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‘Haven’t we all,’ countered Simone with the tilt of an eyebrow.
‘Simone,’ said Gabrielle sternly, ‘don’t tease. I can’t be held responsible for the consequences if you do. Rafe’s not twelve any more. He’s unlikely to put a frog in your shoe in reply.’
‘Pity,’ said Simone with wistful sigh. ‘I like frogs.’
As a child she’d built homes for them in the shady nooks in the gardens of Caverness, and Rafael knew it. The frogs he’d put in her shoes had been gifts for her, not retaliation for her teasing, and she knew it. ‘To frogs,’ she said, and reached for the champagne.
‘To the children of Caverness,’ said Gabrielle, picking up another glass of the gently bubbling liquid. ‘May they never weep again.’
‘Lovely,’ said Simone approvingly. ‘Although possibly a little optimistic.’
‘Just how much wine have you two already had?’ asked Rafael.
‘He had to go and spoil it,’ said Gabrielle, eyeing her brother darkly.
‘No sense of occasion at all,’ agreed Simone, sipping her champagne. ‘Oh, this is good. Rafael, try some.’ She wasn’t inebriated. She didn’t think for one minute that a glass of champagne, even if it was a superb vintage, would change Rafael’s opinion of her. She just wanted Rafe to be able to relax around her, just a little, so that she could relax, so that maybe, just maybe, they could get through this evening without bloodshed.
Rafael’s lips tightened as he reached for the only glass of champagne still left on the table. Half of it went in one long swallow. The man was obviously thirsty and royally out of sorts. Maybe she’d been a bit hasty in sending the rest of the bottle to the kitchen.
‘It’s Luc’s favourite vintage,’ she told him. ‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s superb,’ he said curtly. ‘Not that you need my opinion.’
‘Just checking,’ she said. ‘I do that a lot. Occupational hazard.’
‘And what exactly is it that you do these days, princess? Besides delegate, that is.’
Ooh, he was asking for trouble. She didn’t care how big and beautiful he was. ‘Oh, nothing much,’ she said airily. ‘I spend a bit of time pottering around the gardens of Caverness. I oversee the running and maintenance of the chateau. I run the European marketing arm of the Duvalier winemaking dynasty. That sort of thing.’
‘Don’t forget all the hiring and firing,’ injected Gabrielle. ‘You do that too.’
Simone shook her head. ‘Luc usually does all that.’
‘But you were the one to suggest that Josien find work elsewhere,’ said Gabrielle quietly.
‘Oh.’ She took a deep breath. ‘That. So I was.’
Rafael’s sudden stillness unnerved her. The intensity of his gaze unnerved her more.
‘You fired Josien?’ Rafe’s voice was mild. Too mild. ‘You?’
‘Yes.’ Simone tried hard not to quail beneath the onslaught of that searching blue gaze. She’d fired his mother from a position Josien had held for almost thirty years, but not without good reason. Rafe hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen for himself how untenable Gabrielle’s position as Luc’s wife would have been had Josien stayed in residence as housekeeper to Caverness. ‘Me.’
‘Why?’
Now there was a question in need of a careful answer. Never mind that Rafe had been baiting her and she him ever since he’d stepped into the room. Never mind that he’d been estranged from Josien for years. Criticising a man’s mother was never a sensible thing to do. ‘Because I wanted her gone from Caverness.’
‘Why?’
‘Can we please not have this conversation?’ she said.
‘Too late,’ he said. ‘We’re already having it. Why did you fire Josien?’
‘Because it was time she left Caverness,’ she said curtly, and cursed him for pushing her for answers she didn’t want to give. ‘Because I refused to sit back and watch her poison the happiness Gabrielle and Luc had found.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Because I could.’
Rafael drained the rest of his champagne. He looked as if he were swallowing the bitterest of pills rather than vintage champagne. ‘Good,’ he said gruffly.
‘Pardon?’ squeaked Simone.
‘I’d have done the same,’ he said.
He…‘What?’
‘You heard.’
‘Well, yes, but…’ Had he really just given his approval? ‘Was that a compliment?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said with a twist of his lips. ‘It could have been. It was hellishly hard to say aloud.’
‘I think it might have been,’ she said, and with a swift and challenging smile, ‘Does this mean we’re friends?’
‘No, it means we have a common foe and I’m impressed by your ruthlessness.’
Was that the shadow of a smile in his eyes? Hard to tell, but she thought it might be. ‘I had a good teacher,’ she said with a shrug. ‘He taught me how to protect the people I love. I was a little slow on the uptake, but I got there eventually.’
‘Josien’s not coming to the wedding, by the way,’ said Gabrielle with a lightness that didn’t quite mask her disappointment. ‘She says she’s not yet recovered enough from her pneumonia to attempt the travel.’
‘But surely you expected as much?’ said Simone. ‘I thought you held the wedding here so as to keep her away?’
‘Well, yes, that was one of the reasons for holding it here,’ acknowledged Gabrielle. ‘But not the only one. I’m having second thoughts.’
‘Don’t,’ said Rafael, and the hardness was back in his eyes. He loved hard, did Rafael. Simone didn’t need to be reminded that he hated hard too.
‘Maybe you’ll pay her a quick visit on the way back from your honeymoon,’ said Simone gently. ‘Maybe given time and happiness of her own she’ll come to accept who and what you are.’
‘Didn’t the person who showed you how to protect the ones you love teach you not to believe in fairy tales?’ murmured Rafael.
‘Yes, but it never stuck,’ said Simone. ‘Unlike him, I believe in forgiveness and redemption. I believe that with a little effort from both parties, a failed relationship can be rebuilt. Maybe not to what people hope for, but something. Something worthwhile.’
‘Optimist,’ he said.
‘Coward.’
‘Oh, boy,’ said Gabrielle as the maître d’bustled back into the room.
‘More wine,’ said Inigo cheerfully. ‘Lots and lots of wine.’ He glanced at Rafael’s empty champagne flute. ‘Who’s a thirsty boy, then?’ And in a whispered undertone to Simone, ‘The chef wishes to propose to you. When’s a good time?’
‘Maybe later,’ said Simone as Inigo opened the three white wines and organised glassware.
‘I’d stay,’ said Inigo flashing her a wide white smile, ‘but I know you need no guidance when it comes to tasting wine and I have to return to the kitchen and guard my champagne.’ He pointed towards a little brass bell on the sideboard. ‘Tinkle when you’re done.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Gabrielle hurriedly. ‘I need to have a word with the chef about a duck dish for the menu.’
‘And here I thought your decision-making abilities had deserted you,’ said Simone dryly.
‘They’re back,’ said Gabrielle emphatically. ‘But feel free to choose a white wine in my absence. Just don’t…’ she seemed at a loss for words ‘…fight, okay? Play nice.’ Shooting her brother a dark glare, Gabrielle followed Inigo from the room.
Silence followed their departure, and hot on the heels of that silence came the prickling awareness that she was alone with a man she’d once lost her heart to, and that most of her bravado had left the room with Gabrielle.
‘Shall we attempt conversation?’ she said, finally meeting his fathomless blue gaze. ‘Or shall we just drink?’
Wordlessly he picked up a bottle of wine and poured for them both. Good answer.
She sipped and tasted, giving the wine her utmost attention. So did Rafael.
While the silence grew.
‘Too light?’ she said finally.
‘Yes,’ he said, and poured the next.
This one had more body and a delicate fruity finish. ‘Nice,’ she murmured. Rafael said nothing, just moved on to the next.
They sipped. They tasted. As far as Simone was concerned, this was another very fine wine. A little more robust than the second one. A peppery low note in there somewhere. Smooth clean finish. But the second wine had her vote.
‘Which one, princess?’
‘I quite like it when you call me princess,’ she said reflectively. ‘It feels a lot like an endearment and a challenge all rolled into one.’ She sipped her wine and risked a glance in his direction. ‘I thought you should know.’
‘Which wine?’ he repeated tightly. No princesses present.
‘The second one.’
He nodded and set the bottle aside. Whether he agreed with her choice was open to speculation. Maybe he simply wanted to get the wine choosing over with so he could leave. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.
He reached for the red wine and poured for them both. Angels Tears. Evocative name. Beautifully coloured wine. She sipped, and sipped again. It was divine. ‘Oh, yes,’ she murmured. ‘Luc’s going to love this.’
‘And you?’ Rafael had yet to touch his own glass. His eyes were on her, searching for her reaction to his wine. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Do you care?’
He looked away, towards the fireplace with the flowers. ‘No.’
No. Heaviness descended, and with it regret for what could have been and wasn’t. It didn’t have to be like this. It really didn’t. ‘It’s brilliant,’ she said quietly. ‘But then, so are you. You always were.’
He flinched as if she’d hit him.
Simone bowed her head and cupped her hands around her wine goblet.
‘Tell Gabrielle I had to leave.’ Rafe’s voice sounded strained and husky, as if he’d already shouted himself hoarse. ‘Tell her I’m sorry, and that everything will be okay on her wedding day.’
‘I will.’ She gazed at the dark and shimmering liquid in the goblet. The image blurred. More tears were coming. Her tears.
‘Simone?’ he said next, and she closed her eyes and let the pain of her name on his lips slice through her because with it came pleasure and take it she would.
‘Rafael.’
‘I’m glad you liked the wine.’
She waited until his footsteps had receded before she finally let her tears fall. ‘Me too.’
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