The French Connection by Tracy Kelleher

Author:Tracy Kelleher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

9

EDMOND GUIDED SHELLEY ALONG the path on the outside of the garden wall. It wound its way up the side of the hill out of view from the chateau. The under-growth was thick, and instead of steps, they climbed on well-worn rocks that dotted the arid soil. The Yellow Brick Road, it wasn’t.

After a series of twists and turns, the path opened up, and several yards to the left a shoulder-high opening cut into the side of the hill. Edmond took Shelley’s hand. “Watch your head,” he warned. He flicked on the flashlight that he’d retrieved from the kitchen.

They navigated the curving tunnel, and the sunlight from the outside soon disappeared, plunging them into darkness and dropping the temperature ten degrees. Edmond shifted the beam of light upward and stopped.

Shelley, whose head was raised to follow the light, bumped into his shoulder. “Oh, sorry.” She pushed away from his side, trying to ignore the solidness of his body. “Talk about making a statement. I have new respect for the power of slowly dripping water.”

A massive stalactite hung from the ceiling. It resembled an icicle on steroids and under the glare of the flashlight gave off an opalescent sheen.

Edmond shifted the light to catch her face. She blinked, then waved her hand around. “And this has something to do with your idea for saving the chateau?”

He studied her in that quiet way of his, finally tweaking up the corner of his mouth. “Why don’t we look farther? I’m sure it will come to you shortly.” He took her hand, and Shelley momentarily flinched. She really wasn’t good at this bodily contact thing. But Edmond squeezed her fingers reassuringly, and she relaxed—well, enough to put one foot in front of the other.

The passageway curved to the right and after a short decline opened up into a second open space. Edmond directed the beam around, illuminating a giant cluster of spires thrusting upward and downward, filling the ceiling and most of the floor space.

He started to walk on, but Shelley held him back. “Wait. Not so fast. I think I’m catching on. Your idea? For the cave? You want to turn it into a tourist attraction, kind of the way we’re exploring it, only with handrails and eco-friendly sources of power. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Actually, no. But he’d play along. “You mean we can’t have gaudy colored lights and tacky names? And here I was hoping to call the first large stalactite Santa Claus.”

Shelley frowned, not realizing it was a joke. “Maybe you’re right. No Las Vegas show lights—this is a tasteful operation the whole way—but the tacky names do have entertainment value. Though for the first one I think I prefer Old Faithful.” She saw he didn’t quite get the reference. “The geyser at Yellowstone National Park?”

He extended his jaw and nodded.

“And the chamber here, something like the Organ Pipes, or even better—” she counted with her finger “—yes, I thought so. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.”

She sounded remarkably sincere. “Just like Snow White,” he echoed.

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