“Agreed. Otherwise your relative wouldn’t have such a kind and compassionate granddaughter worrying about him. Every grandfather should be so lucky.”
Stop saying these things to me, Luc. Already her attraction to him was too strong. If she were wise, she would leave for Champagne before the day was out.
“Thank you for the compliment, but the truth is, he’s easy to love. Much as I’d like to phone him with this news right now, I’ll wait and let Solange surprise him. A call from her will mean a lot more to him.”
“That’s a moment I would like to witness.”
In an unexpected move, he cupped her elbow. “Shall we go?” His touch sent fingers of awareness through her. She was afraid he could feel her trembling.
Together they walked outside the convent, but she didn’t understand when he led her to her car instead of his estate wagon.
“Follow me to the rental agency. After we drop off your car, I’ll help you check out of your hotel. By the end of the day we’ll get you installed in a hotel renowned in the region.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to go to all this trouble for me.”
“I like to take care of my potential buyers.”
He opened the car door so she could climb inside. She took the greatest care to make sure her skirt wouldn’t ride up her thighs, but before he shut the door his all-seeing glance took in everything anyway.
He leaned in the open window. “Have you forgotten that without wine buyers like you, I wouldn’t have a business?”
That was true.
To her chagrin she’d been so mesmerized by him, she’d almost forgotten she was a woman who fell into the client category.
But he hadn’t.
CHAPTER THREE
ON THE outskirts of Ribeauville, Rachel turned her head in Luc’s direction.
“You live in the most beautiful place on earth.” She drew in a deep breath of the warm June air. “Alsace must be one of the world’s best kept secrets.”
They’d long since checked her out of the hotel and had turned in her car.
The rest of the time she’d been drinking in the passing scenery while Luc gave her a history of the area. He’d enchanted her with a tale of the legend of Thann called the Miracle of the Fir Trees. She could listen to him indefinitely.
He darted her a lingering glance. “At the risk of sounding smug, I admit I feel the same way. I never wanted to be anywhere else but here, or do anything else except the work my father did.”
“How wonderful to have that kind of relationship with him.”
“I was very fortunate.” His arm rested across the back of the seat, as if he needed more room to breathe and relax. His fingers grazed her shoulder. The slightest touch from him whether deliberate or not filled her with yearnings she couldn’t tamp down.
“Tell me something—how is it you became so interested in wine, you turned it into a career?”
She stirred in her seat. “Unlike you I floundered over what I wanted to do with my life. I ended up with a college degree in communications, but I was no better off than before. For a graduation present Grandfather took me to Italy with him on a wine-buying trip.
“We met a blind vintner confined to a wheelchair from birth. He’d never been outside of Umbria, yet he knew about wines from all over the world.
“When I asked him how he’d learned so much, he said it wasn’t necessary to travel to know about a place. All he had to do was drink the wine to know where it came from, and he was instantly transported there.”
“That’s true enough,” said the striking man seated next to her.
“It comforted me to know that he didn’t allow his disabilities to prevent him from living a full life. The more I thought about what he’d told me, the more I was challenged to try my hand at it, too. He never knew it, but he, along with Grandfather, were the two people responsible for my developing an uncommon interest in wines.
“Grandfather was a brilliant restaurateur. Between him and my grandmother, I was encouraged to learn all I could about the wines they liked the most.”
“You’ve inherited his genes. I sensed that unique quality about you right away. You’re a natural at this business.”
“Coming from you that really means something. Thank you.”
She closed her eyes tightly for a moment because this man was getting to her until she didn’t know herself any more.
“It’s only the truth.”
She turned her head and stared out the passenger window so he couldn’t see how emotional she’d become.
“While I was driving along these mountains yesterday, I could have wept for that vintner because he couldn’t see the vineyards below the towering peaks I was seeing.
“He’s no longer alive, but if he were I’d describe this place to him. I had no idea such beauty existed.”
A palpable silence followed her remark as they climbed higher into the foothills above the town. Little by little civilization was left behind. From the window she could look down on an isolated castle, or a cluster of houses built around a quaint church.
Everywhere else the landscape was polka-dotted with terroirs forming their own unique mosaics.
At the top of the next crest she saw a small Black-Forest-type house sitting on the edge of its own little vineyard probably no bigger than three acres.
Though it blended with the other half-timbered houses she’d seen on the lower hillsides, she glimpsed remnants of building materials, indicating it was still under construction.
To her surprise he slowed down and pulled up in front of a detached two-car garage.
Rachel got out, moving slowly because she was so overcome by the fantastic view. It was hard to find words.
“I feel like I’m in a dream and nothing’s real. This kind of beauty hurts.”
She felt his presence behind her. “I knew you’d say that,” he murmured in a thick-toned voice.
“Anyone would!” she exclaimed.
“No. Only someone with a sensitive nature like yours.”
Rachel could scarcely credit he was talking to her this way.
Struggling to remember why she was here, she turned to him. “Does that mean you don’t bring all your potential buyers to this spot?”
His eyes played over her upturned face for a breathtaking moment.
“No,” came the one-syllable response, filling her with a kind of euphoria that seemed to be part of the day.
“It’s been a long time since I met someone who relates to her surroundings on the emotional level you do. Being with you causes me to appreciate my world all over again. Does that make any sense to you?”
“Yes. Grandfather once told me God gave him grandchildren so he could relive his happy childhood through their eyes.”
One dark eyebrow quirked. “I hardly see you as a child,” he said in a wry tone.
“I think you know what I meant.” She eyed him directly.
“How long have you been divorced?” The question had left her mouth before she could stop it.
He didn’t move a muscle, but she watched shadows chase away the amusement that had lit his eyes for a brief moment.
“Three years.”
Unlike her father, who jumped in and out of marriage without counting the cost, this man had hidden depths that tempered him.
“I’m sorry for your pain, monsieur.”
He shifted his weight. “My name is Luc. Is that so difficult for you to say?”
Her heart raced too fast. “I’ve been wanting to,” she confessed, “but the French ‘u’ is a particularly difficult vowel sound for me to make.” Her tongue kept running away with her. She enjoyed being with him too much.
“I’m afraid I speak two forms of English, so to say Luc, and make that pure sound correctly, will require some practice.”
She felt his low, exciting chuckle reverberate around her insides.
“I’m impressed you work as hard at your French as you do your profession. Which part
of you is American, Rachel?” She loved the way her name sounded falling from those French lips.
“My mother was from New York.”
“She’s passed away, then.”
“Yes,” Rachel said quietly.
“My father died two years ago. You never stop missing them.”
“That’s true. At least you have Giles, who appears to love you like one of his sons.”
“It works both ways. I’m still learning about grapes from him. Is your father alive?”
“Oh, yes.”
She saw the question in his eyes. “You’re close?”
“He manages one of the restaurants, so we see each other pretty constantly. But after four marriages, he’s not exactly capable of forming close relationships with anyone. In fact—”
She stopped mid-sentence, wishing she hadn’t divulged something so personal. What was wrong with her?
“Go on,” he urged.
“No. My family’s problems aren’t for anyone else’s ears.” She gazed at the surroundings. “What kind of grapes are these?”
“Sylvaner.”
“Ah.”
His lips relaxed in a half-smile. “So tell me what you know about them.”
“If this is another test, I’ll inform you right now I’m going to fail it.”
“Be brave and humor me.”
She closed her eyes. “Sylvaner is fresh—fruity—dry—young— How am I doing?”
When there was no answer, she opened them a little to peer up at him. It was a mistake. The way he was staring at her mouth erased every thought from her mind but one.
He’d gone perfectly still. “You left out spicy.”
“That’s right,” she half moaned in frustration. “There’s so much to learn.”
“For someone who wasn’t raised in a vintner’s family, you know a great deal already and receive highest marks, Rachel.”
Every time he said her name in his heavy accent, it made her forget what they were talking about.
He put his hands on his hips and looked out on the steep vineyard. “It is a young wine, which I’m trying to improve. I decided to build a house up here and use this vineyard for a laboratory.”
“I can understand why. It’s inspiring just to be in this heavenly spot away from distractions.”
He nodded. “From the time I was old enough to follow my father around, it has been a favorite spot.
“In my teens, this vista made me feel master of all I surveyed. Lately it represents a place where I can be strictly alone. No one tends these vines but me.”
“And now you have a house. How soon will it be finished?”
“Aside from a few things to still move in, it’s done.”
This was the kind of retreat she’d envisioned for herself. The type she hoped to buy one day. But this one wouldn’t be on the market.
She looked away, tortured by another impossible dream where she lived in it with him.
It had been wrong of her to feel excitement when he’d told her he was no longer married.
What kind of a person was she to be happy about that piece of news when divorce was such a traumatic experience?
He must have loved his ex-wife very much not to have re-married yet.
His deepest feelings for her would explain the mysterious silences, his brooding aura at times.
Divorce had been the major cause of her pain growing up. The result being that she and her sister found themselves on opposite sides of a horrendous family tragedy.
She would always grieve that she hadn’t been with her mother at the end, and that she didn’t have a close relationship with Rebecca.
Too many years her family had been torn apart by their father’s inability to stay with one woman and be happy.
Smoothing the hair off her forehead, she said, “You’re a lucky man to be able to build your own place away from everyone.”
“I take it you live in the heart of busy London.”
She nodded. “A flat at Grey’s Lodge I purchased several years ago. It has turned out to be a good investment.”
“Where is it exactly?”
“On the boundaries of Earl’s Court, Fulham and Chelsea.”
“A fashionable part of the city. One of my buyers owns a club there.”
She nodded. “Lots of the best shops and clubs are nearby. But the main reason I chose it was because of its close proximity to the restaurant my father manages.”
“Who manages the other two?”
“My uncle John and his son Dominic, but my grandfather William oversees everything.”
“A true family business, just like mine. It can be a challenge at times.”
“That’s a discreet way of putting it.”
“Well, there’s been no bloodshed. At least not yet,” he teased, but she couldn’t summon an answering smile.
“What did I say, Rachel? You’ve gone quiet on me.”
“When you can joke about your family, then you know everything’s really all right. I’m afraid in my family—well, let’s just say it’s different.”
“How different? Tell me.”
She lifted troubled blue eyes to him. “You really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” he mimicked her words of yesterday evening.
“My father and his half brother John have always been in competition for Grandfather’s attention.
“John was the son of his first marriage, which failed. When John’s mother died, he came to live with my grandfather and Lucia.
“Dad was two at the time and doted on. But his happy world crumbled when eight-year-old John arrived.
“Though Grandfather has kept a fairly tight rein on both of them, Dad has a wild side I try not to provoke. He’s planning to take over the family business after Grandfather dies. But John has the same plan in mind. It’s awful.” Her voice shook.
“As a result, Dad prides himself on staying a step ahead of both of them in everything.
“He was upset when he found out I’d come to Alsace on an errand for Grandfather. He sees everything as a conspiracy. I love him, of course, but it’s all very complicated because I adore my grandfather and—”
“And your father expects your exclusive loyalty,” he inserted with a degree of understanding that surprised her.
“Yes.”
When she returned home from this trip, she planned to surprise her dad with his favorite whiskey and some vintage wine from the Chartier caves.
Rachel had never tasted such wine before. Once her father had sampled both varietals from their vineyards, he’d be won over, too. But he wouldn’t like the fact that it had been her grandfather’s idea.
“I can relate,” he said matter-of-factly. “I, too, have an uncle who was always jealous of my father’s friendship with Giles. And I have a brother-in-law who feels slighted if I show any of my other managers preference.”
“No wonder you come up here to escape. If I weren’t tied to a specific place, I’d find a hideaway like this. The sun here is glorious.
“I can’t imagine anything more wonderful than working with a plot of ground and watching things grow. It would make all that effort worthwhile.”
She sensed he was about to say something personal when his cell phone rang. He frowned before pulling it from his pocket.
She watched him check the caller ID. In an instant, lines marred his handsome features.
“Excuse me for a minute, Rachel. I need to take this call.” He walked a little ways off.
Please don’t let it be too urgent, her heart cried. She couldn’t bear it if anything interrupted them now.
A second later he turned to her. “Something important has come up. I’m afraid we have to go.”
“Of course. I’m surprised you’ve been able to give me this much time.”
Putting on her best face, she walked to the car and got in before he could help her.
When they were on their way down the mountain, he eyed her with a dark, brooding lo
ok.
“I’m sorry about this. Tomorrow morning I’ll take you around to the caves in this region. You haven’t tasted our Sylvaner and Pinot Blanc yet.”
“Only if you can spare the time. As for today, I plan to concentrate on the wines Giles sent with us for me to sample.”
Luc didn’t answer right away, which meant his mind was already on something else.
“We’re coming up on a ferme-auberge famous for its excellent local food. You’ll be put in an upstairs room overlooking the farm where they’ll serve you your meals. From the deck you gaze out on a sight that I have no doubt will make another lasting impression.”
“That sounds lovely.” She meant it, but, pleased as she was by his concern for her enjoyment, it meant he was going to leave her once more.
Here she’d just been getting used to the idea that they would spend the whole day together. Now it sounded as if she wouldn’t be seeing him again until tomorrow.
It would mean another restless night waiting for him to come back.
Would that she didn’t care. She wished she could view Luc with the same dispassion she did any other vintner she’d just done business with, instead of…of…
Filled with disappointment, she closed her eyes knowing she would have been better off not to have come with him today.
Strengthening her resolve to keep distance between them, she made a promise to herself not to be this foolish a second time.
“Just in case this place is full, I can always stay at a small hotel down in the town.”
At her words, she felt inexplicable tension emanate from him.
“My headquarters may be in St Hippolyte, but on any given day I have a standing arrangement with the owner to accommodate my buyers.” Luc spoke in such an authoritative voice, Rachel gripped her purse a little tighter. She couldn’t imagine what had brought on this remote side of him.
The owner of the half-timbered inn greeted Luc with a camaraderie of many years’ standing, verifying Luc’s claim.
The other man bid one of his staff to bring in her luggage and the carton of wines.
“Remy will take good care of you, Ms Valentine.”
It wasn’t Rachel any more?
Evidently Luc didn’t want to risk giving his friend Remy the wrong impression of their relationship.
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