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Nine
Noelle waited until Christian disappeared through a door in the back of the tasting room before joining her son. Even without a single sip of wine, she was suffering the effects of intoxication. Not that she could be blamed for feeling giddy and light-headed when Christian turned on the charm. The man had convinced her to let her son stomp grapes. Noelle shook her head, contemplating the reactions of Marc’s teachers and his classmates’ parents after he broadcast his weekend’s activities at school. No doubt she would have some explaining to do.
But to see her son so happy was worth it. Noelle sighed. Watching Marc’s wariness toward his father fade made her question her decision to not tell Christian that she was pregnant. At the time she’d been afraid he’d reject her again. No. That wasn’t the whole truth. She’d also been angry.
She was still angry.
Last night she hadn’t gone to Christian’s room motivated solely by desire. She’d had something to prove to herself and to him. She needed to prove that she could surrender her body to the passion he aroused without giving over her heart at the same time. Leaving as abruptly as she had was meant to demonstrate that this time around she wasn’t going to lead with her heart but her head. The woman she was today never would have taken the little Christian had offered her five years earlier.
But she would never be truly happy keeping her emotions bottled up, either. There had to be a happy medium between giving too much and not giving enough.
At Marc’s insistence, she sat beside him and tasted his grape juice, pronouncing it delicious. He gave her a huge grin and then went back to telling Daphne all about the armor he’d seen at Bracci Castle. Noelle ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair and considered how many times a day he reminded her of Christian.
As if summoned by her thoughts, he appeared at her side. “Ready for the tour? Louis’s son is going to take Marc to where the other children are. They’ll play for a while and have lunch. Afterward Louis is going to set up the grape-stomp contest to see who is the best stomper.”
“Me!” Marc exclaimed, jumping down from his stool, fists in the air.
Noelle laughed at his enthusiasm. “Well, you certainly have the energy for it.” She ruffled his hair and watched him run toward a tall boy who was gesturing for him to follow.
Half an hour later, she and Christian came to the end of the tour, and Noelle was eager to sample some of the wines she’d learned about. “I’ll never take wine for granted ever again,” she promised Christian before thanking their guide, Bracci Vineyard and Winery’s exceptional winemaker, Louis Beauchon.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Louis was a handsome man in his early forties with prematurely gray hair and striking blue eyes. He had a ready smile and an abundance of hilarious stories about people he’d worked with during his twenty-five years of winemaking. “You’ll have to let me know what you think of our wines after lunch.”
“I’m afraid my palate is nowhere near as experienced as Prince Christian’s, but I look forward to sharing my impressions.”
“That’s all I need. I’ll see you later at the grape stomp.”
Christian steered her along a curving path that wound through the garden at the back of the tasting room and through a set of French doors that led into an intimate dining room. At the center of the space was a single table set for two and covered with a white tablecloth and fine china. Two servers, dressed in black and white, stood to one side of the room, welcoming smiles on their faces.
Once Christian had assisted her into her seat and joined her at the table, the servers stepped forward and poured the first wine. Noelle lost herself in Christian’s deep voice as he described the wine being served and commented on the meal to come. One course followed another, each being served with a different wine. Despite the small portions, Noelle was beginning to feel overcome by all the rich, flavorful dishes by the time dessert arrived.
“Chef Cheval is a genius, but I don’t think I could eat another bite,” she protested, as a delicate chocolate basket filled with white chocolate mousse and a single raspberry was placed before her. As with each course, the gorgeous plating made the food irresistible. How could she resist dessert? “Maybe just a bite.”
Noelle didn’t notice Christian’s intense regard until she’d scraped the plate clean and set her spoon aside. She cocked her head at him but had no opportunity to ask why he was staring. A short, round man in chef’s whites entered the room, his toque set at a jaunty angle.
“Prince Christian!” the man exclaimed in a deep baritone. “How wonderful to have you back.”
“Chef Cheval.” Christian gestured in Noelle’s direction. “This is Noelle Dubone.”
“Chef, this was the most amazing meal I’ve ever had. Thank you.”
The chef bowed to her. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Prince Christian said I must prepare only the best for you.”
“He did?” She shot Christian a wry look, wondering how many other women had been given such royal treatment. “Well, you’ve both made my visit to Bracci memorable.”
“You will come back? I appreciate a woman who likes to eat.”
Noelle laughed. “Of course,” she said, growing more and more accustomed to the idea of becoming a permanent fixture in Christian’s life. “I appreciate a man who cooks with your flair.”
“Well, good.” The chef gave Christian an audacious wink before taking his leave.
The servers cleared the dessert plates and topped off both water and wineglasses before taking their leave. Noelle swirled her wine, soothed by the excellent food, the early fall scents and the distant sound of children at play. Relaxed to the point of sleepiness, she wondered if there might be time for a nap when they returned to Christian’s castle.
“Did you mean what you said about coming back?” Christian’s abrupt question cut through her lethargy.
“I did.” She stumbled a little over the words, wondering why he’d grown so serious. “Why?”
“I didn’t want to pressure you this weekend by talking about the future, but after last night, I think I have a right to ask about your intentions.”
