With rose bushes in bloom and lily pads decorating the picturesque pond, she felt like she’d walked into a Monet painting. Her mind kept going over the things he’d told her about his family. He had responsibilities she couldn’t imagine. As she leaned over to smell one of the brilliant pink roses, she saw a figure.
Coming from the direction of the grand château she watched a man stride toward her dressed in a pullover and trousers. He had a certain look that reminded her of Raoul. They seemed close in age, but he wasn’t quite as tall.
“Eh, bien.” His dark brown eyes played over her with what she felt was an interest a little too familiar. “Puis-je vous aider?”
“Pardon me?” She pretended not to understand him. She understood that much French, but she didn’t want to get into a conversation with Raoul’s brother.
“Ah. Americaine. I thought my eyes were deceiving me when I stepped out of the château and saw a beautiful woman standing there. Where did you come from?” His French accent wasn’t as pronounced as Raoul’s. Because this must be Raoul’s brother, she needed to be careful what she said.
“I’m a tourist from California.”
He continued to appraise her with an undoubtedly practiced smile that would work on most women. Jean-Marc had his own brand of charm. “I spent time there when I was in the States. What part?”
“San José.”
“I’m afraid I only made it to the Napa Valley. May I know your name, mademoiselle?”
“Abby Grant.”
He put his hands on his hips. “You must be here with a buyer. I wasn’t aware we were expecting one this late in the day. If you’ll allow me, I’d be happy to show you around while you’re being kept waiting.”
The man didn’t waste time. He was a huge flirt. “That’s very nice of you, but I don’t even know your name.”
A shocked laugh burst out of him. “Jean-Marc Decorvet.”
“Ah.” She smiled. “When Raoul arrives in a minute, I’ll tell him I met his brother.”
In an instant, the mention of his sibling wiped the smile from his good-looking face. Judging by that unhappy reaction, Raoul hadn’t exaggerated about the dynamics in his family. “How do you know him?” It might have been a normal question, except that he sounded upset. Maybe that wasn’t the word, exactly. She didn’t understand.
“We met while I was on vacation.”
He acted stunned. “Where?”
It wasn’t his business, but she didn’t want to offend Raoul’s brother. “Switzerland.” As politely as possible she said, “It’s very nice to meet you. Maybe we’ll see each other again.”
On that note Abby continued to walk toward the vineyards in the distance. She felt his eyes on her back, but never turned around.
Please call me soon, Raoul.
* * *
After Raoul had left Abby, he’d driven by the main domaine office on the estate to check in with Félix. His dependable forty-year-old secretary hadn’t left for home yet. He looked pleased to see Raoul. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“I’m sure your wife is too.”
He smiled. “You were gone five days too long. When you’re away, it gets like a madhouse around here.”
“That’s why I leave everything in your capable hands. How did it go with Jules?”
“He assured me he took care of the spraying.”
“Bon.”
“Solange de la Croix Godard has come by every day expecting to see you back. She hopes you haven’t forgotten the Regional Wine Association Dinner tomorrow night.”
“No.”
But Raoul had never made plans to take her. She could hope, but that was a fiction she and her parents had dreamed up. Since his trip to St. Saphorin, he had other plans.
Meeting Abby had changed his world. Yesterday he’d experienced a coup de foudre. Raoul had never given any credence to two people falling in love at first sight, but there was no other explanation for what had happened to them. It surpassed any reservations he might have had thanks to his guilt about Angélique.
She’d felt it too, otherwise she wouldn’t have come with him even though she’d tried to fight it. He needed and wanted her in his life no matter what.
“Anything else, Félix?”
His secretary started to say something, then changed his mind. Raoul didn’t need to know the reason why. “What did my brother do now?”
“It’s what your uncle Pierre mentioned to me. I don’t know how important it is.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t have that frustrated look on your face.”
“I understand Jean-Marc tried to handle a possible new client from Denmark while you were gone, but he quoted a lower price to seal the deal without checking with Pierre until it was too late.”
That sounded like Jean-Marc. His unhappy twenty-nine-year-old brother was only a year younger than Raoul, and had always resented the fact that Raoul would have first claim to the title once their grandfather and father passed away. Things had gotten worse since their father had chosen Raoul to take over the company a year ago—another nail in the coffin. Jean-Marc had always made everything into a competition—work, sports, women. The situation wasn’t going to improve anytime soon.
Raoul needed to talk to their autocratic father. If Jean-Marc were to be given total control over some aspect of the business, it might help him feel more important.
“Thanks for telling me. I’ll speak with Pierre. Anything else?”
“Yes. The funeral of André Laroche. I was informed it’s set for tomorrow at twelve at the church.”
One of their best employees had suffered a fatal heart attack. “I’ll be attending as no doubt will some of the members of the family.”
“Shall I arrange to get flowers sent?”
“I’ve already taken care of it, Félix.”
He nodded. “Was your trip to Switzerland successful?”
“Very.” Raoul was elated that Abby had come to Burgundy with him and was staying in the petit château a short distance away. Tomorrow
