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She looked at the undulating landscape with its regiments of vines, her brows lifting. ‘You mean I’ve missed something? I can hardly wait.’
‘Sarcasm does not become you.’ He took her by the shoulders and she stiffened, panic rising inside her. Because she could not let him touch her. She dared not...
But instead of pulling her towards him, Andre turned her to face the way they had come, and she saw behind them, sheltered like a jewel by the wooded hills behind it, a broad and stately rectangle of grey stone, its roof tiled in faded red, and a tower like a tall pepperpot at each corner.
She drew a startled breath. ‘My God, it’s not just a house, it’s a castle. Like something from a fairy tale.’
‘The Château Terauze,’ he said quietly. ‘I wished you to see it for the first time from this spot.’
She gestured around her. ‘So as well as being Andrew’s heir, you’re due to inherit all this too.’
‘Mais oui, but not, I hope, for many years to come. Papa Bertrand is well and strong.’
She said, ‘Does he—your adoptive father—know about me?’
‘Bien sûr. He heard a great deal from Andrew.’
‘Andrew talked about me—here, and to him?’
She looked away. ‘All this was going on—and I didn’t have the slightest idea.’ She gave a brief shaken laugh. ‘Unbelievable.’ She paused. ‘How did he and Monsieur Duchard become such friends?’
‘You mean when they were both in love with the same woman?’
Andre’s mouth twisted. ‘And the answer is—very slowly. Even as a child, I could recognise the awkwardness in my father’s visits. See that my mother found them difficult, at times almost unbearable.’
‘Then why did she allow them?’
‘Her sense of honour demanded it. She would accept no money from him, but she agreed he had a right to see his child. Also, she was grateful that he had not opposed Bertrand’s wish to adopt me after their marriage.’
She said slowly, ‘It sounds a terrible situation. But what I don’t understand is why she chose to come here at all.’
‘She had a friend here in Terauze who had been her correspondante from their school days.’ He paused. ‘A penfriend, you would say. There had been visits on both sides, but Maman loved it here and came several times after leaving school to stay with her friend and help with the grape-picking, looking on it as her second home.
‘Alors, when she needed help, she came here to find a refuge where she could think calmly and without pressure about her future and that of her child.’
Ginny bit her lip. ‘In which case, history seems to be repeating itself.’
‘Au contraire. You have not come to find yourself alone. My mother was not so fortunate. She discovered that, over a year before, her friend had moved away to Provence with her family, leaving no address.’
Ginny gasped. ‘What did she do?’
‘She could afford a room at the auberge for a night or two, but on the way she felt suddenly faint and sat down on the church steps to recover. Papa Bertrand was passing in his car, recognised her, and insisted on bringing her back to the Château.’
‘You mean he remembered her from her grape-picking days?’
Andre smiled. ‘Ah, more than that. They knew each other well. As a child, he teased her. As a girl, he fell in love with her. And when she came back as a woman, he was determined to make her his wife, and raise her child as his own.’ He paused. ‘But she was not easy to persuade. Not least because his father, who had other ideas for him, opposed his plans.’
‘And she didn’t wish to cause trouble in his family.’ Ginny sighed. ‘I can understand that.’
‘So he moved out of the château to La Petite Maison, where I was born. But, sadly, his father refused to accept the marriage until the day he died.
‘And for a long time, my mother did not wish to move to the château, because of the unhappy memories it held for her.’
The fairy tale had its dark side, Ginny thought, glancing back at the château with a quick shiver.
Which he noticed. ‘You are cold? We will go back to the house.’ Adding quietly, ‘But not quite yet.’
Before she realised his intention, he turned her to face him, pulling her into his arms and pinning her against him, while his mouth sought hers.
Sky and earth were tilting dizzily as her senses leapt at the pressure of his lean, hard body, the stark insistence of his lips parting hers in a kiss that she could not withstand. A kiss that she ached for and which made her realise in one devastating moment that if he was to pull her down with him to the frosty ground, she would not be able to resist him. Nor, to her eternal shame, would she want to.
