As they moved toward a narrow curving flight of stairs, feeling as though she were refereeing an argument between her siblings, Nicole said, “She seems very nice.”
“She is most of the time.” A touch of complaint still in his voice. “Be careful,” he cautioned more gently as they reached the stone staircase. “The treads are uneven.”
“Has Natalie been with you long?” Nicole asked as they began their ascent.
“Yes.”
“Then I’m assuming you somehow reconcile your struggles for supremacy.”
He shot her a sharp look, then grinned. “Fuck no. It’s a stalemate.”
“But you like her.”
“She tells fortunes.”
“Jeez, I never would have guessed.”
“Smart-ass.” He sighed. “Natalie turned up here when I first bought the place. The cloister was an unholy mess after seven hundred years, the last two when the church was beginning to lose its political power, particularly austere for the order. Expenditures for maintenance had been deeply retrenched. Natalie walked up to me like she owned the place, took my hand, said, ‘I know your fortune,’ and proceeded to recount my life as if she’d read my nonexistent diary. When she finished, she looked at me with those snapping black eyes and said, ‘You need me.’ ” He shrugged. “I figured someone who could see the past so clearly might be able to glimpse some of the future as well. Not that I’m particularly interested in the occult, but as you see, she’s damned likable in her no-nonsense way. Although the deciding factor was her immediate command of the workmen; they were afraid of her. Ultimately, she oversaw the renovation with a keen eye, an iron fist, and the frugality of an accountant.” He smiled and waved Nicole to the right at the top of the stairs. “Natalie considers this her home as much as mine.”
“I sorta got that impression. Does she let you put your feet up on the furniture?”
A tic of a smile. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
Nicole laughed. “We have a housekeeper like that at home. She runs the place; the rest of us live there on her sufferance.”
“Then you understand the dynamic.” He stopped at a closed door, took a small breath, and spoke with a quiet formality. “I just want to say what a pleasure it is to have you here. I don’t generally have guests.”
She smiled. “I like being with you.”
“Same here,” he said, opening the door. “Come in.”
His bedroom suite was a series of small rooms, one opening on the other, originally the mother superior’s apartment with an anteroom, office, small dining room, and smaller bedroom. Rafe had restored the largest chamber into a sitting room, the office became the bedroom, the dining room a dressing room, and the nun’s sleeping cell was now the bathroom. Colorful upholstered furniture, Turkish carpets, painted cabinets, and a number of modern paintings relieved the cool gray stone walls and floor.
He motioned to a scarlet silk-covered chair in the sitting room, the cushions invitingly soft and plump. “Sit down. I have something for you.”
She didn’t move. “You gave me enough already.”
“Don’t worry, you’re not going to beggar me. Sit. Please sit,” he added, since her mouth had firmed mutinously at his first brusque sit. He picked up a small box from Chaumet on a nearby table and after she sat, held it out to her. “Here, take a look.”
She drew back as far as the chair cushion allowed. “What’s this?”
“Take it.” He shrugged. “It’s not a bomb, I promise.”
She took it from him, flipped open the top on the small jeweler’s box, and went still. The ruby intaglio, surrounded by emeralds, was set on a simple yellow gold band.
“Wanna get fake engaged?” He grinned. “Just teasing. Call it a friendship ring, okay? I wanted to get you something myself. Don’t ask me why. I was sober.”
A quick breath, then a nod. “Sure, friendship, fake engaged, whatever.” Taking the ruby ring out, she slipped it on the fourth finger of her left hand. “It fits. How’d you do that?”
His brows rose fractionally. “Sure? Just like that? You do this often?”
“No, don’t freak. You said it’s just for fun. You can have the ring back when I leave.”
“Fiona said you like to take chances even if they’re dicey,” he said, clear and cool, watching her. “That it sometimes gets you in trouble.”
“She said that?” Nicole held his gaze. “Did you want me to refuse the ring?”
He frowned. “No.”