Chapters (34)
- Cover
- Praise
- About the Author
- Also by Emma Harcourt
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Acknowledgments
- Copyright
Luna did not linger either, for she had no desire to find herself in conversation with any other member of the household. She shook out her arms before reaching for her walking stick; the professor had avoided any mention of her deformed stump of a foot in his consideration of her marriageability. At the other end of the house she went through long doors that led out into a courtyard garden. She could see the window of her room from here, the shutters pressed back against the stone.
The sun was just beginning to hit the low wall at the southern end of the garden and farther off, the morning light dusted hills that rolled away to the horizon. From somewhere beyond the gate she heard hens. Luna wandered amongst potted plum trees and decorative roses positioned around a central well. It was not dissimilar to the pattern of the garden at her home and that soothed her. Small birds flitted between the bushes and flew off skittishly into the olive trees that sloped away down the gentle hill. These were aged trees, long since left to spread their low, gnarled branches freely. They curved towards one another like old friends, no longer pruned or plucked; a different generation’s harvest. Luna viewed them appreciatively and then went out through the low gate, standing a moment to take in the view. A light breeze played in her hair and the air was fresh and peppery.
She carefully picked her way down the hillside, leaning against the ancient trunks for support with one hand whilst firmly placing her stick down with the other. Below, the flat fields were neatly dissected into rows of grapevines. The earth broke easily beneath her feet and the mud dirtied her boots. The trees were grey from years of harsh weather yet thickly sprung with evergreen leaves and small, hard olives. Sunlight spotted the ground through the gaps in the branches and leaves. Luna skidded at one point where the recent rains had made the earth slippery. Still, she continued determinedly, for the focus of where she must step next was a refreshing distraction.