quaint was one way she could have described it, however it was not the word that kept popping into her mind. After quickly changing into the things he had bought her—they were just a tiny bit snug—she joined Alex in the yard.
While he worked the handle up and down, she brushed her teeth and washed her face in the water from the ancient pump. It was icy cold, but the novelty of having it pumped right out of the ground kept her mind off her frozen face.
Afterward she sat on a small milking stool and, while she was serenaded by hundreds of birds, she combed and rebraided her hair.
Sitting on a stump, Alex watched Kate work with her hair and suddenly wished they didn't have to leave. He knew it was crazy, but he wouldn't mind sleeping on hay or washing under an ancient pump in the open air if he just could linger a while longer with her.
Something had happened to him as he had held her in his arms the night before. Something wonderful and new and exciting. He found himself dreaming of holding her ten years in the future, twenty years in the future.
He had sat for quite a while that morning watching her as she slept. He was wondering how she would look tying in his bed back in Wisconsin but knowing all the while that she would never look lovelier than she did tying on a pile of hay.
The feeling was strange for Alex. He had desired women before. And he had liked women before. There had even been women that he had both liked and desired, but he had never thought of growing old with any of them. He wanted to grow old with Kate. He wanted to be there when she got her first gray hair. He wanted to watch her play with their children and grandchildren.
The thought of making children with Kate brought an indescribable, fluttering ache to his heart and he felt his stomach muscles tighten as though he were held in the grip of an iron fist.
Breathing deeply, Alex forced his expression to remain normal. He couldn't rush her now. It was too important and he had done too much pushing already. She had to be as sure of him as he was of her.
They ate freshly baked croissants in the open air, sighing over them as though they were ambrosia and laughing at anything that popped into their heads. It was a morning out of a storybook, a morning to store away in memory and pull out on cold days in the future.
After breakfast, Alex placed a handful of francs under a clay pot sitting on the porch and they left. Back on the road, he positioned the Mercedes behind a deserted shed so that they could watch for Alvarez.
They had waited less than thirty minutes when the Jaguar passed them, and Alex pulled out of their hiding place, following it to the superhighway that ran all the way to Paris.
The highway was much more heavily traveled than the small road they had begun on, but it had the advantage of letting them stay close to the Jaguar without being detected. They passed the time delving into each other's minds and Kate thoughtfully absorbed the memories of Alex's childhood in Wisconsin.
It certainly didn't sound like the background of a count, she realized. His experiences more closely matched those of Tom Sawyer, in fact a normal American childhood. An only child, he seemed to have fond memories of both his parents and she could find nothing in what he told her that suggested anything unusual in his upbringing.
The miles flew by as they talked. Just after one, Alvarez abandoned the highway for a small country road.
"This may be it," Alex said as he dropped back to keep from being seen on the almost deserted road.
"May be what?" Kate asked in confusion, sensing a new tension in him.
"He may be meeting his contact somewhere around here."
Alex sounded as though that were something to be desired, but Kate wondered if she really wanted to be around when the blackmailer was unmasked. The person whom Kate had mentally designated Mr. Big was not someone she was looking forward to meeting.
When the sports car pulled up before a large, slightly
While he worked the handle up and down, she brushed her teeth and washed her face in the water from the ancient pump. It was icy cold, but the novelty of having it pumped right out of the ground kept her mind off her frozen face.
Afterward she sat on a small milking stool and, while she was serenaded by hundreds of birds, she combed and rebraided her hair.
Sitting on a stump, Alex watched Kate work with her hair and suddenly wished they didn't have to leave. He knew it was crazy, but he wouldn't mind sleeping on hay or washing under an ancient pump in the open air if he just could linger a while longer with her.
Something had happened to him as he had held her in his arms the night before. Something wonderful and new and exciting. He found himself dreaming of holding her ten years in the future, twenty years in the future.
He had sat for quite a while that morning watching her as she slept. He was wondering how she would look tying in his bed back in Wisconsin but knowing all the while that she would never look lovelier than she did tying on a pile of hay.
The feeling was strange for Alex. He had desired women before. And he had liked women before. There had even been women that he had both liked and desired, but he had never thought of growing old with any of them. He wanted to grow old with Kate. He wanted to be there when she got her first gray hair. He wanted to watch her play with their children and grandchildren.
The thought of making children with Kate brought an indescribable, fluttering ache to his heart and he felt his stomach muscles tighten as though he were held in the grip of an iron fist.
Breathing deeply, Alex forced his expression to remain normal. He couldn't rush her now. It was too important and he had done too much pushing already. She had to be as sure of him as he was of her.
They ate freshly baked croissants in the open air, sighing over them as though they were ambrosia and laughing at anything that popped into their heads. It was a morning out of a storybook, a morning to store away in memory and pull out on cold days in the future.
After breakfast, Alex placed a handful of francs under a clay pot sitting on the porch and they left. Back on the road, he positioned the Mercedes behind a deserted shed so that they could watch for Alvarez.
They had waited less than thirty minutes when the Jaguar passed them, and Alex pulled out of their hiding place, following it to the superhighway that ran all the way to Paris.
The highway was much more heavily traveled than the small road they had begun on, but it had the advantage of letting them stay close to the Jaguar without being detected. They passed the time delving into each other's minds and Kate thoughtfully absorbed the memories of Alex's childhood in Wisconsin.
It certainly didn't sound like the background of a count, she realized. His experiences more closely matched those of Tom Sawyer, in fact a normal American childhood. An only child, he seemed to have fond memories of both his parents and she could find nothing in what he told her that suggested anything unusual in his upbringing.
The miles flew by as they talked. Just after one, Alvarez abandoned the highway for a small country road.
"This may be it," Alex said as he dropped back to keep from being seen on the almost deserted road.
"May be what?" Kate asked in confusion, sensing a new tension in him.
"He may be meeting his contact somewhere around here."
Alex sounded as though that were something to be desired, but Kate wondered if she really wanted to be around when the blackmailer was unmasked. The person whom Kate had mentally designated Mr. Big was not someone she was looking forward to meeting.
When the sports car pulled up before a large, slightly
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