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“My intentions?” Noelle wondered when the world had turned upside down. “Since when does a man ask a woman about her intentions regarding their relationship?”
“Since the man has stated his desire to marry the woman, and she comes to his room with seduction on her mind and leaves the man feeling as if he’s been nothing more than her plaything.”
Noelle pressed her lips together to hide a smile, but couldn’t stop her eyes from dancing. Christian growled at her in mock severity.
She replied with an equally insincere apology. “I didn’t mean to take you or your body for granted. As for my intentions, I plan to continue as I did last evening, exploring our mutual chemistry and seeing where things lead.”
To her surprise Christian sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Not good enough.”
“No?”
“I’m serious about you. This isn’t going to be a casual affair where we play it by ear or take it one day at a time.”
“Because your family is pressuring you to marry and produce an heir who can rule one day.” Noelle tensed at the unwelcome reminder of why she and Marc were here this weekend. “I’m not going to decide the rest of my life or Marc’s in a few short days no matter how wonderful they’ve been. I need time to decide what’s right for him.”
“And you’re not yet sure I am?”
“It’s not about you. It’s the responsibility he’ll face one day. You once told me how Gabriel changed when he realized he was destined to be king. I don’t know if I want that for Marc.”
Christian reached across the table and took her hand in his. “With my father in perfect health and Gabriel so young, Marc will be more than ready when the time comes for him to rule.”
While Noelle appreciated Christian’s logic, she wasn’t ready to lose her baby to the country of Sherdana. “I just wish he was old enough to help me with this decision.”
“Mama.” Marc skidded through the doorway, flushed and disheveled. “We’re going to stomp grapes. Come on.” Without waiting for her, he ran back out of the room.
Laughing, she got to her feet. “You heard your son,” she said, tugging on Christian’s hand. “Let’s go.”
“He certainly has the imperious demeanor of a future monarch.” Grinning, Christian threw his napkin onto the table and stood.
“Don’t you mean tyrant?”
“He must get his bossy nature from his mother.” Christian’s arm snaked around her waist before she reached the French doors. “I find that an unexpected turn on.”
He spun her into his arms and captured her lips in a sizzling kiss. Noelle sagged against him, admiring his knack for turning a lighthearted jab into a sincere compliment. Even knowing they could be caught at any second, Noelle darted out her tongue to taste the smooth chocolate and heady wine lingering on Christian’s lips. His fingers tightened almost painfully against her ribs before he pushed her to arm’s length.
“You are bad for my willpower,” he told her, his voice a husky rasp. “First this morning and now...”
“Mama, are you coming?” Marc’s plaintive wail came from across the yard.
Noelle gathered a shaky breath. “If we hold up the grape stomp much longer, my son will never forgive me.”
Hand in hand they walked around the corner of the building where the bulk of the wine process happened and came upon a gathering of children and workers. Although the official start to the harvest was a week away, enough grapes had been gathered to fill three half wine barrels for the children to stomp.
In addition to Marc, Louis’s youngest son and the vineyard manager’s daughter were barefoot and ready to begin. The half casks had been set on a platform. Below each stomping container sat collecting jars for the juice. The children would pulverize the grapes with their feet, and the first one to produce the required amount of liquid would win. Seeing her son’s grim determination, she knew Marc would give it his all.
“He has my competitive spirit,” Christian murmured near her ear a second before Louis’s wife signaled the start of the contest.
Noelle relaxed against the arm Christian slipped around her waist, enjoying his solidness against her back. “Yes. Some days that gets to be a problem.”
Despite her words, she rooted for her son. Not that Marc needed the encouragement. Displaying the abundant energy that exhausted both Noelle and her mother on a daily basis, he ran in place, his concentration riveted on the grapes beneath his feet. Watching him, Noelle realized that while he was her baby and she wanted to protect him from harm, Marc was more resilient than she gave him credit for. He wouldn’t suffer beneath the extreme media attention on the horizon. Nor would he be pushed into uncomfortable circumstances by Christian’s family. There was too much of his father in him for him to take on the weight of rule until he was damn good and ready. And she hoped he had enough of her common sense to know when that moment was.
Beside her, Christian cheered as Marc was the first to accumulate the requisite amount of juice. After planting a firm, enthusiastic kiss on her cheek, Christian strode to the platform and swung his triumphant son out of the half cask. Noelle winced as vivid purple juice dripped from her son’s feet and stained Christian’s khaki pants. Heedless of the damage to his clothes, Christian set Marc on his hip and each threw a celebratory fist in the air.
Noelle felt the tiniest prick of sadness. Where once she’d been everything to Marc, she recognized that his father would soon be occupying more and more of his attention. Noelle couldn’t help the panic that welled up. She’d built such a comfortable, safe life for herself and Marc, but so many changes were looming on the horizon.
Louis’s wife came to her side. “Try lemon juice to get the grape stains off his feet.”
“That works?”
