses are over there in the paddock. Take a look, and I’ll join you in a few minutes, after I give this scamp a sweet cake as a reward for his efforts.” He ruffled his grandson’s hair affectionately.
The grandson happily followed his grandfather into the farmhouse for his treat while Simon and Suzanne crossed to the paddock. It contained the full range of horses from great, strong draft beasts all the way down to a grandchild-sized pony. Suzanne sighed happily. “So beautiful. All horses are beautiful.”
“Some are more beautiful than others,” Simon said. “There appear to be several mounts that will meet our needs for a few days.”
After a brief study, Suzanne said, “I like the looks of that golden chestnut gelding with the blaze down his nose.”
She moved to the gate and opened it far enough to slip inside the paddock. After closing the gate behind her, she drifted toward the horses. Simon’s nerves twitched at the sight of her entering a paddock full of unknown beasts, but he controlled the impulse to call her back.
Monsieur Moreau joined him and frowned to see Suzanne inside the paddock. “What the devil?”
He made for the gate, but Simon gestured him to stay where he was. “My wife is very good with horses.”
Suzanne reached out a hand to the chestnut and murmured soft words that Simon couldn’t make out. But equine ears pricked up in interest and three full-grown horses and the pony ambled over to greet her. Laughing, she stroked velvety noses and murmured more words, probably telling them what very fine horses they were.
“You spoke true, Duval,” the farmer said with some amazement. “All of ’em would love to have her throw a saddle over their backs.”
