His admission thrilled her. “Thanks to you he’s very happy about his new position.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Your brother-in-law must be happy too.”
“I believe he is. Before I let Paul out, you should know he said you’re beautiful. In private he said he could understand Jean-Marc’s interest. The whole estate is talking about you.”
“What an exaggeration.”
“You think? Paul and I had to stop by the domaine office. Every male there mentioned he’d gone off with the stunning blonde Americaine. Gilles happened to be there and was upset because he’d planned to ask you out for dinner after work, but Jean-Marc got there first.”
“I’d rather not talk about that. Where are we going?”
“Where we won’t be disturbed.”
Her breath caught as he drove them along several roads that wound deep into the vineyard. Raoul had told her before that there were only two places where they could be together in private. Since he wasn’t taking her to his office at the château, there was only one other spot she could think of.
When they came to a low-lying ridge, she saw a charming cottage straight out of a Grimm’s fairy tale. Raoul hadn’t exaggerated about where he lived. From the massive Decorvet château to this isolated hideaway?
As they drew closer she noticed his Maserati parked around the side. He pulled to a stop in front and turned off the engine.
“I wish you hadn’t brought me here.” Her desire to be alone with him was like a flash fire. She no longer felt she had the strength to keep him at a distance. If she went inside with him, she’d become the wanton who lived only for him.
“I want to discuss something important with you. Surely you’re not afraid of me. Have I ever taken advantage of you?”
“You don’t have to,” she admitted. Abby despised her own weakness.
“Since providence has given us until tomorrow before you have to leave, it seems fate has chosen the moment to be now.”
“What moment?”
“I’m afraid you don’t know what you awakened when you were willing to come to Burgundy with me. You’re familiar with the saying, ‘who rides the tiger’?”
“Of course.”
“Then you understand my meaning.”
He was being cryptic. But before she could ask for an explanation, Raoul helped her out of the car and walked her inside.
After turning on a lamp, he showed her around the modernized, comfortable-looking interior. The small cottage contained a living room and a kitchen off to the side. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom.
But all Abby could see were the small framed pictures on his bedroom dresser. One showed his lovely wife holding the baby. The rest were photos of his little daughter, Nicolette. Jean-Marc’s words pressed in on her.
Not long ago Raoul buried his heart with his wife and daughter.
He handed her one so she could see it up close. “Oh, Raoul—she’s adorable and had your black hair.”
“She had colic and cried a lot in the beginning. I walked the floor with her many a night.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I can only imagine your pain.”
“It never leaves, but the initial, excruciating pain has gone. Now it’s more a case of what happens when I see any young child My mind immediately imagines my little daughter at that age, probably following Maurice around.”
“I’m sure I would do the same thing for the rest of my life.”
She put the picture back and left the bedroom. He followed her into the living and grasped her around the waist from behind, burying his face in her hair.
“I’ve learned to live with it.” But had he? “What I’m waiting to hear is your impression of my private Saint des Saints.”