At the Chateau for Christmas

by Rebecca Winters

  “When your grandmother came to visit, she used to stand right there with that same expression on her face. She had several interests, especially gardening. Do you also have a green thumb, as you Americans say?”

  He was good at making small talk. She needed to try, too. “I don’t know.” Laura had been studious in her growing-up years so she could go into her grandfather’s hotel business. It had been a man’s world then. Still was, in many ways. She had to work hard to make her mark, and spent a lot of time in the office. That’s where she’d met Adam, who was determined to rise to the top echelons of the company. They had that in common.

  This trip to France hadn’t been on her agenda, but she’d seized at the opportunity to learn more about her grandmother. Laura had put her assistant in charge while she was gone, satisfied he could handle things for the few days she’d intended to be away.

  She turned in Nic’s direction, bursting with questions. He was silent on several subjects, including his wife, but she needed to remember his personal life was his own. She felt his distrust, no doubt as great as her own. They were walking through a minefield, but especially after her rudeness to him in San Francisco, she had no right to expect information that was none of her business.

  “Was that your grandfather on the phone?”

  He nodded. “Maurice is coming now.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  LAURA SWALLOWED HARD. The man she’d been taught to hate would be here soon. What was the real truth about him and his affair with her grandmother? No one was all black or white. The muscles in her stomach started to clench with anxiety.

  “The château in La Colle is only ten minutes away. Please help yourself to coffee while we wait.”

  She sat across from Nic and sipped hers. “The word château conjures up images. Does it look like one of the Châteaux de La Loire?”

  Nic eyed her over the rim of his cup with a bemused expression. “Would you believe me if I told you that when Maurice took her there for the first time, Irene thought he’d brought her to the château where Cinderella was born?”

  This was the first time the man had allowed her to see behind that facade of suspicion. Laura couldn’t help but smile. “You made that up.”

  He sat forward to reach for a cookie. One black brow lifted. “Ask my grandfather.” In the next breath he got up from the couch and walked into hall. When he returned, he handed her a five-by-seven photo in an antique frame, one she’d seen hanging among the others. “This is what the estate looks like. Hopefully it will satisfy your curiosity.”

  With this picture he’d just extended an olive branch of sorts. Even if he wished his grandfather hadn’t put him in this position, she would take him up on it in order to uncover the truth. Nic had actually brought her to his home. She couldn’t have imagined it when they’d first met in California.

  “Maurice said Irene lived for the day when you would come to visit and she would take you through it room by room, because you loved castles and princesses.”

  “That’s true. I can’t believe she remembered that.”

  He studied her for a moment, as if weighing her words. “Apparently you were taken with Cinderella, whose mean-spirited stepsisters had been cruel to her and made her sleep in the attic with the rats.”

  “She told you all that? I do have a terrible aversion to rats. A married friend of mine has a little boy who loved the movie Ratatouille. I started to watch it with them, but I couldn—” She suddenly stopped talking. Good grief. She was babbling.

  His mouth broke into the first genuine smile he’d given her. That’s when she realized how fabulous he was. Probably the most incredible looking and acting man she’d ever seen in her life. Laura had never met anyone remotely like him. Everything he said and did was starting to slide beneath her skin to draw her in. His wife had to be the luckiest of women.

  Laura quickly looked down at the picture, only to cry out in wonder. After studying it, she lifted her eyes to him. “It does look like some of the pictures in my old fairy-tale book, the one my nana used to read to me. Your family home is beyond fabulous, Nic!”

  “My great-grandfather Clement had the seventeenth-century château fully restored. He needed a lot of bedrooms and bathrooms so he could entertain business associates. There’s an original baronial-style fireplace, stone spiral staircases and an enviable wine cellar. The conical roof and spring-fed moat add the perfect ambience.”

  “This is too much,” she cried softly. To think her grandmother had lived there for twenty-one years. “Did you love the château, too?”

  “Bien sûr. My parents lived nearby. The whole Valfort clan congregated there whenever possible.”

  “You must have had the time of your life!”

  His smile slowly faded, letting her know his family had been in hell, too. That solemn pewter gaze of his traveled over her as if he were trying to figure her out. He had no idea that it sent an unwanted rush of guilty heat through her body. Heaven help her, but she was enjoying Nic too much in his wife’s absence. This had to stop.

  All the talk about her grandmother having had an affair with Nic’s grandfather while she was still married to her first husband had horrified Laura for years. She couldn’t imagine getting involved with a married man. What would possess a woman to do that no matter how tempted?

  Yet here she was feeling an attraction to this man who’d grown up disliking her and her family with the same disdain Laura had felt for his family. Was this how it had started with her grandmother? An attraction that eventually led to an addiction and in the end the two of them had thrown both families aside in order to be together?

  One thing Laura did know. She shouldn’t be alone in this house with Nic any longer than necessary. Without realizing it, Laura pressed the photo to her chest, reminding herself that the only reason she was here was because of Irene. Not because of Maurice’s grandson, who was proving to be a disturbing distraction.

  In a mournful tone she murmured, “My grandmother lived here all these years, yet I never once saw her after she married and moved away.”

  Nic stood there with his powerful legs slightly apart, his hands on his hips in a male stance. “I heard many versions of the Holden-Valfort saga from my own relatives before I was grown up enough for my grandfather to sit me down and tell me the unvarnished truth about their situation.”

  She lifted tormented eyes to him. “You condoned his version, whatever it was?”

  Nic pursed his lips. “I love my grandfather without qualification. But I’d like to hear your version, if you’re willing to tell me. We’ll see if they match.”

  She put the photo down on the table and got to her feet. “My grandmother disappeared from my life when I was six. I have a vague memory of her, but I know most of what I know from my aunt Susan, Mother’s elder sister, who has never married. She said that my grandmother had an affair with your grandfather even though his wife was still alive.”

  “That would have been impossible!” Nic bit out.

  “I’m just repeating what I was told. All this happened while my grandfather was battling cancer. Grandfather Richard died too young. Soon after his death, Maurice’s wife died, so he married my grandmother and they moved to France. Neither Susan nor my mother could ever forgive Irene for having an affair while their father was so ill.”

  Nic’s face had darkened with lines, making her nervous to go on.

  “They said your grandfather was an evil man whose ability to seduce her while his wife was still alive created the scandal. They told her to get out of their lives and never come back.

  “When I grew old enough to understand what adultery meant, I could see why Mother and Aunt Susan had been so devastated. When I was told the truth, the bitter side of Mother’s nature came out. Our home was not a happy one.

  “But over the years I’ve learned that
no one is perfect and everyone makes mistakes. To remain so angry at my grandmother was wrong, no matter what she or your grandfather did. I told her I wanted to go see Irene. She forbade it.

  “That’s when I suggested she get professional help, but she accused me of turning on her. It was awful. Every time I tried to reason with Mother, she’d shut me out and accuse me of not loving her.

  “I made things worse when I tried to talk to my aunt Susan. She told me that if I ever attempted to get in touch with my grandmother, my mother wouldn’t be able to handle it and it could push her over the edge.”

  The forbidding expression on Nic’s arresting face filled her with alarm. He moved closer. “That story is so wrong and twisted, it’ll tear my grandfather apart when he hears it.” To her shock he clasped her upper arms, drawing her to his hard muscled body. His intensity was a revelation. “Maurice is euphoric you’re here. Promise me you won’t tell him what you just told me.” A vein stood out in his neck. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “I—I won’t say anything,” she stammered. Her silence on the subject appeared of the most supreme importance to him.

  His energy drove through to her soul. He was close enough she felt the warmth of his breath on her lips. When she looked up, his dark gray eyes were pinpoints of pain. “Why did you really fly here?” he ground out. “Was the lure of the will so great, you had to find out what amount of money she left for you? Tell me the truth.” He gently shook her. “I can take it, but my grandfather can’t!”

  She was devastated by his reaction. “I guess I’m not surprised by your accusation. Because of the hate on both sides, it appears you really don’t know one very important detail.”

  “What’s that?” he demanded.

  “My grandfather Richard left millions to our family—to me, personally. I’ve never wanted for money a day in my life and never will. The only thing I could never have was the joy of growing up around my grandmother. And though I’m loath to meet the man who took her away from us, I was determined to see what kind of man he is.”

  Her eyes flashed with pain. “What kind of power does your grandfather wield to be able to entice her to give up her whole life in California and come live with him in France? She didn’t need money. My grandfather gave her everything!” Laura could tell her voice had risen. “Does that answer your question?”

  A groaning sound came out of him.

  “Mon Dieu,” he whispered, sounding utterly desolate. His hands slowly slid down her arms. But when he released her, she wasn’t ready. Her legs felt so insubstantial she grabbed for the wing-back chair so she wouldn’t fall.

  While Laura was trying to recover from being held that close to him, she heard voices coming from the foyer. A woman and a man, both speaking French.

  Shaken by the sound, she turned around and saw Nic’s housekeeper usher in Irene’s silver-haired husband from the photograph. He was dressed in a royal-blue sweater and cream-colored trousers.

  In person he seemed young in demeanor for an eighty-one-year-old man whose face showed signs of recent grief. He was remarkably handsome and had passed on those genes to his grandson. Twenty-one years ago Laura’s grandmother had no doubt been swept right off her feet.

  He crossed the room, staring at Laura with incredulity before he turned to Nic. “You must have seen it the minute you met her.” His French accent was more pronounced than Nic’s.

  “Oui, Gran’père. Laura is most definitely Irene’s granddaughter.”

  Maurice’s brown eyes swam with tears as they centered on Laura. “What she would have given to walk in this room and see you standing here! You’re ravissante, just like she was.”

  From the first instant, all Laura could feel was love and warmth emanating from him. Though he and Irene had caused indescribable pain to her family, he couldn’t possibly be the man her mother and aunt had demonized. She cleared her throat, still shaken by those moments when Nic had reached for her in pain. “We meet at last.”

  She had the sense he wanted to embrace her. Instead he held back and wept, pulling some tissues from his pocket. “It’s a miracle. When she passed away, I thought my allotment had run out, but it isn’t so. You’ve come. Please. Let’s sit.”

  Once again she found a seat on one of the sofas. He sat next to Nic on the other. “How long have you been here?”

  “I picked her up at the airport an hour ago,” Nic explained. “She made a reservation at a hotel, but I canceled it.”

  She noticed Nic didn’t mention the name. He wanted to shield his grandfather from the fact that she’d chosen not to stay at the world-famous Valfort in Old Town. Laura hadn’t seen him do that. It must have been while she was looking at the photos in the hallway.

  Maurice smiled. “Naturellement. You’ll come to the château tonight. I’m all alone, rattling around in the place.”

  He wasn’t the kind of man who rattled. Irene’s husband seemed in excellent health. He was an exciting man, full of life and appeared athletic. She hadn’t known what to expect. Certainly not this.

  “That’s very gracious of you, but I’d rather not impose when you weren’t expecting me.” No matter how taken she was by him at first glance, Laura wasn’t comfortable about accepting his hospitality. She wasn’t comfortable with Nic, either, for several reasons, but she’d had no choice.

  Nic must have sensed her distress, because he said, “Laura’s staying with me tonight, Gran’père. The housekeeper has already made up one of the guest bedrooms for her. Tomorrow will be soon enough for the two of you to get better acquainted. Right now I believe she’s exhausted after her flight. It’s a long one across a continent and an ocean.”

  Laura’s eyes met Nic’s for a second. She felt he was trying to break up this meeting, in the kindest way possible, of course. Was he still afraid she might say something about the will? She was pained over his suspicions, but she understood them. There’d been so much ugliness between the families—this was the result. Could they ever trust each other?

  She would have preferred to stay at a hotel. It would have been the wisest thing to do, but clearly Nic had wanted to warn her not to hurt his grandfather before she met him. Maurice nodded. “Of course. Did Nic give you those pictures?”

  “Yes. I love them.” Laura’s mother had refused to look at them.

  “Good. I took those during our many walks. We must have logged hundreds of miles throughout our marriage, exploring the countryside. She was a walker.”

  So was Laura.

  The emotions Maurice evoked were choking her. “Nic told me you were very happy.”

  “We were soul mates. I adored her.” His tears ran freely. “Up until the time she came down with pneumonia, we loved getting out every day together. No man could have been blessed with a better, more loving wife. I’m utterly lost without her.”

  Touched to the core by the sincerity of his love for Irene, Laura stirred restlessly. “How long was she ill?”

  “Two months. She caught a cold. It developed into a secondary infection and before we knew it, she had pneumonia. Two weeks in the hospital on a regimen of strong antibiotics and the doctor was certain she would rally, thus the reason you weren’t notified. But overnight she took a sudden, cruel turn for the worse and left this world quickly with one wish...that you and your family would know how terribly you were all loved.”

  Unable to prevent the tears, Laura got up from the couch and walked over to the French doors, too heartbroken to listen to any more tonight. Nic’s words kept running through her mind: That story is so wrong and twisted, it’ll tear my grandfather apart when he hears it.

  After listening to Maurice’s outpouring of love, she understood why Nic had asked her not to destroy this man while he was in mourning. This was no act, on Maurice’s part or Nic’s. She doubted she would ever repeat her version to his grandfather. There’d been enoug
h suffering. Laura had lived an abnormal existence for years because of it. The bitterness in her household had tainted her life. She wanted no more of it.

  “We’ll get together tomorrow, Gran’père.”

  At the sound of Nic’s voice, Laura turned toward them. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Mr. Valfort.”

  “Call me Maurice.”

  “All right then. Maurice it is.” Moisture blurred her vision. “Thank you for sending Nic with my grandmother’s body and arranging with the mortuary. In light of the history plaguing our families, it was a wonderful, noble thing to do. I’m indebted to both of you.” Her voice caught.

  His features sobered, showing his full years for the moment. “I must confess it was hard letting her body go.” He broke down once more, clearly overcome with grief. “But I can always depend on my grandson to help me.”

  Her throat swelled, making it almost impossible to articulate. “He was very gracious.” In light of the way she’d treated him, Nic was a saint. “Two days ago the family held a graveside service for her. She was buried in the family plot.”

  “Just as it should have been.” The tears in his tone tore her apart. “But in return, you’re here. I thank God you came.” His voice shook. “How she prayed for this day.”

  Laura felt the same way. “I wanted to meet you,” she assured him in all honesty, but she just hadn’t expected this feeling that he and her grandmother had been wronged in some tragic way. “She had to have loved you beyond anything.”

  “Not beyond anything,” he contradicted her. “A day didn’t go by that your name wasn’t mentioned. She longed for her little granddaughter.”

  Laura couldn’t take much more. Neither could Maurice, apparently. Nic put a comforting hand on his grandfather’s heaving shoulder. “I’ll walk you out.”

  She watched them go, but he didn’t leave her long. When Nic returned, his middle-aged housekeeper was with him.