Vintage Pride (14 page)

As he watched her leave, Ethan pondered her words. This grand old house had its secrets all right. He just didn’t think they had anything to do with spectral presences and a cache of missing paintings.

Chapter Fifteen

Jean-Luc waited by the door to the library. If Ethan had read the note he’d pushed under his bedroom door, he should be on his way to this wing of the château right now. Leaving the message had been a risk, but he couldn’t think of a better way of communicating with Ethan without drawing unwanted attention to himself. Anyway, he had to admit there’d been something incredibly exciting about inviting the American to this illicit rendezvous.

“Hey, Jean-Luc,” Ethan sang out in greeting as he hurried along the corridor. He wore a T-shirt bearing the slogan ‘Keep Calm and Party On’ and his hair looked slightly damp, as though he’d showered recently.

“So you managed to get away from your roommate without any problems?” Jean-Luc asked.

Ethan nodded. “Though it was a little awkward explaining the note to Leon. He was the one who picked up the envelope. I had to tell him someone in our production office in LA had rung Marcus by mistake when she was trying to get hold of me and Marcus was just passing the message on. I think he bought it.” He grinned. “Anyway, he’s gone to Pete and Dex’s room to play a few hands of poker, so I don’t think he’ll be too bothered about what I’m getting up to.”

Jean-Luc nodded, quietly impressed by Ethan’s quick thinking. “I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you to come over here.”

“Well, I suppose the fact we’re on the opposite side of the château to everyone else has something to do with it. I can’t imagine anyone’s going to come looking for us.”

“It’s not just that, though I will admit it factored into my thinking.” As he spoke, Jean-Luc reached into his pocket and took out the bunch of keys that he normally hung on a hook near his desk. “This room isn’t used very often anymore and I wanted to show it to you before you left. This”—he pushed open the unlocked door with a flourish—“is the LeBlanc family library.”

He led Ethan inside. The room had a slightly stale taint to the air that came from being kept shut for months but beneath that the aroma of old leather and paper pervaded. But Jean-Luc barely noticed any of those smells. They were nothing in comparison to Ethan’s delicious musky scent. It took him all of his self-restraint not to lean close to Ethan and take a good, long sniff of the skin at the nape of his neck.

“Wow, this is some collection.” Ethan walked over to one of the bookcases that lined the room and lifted down a leather-bound volume.

“My grandfather and his father before him loved books. They’d buy everything they could get their hands on. There are first editions on these shelves by Victor Hugo, Colette, Guy de Maupassant… I couldn’t begin to put a figure on how much some of them are worth.”

Ethan settled into a leather wing-backed chair and flicked through the pages of the book he’d selected. Jean-Luc smiled at the expression on his face as he tried to decipher the closely typed French text.

“
Vingt mille lieues sous les mers
. Well, I know ‘
vingt
’ means ‘twenty’, so this has got to be
Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea
, right? God, I used to love the movie of this book when I was a kid—Captain Nemo and the giant squid…”

Jean-Luc chuckled. “I didn’t bring you here so you could catch up on your reading.” He set the wicker basket he’d brought with him on what had been his grandfather’s bureau. Out of it he took a couple of saucer-shaped glasses and a bottle of Champagne that had been wrapped in a damp cloth to keep it cool. “I thought we’d enjoy a little private celebration.”

Ethan had put the Jules Verne novel back in its place on the shelf and had returned to Jean-Luc’s side. “Really, what are we celebrating?”

“Finding each other.” He half-filled one of the glasses and handed it to Ethan before pouring one for himself. “I don’t usually like to use these glasses because they allow the wine to lose its fizz more quickly but they are very beautiful. Legend has it their shape is modeled on the breasts of Madame de Pompadour, though I don’t believe there’s any truth to that.”

“Don’t tell me—just another aspect of the glamorous, stage-managed reputation of Champagne,” Ethan said.

“I see Marcus gave you his little lecture.” Jean-Luc sipped his drink and pondered Ethan’s comment. The LeBlanc family’s image had been cultivated just as carefully over the centuries, though for vastly different reasons.

“That was actually very interesting. He told me so much I didn’t know. Maybe I ought to suggest to my boss that we come back here and make a documentary about the history of Champagne.”

Jean-Luc couldn’t hide his involuntary shudder at the thought of his home being invaded by another television crew. To distract Ethan from that particular train of thought, he reached into the basket once more then brought out a punnet of strawberries.

“Try one of these. We grow them in the greenhouse in the kitchen garden. They’re fabulous if you dip them in your drink first.”

He demonstrated what he meant, putting the Champagne-soaked berry to Ethan’s lips. Ethan bit off the end of the fruit then nodded in evident satisfaction as he chewed the succulent morsel. Jean-Luc’s cock perked up, stirred into life by his thoughts of being engulfed in Ethan’s hot mouth just like the strawberry.

“Mmm, you’re right. That was delicious. You try it.” Ethan mimicked Jean-Luc’s actions, dipping a strawberry in his own glass then offering it to him.

Even though he’d sampled this particular treat many times before, Jean-Luc thought no fruit had ever tasted quite as good as the one he nibbled now. He’d been trying to work out why the games he’d played in the past had taken on a new tone with the young American and now he believed he understood. Benoît had been a native of this area. He’d been in tune with the lifestyle Jean-Luc led, familiar with the significance of the grape harvest and the winemaking process since he’d been a small boy. With Ethan, everything was new. He was ripe to learn whatever Jean-Luc had to teach him, about business and pleasure.

Ethan took a sip of his Champagne then shot a quizzical look at his glass. “The stuff we were drinking with Marcus the other day was good but this is better somehow. It tastes rounder, creamier, if that makes sense.”

“That’s because you’re drinking the 2006 vintage. That was a truly exceptional year for most of the houses in this region, Château LeBlanc included. I have saved a handful of bottles for special occasions. One is set aside to toast the arrival of my sister’s baby.”

“So if it’s that good, why are you wasting it on me?”

“Ethan, nothing I do in your company can ever be a waste. Don’t you realize you are fully deserving of the very best?”

Ethan looked down at his glass as if Jean-Luc’s fervent words had embarrassed him. But he’d meant them with all his heart. For his mate, nothing could ever be too good.

To break the awkward silence that had descended, Jean-Luc reached for another berry. This time, he gripped the morsel between his teeth, encouraging Ethan to gnaw on it. When every bit of the fruit had gone, they shared a long, deep kiss, Jean-Luc tasting the sweetness of strawberries on Ethan’s lips.

Ethan lifted Jean-Luc’s fingers to his mouth and sucked the sticky red juice from their tips. The slow pull as Ethan’s cheeks hollowed and his tongue swirled had Jean-Luc groaning with need. The sensations were transmitted to the base of his shaft, his cock uncoiling in response.

“I swear you were sent to me by the devil himself,” he murmured. “Where else could you have been schooled in such wickedness?”

“Oh, this is just the start.” Ethan grinned, his gray eyes filled with mischief. He plucked at Jean-Luc’s shirt, unfastening one button after another.

Jean-Luc aided him by undoing the cuffs then shrugged out of the garment. Ethan’s T-shirt was quicker to dispose of. They both stood topless, surrounded by old books and antique furniture, Jean-Luc silently daring his mate to make the next move.

With a cocky grin, Ethan unbuttoned his baggy shorts then stepped out of them. For once, he wore no underwear and his dick sprung up, almost flush to his belly. Its tip glistened with pre-cum.

Jean-Luc followed suit, taking off his chinos to reveal himself in an equally hard and ready state. He ran a hand along the length of his erection, aching to be buried to the hilt in Ethan’s welcoming arse.

Ethan, however, had other ideas. He fished a checkered rug out of the wicker basket. “You were planning for us to have a little picnic?”

“Among other things, yes.” Jean-Luc nodded.

Once Ethan had spread the rug on the library floor, he beckoned Jean-Luc to lie on it. “Close your eyes,” he instructed.

Jean-Luc obeyed. The weave of the wool was coarse against his naked skin. He wondered what Ethan could possibly be planning. He received his answer when cold liquid landed without warning on his chest. Almost at once, the chill was replaced by the warmth of Ethan’s mouth as he licked up the trickle of Champagne.

Another splash followed, this time aimed at his belly. Ethan lapped it out of the little dimple of Jean-Luc’s belly button.

“Mmm,” Ethan sighed. “Forget about Madame de Pompadour’s breasts. This is what Champagne glasses should be modeled on.”

“Only if you want to take forever to drink it,” Jean-Luc replied, opening his eyes to look up into Ethan’s smiling face.

“And would that really be such a bad thing?” Ethan tilted the bottle again. This time, the effervescent wine dribbled over Jean-Luc’s cock and balls, down into the crack of his arse.

Even before Ethan bent to lick him clean, he was anticipating how it would feel to have his mate’s supple tongue snaking into that intimate area.

He shuffled his feet backward, bending his legs at the knee so Ethan could crawl between them. He glanced up to see motes of dust dancing in a beam of light. Jean-Luc came to this room so rarely these days that he’d forgotten how many valuable things it contained. But none was more precious to him than the man who was now busy sucking every trace of Champagne from his crotch.

As Ethan wormed the tip of his tongue into Jean-Luc’s arsehole, the pleasure almost became too much for him to bear. He clutched at the picnic rug, bunching it in his fists, and tried to delay the inevitable moment of orgasm.

Ethan had set the bottle on the floor, within easy reach of Jean-Luc’s right arm. He grabbed for it, muttering, “I didn’t intend you to drink this alone, you know,” and did his best to haul himself into a sitting position.

“What are you—?” Ethan must have seen the clear intent in Jean-Luc’s eyes, for he stopped his protest.

With a little clumsy maneuvering on both their parts, the two men rearranged themselves so they lay top to tail. Ethan was on top, his dick enticingly close to Jean-Luc’s mouth. Jean-Luc drizzled Champagne over the smooth, circumcised length then took it between his lips. In almost the same moment, Ethan began to lick him again.

Finding the right balance between sucking and being sucked took more of his concentration than he’d expected. But as a delaying tactic for his orgasm, it worked to perfection. The imminent need to come receded as he sought to bring Ethan to the peak of pleasure. Jean-Luc laved Ethan’s helmet with his tongue, one hand clamped around the base of his lover’s shaft to hold him steady. Ethan, in return, licked the seam that divided Jean-Luc’s balls and tickled his anus with his fingers.

Jean-Luc breathed in the aromas of ripe fruit, vintage Champagne and aroused male. He sucked harder, spurred on by the excited little grunts Ethan made while worshiping Jean-Luc with his mouth. Without having time to issue a warning, he spurted his cum over Ethan’s face. Seconds later, he found himself swallowing his mate’s hot, salty ejaculate, savoring it to the last drop.

He let Ethan’s softening cock slip from his lips and rolled on to his back once more. Closing his eyes, he half dozed. Ethan’s soft words brought him back to full awareness.

“Hey, we can’t let this go to waste, not if it’s the good stuff.”

Ethan held out a full glass of Champagne. Jean-Luc sat up to take it from him. They clinked their glasses in a silent toast. When Jean-Luc glanced at Ethan, he appeared to be lost in his own thoughts. Maybe he was contemplating the moment he’d have to leave the château and move on to wherever his job took him next.

If only there was some way I could persuade you to stay.

Chapter Sixteen

The lunar eclipse had begun, more than a quarter of the blood-red moon already in shadow, but Marcus didn’t need its light to guide him. Even if he hadn’t had the heightened night vision of a shifter, he’d walked the route between the château and the vineyard so many times he’d have been able to do it blindfolded.

Not that he’d be heading this way if it wasn’t for the presence of the
Spirit Seekers
team. For the first time since they’d arrived to carry out their investigation, he found himself regretting his decision to call Ethan and the others in. He enjoyed being in their company—he couldn’t remember the last time the château had been filled with laughter, though he knew it would have been while Benoît was still alive. But right now he wished they were well away from the property.

It would be safe to describe the day he’d had as difficult. He’d spent much of his time on the phone, trying to reach the local head of the Association Viticole Champenoise—the trade organization which was responsible for overseeing wine production in the area. Until he’d become involved in running the production side of Château LeBlanc, he’d never realized that the yearly harvest was run with the precision of a military operation. As the grapes began to lighten in color, samples would be taken twice a week from control plots across the whole Champagne region, from Reims in the north to Sézanne in the south. These were then checked for a range of factors including the rate of color change, their average weight and their estimated sugar and acidity content. Based on the findings, this would allow the AVC to inform the owners of each Champagne house exactly when to begin grape-picking.