Bella swallowed the final mouthful of strong coffee, and forced herself to stop gazing at Etienne like a lovesick teenager. Last night had been wonderful. And this morning too. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving, but the launch party was on final countdown, and she had a meeting with an electrician. “I’ve got to go,” she said. “I have a meeting at ten.”
“I also.” Etienne slathered butter on his croissant. “One of the party guests phoned—a large distributor, and he wants a private meeting today and a pre-launch tasting.” He bit in, chewed, and then washed down the pastry with a mouthful of coffee. “If he likes the wine, he’ll place an order.”
An order? Bella’s eyes widened. “A big one?”
“A very big one.”
His huge, carefree grin stole Bella’s breath. Her heart lightened in happiness. She trailed fingers down his cheek and over his jaw, feeling the morning stubble which lent a dangerous, piratical look to his face.
“I like your stubble.” Heck, she liked everything. Even the prickle of stubble against her face as they kissed.
****
This meeting was important. The most important so far for the St. Clair Durand winery. Etienne looked the part of a dynamic, winery owner in a dark Parisian suit, snowy white shirt, and green paisley print tie. But despite the seriousness of the occasion, his mind wandered back to Bella with disturbing regularity.
Mark Walker spat the mouthful of wine he’d been swirling around his mouth into the container provided, and dabbed at his lips with a linen napkin. “Bravo.” He reached out a large hand to grasp Etienne’s and pumped it vigorously. “I haven’t tasted such a good vintage from your winery since the ’92. To be honest, I wasn’t holding out much hope on this morning’s visit—the subsequent years have produced indifferent vintages. But this one...” He poured another inch into his wineglass and drank it slowly. He licked his lips and tilted the wineglass up to the light. “This is just divine.”
The weight of so many months striving for perfection eased with the buyer’s stamp of approval. “Shall we go inside and talk numbers?” Etienne asked.
Mark Walker placed his empty glass on the table. “I want my contract signed before everyone else gets a taste of this. And I can tell you now, by the end of the evening you’ll be sold out.”
Thirty minutes later, Etienne walked Mark to his car and waved him off then strode into the kitchen. A signed contract nestled in his pocket, with a promise of more to follow. Electricity buzzed through him with the need to share the news. “Margaret, can I talk to you for a moment?”
Margaret pulled her hands from the sudsy water in the sink, and dried them on a tea towel. “Is everything okay?”
A spider-web of wrinkles fanned out from the edges of eyes filled with worry. In the many years since she’d worked at the vineyard, she must have seen buyers come and go, not always with a positive outcome.
She stepped forward, and winced.
“Everything is more than okay.” Etienne pulled out a chair. “I just wanted you to be the first to know. Mark Walker has signed an order.”
“Oh, wonderful!” Margaret’s voice rose. “They haven’t bought from us for years! I was so worried.” She slanted him a glance, and then blushed. “Not that I didn’t have faith in your abilities, Mr. Delon, but their standards are so high...” Her hands fluttered on her lap. “Oh, I’m so delighted. I’m shaking!”
“Sit down, Margaret.” Etienne eased her into the chair. “Take a few moments.” Margaret was always on her feet, and the telling flicker of pain that had passed over her face the moment her foot connected with the ground couldn’t be ignored.
She might consider him impertinent and might be offended. But Margaret would be looked after—whether she liked it or not. “Margaret, your hip is hurting you, I think.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened.
Etienne kept talking before she had a chance to butt in. “Bella told me you suffer from arthritis, and have physiotherapy at the hospital?”
Margaret’s head bobbed up and down. “But I haven’t been for a while.” She avoided his gaze. “What with one thing and another, I’ve been rushed off my feet.”
The vineyard came with a lot of responsibilities. And Etienne was heir to them all. Château, vineyard, Margaret. The thought filled him with warmth. “Call the hospital and make an appointment. I can take you.” Etienne pictured the warm smile on Bella’s lips as he pushed open the kitchen door. ”I’m going to call my father.” He wanted to see Bella. But she’d told him she had some loose ends to tie up before the launch, and couldn’t meet him this evening.
Etienne walked into the custom-built library and sank into the heavy old leather chair he’d shipped from France. All of his plans were coming to fruition, and his mind sparked with plans for the future. He would have the successful vineyard he’d always dreamed of. Other like-minded individuals who, in time, may become trusted friends. And Bella. A warm feeling bloomed in his chest at the thought of the woman who’d come to mean so much. With lightness in his heart, he picked up the phone and placed a call to Provence.
“Hello.”
Etienne’s chest tightened at the sound of his brother’s voice. They hadn’t spoken since he’d warned Vincent that he couldn’t trust Elise. No one wanted to hear that of their fiancée, especially if it was the truth.
“Vincent. It’s me.”
“Etienne.”
Silence bled through the line, broken eventually by his brother’s harsh laugh.
“Did you hear the news already?” Before Etienne had a chance to reply, Vincent answered his own question. “Of course not. How could you?” His voice lowered to a rasp, “I’m sorry for our argument, mon frère, I should have listened. Last week, I introduced Elise to a wealthy friend from Paris. And today, she broke off our engagement—the better to hook a bigger fish.”
Etienne closed his eyes tight, feeling his brother’s pain. “I’m sorry,” he ground out. The insignificant words were all he had to offer. No-one deserved to be taken for a ride, and callous Elise had effortlessly crushed both Durand brothers’ dreams.
“Tell me some good news,” Vincent urged.
“Well, that’s why I’m calling...” As Etienne filled in Vincent on the news of the vintage’s success, a realization settled deep in his heart. He’d thought himself in love with Elise, but no-one had ever touched his heart like Bella. And after they’d made love, the truth had hit him with such force, his mind still reeled from the impact.
His feelings for Bella were far deeper than desire. As he’d kissed away her tears, he’d vowed silently never to make her cry again. Never to disappoint her, or cause her even a moment’s pain. Even though he’d always thought the vineyard came first, as he’d walked her to her car that morning, the plain truth had resonated in his core. His priorities had irrevocably shifted. Bella owned his heart. And tomorrow he would tell her.