Читать книгу Having the Frenchman's Baby - Rebecca Winters - Страница 10

ON THE forty-minute drive back to St Hippolyte, Lucien Chartier, whom everyone called Luc, got on his cell phone to Giles.

“We have a potential buyer from the UK staying in Thann at the Hotel du Roi. According to Philippe, Mademoiselle Valentine buys for three London restaurants, all called the Bella Lucia.

“I asked him to check them out for me. They’ve been established since nineteen forty-six and are reputed to be some of the most exclusive restaurants located in London.”

Mayfair, Chelsea and Knightsbridge wouldn’t mean anything to Giles, but Luc knew exactly what kind of upscale, international clientele visited such establishments.

Many famous actors and musicians from the swinging sixties had made the original restaurant famous. Between all three restaurants, three hundred and fifty people were served on a nightly basis.

Nothing could please Luc more than to know that Domaine Chartier would be gracing the tables at Bella Lucia in future. Little by little the world was getting acquainted with Alsatian white wines.

“Do me a favor and give her the royal treatment tomorrow. She’s surprisingly intuitive about wine. What she doesn’t know, she’s eager to learn. That’s where you come in, Giles.”

The older man made a sound in his throat. “I haven’t met many women buyers from the UK.”

“Nor have I.”

In fact she didn’t have a strong British accent. There’d been moments when he could have sworn she was American. Rachel Valentine was a surprise in more ways than one.

For one thing, he hadn’t thought she would forgive him. To his surprise she was willing to admit some culpability. An unusual woman.

Once they’d gotten past that hurdle, she’d shown an uncommon interest in the whole business of wine culture. There was a great deal more to her than the surface revealed.

An exceptionally beautiful surface, standing there in the vines.

The gentle night breeze had swirled her hair into a cloud of brunette silk. He’d watched it swirl around other parts of her as well, molding the top she was wearing to her lovely body.

He tried to force his thoughts to stop right there, but they filled his mind anyway.

Since first passing her on the road, then seeing her in the hotel dining room enjoying herself to the fullest, it shocked him to discover he was having difficulty controlling certain pictures of the two of them that wouldn’t leave him alone. Breathtaking pictures he shouldn’t be entertaining. Not with Paulette lying comatose in her hospital bed.

Guilt over his ex-wife’s condition caused him to drive faster, but the image of Ms Valentine tasting the wine seemed to be emblazoned in his psyche.

At first he’d thought she’d imbibed too much wine like so many other buyers anxious to sample everything at once.

Taking advantage of the moment had given him time to study her feminine profile—the way the white material of her expensive suit followed the lines and curves of her slender figure.

He’d felt a quickening in his body that hadn’t happened for so long, he couldn’t remember the last time. Years…

Troubled by the involuntary reaction over which he’d had no control, he’d plucked the bottle from the table, curious to know how much she’d consumed.

When he’d realized it was still full, his glance had flown to her wineglass, which had contained only a small residue of wine.

At that point his eyes had fastened helplessly on her pomegranate-red mouth, then her tender throat exposed to his gaze where he’d watched her savoring her first swallow of the velvety liquid.

Mon Dieu. He’d never seen anything so provocative in his life.

His hand tightened on his cell phone. “Since she wants to concentrate on the Tokay and Riesling, I suspect she could be here for a few days. Call me when you’ve taken her order.”

“I’ll make certain it’s a big one,” Giles promised.

“Why do you think I gave you the responsibility?”

Though it was inevitable for Luc to come in contact with attractive women, he was reluctant to be around her again. She’d awakened something inside him totally unexpected.

“If you need to get in touch with me tomorrow, I’ll be at the hospital. Just leave a message on my voice mail and I’ll get back to you. Otherwise I’ll see you at the banquet.”

“D’accord.”

He hung up, relieved to have put Giles in charge of Ms Valentine. Out of sight, out of mind.

As for tonight, the single best way to cure what was ailing him was to drop by the hospital in St Hippolyte.

Needing to ignore what had happened tonight, he drove straight to the long-term-care medical facility and hurried inside. After three years, it had become his second home.

To his surprise he met Yves Brouet’s accusing stare when he walked in Paulette’s room a few minutes later. That was all he needed.

She lay in a coma between them. Only the sound of the machines keeping Luc’s ex-wife alive made any noise.

Normally the two men staggered their times in order to spread out the visits. And to avoid each other. Luc usually went there in the morning before putting in a full day’s work.

“Holy Mother of God, Luc—how long are you going to fight the family on this?”

As he’d just come from battling his attraction to a certain wine buyer from the UK his dark eyes glittered with a mixture of fresh guilt and pain. “For as long as it takes.”

“Let my sister go. Let this be finished so she can rest in peace!”

Luc’s hands formed fists. He leaned over to kiss the forehead of her thin face before walking out of the room into the hall.

He refused to allow any arguing in front of Paulette. On some level he was convinced she could hear and understand what was going on. It horrified him that Yves had talked about her dying while standing next to her bed.

The other man followed him into the corridor. “My sister’s gone. You have no right to prolong this agony.”

After being best friends from childhood, it didn’t seem possible the two of them had come to this impasse.

“I’m paying for her care, Yves.”

“Money be damned. We’re talking about Paulette. She wouldn’t have wanted this. You know she wouldn’t!”

“That’s easy for us to say since we’re not the one in there fighting for life.”

Yves’ face screwed up in pain. “That’s no life. You might as well know now. Since there isn’t any reasoning with you, the family got together last month. We’ve hired an attorney to fight you in court and get these infernal machines turned off.”

“I know,” Luc whispered. “My attorney already informed me.” It was only a matter of time before Luc’s sister Giselle found out.

Thank God his new house was ready to move into so he could live on his own again. Between his mother who backed him, and Giselle who sided with Yves and fought him at every opportunity, Luc hadn’t had a moment’s peace in the last year.

“You can’t win, Luc. You’re not her husband. The only reason we gave you this long before getting legal counsel is because of our families’ longstanding friendship over the years. But because of this insanity of yours, that’s gone…disappeared.”

That was right. Because of Luc, Paulette had been consigned to a living death. But not if he could help it.

He shifted his weight. “I’m planning on her waking up, Yves. When she does, I’ll do whatever I can to help her get on with her life.”

Yves plowed fingers through hair as blond as Paulette’s. “No, Luc. Your responsibility to her is over. Even if Paulette were to wake up and make a full recovery, she wouldn’t want you involved.”

Luc closed his eyes tightly for a minute. “When she wakes up, I intend to be here for her.”

“Could it be you’re confusing guilt and remorse with love?”

Those words stung. “I loved your sister. That’s why I married her.”

“But sometimes love isn’t enough. Come on, Luc. That time is long past and now Paulette yearns to escape her body.”

If Luc thought that were true…

“This morning Maman and Papa asked me to talk sense to you one final time. They said that if you really care about her, then prove it and allow her to go free so this madness can end.”

Luc shook his dark head. “I can’t… All the research I’ve done on coma patients indicates they respond to their loved ones’ stimulation. She could wake up at any time.”

Strong hands clasped Luc’s cheeks. “But she hasn’t, and she won’t because she’s in a vegetative state. A few sounds and tiny movements over thirty-six months means nothing! So I’m begging you—give it up!” he half sobbed the words before wheeling away.

Luc watched his friend’s solid figure until it disappeared around a corner. No one could get to him like Yves, who’d been closer than a brother from childhood.

Overwhelmed by guilt attacking him from every direction, he rested against the wall for a minute and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

Not only had his four-year marriage ended in failure, Paulette’s car accident was his fault.

Talking to Yves had just compounded his guilt because of the pain he’d brought to her family. Besides their grief over her condition, they didn’t have the kind of money it took to pay attorney fees.

Had Luc become such a selfish bastard, he didn’t care who got hurt any more as long as he got his own way?

Crucified once more by Yves’ tortured plea, Luc went back to her bedside to say goodnight.

When he left the hospital, he passed by the nursing station to let them know he was on his way out. They had his cell-phone number and knew to call him day or night if there was any change in her condition.

Luc left the hospital aware there was no change in Paulette.

There would never be a change.

That was what everyone was telling him, including his sister’s husband.

Jean-Marc was a good man, but he and Giselle never missed an opportunity to remind him it was Paulette’s family who had the last say in the matter.

Her parents had brought her into the world and raised her. They wanted what they felt was best for their daughter. It was their God-given right after all.

Rights.

How Luc hated that word.

Yves had spoken the truth when he’d said Luc had no legal grounds to fight their family.

But wanting Paulette to wake up from that coma didn’t have anything to do with rights.

At the core of his anguish lay the need to rid his soul of a burden growing increasingly heavy.

He’d had three years to come to terms with the divorce. What haunted him was the inability to go back to the day of her accident and prevent it.

Ever since he’d found out she was lying unconscious in the hospital, he hadn’t ceased begging her forgiveness. But he didn’t know if she’d heard him.

Once her family made the decision to turn off the machines, there wouldn’t be a possibility of her hearing him, let alone forgiving him.

He hit his fist against his palm.

Once again it all got down to what he wanted, as if the universe revolved around him.

One word from him to the Brouet family and everything would change for them.

On the surface he had to admit life would change for him, too. No more daily trips to the hospital.

But inwardly nothing else would be different. Remorse over the accident that didn’t need to have happened stifled life’s possibilities.

Once back in his Wagoneer, his pain and frustration were further aggravated by the faint smell of roses that still lingered in the car’s interior. Sensitive to fragrances all his life, he was haunted by Ms Valentine’s scent.

It appeared this visit to the hospital hadn’t rooted her out of his system the way he could prune a vine and make a clean cut of the unwanted cane.

Part of him resented her intrusion at this critical period in his life. Just the thought of her opened the floodgates to his private thoughts.

Once again he was bombarded by unbidden pictures he hadn’t been able to expel from his consciousness.

He revved up the engine, and his tires squealed as he left the parking lot. In a few minutes he reached his mother’s home where he’d been living temporarily. But he was so conflicted by feelings and emotions tearing him apart, he knew there’d be no sleep for him tonight.

Because of a certain enigmatic Frenchman, Rachel tossed and turned during the long, dark hours of the night. Relieved when the light of dawn crept into the room, she showered and got dressed in a silky cream blouse and tan skirt for her work day with Giles Lambert.

He’d phoned her last night to make the arrangements, promising her a thorough tour of the winery.

Like her grandfather, he had a zest for life and possessed so much charm she was already predisposed to like him.

She could only hope a productive day spent with him would take away her disappointment that it wasn’t Luc Chartier doing the honors. Part of her feared that, when she left Alsace, no ploy would be able to banish him from her thoughts.

Like a comet that only passed near the earth once in a lifetime, he’d left his indelible impression on her, then hurtled on into deep space supposedly out of mind and sight.

Maybe when her grandfather had recovered from his latest bout of illness, the two of them could come back to Alsace so she could legitimately meet with the owner of the Chartier vineyards again.

Legitimately…

Good heavens—she was as bad as a teenager plotting ways to get the most gorgeous guy in the world to be interested in her. It seemed her attraction to him was so intense, she wasn’t above using her grandfather to accomplish her objective.

Filled with self-disgust, Rachel grabbed her cell phone to put in her purse before going downstairs to eat breakfast. To her surprise it rang before she could leave the room.

For one foolish moment she thought it might be the man whose image had haunted her all night. Just the thought of hearing his deep voice caused her heart to leap. She clicked on eagerly, not bothering to check the caller ID.

“H-hello?” she answered, sounding out of breath, because she was!

“Rachel—”

Her spirits dropped like hot rocks.

“Dad—

“Something must be wrong for you to be calling me this early in the morning.”

Normally he didn’t show up at work until ten-thirty or later. But evidently a problem had arisen and he needed someone to bark at, mainly her.

He always sounded impatient when he was at the restaurant he managed with her half brother Max. Since every day was hectic behind the scenes, she supposed he could be forgiven.

But being this far away and hearing him so abrupt with her caught her off guard.

“What’s this I hear about you traveling to Alsace? I don’t recall us discussing a stop there. Today’s the fifteenth. Your itinerary says you’re supposed to be in Champagne.”

Uh oh. Somehow her grandfather must have let it slip. Not that it was a secret.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Grandfather asked me to look up an old friend in Thann as a special favor.”

“So I’ve heard, but I don’t want you spending too much time there. We can’t afford to slight our other suppliers.”

Her temperamental father knew her better than that, but he had to say it because she hadn’t obtained his seal of approval first.

“I wouldn’t do that, and I’ve already contacted Monsieur Bulot to let him know I’ll be there in a few days.

“The point is, now that I’m here I’m doing a little research, so please don’t worry.”

“You’ve been to Angers, then?”

“Of course, and St Emilion. They’re filling our orders as we speak, so you needn’t be concerned.”

Her explanation appeared to mollify him somewhat because his curiosity finally won out enough to ask, “Have you come across anything interesting?”

Rachel’s eyes closed tightly.

It wouldn’t be possible to answer his question with one succinct answer. Too much had happened since she’d met Luc Chartier. Getting to know him had done something to her. But it was too soon to find the right words to describe what was going on inside her.

“I’m discovering that Alsace is a land of enchantment. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.” She needed to change the subject. “How is Grandfather? What about his pulse-ox level?”

“I never got the chance to find out. Last night John barged in, so I left.”

The rivalry between her dad and his half brother reminded her of her own unwitting problems with her sister. They lived too far apart with Rebecca working in New York as a highly successful advertising executive.

Though they were unidentical and conducted different lives, they were alike in dozens of small ways. Rachel knew instinctively Rebecca would be enamoured of Alsace too. How sad they couldn’t have shared a trip like this.

She heaved a troubled sigh. This morning she didn’t want to think about insoluble family problems.

“Dad? I have to go, but I’ll call you when I get to Champagne.”

“Don’t stay in Alsace too long.”

“I won’t.” She frowned. “What else is bothering you? You sound more upset than usual this morning.”

“Titan stepped on a rusty nail. The vet took care of him, but he’s not himself yet.”

Translated, the Dobermann had been well sedated. Too bad that couldn’t be his permanent condition.

“I’m sure he’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Her father’s dog made everyone nervous, even Rachel. She preferred Saffy, the miniature poodle who belonged to her father’s wife, Bev. The poor little thing cowered every time she saw Titan coming.

That was exactly what Rachel did when her father felt threatened by John and became difficult, which was most of the time these days.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dad.”

She hung up the phone, thankful to have found a small corner of paradise here in Thann where she could put that seething cauldron of tension aside for a little while.

A few minutes later she entered the hotel dining room. During those times when she had to sample wines, she always ate a good meal first, even if she wasn’t hungry. Today was a case in point. Luc Chartier’s stranglehold on her feelings seemed to have affected her appetite as well.

Luc couldn’t swallow the croissant, let alone his coffee. He pushed himself away from the breakfast table and got to his feet, startling his mother.

“Where are you going at this early hour?”

“To the hospital. Where else?”

“But you were there late last night—has something happened to Paulette you haven’t told us about?”

“Maman—” Giselle blurted impatiently. “Surely if there’d been any change in her condition, we would all know about it.”

She switched her dark gaze to Luc, “But I have to admit I’m curious why all this extra vigilance over her. What’s going on with you, mon frère?”

That was a question he couldn’t answer yet.

“I’ve been so busy lately, I decided to spend quality time with her. Dr Soulier says the more stimulation, the better.”

“As you should do,” his mother remarked.

Giselle threw her napkin down. “Why do you encourage him, Maman? After three years, we all know she’s not going to wake up.”

“None of us knows that,” Luc countered. “As long as there’s a chance, I’m going to do everything in my power to make it happen.”

“I don’t understand this obsession,” Giselle cried in frustration.

“I do,” their mother snapped. “Despite a piece of paper, Luc is still married to her in the eyes of God, and don’t you forget it, ma fille!”

At this point Giselle was on her feet. Her eyes looked suspiciously bright as she turned to him. “I can’t stand to see you go on like this.”

He and Giselle had always been close, but the situation with Paulette had strained their relationship.

“After today you and Jean-Marc won’t have to. I’m sleeping at my new house from now on, starting tonight.”

“So soon?” his mother questioned. “I was hoping you would stay here a little longer. Since your papa died, I love having my children around.”

He kissed her cheek. “We all need our space, Maman.”

“But you have no one to cook for you.”

“That’s the least of my worries.”

“Well, it’s one of mine! I’ll be by to bring you some food so you won’t starve to death.”

Giselle eyed him soulfully. “Paulette’s not going to wake up. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Enough!” their mother cried, pointing her finger at Giselle.

“You have your hands full taking care of your own husband and children. I would like to see how you would react if it were Jean-Marc lying in that hospital bed.”

Giselle’s cheeks went a ruddy color. “If we were already divorced, I can assure you I wouldn’t have stayed at his bedside three years waiting for the impossible to happen.”

“Nothing’s impossible,” their mother said firmly.

Giselle continued to look at Luc. “Remember what Papa always said? There comes a time when we must laissez-le de se faire.”

Trust his vintner sister to remind him of the old expression their father lived by.

Don’t add anything artificial to the process. Leave the wine to do what it is meant to do.

Translated, let Paulette’s family decide to shut off the machines and then see what happens.

Tears filled her eyes. “You’re not meant to live a monk’s life. At this rate you’re going to have a breakdown.”

Breakdown.

An interesting choice of words his guilt hadn’t allowed him to contemplate since last evening, when he’d first laid eyes on Rachel Valentine. A woman like her didn’t need a man with his kind of baggage.

“I have to go.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

Giselle was in pain for him, but right now he was too fragmented by opposing forces to think. At this point it felt as if all his energy was focused on the beautiful wine buyer from the UK who was less than an hour away from here.

“Tell the children I’ll be over soon to take them to the park.”

Luc pressed a kiss to her cheek, and another one to his mother’s. Then he strode out of the house to his car and drove away. But when he reached the crossroads where he would normally turn left into town, he yanked the wheel to the right and took off for Thann as if unseen hands were driving the car for him.

Rachel pulled into the courtyard of the convent. There were no other cars in the parking area. She was being given exclusive treatment by Luc Chartier’s right hand and ought to be thrilled about it.

A trim man with thinning brown hair came out the door to greet her. He looked to be about her grandfather’s age, but, unlike him, this man was in excellent health.

When she commented that he moved like a person twenty years younger, he said, “Blame it on the fruit of the vine.”

Rachel knew better. Giles had been blessed with good genes. So had her grandfather. But two years ago he’d gone into the hospital with blood clots in his legs, and had been bothered by them on and off ever since.

“I feel guilty that you’re spending your day off to show me around, Monsieur Lambert.”

“Call me Giles. There’s no reason to feel guilty. With my wife gone, I need to keep busy. This is a pleasure for me, and Luc knows it. Come along and we’ll get started.”

“Thank you.”

She followed him inside and through the door to the cave.

It was a marvelous room with a vaulted ceiling. There was a long bar and a fabulous stock of wines behind it she was dying to inspect. But what caught her interest was the huge, ancient-looking armoire on the wall opposite the counter. The doors remained open to display wine-making artifacts placed behind glass.

Next to it hung a massive chart that walked the layman through an understandable explanation of wine-making. The text was in French, English, German and Spanish.

“This is absolutely fascinating,” Rachel declared. “I’ve never seen anything like it on any of my buying trips.”

While she snapped pictures, Giles busied himself putting wine bottles on the counter for her to sample.

“It was Luc’s idea so it would cut down on the time the staff spends explaining everything to our customers. As a result, we can handle more clients at a time.”

“Genius innovation.”

She read everything, then moved in front of the armoire where the items were labeled.

“What a wonderful treasure!”

She took more pictures, but her gaze lingered on an old jade-green flagon. The placard read, “The Chartier family nuptial wine jug. Fourteenth Century.”

A cry of delight escaped her throat. “Tell me about this!”

“Which item are you referring to?”

Suddenly the blood pounded in her ears because it wasn’t Giles who’d asked the question.

She would know Luc Chartier’s heavily accented voice anywhere.

She spun around trying to catch her breath because he’d entered the room without her being aware of it.

“G-good morning,” she stammered, attempting to gather her wits. “I thought this was your day off.”

He looked fantastic in a gray turtleneck and white cargo pants. She couldn’t prevent her eyes from traveling over his hard, fit body before their gazes fused.

“I decided the things I needed to do today could wait.”

His words sent curling warmth through her body.

“What about Giles?”

“He likes to potter around here.”

The old man winked at her.

“To borrow your metaphor,” Luc said in a low aside, “he’s like a mother with a new baby. His work is never done.”

“I heard that,” Giles muttered. Rachel couldn’t help smiling.

Luc studied her as if he enjoyed looking at what he saw. “Now tell me which item in the cupboard fascinates you so much.”

As he moved closer she could smell the soap he’d used in the shower. Her senses seemed to have come alive around him.

She turned toward the glass. “The nuptial jug. I’d love to hear the story behind it.”

He stood near enough that she could feel his warmth in the cool room whose walls were several feet thick.

“When a Chartier man has found his heart’s desire, he pours his favorite wine in that special jug from which he and his beloved both drink, whereupon he declares his undying devotion.

“It’s called the marriage ritual of the vine. My father, like his forebears, proposed to my mother in the time-honored Chartier way. They both drank from this jug before they were married in the convent chapel.”

Rachel trembled at the evocative image his words had conjured.

She’d been a lover of fairy tales all her life. What he’d just told her was a real-life fairy tale.

How would it be to marry a man like Luc and share in such a thrilling ritual?

He’d told her he was divorced. She couldn’t comprehend the pain his ex-wife must feel to live apart from him now.

She cleared her throat. “That’s a beautiful story, monsieur. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

She heard a sharp intake of breath. “After spending time with you last evening, I’m convinced you’re one person who can appreciate it.”

“Such a ritual is a very romantic tradition.”

“You value tradition?” he questioned silkily.

Her gaze flew to his. She swallowed hard to discover his dark brown eyes searching hers.

“Let’s just say I envy those who have established traditions to follow. I believe their lives are enriched for them.”

He continued to examine her features in the shadowy light, sending ripples of sensual pleasure through her system. How could that be when he wasn’t even touching her?

“So do I,” his voice rasped. “Now tell me what brought you to Thann besides wine buying.”

She blinked. “How did you know there was another reason?”

“Since you hadn’t heard of Chartier et Fils until the concierge told you, I assumed you’d ventured into my territory because something else brought you here.

“Be honest. How many people do you know who have ever heard of Thann, let alone could point it out on a map of France?”

His mouth curved upwards, causing her heart to turn over. She couldn’t help reciprocating with another smile.

“Actually I do know one person.”

When she didn’t reveal anything else, his eyes narrowed.

“But you’re not going to tell me who it is because it’s none of my business. Is that what you’re saying?”

“No—” she protested, embarrassed that Giles could hear them. “Not at all—I just don’t want to bore you with the details of my personal life when you’re such a busy man and have a thriving company to run.”

She was trying to remain professional so she wouldn’t endanger her business relationship with him. But it seemed as if everything she was saying now caused his features to harden a little more.

“If you bored me, do you honestly think I would have driven from St Hippolyte to be here with you this early in the morning?”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. She averted her eyes, not knowing what to believe. All she knew was that by some miracle her hope of spending time with him this trip had just been granted. She never wanted it to end.

“The truth is, I already knew some of the Alsatian wines were excellent. But I have to admit it was my grandfather who put the idea in my head to come here.”

“The one who started the restaurants to honor his wife?” Luc interjected.

Rachel couldn’t have been more surprised. “Yes—how did you know about that?”

“I told Philippe to do some homework for me so I could better serve you.”

Rachel had had no idea Luc had gone to those lengths. No wonder he hadn’t asked her a lot of questions about the family business last night. He hadn’t needed to because his secretary had done it for him.

He left nothing to chance. The knowledge made him even more remarkable in her eyes.

“My grandfather has been ill. About three weeks ago he asked me to go through an old trunk for him and sort out his memorabilia.

“I’m making a journal of his life, so I was excited to see old letters and pictures he’d kept.

“When I handed him some photos to identify, I learned things I’d never known before. He heard I was leaving for France on another wine-buying trip, and urged me to come to Thann to look up an old French friend he’d met in Italy during the Second World War. Apparently they lost track of each other in the intervening years.”

“Ah, oui?” Giles spoke up. “What was his name?”

“Louis Delacroix.”

Giles smacked his forehead with his palm. “Sacré bleu—Louis? Did you hear that, Luc?”

“I did,” her host murmured, staring at her with a strange new light in his eyes that made her legs grow weak.

“Louis was a good friend of mine,” Giles explained, “but he died of pneumonia four years ago. Before he became ill, he went to live with his younger sister in Ribeauville.”

Rachel was crushed by the news. “Oh, I’m sorry, not only for your loss, but for my grandfather’s. He was eager to talk to him and reminisce about the old days. I have pictures I brought with me.”

The older man’s eyes dimmed for a moment. “Many of us from Thann were in the war. Not everyone came back, but Louis did.”

“So did you, thank goodness. It was Louis who told Grandfather that Alsace produced the best white wine in the world. Of course my grandmother Lucia argued that Italian wine was better.

“Grandfather asked me to look him up so he could tell me which vintner in the region made the best white wine. After what you’ve told me, I have no doubt it was Chartier.

“When I couldn’t find any ‘Delacroix’s listed in the phone directory, I asked the hotel concierge his opinion. He told me the Domaine Chartier.”

“You’ve made our day,” Luc declared in a husky voice.

“Hasn’t she, Giles?”

“Mais oui!” The news had caused the old man’s expression to brighten again. “Your coming here is incredible!” he admitted.

Rachel found it pretty unbelievable too.

“I tell you what, Mademoiselle Valentine. Tomorrow we will drive to Ribeauville and pay Louis’s sister a visit.”

“Could we?” she cried eagerly. “Do you think she’d be willing to talk to my grandfather on the phone?”

He lifted his hands in a typical French gesture. “She will talk until his ear drops off.”

While Rachel laughed, Luc said, “I have an even better idea, Giles. While you make arrangements with Solange for tomorrow, I’ll take care of Ms Valentine today. We’ll tour the vineyards and en route she can sample the wines you picked out for her. I’ll get in touch with you later.”

“Parfait.” Giles packed the bottles in a carton. “I’ll put this out in the car for you.”

After he left, Luc’s gaze trapped hers. “How does that plan sound to you?”

Though a little voice in her head warned her not to read too much into this, another part of her was screaming to go with him.

She moistened her lips, feeling a sudden nervous excitement over being with this arresting man who by some magic had caused her to abandon common sense.

“If you’re sure.”

He flicked her a questioning glance. “What’s going on in that intelligent mind of yours?”

It could never be as brilliant as his. She had to think fast not to give her deepest reservation away.

“When my grandfather recovers, I’m going to bring him to Thann. Since he and Giles were friends with Louis, I’d like the two of them to meet. They’re both remarkable people.”

“Agreed. Otherwise your relative wouldn’t have such a kind and compassionate granddaughter worrying about him. Every grandfather should be so lucky.”

Stop saying these things to me, Luc. Already her attraction to him was too strong. If she were wise, she would leave for Champagne before the day was out.

“Thank you for the compliment, but the truth is, he’s easy to love. Much as I’d like to phone him with this news right now, I’ll wait and let Solange surprise him. A call from her will mean a lot more to him.”

“That’s a moment I would like to witness.”

In an unexpected move, he cupped her elbow. “Shall we go?” His touch sent fingers of awareness through her. She was afraid he could feel her trembling.

Together they walked outside the convent, but she didn’t understand when he led her to her car instead of his estate wagon.

“Follow me to the rental agency. After we drop off your car, I’ll help you check out of your hotel. By the end of the day we’ll get you installed in a hotel renowned in the region.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to go to all this trouble for me.”

“I like to take care of my potential buyers.”

He opened the car door so she could climb inside. She took the greatest care to make sure her skirt wouldn’t ride up her thighs, but before he shut the door his all-seeing glance took in everything anyway.

He leaned in the open window. “Have you forgotten that without wine buyers like you, I wouldn’t have a business?”

That was true.

To her chagrin she’d been so mesmerized by him, she’d almost forgotten she was a woman who fell into the client category.

But he hadn’t.