Black Diamonds (9 page)

More than once Xavier tried to catch her eye but she’d resolutely ignored him. At the evening’s end, she said goodnight to the other dinner guests and rushed upstairs.

How she’d been fooled by him! She couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to start to relax and let down her guard. All through dinner, she’d felt his emotional grip on her, reeling her in like a fish. She hadn’t even considered Xavier Antoine might be married. Clearly he was a well practiced cheat. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, and there was something about him that seemed, well—single. He didn’t have a married aura about him.

Maybe, she thought grimly as she rootled in her suitcase for her kimono, he had perfected an attitude of availability. He was probably a practiced philanderer. One thing was certain; he was a bona fide louse. No! He was a bush tick, only fit to live on the fur of a kangaroo.

What had he said to her?
Why don’t you just go with the flow, Jacaranda? … Let me surprise you.
Oh yes, he’d given her a surprise, all right. A horrible, horrible surprise.

A knock at the door made her jump.

“Who is it?”

“I think you know. I want to talk to you.”

Jackie hesitated. This was Xavier Antoine’s chateau; no matter what kind of man he was, she had to answer. Glancing down at her black underwear with its tiny lavender bows and her purple high heels, she grabbed her lilac satin kimono. After knotting it around her waist she hauled the door open.

He lounged against the door frame and gave her one of his French
looks
. To think she had started to enjoy them!

“I thought I liked your evening dress,” he drawled. “But I think I like this even more.”

Following his line of sight, Jackie saw a lavender bow peeping out from her kimono, the curves of her breasts rising and falling in her anger.

Tying the dressing gown more tightly around her, she said in a voice as flat as stale champagne, “You’re married. You cheat on your wife.”

“Ah.” Xavier stepped into the room and closed the door. “So that’s it. I wondered why you turned as cold as your Indian Ocean, just when you were beginning to warm up.”

Jackie backed away. He still wore his black dinner jacket, but he’d loosened his bow tie, leaving his strong throat bare and brown against the crisp white shirt.

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

He exhaled. “Ah, Jacaranda. Do you ever stop jumping to conclusions?”

She jutted her chin. “Have I jumped to conclusions? Don’t you have a wife called Camille?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to let me explain?”

She should just tell him to get out, right now. She shouldn’t even bother to listen to his explanation about his wife. It would probably be all lies, anyway; he’d trot out some line about how his wife didn’t understand him, or how they were leading separate lives. She shuddered. She still couldn’t believe it was true.

“I
was
married.”

“Was?” She hung on to the crucial word as though it were a life buoy in the ocean.

“Yes … Camille is my ex-wife. Whoever told you she is currently my wife is mistaken.”

Jackie gulped with embarrassment. Why hadn’t she stopped to think before she’d accused him? “Oh … I see. It must have been my French. I … I—overheard.”

“Ahh. Listeners never hear good of themselves. I believe it is an English saying.”

A wave of relief washed over her. “So you’re divorced.”

“I have been for almost six years.” Xavier crossed the room to a table where crystal decanters had been laid out for guest use. “I could do with a brandy. Would you like one?”

She shook her head and waited for him to continue.

He poured out a small measure of brandy and swirled it in the balloon glass reflectively. “I married fairly young,” he explained, after taking a mouthful. “In my mid-twenties. I’d known Camille all my life, our families were friends. She was very beautiful, very chic. Small, with dark hair and dark eyes. What in France we call
gamine
.”

Lava of jealousy rose up in Jackie’s throat, hot and bitter tasting. Very beautiful, very chic.
Gamine
. Great.

“The problem was, she hadn’t grown up in the world of
la vigne
or
la truffiere
,” Xavier continued. “She thought it was going to be all wine, truffles and glamour. It can be that, sometimes, like tonight. But …”

“But there’s not much glamour in picking grapes or cultivating truffle fungi,” Jackie filled in.

“Exactly. You understand. Even if you live in a chateau, when you run a vineyard or a
truffiere—
you’re a farmer, really. You’re always watching the weather and worrying about the crops. Camille got tired of it all. She thought I was obsessed.”

“It’s hard not to be obsessed with truffles.”

With a shrug he said, “Truffles are like love. One must be a little obsessed, a little crazy, in love.”

His words flared in that deep place within her, sending flickers of flame searing through her skin. She amended hastily, “I just meant there’s so much that can go wrong with cultivating them. A bit too much rain, or not enough, the wrong grafting …”

Xavier took another swig of brandy. His opaque expression met hers over the edge of the glass. “Truffles are an aphrodisiac. Just like love.”

He turned away. Casually he placed the brandy balloon on the silver tray.

Jackie touched her fingers to her tell-tale cheeks in a vain attempt to cool them. “You were telling me about Camille,” she reminded him.

“Ah yes. We were married for six years. Eventually, Camille went back to Paris, for a more exciting life.” He didn’t turn around. Instead, his jaw clenched in profile, he lifted the blue satin drapes at the window and looked out. Through the glass, Jackie could just make out fairy lights sparkling in the trees outside.

“I’m not a man who handles failure well,” he said after a while, still staring out the window. “In my business, or in my life. I was raised to run this estate, like my father, and his father before him. Antoine men aren’t emotional. My father—I don’t think we ever really connected unless it was about business. Perhaps I should have tried to change. But running my vineyard and
truffiere
isn’t just what I do. It’s who I am.”

He spun around to face her, a muscle working in his jaw. “I’m not proud I was divorced. It wasn’t what I wanted. For me, marriage is for life, the way my parents were married. It’s taken me some time to get over the fact that I couldn’t make it work.”

“Things don’t always go the way we expect them to,” she said softly.

The air crackled with energy as he came closer. With one long finger he lifted her chin. “I think we both know that.”

His kiss was different this time. When he’d kissed her in Australia, she’d been burnt with the suddenness of her desire. Now, it was as if a slow fire had been smouldering, just as hot, and infinitely more powerful.

Her arms slid up around his neck as his strong hands ran down her back, over the satiny smoothness of her kimono to the curve below. He grasped her, thrusting the lower half of her body against his. In response she gasped, her mouth widening to him. The taste of him was known to her now, yet still his tongue searched hers, the brandy he’d drunk intoxicating her, inflaming her with desire.

He lifted his head and a finger to her quivering lips. “It seems one taste of you, like your truffles, is not enough. Goodnight, Jacaranda.”

“They’re perfect on you! You have to have them!”

Jackie found the price tag on the silver and amethyst earrings and frowned. “I do like them, but I’m still not sure what the Australian dollar is in Euros.”

Eve leaned over and looked at the price. “They’re a bargain in any currency, and they suit you perfectly. You must get them!”

Jackie held up her hands in surrender. “All right. But that’s it, Eve. I have to stop after this. I’m cleaned out!”

In reply Eve gave a mock grimace. “And here I was hoping you’d have more shopping stamina than Bob.”

After Jackie paid for the earrings they walked back to the car they’d left parked in one of the side streets of Perigueux. The capital of the Dordogne region was a lovely town, with stone buildings with red tiled roofs in similar colours to Xavier’s chateau. She’d been charmed by ornate iron street lamps that leaned like nodding bluebells over the streets and bridges. The town boasted amazing architecture, including an unusual cathedral with towers shaped like pepper pots, and a river with stone banks leading down to it.

They’d ended up there after an amazing morning spent in the truffle markets in the towns and villages near the Antoine estate, along with some of the other guests from the dinner the night before. Then Eve had dragged her off for a shopping spree, as she gleefully called it.

“We’re going to have a girls’ lunch too,” she’d told her husband firmly. “We’ll be back at the chateau this afternoon.” Eve spoke excellent French, and had taken Jackie to a number of fabulous shops and boutiques she would never have found on her own.

Jackie peeped sideways at her new friend, strolling along carrying shopping bags stuffed to the brim. She knew it wasn’t right to quiz Eve about Xavier’s past. But before she could stop herself she blurted out, “Did you know Xavier’s wife?”

Eve nodded. “Why sure. Bob’s known Xavier for years. He was at their wedding; it was held at the chateau.”

“Oh,” Jackie gulped. “Was she very beautiful?” Once again she couldn’t help asking.

“Yes, she was—well, she is. She has one of those slick bobs cut sharp at the chin,” Eve indicated her jaw with her hand, “and she’s small and slim. She’s one of the most chic women I know. I always feel like a country bumpkin when I’m near Camille, and I’m from New York!”

Jackie glanced at Eve’s highly polished black boots and black and white jacket trimmed with fur. Heaven only knew how Jackie would feel near Camille if stylish Eve felt like a bumpkin. She glanced down at her brown Drizabone. It kept out the wind and cold, but it couldn’t be described as glamorous.

“Do you keep in touch with her?”

“Not really. Bill’s always been friends with Xavier, as well as a business acquaintance. So we see more of Xavier, of course. I guess you know about their divorce, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She sure did. Thinking about Xavier with another woman had been gnawing away at her all day. Why was it affecting her so much?

Eve stopped walking and turned to face her. “There’s something going on between you and Xavier isn’t there?”

Jackie started to shake her head, but looking into Eve’s honest, friendly eyes she couldn’t lie. She sighed. “There might be. I mean, yes.”

“I thought so. I’m pleased to see it. Xavier has been alone for too long.” She paused for a moment. “Jackie, can I speak frankly? Xavier’s one of the best men I know. I know he can seem cold, and arrogant. Maybe it’s because he’s French, I don’t know. But he’s an amazing businessman, so he’s got a right to be arrogant, I guess. From what I know of him, he wouldn’t have given up on his marriage easily. I don’t know all the details of why he and Camille got divorced, but I’d bet my bottom dollar it wasn’t his doing. He just isn’t that kind of man.”

Jackie nodded. “That’s what he told me.”

“Then believe him.” Eve’s expression turned candid. “You have to trust Xavier, Jackie. You have to trust your feelings.”

“My feelings are so confused I don’t know what to make of them. Xavier infuriates me one moment and the next …”

“And the next you’re wild about him,” Eve grinned. “It’s been a while since Bob and I were on that particular roller coaster ride but I do remember what it was like.”

Her stomach flipped over. “I’ve never liked roller coasters.”

Eve popped an arm through Jackie’s as they started walking again. “Honey, give it a try. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“
Bonsoir
.”

In the stone flagged hall Xavier stood at the bottom of the stairs, Royale at his side. Just the sight of him set Jackie’s heart fluttering. The sensations of the kiss they’d shared the previous night came flooding back. She almost missed her step.

“Eve told me you were overcome with jet lag on the way back to the chateau,” Xavier sounded concerned as she came down with her hand safely on the banister. “I hope you’re feeling better?”

“Much better,” Jackie smiled. “I think that was the best sleep I’ve had for a while.”

After Jackie and Eve had returned to the chateau, laden with shopping bags, she’d curled up in the comfortable four poster bed in the pretty blue and white bedroom. She wouldn’t admit to Xavier that she’d found herself dreaming about him holding her in his arms. The feeling had been so real; as though he’d been in the room with her.

“How did you find the truffle markets this morning?” he asked. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you before you were kidnapped by Eve.”

Jackie grinned and moved her hands as if she were performing a magic trick. “The quality of the truffles was
extraordinaire
. I loved how they appeared out of nowhere. You were right about how secretive everyone is about them.”

Xavier laughed.

“I was interested in how they were used in some of the products too.” It was good to talk to someone as interested in truffles as she was; she’d missed it since her father died. “I tasted some fantastic truffle butters. You use different techniques here, less salt, I think.”

“
Oui, c’est vrai
. True. I’ll take you around my own
truffiere
this week, as I promised, if you’d still like that. I can show you how we make the Antoine butters.”

“You’d share your secrets?” she teased.

“You shared your secret beach with me,
non
?”

His hands had been soothing on her shoulders as he’d covered her with sunscreen that day, she recalled, swallowing hard. Glancing towards the drawing room she changed the subject. “Where are Eve and Bob?”

“They’ve gone to dinner with some friends of theirs who live nearby. The invitation included you and me, but I didn’t like to wake you from your nap.”

“You came into my room?” Alarm jolted her at the thought of him being so close, with her unaware of his presence. Yet even in her sleep she’d sensed him near.