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They’d learned soon enough to leave this bastard alone when he was driving out his demons.
His mobile buzzed from amongst the assortment of tools in the wheelbarrow. Downing pickaxe, Rafe headed for it, his aching shoulders grateful for the reprieve, but as was the way of electronic devices, the buzzing had stopped by the time he reached it.
He wasn’t in the mood to talk with anyone anyway.
Rafael reached for the water bottle he’d brought with him to the vines and opened it and quenched his thirst. Rosa the housekeeper would have a fit if she saw him. Apparently bastard princes didn’t fill up empty plastic water containers from the nearest tap, shove the bottle in the wheelbarrow, and drink it lukewarm as the impulse arose. Apparently they called the kitchen and left a request and someone brought a frosty glass of iced water out to him on a tray.
Rafe smirked briefly at the memory of Rosa explaining the procedure to him. He followed the memory with another long swig from the water bottle. He really wasn’t that kind of prince.
The phone beeped again, short and sharp, signalling the presence of a message. Rafe capped the water bottle and put it down, picked the phone up and retrieved the message.
‘Rafe, it’s Gabrielle,’ said the voice. ‘I’m going to ring you again in two minutes’ time and this time I expect you to answer your phone. I mean it, Rafael. You really shouldn’t antagonise a woman in my condition. It’s not good for the baby.’
Rafael grinned widely as he deleted the message. The phone rang again immediately. Same number. Impatient sister. This time he answered it. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you,’ she said magnanimously. ‘Are you going to screen all your calls now you’re a prince of the realm, or is it just the ones coming in from Caverness?’
‘I’m well, thanks,’ he said dryly. ‘Kind of you to ask.’
‘You even speak like a prince,’ she muttered. ‘Get out. Get out now.’
‘When’s your baby due?’
‘In approximately seven months, two weeks and three days’ time. Not that I’m counting.’
‘I expect regular updates,’ he said as he stared out over the wild Maracey valley. Gabrielle had warned him that there would be children. He was happy for her.
‘How’s the vineyard restoration going?’ she said.
‘The vineyard’s a mess,’ he said, looking around it.
‘And the prince thing?’
‘An even bigger ask.’
Gabrielle sighed. ‘The thing is, when I look at you I can see why Etienne came for you. I know you can do the things he asks of you. So does Etienne, I suspect. The thing is, will you?’
‘Is this a rhetorical question?’
‘Possibly. But feel free to answer it anyway. I’m curious.’
‘I don’t know what I plan to do,’ he admitted. ‘I haven’t made up my mind yet.’
‘Are you happy there?’
He didn’t know the answer to that question either. ‘Sometimes.’
Gabrielle sighed again. ‘Will you come and visit me soon?’
‘Yes.’ Finally a question that didn’t require major contemplation.
‘At Caverness?’
Rafael hesitated.
‘Or if not Caverness, you could stay at Hammerschmidt. The vineyard restoration is coming together beautifully, and we’re aiming to have most of the house restoration complete by the time the baby comes. Luc and I have decided to raise our family there. It’s different now, Rafael,’ said Gabrielle softly. ‘Champagne. The village. Even Caverness. Just come. Come now.’
‘Soon,’ he countered. He knew it was time. Ready or not, he had to see Simone again and deliver his apology. ‘How’s Simone?’ he asked gruffly.
‘Rafe…’ she said, and something in Gabrielle’s voice had every muscle in his body tensing. ‘There’s something I have to tell you. About Simone.’
‘Is she ill?’ he asked sharply.
‘No. Not exactly. Rafe…’ He could hear Gabrielle’s struggle to find the right words. She really didn’t want to deliver this news.
‘Just say it,’ he said.
‘I’m not the only one who’s expecting a baby around here, Rafael. Simone’s pregnant too.’
The view shimmered before clicking back into focus. Once. Twice. Like reality gone wrong. ‘Who’s the father?’
‘She doesn’t say.’
The next question lodged in his throat, as if by holding it back he could put a brake on where his thoughts might take him, but they were already there and he had to know. ‘When’s it due?’
‘Around the same date as mine. Rafael—’
‘Stop,’ he whispered.
‘Rafael, I’ve never seen Simone so broken. She doesn’t eat, she doesn’t sleep, she doesn’t even attend to her work. She just sits in the gardens of Caverness, and it’s almost as if she doesn’t even know that she’s there. As if she’s lost and can’t find her way home.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ He knew why. Heaven help him, he knew why.
‘Because I love her. And because I think she loves you and is carrying your child and you don’t even know it.’
Rafael closed his eyes and forced air into his lungs. He didn’t know how much more he could take of this. Any of it.
‘How does it feel, Rafael?’ asked Gabrielle quietly. ‘To walk in your father’s shoes?’
Chapter Seven (#uf8674fa8-2166-56eb-8680-9d0f76366bb4)
RAFAEL stepped out of the car Etienne had loaned him and onto Champagne soil for the first time in nine long years. Caverness stood, as it had always stood, grey and forbidding, dominating the village below it as it had dominated him as a child. He’d sworn on his soul back then that he would never return to this place, but here he was and he could not regret it.
Some souls were more valuable than others.
He ran a hand through his hair, flexed his shoulders as if in preparation for battle, and headed for the kitchen door. He stopped abruptly, not knowing which door to use. Kitchen door or front door? Guest or family? Welcome or not?
He was spared further indecision when the kitchen door burst open and Gabrielle flew out, her face alight as she flung herself into his arms. ‘You came,’ she said as she covered his cheeks with kisses. ‘I knew you would.’
Luc appeared in the doorway, his stance relaxed but his expression guarded. Gabrielle herded Rafe towards the door. Luc headed down the steps and started towards them. Rafael met his gaze warily. He knew this man like a brother. He knew exactly how fierce Lucien could be in defence of the people he loved.
‘Gabrielle,’ he muttered. ‘Maybe you should go inside.’
‘Have a little faith,’ she whispered as she studied her husband. ‘Luc sees both sides of this mess.’
‘He has to do right by his sister. Honour demands it,’ murmured Rafe as he set Gabrielle firmly behind him. He didn’t think Gabrielle quite understood a brother’s feelings towards a man who would take a woman to his bed for the night and then walk away without a backward glance. No matter what his reasons for doing so.
‘If I didn’t love you, I’d kill you,’ said Luc simply as he stepped forward and drew Rafe into a fierce embrace. ‘I still might.’
‘You will not,’ said Gabrielle sternly. And as Rafael stepped out of Luc’s embrace, ‘We’ve been waiting for you to arrive for two days. What took you so long?’
‘I drove. I needed time to think.’
‘Told you,’ Luc said to his wife. ‘Pay up.’
‘Later,’ said Gabrielle. ‘You drove? You must be exhausted?’ She eyed him critically. ‘You are exhausted.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Fatherhood’s going to suit you,’ murmured Luc.
‘It will.’ He exchanged another long glance with Luc.
‘Told you,’ Gabrielle said to her husband. ‘Pay up.’
‘Where is she?’ said Rafael. Much as he wanted their company, he wanted Simone’s more.
‘In the old orchard garden,’ said Gabrielle. ‘Rafael?’
He’d already moved off. He stopped and forced his impatience into subservience as he turned back towards Gabrielle and Luc.
‘I told her that I’d called you.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘She wasn’t very happy with me.’
‘I’ll sort it out.’
‘Well, yes. That’s the plan. I’m hoping she’ll forgive me eventually. Sisters should not fall out over men.’
‘Fine,’ he muttered, and started once more for the garden.
‘Rafael?’
‘What?’ He stopped again, patience so clearly not one of his virtues that Luc started to laugh and Gabrielle rolled her eyes.
‘I got you something to give to Simone. I didn’t think you’d mind.’ She speared him with a pointy finger and then pointed to the ground at his feet. ‘Wait right there.’ She disappeared back through the kitchen doorway and returned moments later with a small butter-coloured bundle in her arms.
Rafael looked closer.
The bundle had a nose. Two ears. Paws. Liquid brown eyes.
‘It’s a puppy,’ he said stupidly.
‘It’s a golden retriever,’ said Gabrielle as she bundled it into his arms. ‘And it’s a she.’
‘She’s fat,’ he said next.
‘Puppy fat,’ said Gabrielle as she stroked the puppy’s head. ‘Don’t you listen to him, sweetheart. You’re not fat, you’re Rubenesque, and you’re going to grow up to be a rare beauty.’
The puppy squirmed in Rafael’s arms. ‘What is it you would have me do with this puppy?’ he asked.
‘You give it to Simone. As a gift.’
‘Why?’
‘Because.’
As far as reasoning went, it seemed a little…loose. ‘Is this a pregnancy thing?’ he said suspiciously.
‘No, it’s a “you need something to help you even get a hearing” thing,’ said Gabrielle. ‘Whatever it was you did to Simone, or said to her or didn’t say to her, you hurt her, Rafael. Badly. You need to be part of a puppy package deal.’
‘Are you sure about this?’ He eyed the warm ball of puppyhood currently chewing on his watchband sceptically. Colour him practical, but he wasn’t at all convinced that what Simone needed right now was a puppy. ‘I really don’t think you’ve thought this through.’
‘Trust me,’ said Gabrielle. ‘Just do it.’
He found her in the old orchard, planting bulbs beneath an apple tree. She wore cut-off denim shorts, a pale pink T-shirt, a pair of old gardening gloves, and she’d pulled her silky black hair back into a loose ponytail at the base of her neck. Freshly pulled weeds sat in a pile on one side of her, fresh bulbs sat in a pile to the other side of her. He put the fat puppy down and watched in resignation as she headed straight for Simone and the bulbs and the dirt.
‘Hello. Where did you come from?’ Simone’s voice came to him on the breeze, amused and welcoming. The puppy thought there was welcome in that voice too and, with her tail wagging furiously, she began to chew one of Simone’s gardening gloves. Simone tapped the puppy lightly on the nose. ‘And where are your manners?’
The Rubenesque puppy sat back, scratched its collar and promptly fell to chewing on the pile of weeds. Simone laughed and looked around, presumably for the puppy’s owner.
And saw him.
Her laughter died as she scrambled to her feet and took the gloves off and brushed the dirt from her clothes. Apart from that first startled glance, she didn’t look at him once.
‘I like what you’ve done with the garden,’ he said, by way of small talk. At this point, any type of talk would do, but Simone did not reply. Instead, she bent down and patted the puppy for at least half of eternity.
‘What’s her name?’ she asked, after carefully checking the puppy’s collar for a tag.
Name? What name? Pet owners decided on names. Not him.
‘Or am I to assume that, like so many other animals in your possession, she simply doesn’t have one?’ said Simone.
‘Ducks and swans do not need names,’ he said a touch desperately. ‘And this is…ah…’ He watched in silence as the puppy abandoned its investigation of the weed pile in favour of digging in the dirt and retrieving some of the bulbs Simone had planted. What was he supposed to say? Yours? What on earth had his sister been thinking? ‘Ruby,’ he said. ‘Ruby N Esquire.’
‘How long have you had her?’
