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“Of course. I will send Elise.” Mrs. Francas bowed. “There’s coffee and this week’s paper waiting for you in the salon.”
“Thank you.”
After his sleepless night, Christian was ready to consume an entire pot of the strong black stuff his cook brewed. The local paper awaited him beside the silver coffee service. When he came to Bracci Castle, he enjoyed immersing himself in the country life and unplugging from the world at large. Some trips he was more successful than others. Multimillion-dollar business deals rarely went smoothly. This weekend, however, he’d warned his assistant not to bother him with anything short of total bankruptcy.
He needed his complete focus on winning over Marc and demonstrating to Noelle that he was ready to be a father and a husband. Yesterday had been an emotional roller coaster for him. For a while during the afternoon, when Marc had abandoned his antagonism, Christian thought his troubles were over. He should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. The boy was an Alessandro, after all. Maybe not in name, but certainly in personality and stubbornness.
Christian was on the sofa with a cup of coffee at his elbow, deep into an article about a northern Tuscany mudslide that swept away a house, injuring several people, when he heard a pair of voices coming down the stairs toward the salon. His composure took a hit as excitement and anxiety built. This weekend was a significant step toward the rest of his life. What happened here not only determined the future of his country’s stability, but also any hope that Christian might have for happiness.
He pushed aside the thought that he didn’t deserve Noelle or the joy she brought to his life. He’d lost her once because of his selfish stupidity. Screwing up a second time was not an option.
Christian was on his feet and moving to the stairs as his energetic son brushed past him in a mad dash to get to the dining room and the promised waffles. Chuckling, Christian held his hand out to Noelle as she completed her descent. His pulse bucked as she placed her elegant fingers against his palm and he found his lips curving into a foolish grin.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “You look beautiful.”
Today’s dress was a half sleeve, French blue sheath, paired with a whimsical pendant necklace. She’d donned flats instead of her usual pumps, which reminded Christian of her petite stature and inspired his protective instincts. Not that she needed his help. Her brown eyes sparkled with confidence above her cheerful smile.
“Thank you.” To his surprise, she linked her arm with his as they headed out of the salon. “It was nice of you to send Elise to watch Marc. I was able to shower and dress without any interruption.”
She gave a heartfelt sigh that made him long to pull her into a quiet corner and sink his fingers into the dark, wavy hair cascading over her shoulders. The lingering aftermath of the morning’s fiery kiss continued to pulse through his veins like a potent cocktail consumed too quickly.
“You’re welcome.” Despite three cups of strong coffee, he felt sluggish and tongue-tied with her body pressed along his side.
“Will we be going to your winery today? I’m looking forward to seeing where Sherdana’s finest vintages are made.”
“I’ve arranged a tour and lunch with pairings of our best wines. Bracci Vineyards and Winery employs a world-class chef, and he’s promised to amaze us with his cuisine.”
“That sounds wonderful, but what about Marc?”
“My winemaker has several children near Marc’s age who are eager to meet him. I assure you he will not be bored.”
“Sounds like you have it all figured out.”
Christian smiled at her, wishing that was true. His heart and mind were on the same page. He wanted to marry Noelle and make Marc his legitimate son, but instinct told him what might happen for appearance’s sake wouldn’t bring him the fulfillment he craved. There were those in-between moments when she didn’t notice his attention, her smile faded and the sparkle left her eyes. She was putting on a good show for both Marc and him, but Christian sensed she had doubts.
After breakfast Christian spent an hour throwing a ball with Marc in the outer courtyard while Noelle looked on. The boy was crazy about American baseball and had brought a ball and his mitt with him. Christian didn’t spend a lot of time in the US, but had several business colleagues he spoke to regularly who had introduced him to the sport. Given his son’s fascination with the game, Christian decided he’d better get up to speed quickly.
On the five-mile drive to the winery, Marc rattled on about fastballs and curveballs from the backseat of the blue convertible Maserati Christian kept at the castle. Since the autumn day was sunny and mild, he drove with the top down, his attention split between the empty country road and Noelle’s flawless profile as she lifted her face to the sun.
“What a glorious day,” she said, stretching her arm across the seat to rake her nails through his hair. “Did you plan this, too?”
Something about her tone made him think she was mocking him. “I ordered it specially for you.” He dropped a kiss in her palm. “I only want the best for you.”
She withdrew her hand and made a fist as if to capture his kiss. “It’s nice to hear.”
“You don’t believe me.” It wasn’t a question, but an accusation.
From the backseat, Marc interjected his own question. “When we get there, will I get to stomp grapes?”
Christian’s mood brightened at yet another chance to curry favor with his son. “Sure.” Although the grape harvest wasn’t set to happen for another week, there would likely be a way to pick a few grapes and let Marc and the other kids participate in the ritual.
“No.” Noelle shook her head, adamantly opposed.
“Mama, please.”
“I think your mother is worried that it will stain your feet purple.”
“Will it? That’s great.”
