Dawn Song Read Online Free Page A

easy.
    Someone's always hurt—left behind, especially when there are children.'

    He flicked her a swift sideways glance. 'I did not expect to meet with an
    idealist.'
    'But then,' Meg said sedately, 'you didn't expect to meet me at all.'
    'No?' He was smiling again. She felt his charm touch her like a caressing
    hand. 'You don't think it was fate rather than the storm which brought us
    together?'
    Meg, uneasily aware of an unfamiliar trembling in the pit of her stomach,
    managed a laugh. 'I'm English, monsieur. I tend to blame the weather for
    everything.'
    He laughed too. 'And in France, mademoiselle, we say that the marguerite
    always turns to the sun. Remember that.' He paused. 'And there just ahead of
    us is the auberge.'
    A sudden surge of disappointment rose up inside her, and was ruthlessly
    crushed. Was she out of her mind, letting a complete stranger get to her like
    this? He'd rescued her, and she'd always be grateful for that, but she wasn't
    even sure she liked him, for heaven's sake. He was an unknown quantity,
    and she had enough problems ahead of her without taking him into the
    reckoning.
    It was probably second nature to him to flirt with every girl he came across,
    she thought. She just wasn't used to his kind of man, or any other for that
    matter.
    The Auberge du Source du Beron was a comfortable rambling building,
    probably a converted farmhouse, set at the rear of an enclosed courtyard.
    Jerome Moncourt drove under an arched gateway into the courtyard, and
    stopped. Meg straightened her shoulders, and held out a hand, with a
    determined Smile. 'Well, thank you again, and goodbye.'
    'You are very eager to be rid of me,' he commented, his mouth twisting
    sardonically.

    'Oh, it's not that,' she said hurriedly. 'But I've taken up too much of your time
    already.'
    'You must allow me to judge for myself.' Jerome Moncourt left the car, and
    walked round to the passenger door to assist Meg to alight. 'Go and see if
    they have a room,' he directed, smiling faintly. 'I will bring your cases.'
    Wide glass doors flanked by tubs of brilliant flowers opened on to a tiled
    reception area, where the patronne gave Meg a pleasant if harassed
    welcome.
    Yes, there was a room, which she would be happy to show mademoiselle,
    but there was also a problem. Because of that devil's storm, there was no
    electricity. Until the supply could be restored, there would only be lamps or
    candles. As for the dining-room— madame made a gesture of despair.
    'That doesn't matter,' Jerome Moncourt said over Meg's shoulder.
    ' Mademoiselle is dining with me.'
    Meg felt sudden swift colour invade her face, as madame, putting her
    troubles aside for a moment, lifted her eyebrows in a roguish and wholly
    approving assessment of the situation in general and Jerome Moncourt in
    particular. She then became brisk again. If monsieur would be so good as to
    transport the luggage to mademoiselle's room— Millot, whose task this was,
    being totally engaged in filling lamps—she would be forever grateful.
    'D'accord.' Jerome smiled at her. 'But first I must ask if the storm spared the
    telephone. We need to report an accident.'
    The phone system apparently was in full working order. Jerome lifted an
    eyebrow at Meg. 'Do you wish me to contact the authorities—deal with the
    formalities for you? It would perhaps be easier, no matter how good your
    French...'
    Meg said a shy 'Thank you' and allowed madame to conduct her up the wide
    wooden staircase to a room at the back. The ceiling was low, and the floor
    uneven, but the furniture gleamed with polish, and the wide bed was made
    up with snowy linen and a duvet like a drift of thistledown. In one corner, a

    door opened on to an immaculate shower-room hardly bigger than a
    cupboard.
    The small square window set deep in the thick stone wall stood open to
    admit the return of the sun, and the air, still cool after the rain, was heavy
    with the scent of lavender. Meg drew one deep enraptured breath.