by Abby Gordon
“She will indeed.” His eyes followed Pippa as she crouched next to a vine with Antoine, his heart so full of pride he thought he would burst.
“You love her so very much.”
Tony nodded. “And everything she’s become is in spite of what she’s been through. It should have broken her, crushed her. And I’m so proud of her. I don’t have any right to be because everything she’s done she did on her own.”
“Pride in those we love is a good thing,” the comtesse assured him. “And it shows me that you want her to be strong. To accomplish things on her own, by her own talents.”
“I do,” he said. “I want her to be everything she can be.”
“Bon,” murmured Madeline. “The job comes with a house,” she told him.
“What?” he blinked.
She smiled, clearly having hoped for that reaction. “Shall we join them?”
“Of course,” he agreed, holding the umbrella steady over her as they went down the steps.
“A house?” he echoed, recalling seeing several houses as they’d driven along the vineyard’s cobblestone drive.
“The estate has the manor plus houses for the most essential people. The vintner, of course. And the sommelier. It’s a nice cottage with a yard that has some trees, flowering bushes, and roses. There are four bedrooms, an office on the ground floor, even an attic that was converted into a playroom by someone a hundred years ago.” Madeline waved at her husband. “It’s where Bertrand’s grandparents hid people fleeing from the Nazis for a while.”
“Pippa told me that they had some of the largest bounties on their heads.”
“They refused to surrender and submit to the Germans, just as in World War I,” she said proudly.
“Where are you from?” he wondered.
“I’m from Lavendal village,” she replied. “I’ve known Bertrand all my life.”
Tony opened his mouth to ask another question, but she stepped forward quickly, speaking rapid French to her husband. The comte replied and Tony watched shock then stunned happiness appear on Pippa’s face.
“A house?” she whispered, glancing at Antoine. “Really?”
“Vraiment, ma petite,” he assured her, helping her step over the vines.
“May we go see it?” she asked eagerly, hurrying up the slight slope to the stone wall.
“Mais oui,” the comte replied with a smile. “Vites. We’ll be behind you.”
“The door is unlocked, child,” Madeline told her.
Tony handed the comtesse the umbrella and helped Pippa over the low stone wall separating the rows of vines from the cobblestone path that wound its way about the vineyard.
“I remember seeing a few houses around the bend,” Tony said as they set off at a brisk pace. “Which one?”
“The comte said the second on the left. Antoine said it’s empty and just needs a good sweeping.”
“The Comtesse said there were four bedrooms, an office on the ground floor, and a hundred years ago, the attic was converted to a playroom,” he told her. “A yard with trees and roses.”
“This is too good to be true,” she breathed, almost running in her eagerness.
She came to a sudden stop. Tony knew her all too well. Putting his arms around her, he kept her going forward.
“Venus, it’s okay to have good things happen to you. To enjoy them. They won’t be snatched away because you’re loving life.”
“You’re what I’m most afraid of losing,” she whispered.
“Not going to happen,” he said stoutly. “It can’t,” he insisted when she opened her mouth. “Not another word about it.”
They rounded the bend and saw Antoine’s house. A moment later, just beyond a few saplings that formed a privacy barrier, sat the second house. The mailbox even had a wrought-iron wineglass on top of it.
“Oh, my God,” Pippa breathed. “Tony, it’s perfect.”
Set back from the road, just as the vintner’s had been, it was a stone house of two stories and a raised roof with attic dormers. Chimneys flanked either end of the roof. Pippa stepped away and glanced about the yard.
“A house, a garden,” she whispered.
She met his gaze, remembering their talk about the future.
“Let’s go see inside,” he suggested, feeling excited as well.
She caught his hand, and they hurried the rest of the way down the walk, up the steps, and through the oak doors. Polished parquet floors echoed their footsteps as they looked at the rooms.
“Built-in bookshelves,” she said, peeking into the room on the right. “And a fireplace. This must be the office or study.”
“This is probably the formal area,” he said, looking at the long room to the left of the hallway. “Large windows and a fireplace and what is probably the dining room at the back.”
She opened the second door on the right. “Looks like a large closet.” The next door. “The kitchen. It’s huge. And very modern. It’s been recently updated.”
“Shall we look upstairs?” He glanced back and saw the other three just passing the trees. “Quick.”
Puzzled, she put her hand in his and let him pull her up the wooden staircase. By the time they reached the top, she was laughing.
“What is it?”
“Small, small,” he was peering into the rooms along the hall, pulling her with him. He reached a front bedroom. “Large. This must be it.”
“What must it be?” she wondered as he pulled her in and closed the door. “Tony, what…”
His hands were working the buttons on her coat, then her slacks.
“Tony, what—”
“Master,” he corrected.
Pippa caught her breath, realizing what he was doing. Here? With the others coming in at any time?
“Master,” she whispered.
“This will be our bedroom,” he told her. “It has a fireplace.” He practically carried her to stand on the hearth. “The first night we’re here in this house, you will wait for me here. Wait for me before the fireplace. Wait for me to come up and take you. To come up to our bedroom and fuck my Venus.”
His hands roughly fondled her body over her clothes, slipped under the loosened slacks and under her panties. She moaned as he played with her clit.
“Master, please. Please hurry.”
“This is a taste, Venus.
His fingers stabbed into her pussy and she turned to press her face against his shoulder. Her cry was audible only to them. He stroked in and out, faster and harder, wanting to get her to a fever pitch quickly, and in just heartbeats she was trembling. Her folds were dripping with need.
“Master,” she pleaded.
“Come, Venus,” he ordered, his voice low and husky.
His fingers hooked inside her as he pinched with his thumb. Hook, pinch. Fire consumed her and she curled in his arms. Her moans were muffled by his coat and she sighed as he kissed her tenderly. Tony took care of her and always seemed to know what she needed.
“Thank you, Master.
As he held her, they heard footsteps below. Tony kissed her forehead.
“Fix your clothes, Venus. I don’t dare.”
Meeting his heated gaze, she quickly straightened her clothes. They both took deep breaths, settled their shoulders, and left the room. The comte and Antoine were in the study, but the comtesse was just in the arched doorway to the rooms on the left. Her head turned as they came down the stairs. One elegant eyebrow went up slightly. Pippa blushed and the older woman’s lips twitched at the corners.
“It’s all wonderful,” Pippa told her. “More than I ever imagined.”
“Excellent,” she replied with a smile.
They went through the gardens. Madeline pointed out different flowers or where something had been planted and then removed. Mattheu was coming down the drive as they left. The comte and Tony joined him to continue to the office building, while the comtesse joined Pippa and Antoine in their tour of the vineyards.
Too excited to stop for
lunch, Pippa finally was persuaded to return to the manor at four to prepare for the dinner. The comtesse had invited the leaders of Lavendal village and senior members of the vineyards to meet Pippa and Tony. While skeptical of having a woman as sommelier, especially one so young, even the most chauvinist among them were won over when they saw she had Antoine’s support. Tony, as an American, was a bit of a harder sell, until Mattheu mentioned his idea of creating a blend to kickoff the quadrennial. Enthusiasm was high and ideas of which grapes were discussed the rest of dinner.
“Well, I’ve no idea what they’re talking about, but I’m hoping it’s good,” he whispered to Pippa when everyone returned to the parlor. “They keep asking me things in French. I feel like an idiot.”
“Everyone loves your idea of a blend,” she told him, smiling proudly. “I think they’re a bit confused as to how an American, who doesn’t know the grapes, came up with the idea.”
“I do know a few things,” protested Tony. “And I’m getting a crash course on it all now.”
“As soon as we return to London, I’ll get the manuals for you,” she assured him.
“The comtesse said she’s sure I’ll pick it up quickly.”
“You probably will,” Pippa agreed. “You’ll be immersed in it.”
“Cheat sheets,” he told her. “I need you to make up lists of what I’m most likely to hear. And especially about the grapes.”
“Done,” she promised. “Oh, and Luc loved your design for the shipping crates and bags.”
“It was your quote that started it,” he reminded her. “Lavendal from root to cork.”
“Has nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Pippa asked with satisfaction.
“And that’s something else,” he started.
“What is?”
“When we get to London, I’m getting you an engagement ring. I want to make sure every man who sees you knows that you’re taken and off the market.”
“Can I get one for you then?” she wondered. “I’ve noticed a few of the women eyeing you.”
“We’ll get wedding bands,” he promised. “And I’m wearing mine every day.”
“As will I.”
****
Summoned by the comtesse, Pippa knocked on the door to their penthouse suite at the Armitage. Tony had left a few minutes before to go down the hall to Tony and Jessica’s suite to review how to handle the meeting with Sir Lincoln.
Jessica opened the door and beamed. “Pip,” she greeted her, pulling her in and hugging her. “Can you believe everything that’s happened?”
Grinning, Pippa stepped back, dropped a curtsey and laughed. “No, your grace.”
“Oh, stop, you,” Jessica groaned, hugging her again. “Can you believe her, Grandmama?”
“Absolutement,” replied Madeline firmly. “The tea just arrived, so let us relax before Madam DeLuca arrives with the rest of Pippa’s things and those for us, Jessica.”
Something in her tone alerted the younger pair to something of import, who sobered and sat at the table by the window with her. The curtains were open and they could see central London.
“With the snow, it’s like it was covered in sugar,” Pippa commented.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Jessica agreed, pouring for everyone. “Grandmama, what is it? Something’s bothering you.”
“Oui,” the older lady replied, sipping her tea.
A worried Pippa kept an eye on both of them and took a small sandwich.
“What is it?” Jessica urged. “The men won’t be with Sir Iain too long.”
“I need to tell you about Pierre.”
“Pierre?” Pippa wondered.
“My uncle,” Jessica whispered, sitting back in her chair, shocked eyes on her grandmother.
“The one outside your flat that first day?”
“Yes, from Grandmama’s first marriage.”
“Non,” Madeline contradicted, shaking her head. “Bertrand is the only man I’ve ever been married to.”
Jessica absorbed that in the silence that followed. “Why do I think I’ll need something stronger than tea?” she wondered.
“We all might,” her grandmother told her, sipping her tea.
“What about Pierre then?” whispered Pippa.
“I lived in Lavendal village,” Madeline began. “I had known both Bertrand and his younger brother Louis ever since I can remember.”
Jessica put her cup down and glanced worriedly at Pippa. They could both guess where this was headed.
“Bertrand is six years older than I, Louis just two years older. Every child idolized Bertrand. He was magnificent at everything he did. He was smart, an athlete, and devoted to the vineyards. To his family. He was such a sportsman, he was an alternate for the Olympic team in fencing. You can imagine how Louis felt. Always second to an older brother. Always the moon to Bertrand’s shining sun.”
Madeline paused, took a long swallow of tea. The younger women stayed silent.
“Bertrand went to military l’ecole, became an officer. He had just graduated when I turned sixteen. Louis was about to start at Sorbonne. That summer, when Bertrand was home, I feel head over heels in love with him. And he for me. What neither of us realized was that Louis had had enough of coming in second to Bertrand.”
Jessica moaned while Pippa’s head reeled and she closed her eyes. “Oh, Grandmama.”
“One night, we were to meet in the pressing building. I was so sure Bertrand would propose. He was delayed and asked a servant to take me a note. Louis intercepted the note, knocking the servant unconscious. I went at the scheduled time and…”
Pippa looked across the table and felt her heart break.
“Louis was there?” she whispered.
Madeline nodded, gathering herself. Silent tears slid down Jessica’s face.
“Louis was there. I didn’t suspect at first. He was very clever. He said his father had suspected and Bertrand was trying to persuade him. I thought I might be able to help.” The comtesse shook her head. “As if a sixteen-year-old lovestruck girl would have been able to do anything. But I tried to leave and that’s when Louis grabbed me. He dragged me toward the back offices, tore my clothes as we went, and first raped me halfway across the main pressing room. Then he carried me to the office and did it again. And again.”
Pippa went back in time five years and moaned. Wrapping her arms around herself, she braced her mind for the nightmares she hadn’t had in years.
“Did Grandpapa find you? Stop him?” Jessica asked urgently, her face pale at what her grandmother had gone through.
“He found us. He found my panties at the first spot and knew something was wrong. He started shouting my name. Louis slapped me across the face when I screamed for him. Bertrand broke down the door to get to us. Louis merely laughed. He was laughing even as Bertrand punched him. Louis tried to get out the door and Bertrand grabbed him, knocked him to the floor, and sat on him to continue hitting him. I tried to stop him. I was afraid he would kill his brother. I didn’t want him to live with that. It was bad enough I would have to live with the shame of being raped.”
“That was never yours,” Jessica whispered. “You were a victim.”
“Sh, or I’ll never be able to finish. The comte followed Bertrand and stopped him.”
Jessica and Pippa stared at her. Madeline nodded. “Louis tried to say I’d seduced him, that I had said I really wanted him and not Bertrand.” A small proud smile curved her lips. “Bertrand never doubted me. Neither, thank Dieu, did their father. But, there was still the difficulty of the rape. Naturallment, an abortion if I was pregnant wasn’t a possibility. But neither Bertrand, the comte, nor myself when they finally asked me about it,” her lips twisted at the chauvinism as her gaze met their wide eyes, “none of us wanted to chance a child of Louis’ being comte, which is what would have happened if Bertrand and I married immediately.”
“I don’t understand,” Jessica frowned.
“If we were married before a child was born, it
would be considered Bertrand’s child, a legitimate heir. I would bear the child, raise it, but for it to inherit over Bertrand’s true child?” She shook her head vehemently. “Non, it was not to be done. I couldn’t bear that thought. I insisted even though Bertrand swore it didn’t matter. The comte understood, and I think any hesitation he’d had about his son marrying a girl from the village disappeared. He knew I honored the family, the name. So, it was arranged that I would go to Scotland. To Edinburgh. I would go to school there. If I was pregnant, then the baby would be born there. The comte made the arrangements. When I realized I was going to have Louis’ child, it was decided that I would stay in Edinburgh two years, as if married, then return with the child, saying my husband had been killed in a car accident.”
“Did it work?” Pippa wondered.
“It worked,” Jessica confirmed, blinking in astonishment as she stared at her grandmother. “I’ve never heard anything to suggest otherwise. Did Mum know?”
“No,” Madeline replied. “I’ve no idea how Pierre found out, but he did.”
“Giscard?” wondered Jessica.
“Possible,” acknowledged the older woman with a shrug. “It does not matter now.”
“Why did you tell us this?” pressed her granddaughter. “If you didn’t even tell Mum?”
Madeline just looked at Pippa, who dropped her tea cup. It missed the saucer and clattered to the table. She caught it before it could roll to the floor.
“Tony told you,” she gasped, her mind only able to think of that one thing. “He said he wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“Non,” Madeline caught her wrist in a firm grip. “He did not betray you, child. One who has been through that hell can recognize it in another if you look for it. It either crushes your spirit or you turn it into a strength and fly. And you, ma petite, have soared.”
“Pip?” Jessica whispered, touching her other hand. “What happened? This is why you left home, isn’t it? Why Tony said your situation was so different than mine and you weren’t going home ever.”
Pippa struggled to breathe, fought her demons, and closed her eyes. “My stepfather,” she whispered. “The doctor said my mother couldn’t have any more children. She’d had nine. About every eighteen months or so. More were too dangerous for her. They wanted the benefits though. So, on my sixteenth birthday, my stepfather came into my bedroom, dragged me out, and down the hall to their bedroom. Where my mother was waiting.”
