Her gaze darted to the two picture windows framed by red print valences. Both overlooked the steep vineyards below.
She glimpsed a bistro table and two chairs placed in front of the kitchen window. He’d lit a candle so its glow reflected in the glass. The whole atmosphere of the house charmed her.
A few more steps and her heart skipped a beat to see Luc preparing fruit at the counter. He’d changed into a black silk shirt and trousers.
Everything her heart desired was right here… An authentic French country home with an authentic Frenchman so exciting she had trouble believing she wasn’t in the middle of some fantastic dream.
His eyes swept over her, taking in every detail of her face and body until it was difficult to breathe. Miraculously the tension that had held him in its grip earlier seemed to have abated, at least for the time being.
“No one would ever guess you’d been out in the dirt slaving to save my terroir,” he drawled.
“It was worth it even if no vines survived. I have a whole new appreciation for the life of a vintner. While people drink Chartier wines in restaurants all around the world, they don’t have a clue what you go through.”
His eyes glittered. “Fortunately we don’t have storms like this every day, or even every year.”
“Nevertheless these cycles of bad weather have to be devastating for those who can’t afford to lose even one row of grapes.”
“You’re right, of course.”
“Do you think your other vineyards sustained a lot of damage?”
“I’ll know soon enough when my managers have made their assessments.”
She moved closer, embarrassed that she was watching him do all the work while they talked.
“What can I do to help?”
His quick smile made her pulse race. “Grâce à Maman who brought me a house-warming gift, we have food that doesn’t need to be cooked.”
Her eyes darted to the table. “But no wine?”
A deep chuckle came out of him that resonated to her bones. “Hélas, non. Would you believe the master vintner hasn’t had time to stock his own cellar?”
She laughed gently. “This reminds me of an old saying. ‘Water, water everywhere, but none to drink.’ I’m afraid it’s not a very good analogy, but you know what I mean.”
“It’s a very apt description of the situation,” he countered.
“Would you like to eat in here, or in front of the fire?”
“Both,” she declared. At his surprised look she said, “Let’s have the main course in here, and dessert in the other room. I’ll supply it.” Fire flashed from his eyes.
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” she assured him.
“Chocolate, then?” When he was a boy, he must have driven his mother crazy.
“So you’re a chocolate addict.”
“I have several vices.”
“I see. Well, this is something I think you’ll like even better.”
“Then let’s hurry and eat.”
He carried their plates to the table. Rachel sat down on one of the chairs, delighted with the way the seat and back had been woven in strips of white and red.
Everything about his home delighted her. He enchanted her.
She watched him devour several individual-sized quiches before she started out eating a sectioned pear. This was the perfect picnic. Their finger food didn’t require utensils.