Exposed: Misbehaving with the Magnate (7 page)

‘Clear the decks of any pressing items of business,’ she continued.

‘You are so right,’ he murmured. ‘Shall we get on with the tour?’

Oh, yeah. This tour.

It didn’t take more than half a dozen steps down the hallway for Gabrielle to concede that Luc hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said that the inside of the house was a disaster. There was mould on the ceilings, dampness seeping up through the walls, leaks in the
roof, and window drapes that should have been burned a hundred years ago if only to prevent the onset of plague. Ivy clawed at once glorious French windows, seeking purchase and finding it in the window cracks and joints. The ground floor flooring was a dull and pitted marble, the upper storey floorboards felt spongy in places where the rot had taken hold. The stairs were unsafe, the elaborate wrought-iron balustrade rickety, and as for the kitchen…The state of the kitchen was enough to make anyone who took pride in the preparing of food weep with despair.

‘Maybe after a good clean…’ she said, and winced at Luc’s steady glance that told her he wasn’t even going to dignify her comment with a reply. ‘Okay, so it needs work,’ she muttered.

‘No, it needs bulldozing.’

‘But the façade…’ That beautiful Napoleonic façade.

‘All right, hold the bulldozer, but it still needs gutting. The façade you’re so enamoured of needs extensive and expensive restoration and the inside of the house needs rebuilding. Am I wrong? Because—’ he spread his arms wide to encompass the large upstairs room they were currently standing in ‘—I don’t think I’m wrong.’

‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘You’re absolutely right. It’s just…’ The rooms were so splendidly proportioned, with their high ceilings and their tall French windows. With the heavy drapes gone the natural lighting within the house would be superb. The view from this window alone made Gabrielle sigh with pleasure and Luc sigh with something else entirely.

‘It needs a lot of work, Gabrielle, and deep, deep pockets,’ he warned.

‘I know,’ she said with another wistful sigh. ‘There’s really not a lot to recommend it, is there? Except for the hedgehogs—the hedgehogs were cute.’ The distinct odour of mice and other vermin hinted that the hedgehogs weren’t the only inhabitants of Hammerschmidt Manoir. ‘On the bright side, the state of the house should bring the value of the property down considerably. I think even a builder would think twice about taking on a project house like this one. Whoever buys this place will be after the land—like you. The house is a liability.’

‘Does that mean you’re not interested in the property?’

Gabrielle shot him a lightning grin. ‘I didn’t say that. I still want to see the winemaking equipment and the storage caves.’

Like the house, the winemaking and storage areas were without power. Luckily for them, Luc had a torch.

‘Boy scout,’ she said.

‘Not ever, and well you know it,’ he countered. He’d run wild as a boy, they all had; the chateau and the land surrounding it had encouraged children that way. But he had grown up with the caves of Caverness at his back, hence the torch. He probably had spare batteries and quite possibly another torch tucked away somewhere on his most spectacular person. Not that Gabrielle felt inclined to examine him and find out.

Luc’s ‘no casual touching’ rule suited her fine. Just, her fingers twitched, fine.

‘How far into the caves do you want to go?’ he
asked, flicking torchlight around the entrance tunnel once he’d shifted the rusting wrought-iron gate aside.

‘Not far.’ The well-lit and equally well-mapped caves of Caverness were one thing, a maze of abandoned underground tunnels was quite another. ‘After you.’

‘Ladies first,’ he murmured.

‘You are such a gentleman.’ Swiping the torch from Luc’s unresisting fingers Gabrielle lifted her chin high and started into the darkness, with Luc a few steps behind her, chuckling softly.

‘So…’ he said as she shone the torchlight high. ‘Still scared of bats?’

‘No,’ she said loftily. ‘I’ve outgrown that particular fear.’ Mind you, it never hurt to send a prayer of silent thanks that there were no bats hanging from the roof of this particular grotto. At least, none in torch range. She swung the thready beam of light downwards fast; it was probably best not to know.

Gabrielle shivered as they moved further into the tunnel and the temperature plummeted. Luc was wearing a suit. Gabrielle wore a thin cotton blouse.

‘Cold?’ murmured Luc silkily.

‘Not at all.’

‘So if you’re not scared and you’re not cold, why is the torch trembling?’

Ah. That. ‘Probably a fault in the wiring.’ Something rustled beneath her feet and Gabrielle lost all pretence of bravery as she shot one hand out to grasp hold of Luc by his shirtfront and pointed the torch towards her feet with the other. ‘What was that?’

‘Me choking on my shirt collar?’ he suggested dryly.

Oh. She released her grip and smoothed his shirt back in place for good measure, but she did not step away. ‘Stay close.’

‘I am close.’

He also had another torch in his pocket, which he withdrew and switched on, adding its glow to the light coming from her own, sweeping it back and forth along the floor of the cave.

‘Whatever it was, it’s gone,’ he said, and with a wider sweep of his torch, ‘This isn’t a bad storage area, Gabrielle. Look, it’s high, dry, good sized, and it smells well ventilated. Add a solid door rather than the wrought-iron gate at the entrance and install some lighting and you’d have good temperature control in here year round.’

‘Are there any more caverns like this?’

Luc the intrepid stepped forward, Gabrielle followed, making sure she stayed within arm’s length and only bumping into him twice. She kept one hand on his back after that, and to hell with not touching him until they were ready to make love for a week. That particular rule only applied outside underground caves potentially crawling with rats and harbouring bats.

The Hammerschmidt grottos boasted three more vast caverns, each one larger than the last. Storage enough for ten years’ worth of Angels Landing harvests, decided Gabrielle, with the potential to excavate deeper underground as needed. With very little effort the caves could be made useable and very easily rentable.

‘Seen enough?’ murmured Luc.

She had. The caves were an asset—no question.
They could talk their merits to death later, but for now the cold had seeped into her bones, she was shivering uncontrollably, and warmth and sunshine were high on her list of priorities.

‘Hold this,’ said Luc and thrust his torch into the hand at his back. The next minute a jacket fell around her shoulders, warm from the wearing and bearing the unmistakable scent of Luc. He took back the torch and took her hand and headed back the way they’d come in.

Once outside he stood her in the sun and stared down at her broodingly. ‘You never did have any sense when it came to the caves,’ he said gruffly. ‘Warmer now?’

‘M-much,’ she managed.

‘You want me to warm you?’

‘N-not unless you’re free all n-next week, n-no.’

‘So can I have my jacket back?’

‘Over m-my dead body.’ Which could be a possibility if he attempted to take his jacket from her. She glared at him and tucked her arms in the sleeves for good measure, this time suppressing a shiver of pure delight as Luc’s warmth wrapped around her. ‘Exercise,’ she said. ‘Exercise will warm me up. Let’s take a look at the vines.’

‘You want to walk them or run them?’ he said with the tilt of his lips. They’d run the fields as children, she, Luc, and Rafael. Rafe had always given her twenty rows’ head start. Luc had been known to give her thirty and still catch her at the finish line.

‘I’d rather walk,’ she said and suited actions to words. Luc fell into step beside her, keeping a careful distance
between them, a distance he hadn’t enforced in the caves.

‘Are you trying to keep your hands off me, Luc?’

‘Not trying,’ he murmured. ‘I
am
keeping my hands off you.’ He glanced skywards as if for heavenly support. ‘I can’t believe you haven’t noticed.’

Gabrielle grinned and then stopped abruptly as they came upon the first row of vines. The grapes, unpruned, uncared for, and full of disease, were a disaster. The thorny, rambling monsters planted at the end of each row of vines looked vaguely familiar but they didn’t look like grapes. ‘Are these…roses?’

‘Got it in one,’ said Luc dryly.

She looked along the rows of wire that supposedly supported the vines and currently supported Rosacea’s finest. ‘But who in their right mind would plant rambling roses amongst the vines?’

‘No one,’ he said darkly.

‘Pretty though.’

He looked at her as if she’d grown another head. Gabrielle sniggered. ‘What would you do with these vines?’

‘Rip them out and replant.’

‘And the trellis?’ The wood and wire framework had to be at least a hundred years old.

‘That would go too.’

‘Expensive,’ she murmured.

‘Very.’

‘You’d be better off starting from scratch.’

‘Don’t tempt me,’ he said. ‘The land is perfectly sloped for the sun on the grapes and it’s close to Caverness. They’re big pluses.’

‘Yes, but do they match the big drawbacks?’

‘I haven’t decided yet.’

Neither had Gabrielle. ‘It could have been so good,’ she said.

‘Let the hedgehog be a warning to you,’ he countered, with a crooked grin that warmed her the way his coat had. ‘Let’s talk about it some more over lunch.’

‘Lunch where?’

‘I know a place you’ll like,’ he said. ‘It’s in the hills.’ And when she hesitated. ‘It’s only lunch, Gabrielle. Save your hesitation for dinner.’

Well, when he put it like that…

‘Very nice,’ said Gabrielle as they were seated at an outdoor table of an elegant hotel café nestled into the hills of Champagne. Minutes later a pitcher of iced water had joined the party, accompanied by a chilled glass of white wine for Gabrielle and a foaming brown beer for Luc. The café was famed for its selection of sour dark breads and cheeses as well as for the views of the countryside from its hillside terrace. A cheese and pâté platter would be joining them directly. Luc had ordered it. Gabrielle’s mouth watered at the thought of it but she turned her attention to her surroundings until it turned up.

‘The view from the hill behind Caverness is better,’ she commented idly. ‘Ever thought of putting a café up there?’

‘No.’

‘Because it wouldn’t be economically viable?’

‘No, because I like the hilltop as it is.’

‘So you’re not always all about business?’

Crinkles framed Luc’s eyes. A smile lurked nearby. ‘Never have been.’

‘And yet the House of Duvalier thrives under your rule.’

‘I never said I wasn’t good at what I do, Gabrielle. I am.’

‘If you hadn’t inherited the family dynasty what would you have done?’ she asked curiously.

‘You mean after the fighter pilot phase and the
medicines-sans-frontiers
phase had ended?’

‘Yes,’ she said with the tilt of her lips. ‘After you’d finished with those particular adventures.’ Luc’s dreams always had been adventurous, even when they’d been children. Not for him boring games like cowboys and Indians. No, when they’d played make believe they’d been World War Two resistance fighters smuggling refugees to safety or World War One aces trying to outmanoeuvre the Red Baron, with Rafael the Baron and Simone and Gabrielle Luc’s wingmen. ‘We never did catch that Red Baron, did we?’

If Luc had trouble keeping up with the conversation he didn’t let it show. ‘Simone caught him once.’

‘Only because Rafe let her.’

‘No, she bested him. I saw it all. Rafe only pretended that he’d let her catch him. Even a twelve year old has his pride. But she out-thought him, fair and square.’ Luc sounded more than a little proud of his sister and so he should be. As a youth Rafe had had more evasive manoeuvres up his sleeve than many a world leader. He still did.

‘If you ask me, Rafe fell a little bit in love with her that day,’ said Luc with a wry smile. ‘And whenever
Simone surprised him after that, or shielded you from Josien’s wrath, he fell in love with her that little bit more. He’s loyal, Rafe. To you. Even to Josien, in his way. He’d have worked his heart out for Simone had she gone to Australia with him.’

‘Then how come you didn’t say that seven years ago?’ muttered Gabrielle. She didn’t mean to sound accusing. She didn’t want to argue with Luc about Simone and Rafe’s disastrous relationship, but her words were sharper than she’d intended.

‘You think I didn’t?’

‘I think you made like Switzerland and tried to be neutral.’

‘What if I did?’ he said mildly, but his eyes were guarded. ‘Simone was eighteen and born to a life of luxury. Rafe was twenty-two, penniless, and about to move halfway across the world on a whim. He had nothing to offer her but love and a determination to succeed that bordered on obsessive. I care for Rafe like a brother but that doesn’t mean I’m blind to his faults. I’m not blind to Simone’s either. Would you have had me say that I thought Simone too demanding and immature to lead the life Rafe wanted her to lead? Would you have had me accuse Rafe of being too driven to succeed to be able to afford a wife at that time? You supported Rafe, Gabrielle, and I was glad of it. But you only saw the romance, not the enormity of what Rafe asked of my sister.’

‘He asked her to
believe
in him,’ she said heatedly. ‘Is that so wrong?’

‘He asked her to forgo her family and her inheritance for him, Gabrielle. There was no middle ground
with Rafe. No compromise. He was leaving and Simone could either go with him or it was over.’

‘You don’t know what it was like for Rafe here,’ said Gabrielle raggedly. ‘Josien’s hatred for him was like a cancer, eating away at every plan and hope he ever entertained. If Rafe hadn’t left here when he did, Josien would have destroyed him. He
couldn’t
stay.’

Luc’s eyes had darkened, whether with temper or with sorrow she couldn’t fathom. ‘I know,’ he said simply. ‘And Simone could not leave. Can’t you see that?’