The next day the boat would be moving out to sea, and we’d be heading back along the coast toward Nice and Monaco. I glanced longingly over my shoulder toward shore. I’d been doing some online research about all the architectural influences up and down the coast. The fact that the area had remnants dating back thousands of years made me desperate to experience some more of these little places. And Corsica, an island that had some of the most wide-ranging architectural influences, from pre-Roman to Pisan to Genoese still standing, was only four hours away by boat.

By boat!

And I was on a damn boat. I wanted to weep. Then I wanted to laugh at how much I was beginning to appreciate boats.

“What is so amusing?”

I jerked in surprise and turned to see Xavier had come out the sliding doors. He reached up and held the outdoor stair railing, spreading his feet to find balance as the boat sliced through the waves. The wind whipped his black hair over his forehead.

“Sorry. What?”

“It looked as though you laughed out loud to yourself.”

“I did?” I ducked my chin, embarrassed that he’d caught me changing my mind about boats. “I was just thinking I might be learning to appreciate boats.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” I sassed. “It’s a long way from appreciating to loving them.”

“Did you have a bad experience with a boat?”

“Not every feeling has to be rooted in the past.” I lifted a shoulder.

He cocked his head. “But they normally are.”

Interesting. “Well, not that I remember,” I said. “I’ve never really spent any time on a boat before this one.”

“Even living in Charleston? That’s an accomplishment,” he said. Good lord, Xavier Pascale was … joking with me.

I let out an awkward laugh. “True.”

I noticed then that he held a white canvas tote bag in his other hand. Seeing my gaze made him look down. “Oh. I came to give you this.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure if they are the right things.”

I stood and took the bag he offered. Inside were two large blank sketchbooks, a set of really expensive drafting pencils, watercolor pencils, and a hardback book. “Wow.” I smiled.

“Dauphine said you were running out of paper.” He waved a hand, dismissively, suddenly gruff and looking extremely uncomfortable. “It’s nothing. I’m simply replacing since Dauphine has been using up your supplies.”

“Thank you, really.” I looked back down at them, and then to the book. It was a hardcover, small coffee table type book, and the picture on the front was of a castle. I turned it over. “And this?”