Black Diamonds (7 page)

Furiously she pushed her sunglasses up on her head. Her eyes stormed. “Listen. I don’t know what right you think you have to go around telling people how they feel. But I don’t like it at all.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Xavier retorted. “Your true feelings are kept tightly under control, aren’t they?”

She stared at him with her mouth open. For once she didn’t seem to be able to think of anything to say.

“Yes,” he mused. “It’s only when you are very sad, or very angry, that your feelings come to the surface. What is that expression? Still waters run deep?”

Standing up, he brushed the sand from his legs. “You are as deep as your paradise ocean here at your secret beach. There’s one thing I’ve decided …”

He moved closer, so that she was forced to look up at him, her face at the level of his lower body. “I’m going to get to the bottom of your ocean, Jacaranda.”

Turning away, he strode into the surf and made a perfect dive into the waves.

Truffle Mash

Use good mashing potatoes only for this as the flavour of them is what will make the dish. Select enough potatoes for two, peel and mash using cream to give a nice smooth creamy finish, do not add any salt or pepper to the mixture yet, just ensure the mix is very smooth. Then get a whole truffle, about 50 grams will do, and grate 75% into the mix and mash well. Let the potato stand for 20 minutes allowing the truffle perfume to take over the potato, then just reheat in the microwave to serving temperature, adding slightly more cream/milk to bring back the smooth creamy texture. Put the potato on a serving plate (season) then grate the remaining truffle on top and wait for the aroma to hit you.

http://www.trufflesaustralis.com.au

“We’re almost at the Antoine Estate,
mademoiselle
.”

“Oh!
Merci
.” Jackie leant towards the driver. At Perigueux airport she’d arrived, after a short connecting flight from Paris, travel weary and bewildered, to find a man in a uniform with a sign bearing her name.

“I am Henri. M. Antoine sent me to collect you.” He’d whisked her and her luggage through the confusion of the airport, where her limited French would have had little use, and into a long, sleek, black limousine.

Nestled luxuriously into the leather seat, she’d watched the hills and valleys of the countryside zoom past, beautiful even in the stark wintertime, dotted here and there by stone houses and farms with steeply pitched roofs. The fields were frosted with snow; the trees were bare branched, except for the green pine trees, laden with snow on their highest branches. It seemed impossible to think she’d been swimming in the Indian Ocean in the Australian summer heat only a few days before.

Resting her head back, she came to a decision. She was going to enjoy every moment of this unexpected trip to the Dordogne. After all, she was half Irish, and the Irish usually knew how to have a good time. It might be crazy to fly all the way to France, but this could be her only opportunity to represent Paradise Truffle Farm in the international truffle world, the way her pa had always dreamed. It might be the last chance for her business, with it on the verge of closing. “
I think your father would want you to come …”
Xavier had said to her on the beach.
Xavier
. She swallowed hard as she visualised him diving into the waves, and the way he’d emerged, his hair and body slick with salt water. He’d caught her in his net that day on the beach; she hadn’t been able to escape his invitation. He’d reeled her in, and here she was; a fish out of water, an Australian country girl in the middle of France.

“We are here.” Henri turned his head towards the back seat with a brief smile. She heard the pride in his voice as they approached stone walls bearing the same
Antoine Estate
sign with curling letters she’d seen back in Western Australia, though here the words were in French, and larger, more ornate. So too were the scrolled iron gates that had opened as they approached.

As they drove down a long drive, past rows of bare grape vines, Jackie realised that the estate was a vineyard, as well as a
truffiere
. The rows of vines had rose bushes at each end. In summer, she knew from living in a wine region herself, they would bloom red or white to mark whether the wine was
rouge
or
blanc
. Beyond the vines in the distance she could just make out a grove of stately oak trees. They must be some of the famous oaks of Perigord, whose roots held black diamonds, mouth watering truffles hidden deep beneath the ground.

The drive narrowed and she spied the house.
Correction
, she added to herself with a gasp. It was no mere house. It was a castle, a
chateau
, to be precise, rising up in front of her like something out of a fairy tale: two storeys high, pale yellow-grey stone, a faded red tiled roof, dark green shutters, elegant stone and ironwork, and—she rubbed her eyes—two turrets on either end.

The limousine curved around a circular gravel drive, centred with a garden bed containing rose bushes, the same white and red that edged the rows of vines, she guessed, though, being winter, they weren’t in bloom. Instead, their bare branches, and the chateau itself, were sprinkled with snow in drifts as light as icing sugar.

Henri opened the car door, and she stepped out onto the crunching gravel. She pulled her coat around her tightly to keep out the wind. It was an old brown Drizabone with wide lapels, like Australian stockmen wore in the outback.

There was no sign of Xavier. Her heart gave an unexpected lurch. A part of her had been desperate to see him, that moment of disappointment told her.
Business
, she reminded herself.
Truffles
. That’s why you’re here, Jacaranda Riley, and don’t you forget it.

A petite woman with grey hair in a bun, dressed in a black dress with a white collar, came out of the chateau. She held out her hand. “I am Marie. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Riley. M. Antoine is not yet here. I hope you will allow me to take you to your room. He thought you would want to rest before the dinner tonight.”

“Thank you. I mean
merci
.” Jackie responded politely, still with a sense of anticlimax.
You’re in France. That’s enough,
she reminded herself. But Xavier wasn’t even here to greet her. She wondered if he regretted the offer he’d made.

As Henri lifted her case from the trunk of the car she heard a bark. She spun around to see a coal black Labrador racing towards her.

A familiar accent rang out from around the side of the chateau. “Royale!”

“Well hello!” Jackie laughed as she pulled off her glove to ruffle the dog’s fur. Instantly she felt at home. “Hello, yes hello!”

She looked up to meet Xavier’s eyes, as dark and unfathomable as she remembered. He wore a long grey coat, a navy scarf wrapped casually around his neck, his hair whipped back by the wind from his high forehead.

“Jacaranda.” The way he said her name was like a caress. “I’m glad I’m here in time. I wanted to welcome you to France.
Bienvenue
.”

“Thank you.” She glanced up at the building in front of her. “Your home is beautiful,” she said simply. “I wasn’t expecting a chateau.”

“There are over one thousand chateaux in the Dordogne region alone, so there’s no need to be overly impressed,” Xavier commented dryly.

He moved closer, so close she could smell his familiar cool cologne cutting through the air. “I hope you will let me greet you the French way? When in Rome, you know,” he added in a teasing tone.

The French way? Confused thoughts ran through Jackie’s mind as slowly, lingeringly, he dropped a kiss, first on one cheek, then the other.

It’s just a European custom, she reminded herself, as her pulse roared to life at his light but suggestive pressure on her skin. Crouching down, she hid her flushed face in Royale’s coarse fur.

“It seems my dog likes you,” she heard him say.

She straightened up. “Rudy liked you too, remember?”

“
Oui
.” He nodded, and clicked his fingers. Royale went instantly to his side.

Jackie giggled. “There’s no way I could make Rudy do that though.”

Xavier smiled. “How are you feeling after your flight?”

“I’m exhausted,” she admitted, though her pulse was pelting.

“It’s a punishing flight, isn’t it? I thought you might want some time to rest before the dinner tonight. I have to go back to the estate office, but I’ll see you in the drawing room with the other dinner guests, just before eight o’clock. Would that suit you?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Xavier turned to Marie. “Will you take Mademoiselle Riley to her room and see that she has everything she requires?”

“Of course. This way, mademoiselle.”

“Until later, then.”

On the stone steps Jackie turned. “Xavier?”

“
Oui
?”

“Thank you for coming to meet me.”

A light flared in his eyes before he inclined his head. “My pleasure, Jacaranda. Until tonight.”

Jackie pulled her high heels from the bottom of her suitcase. It had been a while since she’d worn them, with their purple twists of silk that tied around her ankles. They toned exactly with her silk dress, with its tiny straps and beaded bodice, that nipped in at the waist and swirled around her legs.

Perched on the edge of the four poster bed she tied them on. Standing up, she looked at herself in the vast gilt framed mirror opposite. She’d bought the dress because its soft purple, a shade somewhere between mauve and blue, was the same colour as jacaranda blossom. It seemed the perfect choice tonight.

Adjusting the skirt, she hoped it was good enough for the dinner about to be held. She’d never expected such grandeur. One of Xavier’s assistants had emailed her the mouth-watering itinerary for the black truffle weekend, though it actually ran from Friday to Monday. Tonight, there would be a dinner for a group of leading distributors, restaurant owners and truffle cultivators. The next day, guests would visit local truffle towns and markets in the area. On Sunday, they would attend the famous Truffle Festival in the town of Richerenches, further to the south. Finally, on Monday morning, there would be a truffle hunting party in the Antoine Estate woods. After that, Xavier himself had added in an email, if she wished to stay on for longer, he would personally take her on a guided tour of the surrounding area of the Dordogne.

If she wished! She rubbed at her cheeks to tone down the cream blush she’d applied. They stayed resolutely pink. It wasn’t the blush. Her cheeks betrayed her excitement. She hadn’t realised how low she had been until she’d seen her reflection tonight, and the way her eyes, carefully outlined in subtle lilac shadow, their long lashes darkened with black mascara, were sparkling.

It was being in France, that was all, she told herself firmly. That was the only reason for her glittering reflection. It wasn’t that she would be spending time with Xavier Antoine.

After a search she pulled a light chiffon wrap from her suitcase. She might need it downstairs, though her bedroom, with its central heating as well as a blazing open fire in the grate, was warm, almost hot. Waking up refreshed after collapsing onto the bed and falling into an immediate jet-lagged nap, Jackie had examined the room in wonder. The walls were covered in fabric, not paint or paper, in a
toile
of shepherdesses in fields, as were the curtains around the bed. Pale blue silk drapes at the windows pooled onto the soft dark blue carpet. Through a white door was the en-suite bathroom, with pink marble tiles and shining brass taps, and a tub the size of a small swimming pool. Having her bath, she’d felt like a mermaid.

A clock chimed as she left the bedroom and hurried down the hall towards the stairs. On the landing, she glimpsed through a tall window the branches of the oak trees on the long winding drive up the chateau, lit up with the most delicate white fairy lights. The effect was enchanting, making her feel more than ever as if she’d stepped into a fairy tale.

Her high heels clicked as she crossed the flagged stone floor of the vast hall, with its tall beamed ceilings, its walls hung with paintings and tapestries that appeared old and rare. She could hear the tinkle of glasses and laughter coming from the room Marie had pointed out earlier as being where drinks before dinner would be held.

At the doorway, she hesitated. The large room, French windows running alongside it and lit with chandeliers, was full of prosperous looking men in black and white evening clothes, and elegant women wearing coloured dresses, with stunning jewels sparkling at their ears, wrists and throats. A wave of unanticipated shyness overcame her as she moved forward.

Then she saw Xavier. He too was wearing a black dinner jacket, his dark hair smoothed back from his high forehead. He looked more tanned than when she had first met him. He must have caught the Australian sun.

Suddenly, everything about Xavier Antoine made sense. She’d thought him arrogant; too sure of himself. But how could he not be arrogant, when this ancient chateau was his home? It was a long, long way from her cottage in Margaret River.

What was she doing here?

Xavier saw Jacaranda before she saw him. He’d been waiting for her, he realised in a moment of stunned clarity. Framed by the open doorway of the drawing room, she stood hesitantly, staring into the dazzling light of the chandeliers.

Their eyes met across the room. For a moment it was as though they were alone, as the tinkle of glasses and laughter around him hushed. He became aware of a few curious stares as he sauntered through his group of guests, before the voices started up in his ears again.

“Ah, Jacaranda. I was just going to come and find you.” In a swift glance he took in her silk dress, appreciating the way it caressed her body. “You look beautiful.”

Sounding as awkward as a teenager at her first dance, she replied, “Thank you.”

His search continued over her as he felt his body respond. He’d seen her in a bikini, but something even more powerful swelled between them as she stood before him in her delicate silk dress.