Luc reached for her the moment they were seated in the relative privacy of the car.

His fingers were in her hair, expertly seeking and removing pins as his lips slanted over hers and demanded she open for him. He groaned when she did, the raw and needy groan of a man pushed to his limits, and his tongue began a fiercely sensual invasion, stripping her of everything but the need to respond. Gabrielle wrenched her lips from his and pushed him away with an unsteady hand.

‘Drive,’ she ordered raggedly.

‘Where?’

‘Anywhere.’ Although… ‘Maybe not Caverness.’ Her courage did not extend to flaunting her intimacy with Luc in her mother’s face—not because of what she might think of her, but because Gabrielle feared that somehow, heaven only knew how, she would turn her feelings for Luc into something ugly. ‘My room.’

‘Caverness is my home, Gabrielle.’ His voice was as ragged and strained as hers. ‘Sooner or later I will want you there.’ But he drove towards the old mill, and said, as they exited the car and strode towards the front door, ‘I aim to stay the night.’

Accidentally educated in the sciences, Kelly Hunter has always had a weakness for fairytales, fantasy worlds, and losing herself in a good book. Husband… yes. Children…two boys. Cooking and cleaning…sigh. Sports…no, not really—in spite of the best efforts of her family. Gardening…yes. Roses, of course. Kelly was born in Australia and has travelled extensively. Although she enjoys living and working in different parts of the world, she still calls Australia home. Visit Kelly online at www.kellyhunter.net

Kelly’s novel SLEEPING PARTNER was a 2008 finalist for the Romance Writers of America RITA® award, in the Best Contemporary Series Romance category!

Look out for

REVEALED: A PRINCE AND A PREGNANCY

the second book in Kelly’s deliciously sexy duet

Hot Bed of Scandal

Available later this year!

Dear Reader

I found the setting for this story on my way from the Netherlands to France via the back roads. The history of this part of Europe captivated me: the castles and the caves, the churches and the cafés… My stepsisters, born and raised in this part of the world, delighted in bringing the cultural details alive for me. I had my setting. I had my characters. I had a smart, sophisticated tale of true love all lined up.

I never dreamed that when I returned to Australia and finally began to write out would pour a simple coming home story. Oh, I love coming home stories—don’t get me wrong. Barbara Samuel’s superbly written No Place Like Home saw to that. But where was my smart, sophisticated tale, rich in all those cultural details I’d collected? Could it really be that the most joyous moment of a fascinating trip came at the very end, when I walked through the doorway of my home and into the arms of my family?

Yes. Yes, it could.

Write what you know. I’ve heard that before. Not always practical when writing about heiresses and princes and billionaire tycoons. Not always practical when your childhood was wonderfully ordinary and life is better than fine. Sometimes what you know simply isn’t enough, and you have to imagine the rest. I imagined plenty when it came to writing this story, but there was one truth I clung to—one vivid and powerful emotion that made this story real for me. I wanted my heroine to find her way home.

Happy reading!

Kelly Hunter

EXPOSED: MISBEHAVING WITH THE MAGNATE

BY

KELLY HUNTER

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Maytoners.

And Puppies.

CHAPTER ONE

‘BREATHE IN, breathe out,’ muttered Gabrielle Alexander as she stood and stared at the daunting wooden door that led to the servants’ quarters of Chateau des Caverness. She knew this door, knew the feel of it beneath her palm and the haughty hollow sound the brass knocker made when it connected with the wood. Gabrielle had been sixteen when she’d last walked through this door; sixteen and shattered at the thought of leaving everything she knew and loved behind. Such turbulent times, thought Gabrielle with a wry smile for the girl she’d once been. How she’d pleaded with her mother to be allowed to stay; Lord, how she’d begged and argued and finally wept. But the people she’d loved had not loved her. Josien Alexander had shipped her daughter off to Australia with a heart as hard and as cold as an arctic iceberg.

All because of a kiss.

‘It wasn’t even a good kiss,’ muttered Gabrielle as she stared at the door and dug deep for the courage to put her hand to the knocker and make it do its thing. Seven years had passed; Gabrielle knew a lot more about kissing these days. She knew the feel of hot sweet kisses on her lips. Ragged greedy kisses on her skin. ‘It was a very ordinary kiss.’

Liar, said a little inner voice that would not remain silent.

‘A practice kiss. A practically meaningless kiss.’

Big fat liar.

‘So shoot me,’ she murmured to that little voice inside her. ‘You remember it your way and I’ll remember it mine.’ She grasped the knocker and lifted it. ‘Better still, let’s not remember it at all.’

But that was harder done than said. Not here in this place, with the scent of summer grapes all around her and the warmth of the sun beating down on her shoulders. Not with her heart swollen and heavy with the knowledge that this place, this chateau, this fragrant idyllic corner of France’s Champagne district was the only place that had ever felt like home and that for seven long years she’d stayed away from it.

All because of a kiss.

Taking hold of the brass ring, Gabrielle lifted it and brought it down hard against the wooden door. Boom. Nothing quite like a dreaded sound from her childhood to get her blood pumping and the hairs on her arms standing to attention. Boom. Once more with feeling. Boom boom and boom.

But the door did not open. No footsteps echoed along the dark and narrow hallway Gabrielle knew was behind that door. She turned from her mother’s quarters to stare across the courtyard at the chateau proper. She really didn’t want to go knocking on any of those doors.

Josien had pneumonia; that was what Simone Duvalier, childhood playmate and current mistress of Caverness, had said in her phone message. What if Josien was too ill to get out of bed? What if she tried to answer the door and collapsed on the way?

Muttering a prayer to a God she barely believed in, Gabrielle dug in her handbag until her fingers closed around the key she sought. Smooth and cold, it both beckoned and repelled. She had no right to unlock this door—this wasn’t her home any more. Caution pleaded with her not to slide the key in the lock but caution never had been Gabrielle’s strong point.

Wilful, her mother had called her on more than one occasion.

Headstrong.

Fool.

The key turned easily, smoothly, and with a click and a slight nudge on her part the door swung open. ‘Maman?’ Gabrielle stepped tentatively inside the darkened hallway. ‘Maman?’ A flash of red caught her eye—red where there’d never been red before. A blinking row of little red lights and a no-nonsense square panel, the kind that signalled state-of-the-art alarm systems that summoned large men with flat top buzz cuts and firearms to the door. ‘Maman?’

And then the cacophony began. No discreet beeping for this alarm system, it was air-raid-klaxon loud and could doubtless be heard for miles. Uh oh. Gabrielle ran towards the blinking lights and wrenched the casing open, staring in dismay at a keyboard containing both letters and numbers. She punched in her birth date. The ear splitting noise continued. She keyed in Rafael’s name and date of birth next, but Josien was clearly not the sentimental type. She tried entering the year that Chateau des Caverness had been built, the name and year of its most successful champagne vintage, the number of ancient Linden trees lining the sides of the lane leading up to the chateau, but the alarm just kept on screaming. She started pressing buttons at random. ‘Shiste. Merde. Bugger!’

‘Nice to hear you’re still multilingual,’ said a midnight-smooth voice from close behind her and Gabrielle closed her eyes and tried to stop her already racing heart from doubling its tempo yet again. She knew that voice, the deep delicious timbre of it. A Champagne voice, a voice of Rheims, it was there in the lilt and the texture of the words. A voice that conjured up forbidden thoughts and heated yearnings. She’d heard it in her dreams for years.

‘Oh, hello, Luc.’ If he could do deadpan, so could she. Gabrielle turned slowly and there he stood, looking every inch the head of a Champagne dynasty in his tailored grey trousers and crisp white business shirt. Gabrielle could have spent a lot longer staring at Luc Duvalier and cataloguing the changes time had wrought in him but circumstances and a healthy respect for her eardrums dictated moving right along. ‘Long time no see. I don’t suppose you could help me turn this thing off?’

He brushed past her, long, strong fingers moving swiftly over the panel. ‘Cinq six six deux quatre cinq un.’

The alarm cut out abruptly and silence cut in. A loud, ringing kind of silence.

‘Merci,’ she said finally.

‘You’re welcome.’ Lucien Duvalier’s perfectly sculpted lips tightened. ‘What are you doing here, Gabrielle?’

‘I lived here once, remember?’

‘Not for the past seven years, you haven’t.’

‘True.’ Now that quiet had been restored, Gabrielle could look her fill. She studied the tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed man standing before her, trying for detachment and failing miserably. Luc had been twenty-two when she’d last seen him and even then the promise of tightly leashed power and outrageous sexuality had hovered about him like a velvet cloak. Night, the household staff had called him. And Rafael, Luc’s childhood partner in crime, with his fair hair and his teasing blue eyes, had been Day.

‘Sorry about setting the alarm off,’ she said with an awkward shrug. ‘I should have known better than to use the key.’

Luc said nothing. He never had been one for small talk. But it was all she could manage. Taking a deep and steadying breath, Gabrielle tried again. ‘You’re looking well, Lucien.’

When he still made no reply Gabrielle looked past him, across the courtyard towards the chateau tucked snugly into the terraced hillside. ‘Caverness is looking well too. Cared for. Prosperous. I heard about your father’s death a few years back.’ She didn’t feel inclined to say any more on the subject. Had she wanted to lie through her teeth she could have added something about being sorry to hear of old man Duvalier’s demise. ‘Guess that makes you king of the castle now,’ she added recklessly. She met his dark burning gaze without flinching. ‘Should I kneel?’

‘You’ve changed,’ he said abruptly.

She certainly hoped so.

‘You’re harder.’

‘Thank you.’

‘More beautiful.’

‘My thanks again.’ Gabrielle held back a sigh. If Luc wanted to categorise the changes in her, she might as well show him the big ones. She wasn’t a gangly sixteen-year-old on the cusp of womanhood any more. And Luc wasn’t the centre of her life. ‘Look at us,’ she chided lightly. ‘Childhood playmates and here I’ve greeted you with less warmth than one would greet a stranger. Three kisses, isn’t it? One for each cheek and then a spare?’ She moved closer and brushed his left cheek with her lips, breathing in the subtle pine scent that clung to his skin and trying very hard not to let it wrap around her and squeeze. ‘One.’ She pulled back and made for his other cheek, never mind that he stood as if turned to stone. ‘Two,’ she whispered and let her lips linger a fraction longer this time.

‘Back off, angel.’ Luc’s voice was nothing more than a dark and dangerous rumble as his fingers came up to caress her jaw before sliding around to the base of her neck. ‘For your own sake if not for mine.’

A warning. One she would do well to heed. Not that she did. A frisson of awareness slid down her spine and she closed her eyes the better to diffuse it. So he could still make her body ache for his touch. Nothing to worry about. She was older now. Wiser. She knew better than to lose her heart to the head of the House of Duvalier. Not that a few more iron clad reasons to ensure she kept her distance from this man wouldn’t come in handy. ‘Are you married these days, Luc?’

‘No.’

‘Celibate?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’ She brushed his ear lobe with her lips. ‘You seem a little…uptight. It’s just an innocent greeting.’

The fingers at the base of her neck tightened. ‘You’re not innocent.’

‘You noticed.’ She pulled back smoothly, dislodging his hand with a shrug as she stepped away and shot him a careless smile for good measure. ‘You always were observant. Perhaps two kisses are greeting enough for you, after all. Shall we take a rain check on the third?’

‘Why are you here, Gabrielle?’

Here in this place where no one wanted her. Luc couldn’t have made the implication clearer if he’d painted it on a sign and hung it on the door. ‘Simone phoned and left a message. She said my mother had been ill. She said…’ Gabrielle hesitated, unwilling to reveal any more weakness to this man. ‘She said that Josien had been calling for her angels.’ Whether Josien had been calling for her children, who’d been named after two of the winged entities, was anyone’s guess. Rafe thought not. Rafael thought Gabrielle’s decision to travel halfway across the world on the strength of a fevered plea a colossal mistake but even so… Even if Josien refused to see her…

Some mistakes were unavoidable.

Gabrielle attempted a nonchalant shrug. ‘So here I am.’

‘Does Josien know of your expected arrival?’ asked Luc quietly.

‘I—’ Nervously, Gabrielle fiddled with the cuff of her stylish cream jacket. ‘No.’

Luc’s gaze grew hooded and Gabrielle thought she saw a flash of something that looked a lot like sympathy in their depths. ‘You always were too impetuous for your own good,’ he murmured. ‘I gather your brother declined to accompany you?’

‘Rafe’s busy,’ she said guardedly. ‘As I’m sure you must be. Luc, if you could just tell me where to find my mother…’

‘Come,’ he said, turning abruptly and heading for the door. ‘Josien is staying in one of the suites in the west wing until she recovers more fully. A nurse attends her. Doctor’s orders. It was that or the hospital.’

Pulling the door closed behind them, and pocketing her keys, Gabrielle hurried to match Luc’s long loping stride. ‘How bad is she?’

‘Frail. Twice, we thought we’d lost her.’

‘Do you think she’ll want to see me?’

Luc’s features hardened. ‘That, I have no idea. You should have called ahead, Gabrielle. You really should have.’

Gabrielle’s apprehension grew claws as they entered the chateau through the western door. Josien Alexander had always been a mystery to her children. Never loving, constantly critical. Gabrielle had spent most of her childhood trying to please a mother who could not be pleased. Gabrielle’s overriding instinct was still to please her, even after seven years of barely any contact with her mother at all. What if Josien didn’t want to see her? What if she hadn’t been calling for her children at all? What then?

The nurse who met them in the sitting room of the suite was a grizzle-faced man in his mid fifties whom Luc introduced as Hans. Hans had a firm handshake, a steady gaze, and a warm smile for Gabrielle.

‘Stubbornest patient I’ve ever had,’ he said. ‘She’s just taken her medication so you’ve about five minutes before she begins to get drowsy. Not that she won’t fight the sleep. She always does.’ Hans gestured towards yet another closed door. ‘She’s in there.’

‘Thank you.’ Gabrielle’s nerves were at breaking point and her body felt weary beyond belief, courtesy of the twenty-three-hour flight from Sydney, but this was the path she’d chosen to follow and follow it she would, no matter what Rafe thought, or Luc thought, or anyone thought. Gabrielle had come to see her mother.

Some mistakes were unavoidable.

‘Would you like me to accompany you?’ asked Luc quietly.

‘No.’ Luc’s offer of support scraped at her, shamed her. Some humiliations were best kept private. Then again, maybe this meeting would go more smoothly with a third party present. With Luc present, Gabrielle amended with brutal honesty, so that Josien could see that, as far as Luc was concerned, the mistakes of the past had been paid for. And they had been paid for, hadn’t they? Surely they’d been paid for? ‘Yes.’

Luc’s lips curved ever so slightly. ‘Which is it?’

Gabrielle’s gaze met his and skittered away. ‘Yes.’

‘Four minutes,’ said Hans dryly.

‘Thanks.’ Steeling herself, Gabrielle reached for the handle to yet another closed door and headed inside. It was warmer in here. Darker too, for the afternoon light had to pry its way through two layers of gauze curtain material before finding entry. A large four poster bed dominated the space so that the figure tucked beneath the fluffy white bedcovers looked tiny in comparison. Seven years ago, Josien Alexander’s hair had been as black as a raven’s wing and had fallen almost to her waist. Now it was streaked with silver and cut to sit just beneath her chin but she was still the most beautiful woman Gabrielle had ever seen. Josien’s eyes—those startling violet blue eyes that had always watched and judged but never smiled—were closed, and Gabrielle was grateful for the reprieve. She needed that moment to bind her emotions tight.

‘Josien,’ said Luc gently. ‘Pardonnez-moi for the lateness of the hour but you have a visitor.’

Josien turned her head and slowly, slowly, she opened her eyes, focussing first on Luc, and then on Gabrielle standing awkwardly beside him. With a swiftly indrawn breath, Josien closed her eyes and turned away.

Gabrielle felt the sting of bitter tears welling in her own eyes but she blinked them away, and made herself speak even though her words would come out ragged and choked. ‘Hello, Maman.’

‘You shouldn’t have come.’ Josien kept her face averted.

‘So people keep telling me.’ Luc’s face, when Gabrielle glanced his way, was as hard and unyielding as the stones from which the chateau had been built. ‘I hear you’ve been unwell.’

‘Ce ne’est rien,’ said Josien. ‘It’s nothing.’

It didn’t look like nothing. Luc had been right. Her mother looked frail. ‘I brought you a gift.’ Gabrielle reached into her bag for the album of photos she’d put together so painstakingly. Rafe would kill her if he knew how many photos of him she’d included in the mix, but he didn’t know and she wasn’t about to tell him. ‘I thought you might like to know what Rafe and I have been doing these past seven years. We bought a broken vineyard, Maman, and brought it back to life. We’ve done so well. Rafe’s a brilliant businessman. You should be proud of him.’

Josien said nothing and Gabrielle felt her lips tighten. So what if Rafael had eventually gone as far away from Josien and this place as he could get? That was what people did when raised on a diet of scathing criticism interspersed with icy indifference. Rafe had never deserved any of the treatment Josien had dealt him. He really hadn’t. ‘I’ll leave it here on the end of the bed in case you want to look at it some time.’

‘Take it and go.’

Yeah, well. That was what you got when you believed in tooth fairies, happily ever after, and mothers who actually cared. ‘I’ve taken a room in the village, Maman. I’ll be in the area these next few weeks. I know you’re tired right now but maybe when you’re feeling better you could give me a call. Here.’ She fished a business card from her handbag. ‘I’ll leave you my number.’ Gabrielle’s words were met with more silence. Gabrielle bit her lip—praying for one pain to subdue another, but Josien’s rejection had cut too deep. She should never have come here. She should have listened to Rafe and to Luc instead of listening to her heart. ‘So…’ Gabrielle felt the world sway, and then Luc’s hand was beneath her elbow, fragile purchase against the darkness threatening to engulf her.

‘Jet lag,’ murmured Luc. It wasn’t jet lag causing her to sway and they both knew it, but he afforded her the courtesy of an excuse for her body’s reaction and Gabrielle seized it.

‘Yes. It’s been a long day.’

‘Wait for me outside,’ he said as he gently shepherded her towards the door. ‘It’s about to get longer.’

Luc waited until the door clicked closed behind Gabrielle before turning to the woman in the bed. Josien Alexander was an enchantingly beautiful woman and always had been. Coolly unfathomable, she ran the housekeeping staff at the chateau with an iron fist and no second chances. She’d raised her children the same way. Luc had bowed to Josien’s will all those years ago because he’d seen the sense in sending Gabrielle away, but he saw no sense in Josien’s actions now. All he saw was pain.

Josien’s eyes were still closed as Luc strode back towards the bed but he didn’t need her eyes, only her ears. ‘My father told me of our duty to you before he died,’ he said grimly. ‘I’ve done my utmost to honour it. I’ve tried my damnedest to make allowances for your behaviour, Josien, but, so help me, if you don’t make time for your daughter while she’s here you can pack your bags and leave this place the minute your health allows it. Do you hear me, Josien?’

Josien nodded, tears tracking noiselessly down her cheeks, and Luc struggled to contain his frustration and his fury. ‘You’ve never been able to see it, have you? No matter how badly you wound them or how hard you try to push them away…you just don’t get it.’ He looked at the photo album and his roiling emotions coalesced into a tight ball of anger directed squarely at the woman in the bed, no matter how fragile or beautiful she was. ‘You’ve never been able to see how much your children love you.’

Luc caught up with Gabrielle halfway along the hallway. He needed a drink. The thorn he’d never quite managed to extricate from his side looked as if she needed one too. ‘In here,’ he told her, and ushered her into the library that doubled on occasion as his formal office space, usually when he entertained clients and wanted to impress. ‘Where are you staying?’ he asked as he headed for the bar, reached for the brandy and poured generously.

‘In the village,’ she replied, careful not to let her fingers brush his as she took the half full glass from his outstretched hand and downed it in a single gulp. ‘Thanks.’ Her gaze went to the label on the bottle and her eyes widened. ‘What…? For heaven’s sake, Luc! This stuff has to be at least a hundred years old and expensive enough to make even you wince. You might warn a person before you handed it to them. I could try tasting it next time.’

‘Where in the village?’ He poured her another shot. She could taste it now.

‘I took a room above the old flour mill.’

‘I’ll have someone collect your bags,’ he told her curtly and downed his own brandy before setting the glass back on the counter somewhat more forcefully than necessary. Gabrielle flinched at the sound. She looked jittery, strung out. She looked like he felt. ‘You can stay here,’ he told her. ‘There’s room enough.’

But Gabrielle shook her head. ‘I can’t,’ she said with a stubborn tilt to her chin that he remembered of old. ‘You heard her.’ Gabrielle smiled bitterly and swirled the brandy in her glass. ‘She doesn’t want me here.’

‘When last I checked,’ he said, his voice deceptively mild, ‘Luc, not Josien, was master of Caverness. There’s room for you here. There’s no need for you to stay in the village. Simone, I’m sure, will be glad of your company.’

‘And you?’ Gabrielle lowered the glass from her lips, and pinned him with a grey-eyed gaze that held more than a hint of pain. ‘Will you be glad of my company too? There was a time when you couldn’t wait for me to leave.’

‘You were sixteen, Gabrielle. And if you don’t know the reason behind my encouraging you to finish growing up elsewhere then you’re not nearly as smart as I thought you were. One more week and I’d have had you naked beneath me. In your bed or mine or halfway up the stairs, I wouldn’t have cared,’ he said bluntly. ‘And neither would you.’

He’d surprised her. Shocked her. He could see it in her eyes. ‘Well, then…glad we cleared that up.’ She took another sip of her brandy and set her glass carefully on the bench, as if even that small motion took up all of her control. ‘I suppose I should thank you.’

But she didn’t.

‘I lost my virginity to a handsome Australian farm boy when I was nineteen,’ she said in a low, ragged voice. ‘He was charming, and funny, and he made my pulse race and my body ache for more of him. He was everything a girl could wish for when it came to her first time, and it still wasn’t enough.’ Gabrielle headed for the door. Luc stood rooted to the spot. ‘I’ll be staying at the old flour mill for the next three weeks. If you could send word to me if my mother’s condition changes, I’d be very grateful.’

‘Why wasn’t it enough?’ Luc’s throat felt tight, the words came out raspy, but he had to know. ‘Gabrielle, why did he disappoint you?’

He didn’t think she was going to answer, but then she turned as she reached the door and speared him with a glance that held more than its share of self-mockery. ‘I really don’t know. Maybe he just wasn’t you.’

Luc waited until she’d shut the door behind her before he let his curses fly. He was a man who took pride in his self control. He’d worked hard for it; fought against his deepest nature to secure it. Only one woman had ever made him lose it. The results had been disastrous for all concerned. Josien had been hysterical, his father aghast, and Gabrielle…innocent, trusting Gabrielle had been exiled.

She’d lost her virginity to a handsome Australian.

Fury roared through him as he picked up his glass and flung it at the fireplace, his temper only marginally appeased when the glass exploded in a burst of glittering crystal shards.

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU shouldn’t have said that.’ Gabrielle had a habit of talking to herself whenever she felt stressed. She’d been talking to herself ever since she’d set foot back in France. Her footsteps made a crunching sound as she hurried across the gravel courtyard towards her hire car, every step taking her further away from Caverness and the people in it. She needed to leave before she broke down completely. She needed to leave this place now.

Gabrielle made it back to the village without mishap. She drove on the correct side of the road and didn’t lose her way. She even observed the speed limit. And when she got to the old mill house she locked herself inside her room before finally giving in to weariness and sinking back on the bed with her forearm across her eyes, as if by blocking her sight she could block out the memory of her conversation with Lucien. ‘You should not have said that.’

It had been seven years since she’d last seen Luc. Seven years of complete indifference on his part. No phone calls, no letters, no contact. Not once. A sixteen-year-old girl had deduced from Luc’s actions that he’d simply been playing with her when he’d kissed her all those years ago. That the housekeeper’s daughter had meant nothing to him.

Not once, not once, had it ever occurred to her that Luc had been trying to protect her from a relationship she’d been nowhere near ready for.

Still wasn’t ready for if her recent reaction to him was anything to go by.

So she had money behind her now, and self-esteem, and a good deal more to offer a man on an intellectual level. That still didn’t equip her to deal with the likes of Luc Duvalier. Luc, whose brooding black gaze could make her forget every ounce of self-preservation she’d ever learned.

How many minutes in his company had it taken her to test the strength of her physical reaction to him? Two minutes, or had it been three? How long had it taken her to lay herself bare for him? Telling him that her first lover had been a disappointment to her. Gabrielle groaned and rolled over onto her side, burying her head in a pillow and pulling the blue chenille bedspread around her for comfort. What kind of woman told a man that?

A woman who’d never quite forgotten the ecstasy and the agony of a single stolen kiss, said a voice that would not be silenced.

A woman who’d known all along that no one at Caverness would bid her welcome and mean it.

A fool.

Luc didn’t usually wait impatiently for his sister to return home from her work, but this day he did, seeking Simone out in the kitchen, never mind the box of fresh fruit and vegetables in her arms or the fact that she hadn’t yet managed to put the box down.

‘Bonjour, brother of mine,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I come bearing good food and even better news. The sales figures are finally in and we,’ she said, setting the bags on the counter with a flourish, ‘had a very good quarter.’

‘Congratulations,’ he said, but something in his voice must have alerted Simone to his turmoil for she turned sharply, set the box down on the bench, and took her time looking him over.

‘Something’s wrong,’ she said warily. ‘What is it?’

‘Josien had a visitor this afternoon.’

‘Who?’

‘Gabrielle.’

Luc watched his sister’s face light up with wry resignation. Simone and Gabrielle had been close as children. Closer than sisters, never mind the huge gap in social standing between them. ‘Gaby is here?’ asked Simone. ‘Here as in here at the chateau? Where?’

‘Here as in staying in the village, and before you start in on my manners, yes, I offered her a room, which she declined. Dammit, Simone! Why didn’t you warn me that you’d sent for her? And why the hell didn’t you tell Josien?’

Simone’s expression grew guarded. ‘I left a message on Gaby’s answering machine saying her mother was ill. That’s all I did. What was there to tell?’

‘You knew she’d come,’ muttered Luc darkly.

‘I thought she’d call first.’

‘Well, she didn’t.’

‘So what happened?’ asked Simone warily.

Luc gave it to his sister straight. ‘Josien wouldn’t talk to her. Wouldn’t even look at her.’

A barrage of swear words followed his announcement, none of them becoming to a lady. ‘So then what happened?’ demanded Simone. ‘Did you make Gabrielle feel welcome?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Sort of? For heaven’s sake, Luc, you’re a grown man! Would it have killed you to behave like one?’

‘I did behave like one,’ he said grimly.

Simone halted, midway between the fridge and the counter. ‘Oh, hell,’ she said. ‘You still want her.’

Luc didn’t deny it. What he didn’t reveal to his sister was just how intense his desire for Gabrielle had been. He’d barely been able to control it. And he needed to. ‘Gabrielle needs a friend right now, Simone, and it can’t be me,’ he said gruffly. ‘I don’t want to do wrong by her again.’

Simone’s gaze softened. ‘Dear heart,’ she said. ‘The way I remember it, you’ve never done Gaby wrong. Others have—most certainly they have. But not you.’

‘You’re a little biased,’ he said.

Simone smiled. ‘Only a little.’

‘She’s staying at the old mill house,’ he offered next and exhaled his relief as his sister upended a wicker basket full of oranges onto the counter and hastily started refilling it with a variety of foodstuffs from the refrigerator. ‘You’re going after her?’

‘Of course I’m going after her,’ said Simone. ‘Isn’t that what you want? Somebody has to make her feel welcome.’

* * *

Gabrielle woke to the sound of vigorous pounding on her door. She sat up with a groan, slung her legs over the side of the bed, and pushed the heavy fall of dark curls from her face before checking her wristwatch for the time. Eight p.m. French time and the early hours of the morning by Australian reckoning. She’d slept for almost three hours. Now she’d never get back to sleep for the night. ‘Who is it?’

‘Simone,’ said yet another voice from her past, albeit a voice currently heavy with impatience. Gabrielle went to the door and unlocked it gingerly before swinging it open. She didn’t know if she could cope with any more blasts from the past today. Between them, Luc and Josien had proved quite sufficient. She stared for a moment at the elegant raven-haired beauty in the navy-blue suit, trying to reconcile the image of cool sophistication standing before her with the hoyden that had been Simone. And then she saw the magnum of champagne in the woman’s left hand and the basket full of delicacies at her feet and knew that the hoyden was alive and well beneath those daunting designer clothes.

‘Look at you, sleepyhead,’ said Simone, and Gabrielle found herself enclosed in a warm and perfumed embrace. ‘I couldn’t believe it when Luc told me you’d come home. Why didn’t you call me? I’d have picked you up from the airport. I’d have made all the arrangements. Oh, look at you!’ Tears gathered in Simone’s expressive brown eyes. ‘I always knew you’d grow to be even more beautiful than your mother. It was always there. In your eyes; and in your heart.’ Simone pulled back. ‘Luc told me what happened with Josien, Gaby. I could strangle her. Josien did call for you, I swear she did. I thought she wanted to make amends. I’d have never left that message for you otherwise. Never.’

‘I know,’ said Gabrielle. ‘I knew my welcome would probably be somewhat…cool. But I came anyway. You must think I’m crazy.’

‘No,’ said Simone gently. ‘Not crazy. Hopeful. I made us a picnic,’ she said, stepping back to the door to retrieve her basket. ‘And I don’t care where we eat it.’ She hefted the magnum up to eye level to reveal the label. ‘The day you left I stole two bottles of our oldest and finest and hid them in the caves. I swore on my sainted mother’s grave that the day you returned we would drink one of them. Of course, I never expected you to stay away so long. What kept you?’

Gabrielle felt her lips curve, she couldn’t help it. Finally, a welcome without restraint. ‘I was busy growing up and carving out a life for myself in Australia,’ she said dryly. ‘And I want to know what you’re saving the second bottle for.’

‘You’ll see,’ said Simone. ‘About this picnic… Shall we eat it here on the bed or shall we dine somewhere where we can see the clouds? We could head for our old picnic spot.’

‘So we could.’ Gabrielle eyed Simone’s attire sceptically. ‘You look every bit the successful businesswoman you always vowed you’d be, but are you sure you’ll be able to walk up the track in those shoes without breaking your neck?’

Simone looked down at her stiletto-clad feet and frowned. ‘You’re right. I really hadn’t thought this through. Luc shoved me out of the house so fast I forgot to change clothes.’ She stared at the small double bed, then cast her eye around the poky little room. ‘I lied. I do care where we eat and this isn’t the place. We’ll have to go back to Caverness so I can change clothes.’

‘No,’ said Gabrielle hastily. ‘No way. I’m sorry, Simone. I’ll meet you up at our picnic spot if you like, but I’ve had enough of Caverness for one day.’ If Gabrielle went back to the chateau right now she’d only start throwing things again. Namely herself. At Luc.

‘It’s just a house,’ said Simone, and, at Gabrielle’s level stare, ‘Okay, a castle. A very big castle.’

‘No.’

‘I’ll smuggle you in and smuggle you out,’ said Simone. ‘Just like the old days. No one will ever know.’

‘Luc would know.’ He’d always known.

‘All right then,’ said Simone. ‘Let’s approach this like rational, sensible, intelligent women. I’ll just borrow your clothes and get changed here.’

‘I like it,’ said Gabrielle. ‘But I’m warning you I shopped for clothes in Singapore on the way over and had to sit on my suitcases to get them to shut. There’s wreckage within those cases that I’m not sure you’re ready for. There’s chaos in there that I’m not sure I’m ready for.’

‘Unleash it,’ said Simone, and released the champagne cork quietly and without spilling a drop of the precious liquid. ‘I live for chaos.’ Setting the magnum on the bedside table, Simone began to rummage through the basket at her feet. ‘I could have sworn I put some champagne flutes in here somewhere. Special picnic ones.’

‘Plastic ones?’ said Gabrielle.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Simone. ‘Heathen. Where have you been living these past seven years? Ah, here they are.’ She brandished them aloft with a flourish. ‘Not plastic. Polish crystal. Perfectly shaped, beautifully balanced, and as delicately made as petals on a rose. Plastic champagne flutes,’ muttered Simone with a shudder as she filled the two glasses and handed one to Gabrielle. ‘God help us and welcome home.’

They ate atop the highest hill in the area, surrounded by grapevines and with the rooftops of the chateau spread out below them, and, in the distance, the rooftops and church spires of the village.

‘What will you do while you’re here?’ asked Simone after the last crumbs of cheese had been nibbled and the last sliver of pâté had been devoured. ‘Luc said you planned to stay in the area for a few weeks.’

Gabrielle nodded. ‘I came here on business as well as to see Maman. Rafe and I make wine these days.’

‘Oh?’ said Simone, her voice a little too offhand to actually be offhand. ‘What kind of wine?’

‘Cabernet sauvignon, mostly, and some cabernet merlot. For the high end of the market and worth every cent. We’re looking to extend our export opportunities into Europe and set up a distribution arm. It makes sense to look for premises in the place we know best.’

‘Rafael wishes to return?’ said Simone.

‘No. Not Rafe. Just me.’

‘Oh.’

‘Don’t sound so disappointed.’ Gabrielle slid Simone a sideways glance.

‘I’m not disappointed,’ said Simone with a toss of her head. ‘Not at all. I’m just…curious. What kind of operations base are you looking for? Business premises or residential property?’

‘Both.’

‘With or without land attached?’

‘Depends on the land,’ said Gabrielle. ‘Why?’

‘The old Hammerschmidt vineyard is on the market,’ said Simone. ‘The vines are in a dreadful state, the winemaking equipment is fifty years out of date, and the house needs a lot of attention, but the cellars are good and the location is excellent. Luc’s been looking into acquiring it.’

‘Really?’ said Gabrielle dryly. ‘And you’re telling me this why?’

‘Because it would probably suit your purposes.’

‘If it did I’d be in direct competition for the property with Luc.’

‘Really?’ said Simone airily. ‘Could be fun.’

‘For whom?’ said Gabrielle. ‘Seriously, Simone, I appreciate your help but where’s your sense of family duty? Your loyalty to Luc and to your family business? There was a time you put loyalty to family before your own happiness. Where did that Simone go?’

Simone’s expression grew shuttered. ‘That Simone grew up to regret not holding tight to her happiness with both hands. I’m older now. Wiser.’

‘Trickier,’ murmured Gabrielle.

‘That too.’ Simone sipped at her champagne and stared at the valley spread out before her, half of which she owned. ‘So how is he?’ she said tentatively. ‘Rafael.’

‘Driven,’ said Gabrielle with a wry twist of her lips.

‘Is he happy?’

‘I really don’t know.’

‘Is he married?’

‘No.’ Gabrielle took pity on her childhood friend and gave her the information she sought. ‘He’s had a few relationships over the years. Less than he could have had. Nothing he ever put before his work.’ Gabrielle sipped at her champagne. ‘He’s building an empire,’ she said softly. ‘Proving his worth, over and over, to a mother who never loved him, an heiress who wouldn’t believe in him, and a best friend who didn’t support him.’

‘That’s not a fair call, Gabrielle.’ Simone’s voice was low and tight. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘I know,’ said Gabrielle. ‘And on an intellectual level, Rafe would agree with you. He knows Luc’s hands were tied when it came to setting up in business with him. He’s quite capable of admitting that you and he were far too young to be thinking about marriage, let alone eloping to Australia. He says he works like a dog because he enjoys it. But if you ask me—and you did— the real reason he works so hard is that the ghosts from his childhood won’t let him stop.’

‘I think I need more wine,’ said Simone.

Gabrielle held out her own champagne flute as Simone reached for the bottle. ‘Hit me.’

‘Don’t tempt me,’ muttered Simone as she refilled Gabrielle’s glass and then her own. ‘We probably shouldn’t talk about brothers, you and me.’

‘No, we probably shouldn’t.’ Gabrielle smiled faintly. ‘By the way, I saw yours again today. I really thought I’d be able to handle it. Handle him. I couldn’t.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Simone. ‘I’ve yet to meet a woman who can. A word of advice, Gaby, from my heart to yours. Luc changed after you left. He grew up, grew tough, and got guarded. He’s not an easy man to know. Not an easy man to love. Believe me, plenty have tried.’

‘Is that a warning?’

‘More a plea to be careful,’ said Simone. ‘You used to be able to turn Luc’s head with a glance and I doubt you’ve lost the knack. Getting him to lay down his heart is a different matter altogether. Just…be careful.’

Gabrielle played with the blades of grass beneath her fingertips. ‘I didn’t come back for him, Simone. I don’t even know if I still want him. I haven’t forgotten what came of wanting him before.’

‘Neither has he,’ murmured Simone. ‘My advice was for if you were still interested in him. If you’re not, then maybe all you need do is talk with him about what happened all those years ago and see if you can both put it behind you. Maybe that’s the way to handle this.’

‘You mean be civilised,’ said Gabrielle. ‘Me and Luc.’

Simone’s lips twitched. ‘Yes.’

‘Civilised sounds wonderful,’ said Gabrielle wistfully. ‘Except for the dredging up the past bit. You don’t suppose there’s a way of being all civilised and restrained without bringing up the past at all?’

‘Well, you could try,’ said Simone thoughtfully. ‘Why don’t you come over to Caverness tomorrow afternoon and take a wander through the gardens with me? You could stay for a meal. Try again with Josien if you’ve a mind to, although I don’t fully recommend it. You could attempt a civil discussion with Luc. See if you can find common ground that isn’t rooted in the past. Ask his opinion on setting up a distribution arm here for your Australian reds. Make him feel useful. Men like that.’

‘Then what?’ said Gabrielle somewhat sceptically.

‘Then you mention your fiancé.’

‘I don’t have a fiancé.’

‘Not sure you need to mention that.’ Simone started grinning and it wasn’t because of the bubbles. ‘All right, forget the non-existent fiancé. Set the boundaries for your relationship with Luc some other way—but set them nonetheless. Maybe Luc will follow your lead.’

‘And if he doesn’t?’

‘Run,’ said Simone, and kept right on grinning. ‘Damn, I’ve missed you. Here’s to hilltop reunions, restraint when dealing with troublesome men, and laying to rest the ghosts of our past.’

‘Hear hear,’ said Gabrielle and lifted her near-empty not-plastic champagne flute to her lips. Where had all the champagne gone? ‘Restraint, you said?’

‘Civilised restraint,’ amended Simone. ‘Nothing to it. More champagne?’

Gabrielle hesitated. ‘Didn’t you just fill my glass?’

‘They’re very little glasses,’ said Simone sneakily. ‘May I remind you we’re talking Chateau Caverness 1955 here? This isn’t just any old champagne.’

Indeed it wasn’t. ‘All right,’ said Gabrielle, and reached for the magnum with what she thought was a great deal of restraint, never mind Simone’s descent into helpless laughter. ‘Maybe just one.’

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