‘A wuss? What is that?’
‘An idiot. Someone who is pathetic.’
He pulled her against him and rested his forehead against hers. ‘I don’t think that you are an idiot or pathetic. I think you’re brave, determined and stubborn. Every problem so far, you’ve found a solution. You’ve just got on and done things. Marthe would like you a lot. I must take you to see her when you’re feeling better.’
‘I’d like that. She sounds quite a character.’
‘Hmm, that’s one way of putting it.’
There was silence for a little while and then Hattie gave him a gentle squeeze. ‘Thanks, Luc.’
‘No problem.’ He was going to have to talk to Yvette. There had to be some sort of compromise.
‘God, I don’t want to give you my cold,’ she said, pulling back in sudden alarm.
‘It might be too late for that,’ he said, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead, because it felt completely natural.
ChapterFourteen
When she woke she was tucked up in bed, her dungarees neatly hung across the back of the chair opposite. Puzzlement had her checking beneath the covers. Knickers, T-shirt, bra and socks, all present. No one had seen her naked then. She couldn’t decide whether she was relieved or disappointed. It took her a few seconds to sift through her memories and piece everything together. Luc carrying her. Luc kissing her – okay, on the forehead, but it was still worth registering. She tucked the memory of his lips brushing softly across her skin safely away while at the same time peeling back the misery of spilling her guts about her inexperience. Her having a complete self-pity party. She closed her eyes and groaned. Really?
Scrabbling around for her phone, she checked the time. Half-past five. She’d been asleep for most of the day. The sharp, pinching headache she’d been battling had changed tack and was now a dull throb across the back of her skull, her nose felt as if it were stuffed with a whole damn pillow, and her skin was coated with a clammy sheen of sweat. Grim didn’t begin to describe it. And she still had so much to do. And Fliss! Oh God, Fliss, she’d abandoned her on her first day.
‘I can see you worrying from here.’
She looked up to see Luc edging through the doorway with a tray in his hands.
‘Hi.’ It took all her effort to huff out the word. He looked good, as always.
‘I brought you some food and a special St Martin tisane.’ He put the tray down on the bedside table and perched on the bed.
She examined the steaming cup and inhaled a mix of liquorice and peppermint. ‘Tisane? What’s in it?’
‘It’s a herbal tea that’s supposed to do everything from warding off a cold and boosting your immune system to soothing a sore throat and helping with toothache, if I remember correctly.’ He grinned at her. ‘Marthe used to make it for me whenever I was poorly. I had to ring the home to speak to her to get the recipe. All I know is that it tastes good and most of the time helped.’ He paused, giving her a self-deprecating grin. ‘Or maybe Marthe insisted it did. I didn’t dare argue with her back then. Here.’ He handed it to her and she took it with both hands.
‘Thank you,’ She took a tentative sip. Not too bad at all.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Better,’ she lied and then spoiled it with a sudden burst of sneezes.
He raised an eyebrow.
‘Okay, I feel crap.’ Her voice was horribly nasal. ‘And embarrassed that you had to put me to bed. Happy now?’ She knew she was being grumpy but she couldn’t help it. Here she was, at her skanky worst, and he was sitting there on the edge of her bed, exuding gorgeous, good-looking, healthy pheromones. Life just wasn’t fair.
He grinned at her. ‘Solange has made you her special chicken potage. You’re very honoured.’
‘That was kind of her. Tell her thanks.’
‘Actually, it’s nice to see her doing something,’ said Luc and then he caught himself as if he’d been disloyal. ‘That sounds unkind. I don’t mean it like that … I’m not complaining about her. We’ve all been worried about her. For the last year, she’s been drifting, never really settling to anything. Today is the first time that she has actually volunteered to cook.’
‘How long ago did her husband die?’
‘Two years ago.’
Hattie was surprised. ‘I thought it was … you know, more recent.’ She screwed up her face in quick reflection. ‘Not that anyone should judge or decide that there’s a prescribed amount of time for grieving but I…’
‘It’s all right. Alphonse and Yvette are worried too. Since Georges died she hasn’t got her va-va-voom back.’
