Having the Frenchman's Baby
Her anxious eyes sought Luc, who was putting in the last set of stakes. Reassured by his presence at her side, she kept on cutting twine and tried not to panic.
Suddenly a bolt of lightning shot out of the blackness. She screamed in fright.
“That was too close!” Luc wheeled around gray-faced and picked her up in his arms. She clung to him as he ran toward the house, carrying her as if she were weightless.
By the time they reached the basement door, hail the size of big marbles beat down on them with enough force to really hurt.
Thunder followed them inside. Even when he’d pulled the door closed, it shook the ground so hard she thought they were having an earthquake.
Terrified, she buried her face in his neck. “I—I’ve never been in a storm like this before.”
He gathered her hard against him. “I should never have let you stay out there this long. Forgive me,” he whispered over and over, pressing his lips against her cheek and hair. “I misjudged the speed of the headwinds.”
As he spoke lightning illuminated the room.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said, but another tremendous crack of thunder drowned out her words.
She burrowed even closer, needing his strength.
“What kind of a monster am I not to have noticed?” he muttered in self-deprecation. “You risked your life out there for a plot of my damn vines.”
His whole body was shuddering now.
The anguish in his voice and eyes seemed to go much deeper than the situation warranted.
“I wasn’t aware that’s what I was doing,” she teased
, wanting to comfort him. “Don’t forget those damn vines happen to belong to the most celebrated vintner in Alsace.”
She would have said anything to take him out of that dark place the storm had triggered. But nothing seemed to be getting through to him.
“Please listen to me. I could have come inside at any time. You’re not responsible.”
“Of course I am,” he ground out. “Mon Dieu, Rachel. If anything had happened to you—”
“But it didn’t!” she cried, trying with all her power to relieve his pain. “We’re safe and sound. But I must say tying vines is dirty work. If you’ll put me down, I’ll get changed.”
He had no concept of how tightly he’d been holding her.
“Mon Dieu, you’re all right.” He half moaned the words. Slowly he relinquished his hold and released her so she could stand on her own.
But he was still worked up. She could tell by the way he raked an unsteady hand through his hair.
“Feel free to take a shower in the guest bathroom. While you do that, I’ll clean up and then we’ll eat. After all your hard work, you must be starving.”
“As soon as I’m ready, I’ll join you in the kitchen.”
Rachel turned away from him and dashed up the stairs to the bathroom. She’d been in such a hurry before, she hadn’t noticed it led to a room that hadn’t been furnished yet. She turned on the light but nothing happened. The violence of the storm must have knocked out the power. They would have to eat food that didn’t need to be cooked.
Maybe over their meal she could get him to talk about his demons. Something terrible, maybe even tragic, haunted him. If she could ease his suffering a little…
Knowing he was so upset made the pleasure of showering in his brand-new house bittersweet.
After she’d toweled off, she changed back into the same dress she’d been wearing. Once she’d redone her hair with the ribbon and put on fresh lipstick, she hurried past a study with an entertainment center toward the great room she’d seen from the stairs.
On the end wall in the living room he’d built a fire in the stone hearth. A grouping of furniture placed in front of it made the interior incredibly cozy.
The brunt of the storm had moved on. Now there was a steady downpour of rain and the occasional sound of thunder. Rachel wanted to curl up on the couch in his arms and watch the flames that relieved the darkness.