“H-hello, Dad?”
Her father had viewed her resignation from the restaurant as a betrayal. Since then he’d been so surly over the phone, their conversations had been reduced to brief, unsatisfactory exchanges where he’d railed against her uncle John.
“Damn if you aren’t a cool customer. I knew there had to be a reason you didn’t meet personally with Jacques Bulot. So when am I going to meet Luc?”
“We’re flying to Paris in the next few hours, but we could change our plans and come to London instead.”
“This weekend wouldn’t be the best time for me. I’ve hired a solicitor to fight the codicil in Father’s will. We’re going to be closeted at the house for the next few days.”
Rachel shuddered. She wanted no part of a fight her father couldn’t win.
“I understand. Maybe next month you could fly to Alsace and we’ll take you on a tour of Luc’s vineyards.”
Her new husband could read between the lines and took the phone from her.
“Harvest is an exciting time, Mr Valentine. We’ll look forward to entertaining you when you come. In the meantime, be assured I plan to take perfect care of your gorgeous daughter.”
She turned her head away to hide her tears. Luc was going to be the perfect husband. But she didn’t want perfection. His love was what she craved…
By the time they boarded their flight to Paris, exhaustion had caught up with her. She slept most of the way, thankful to have Luc who looked after her every need. At eight that night they arrived in Colmar.
Her fatigue still great because of her pregnancy, she drifted in and out of sleep on the drive to the house.
“We’re home, Sleeping Beauty,” he whispered as he carried her from the car.
“You’ve mixed me up with my sister,” her voice slurred.
“No.” Luc chuckled. He placed her on the bed in his bedroom.
“It’s definitely you, ma belle au forêt dormant.”
“What does that mean?”
“Literally, my beauty of the sleeping forest. You look exactly like a picture of her in an old fairy tale. I can’t decide which appellation I like better.” He removed her shoes and drew the duvet over her.
“Other appellation?” she asked groggily.
“Um. Madame Lucien Chartier. If we have a daughter we’ll have to change the name of the business to Chartier et Fille.”
That was the last thought she remembered before she awakened the next morning alone on the bed still fully clothed.
She must have passed out on Luc. Rachel couldn’t remember ever doing that before.
Light from a semi-cloudy sky had filtered into the room. Disoriented, she lifted her head to glance at the clock on the bedside table. It said eleven-thirty. She’d never slept for so long!
There was no sign to suggest that Luc had joined her during their wedding night. He must have slept in the basement bedroom.
In New York he’d gone to a hotel, insisting she’d get a better sleep alone in Rebecca’s apartment.
If this was going to be a pattern…
Her heart lurched to think he might have gone to the winery this morning.
Had he eaten anything before leaving?
Her stomach was making growling sounds. Though she’d love some rolls and coffee, the doctor had told her to avoid stimulants, so she would have to settle for juice from now on.
She was tempted to pad down the hall to the kitchen right now, but, after the experience of his mother walking in on her unan