Love On The Vine (8 page)

****

T
his day had gone from bad to worse. Bella sat in the cool interior of Etienne’s car and wondered what the hell she’d done wrong.

He’d been coldly courteous since he picked her up at her apartment, treating her like a stranger.

She’d put it down to nerves at the evening to come, but his attitude all evening had been inexplicable. No repeat of the passionate embrace he’d given her this morning. No teasing banter. She missed it. When he’d arrived to collect her at the end of the gathering, she’d reached up for his kiss, and the cool brush of his lips against her cheek had shocked as much as a slap would. “What’s the matter?” she asked, relieved her voice sounded cool and steady.

Etienne stared through the windshield at the road ahead. His large, tanned hands gripped the wheel tightly. “Nothing.”

A tense silence stretched, but he didn’t elaborate. She pulled in a shaky breath, and pushed harder. “There must be something. You’re ignoring me. Can we talk about it, at least?” This time, she didn’t care if she sounded desperate, she was in much too deep to let this problem go.

“I’m just tired. And you must be too. We’ll be at your apartment soon.” His jaw clenched in a tight line.

Bella mustered all her courage. “I want to go to the château,” she said, twisting her hands together in her lap. “I want to talk.”

“Well, I don’t.”

A cold shiver danced up Bella’s spine.

He’d never spoken so rudely. Never been so icily dismissive. Maybe the woman she’d been once would have acceded to his demand and accepted his harshly spoken words. But the relationship growing between them meant more than her pride. “Etienne.” She had to pierce his distain. She just had to. “Please don’t shut me out.”

He slanted a quick glance her direction through narrowed eyes.

Desperation clenched at her insides. The growing relationship between them couldn’t end like this, it just couldn’t. “Talk to me.” She heard the plea in her voice, but didn’t care.

With a brief jerk, he nodded. “I’ll take you to the château, and we’ll talk.”

The harsh lines of his face might have been carved from granite. Tension thick as fog filled the car between them.

“And then I’ll take you home.”

Darkness swathed the château. Etienne flung open the car door, and stepped out. “We’ll talk in the kitchen.”

His uncharacteristic rudeness had Bella biting hard on her lip to resist shouting. Restless energy buzzed through her veins as she followed him inside. Maybe he’d heard of her father’s poisonous whispering campaign against him. If so, he had no right to blame her. She’d even forced herself to meet with her father to warn him to desist from ruining Etienne’s reputation. The scene that followed had left her shaking but defiant.

Her father declared she’d never see her mother again if she didn’t apologize immediately.

Bella loved her mother, but not even her father’s vicious threat would sway her. Her father’s actions were unpardonable, and she’d tell him so, whatever the consequences.

Etienne flicked on the kettle and flung grounds into the cafetiere, slamming the cupboard shut with unnecessary force.

Such palpable anger, in another man, might be frightening. But she had nothing to fear from him, he’d never hurt her.

“So?” He turned and leaned a hip against the counter. “What do you want to talk about so urgently?” He crossed his arms, and stared through narrowed eyes.

“I want to know why you’re behaving like this. As if I’m nothing to you,” Bella answered in a calm voice.

“Because you are nothing to me.” His brown eyes burned. “Except a business associate.”

Her heart hammered in her chest. “And this morning? The kiss? The picnic? Things were very different then.” Her voice faltered, but she swallowed, and pressed on. “You thought me more than a business associate then.”

“Then I thought perhaps we could have an affair.” His cold tone chilled. “After this evening, seeing you with your friends, I realize you are not the sort of woman who’d be capable of a casual affair. That’s all.” His eyes shuttered and he turned away to pour boiling water over the coffee grounds.

“That’s not all.” Bella heard her voice rise. His change of attitude had happened before they’d even got to the party. She had felt his repressed anger simmering just under the surface. “You’ve been like this since you picked me up.” She stared at his rigid back, at his stiff, unyielding shoulders, and choked back the urge to cry.

Silence stretched for long, uncomfortable minutes.

Bella breathed in deeply. She clenched her eyes tight, and searched deep for unplumbed depths of courage. He might not like it, but she would get to the bottom of this—even if she had to goad him into action. The stab of her fingernails in the center of her palms as her hands clenched hard, hurt. “Be a man, Etienne. Tell me the truth.”

Etienne swung around and gripped her upper arms.

Electricity arced from the point of contact, flooding her system like always at his touch.

His mouth twisted. “Be a man? You dare to suggest I’m not?” His mouth ground down on hers.

Bella’s heart leapt. She’d had to push to get a reaction, and didn’t regret it for a moment. Her legs shook, and she struggled to stay upright.

After a moment, Etienne’s mouth softened, teasing her lips apart to plunder her mouth.

Of their own volition, her hands crept around his neck, holding him close. Her chest flattened against his and a wave of emotion threatened to overwhelm her.

Etienne pulled back, breathing harshly. “I don’t want this,” he ground out. “I can’t trust you.” He looked away, but didn’t move.

Couldn’t trust her? The thought ricocheted in her head, bruises blooming in its wake. “You can trust me.” Her palm flattened against his chest, feeling its rise and fall. “I’d never do anything to...”

“Yet you met the man who is determined to destroy me. Destroy everything I care about.” His dark eyes blazed.

Everything fell into place and she relaxed. “My father,” Bella breathed.

“Your father.” Etienne’s jaw tightened. “You met him and kept it from me. Why would you do that unless you had something to hide?”

Bella’s hand fell to her side. She strode on shaky legs to the counter, and picked up two cups. With excessive care, she placed them on the table with the cafetiere, and retrieved a jug of cream from the fridge. “Sit down,” she said in a quiet voice. “And I’ll tell you.”

****

H
e hadn’t meant for a moment to kiss her, but couldn’t resist the flare of anger at her words. Then, when their lips met, her passionate response had turned his anger into desire. Pure and simple.

Now, as Bella explained what she’d learned from Sue the previous afternoon, and the meeting she’d called with her father to challenge him on his outrageous behavior, his anger melted away. To be replaced with something suspiciously like shame.

“Father felt sure I would apologize for rejecting his choice of my husband.” Bella grasped her coffee cup with both hands, and stared into its dark depths. “When I first met Brian, I liked him. He was kind, charming, and attentive. After a few months, he let the mask slip to reveal his true self. On our marriage, he would be in line to take over my father’s business. Marrying Bella St. Clair had a lot going for it. Prestige, money, power, the whole thing.”

At Bella’s bleak expression, Etienne wished he could turn back time and call back his bitter accusation. A parallel groove creased between her eyebrows, and pain filled her expressive eyes.

“Brian wanted me to concentrate on being the perfect wife. He rejected out of hand any of my plans for a career. No wife of mine will have to work, he’d said, she’ll be too busy looking after me.”

“Did you love him?” An unfamiliar pain burned in Etienne’s chest at the thought of her in bed with another man.

“I thought I did, back in the beginning.” Bella’s mouth twisted in a bitter grimace. “Until I saw him for what he really was. A man who didn’t care about me at all.”

“And on rejecting him, your relationship with your parents fractured?”

“Yes.”

Swallowing against a dry throat, Etienne stood and pulled her into his arms. “I saw you smiling with your father on the way into The Tin Cup,” he admitted in a low voice. “You didn’t mention it, and I jumped to a completely wrong conclusion.” The honest integrity in her face couldn’t have been faked. He’d accused her of something she hadn’t done, had acted boorishly. She couldn’t want him now. Regret washed over him in a numbing wave.

Bella’s left hand grasped his jacket lapel and held. She pressed her face against his chest. Her other hand snaked around his waist, holding him close.

“I forgive you.”

He barely heard her faint whisper. Then Etienne kissed her. Lightly, softly, reverently. Tears sparkled like diamonds on her cheeks, and he kissed each one away. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. His heart jolted at the expression in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” Her mouth curved into a tremulous smile. “Don’t ever do it again.”

“I won’t.” Etienne kissed her long and passionately until her heavy breaths matched his. He picked her up in his arms, and strode through the darkened château to his bed.

B
ella 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.

****

T
his 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.