He didn’t want them here.
Not Luc, for all that they had retained some semblance of friendship over the years.
Not Simone, looking flustered and fetching and far too vulnerable for his liking.
Rafe scowled at the jasmine climbing its way up the stone courtyard wall. Hadn’t he taught her never to appear weak in the face of one’s enemies? Hadn’t she remembered
any
of the lessons growing up at Caverness had taught them?
Never show fear, especially when your hands were slick with it.
Never let on how much something means to you lest someone take it away.
Never back down. Never give in.
Never look back.
Simone hadn’t had to learn that last lesson, only Rafael, but he’d never forgotten it. Indeed, he’d got royally drunk on one of his first nights in Australia and had those exact three words cut into his back. Not that he’d ever
seen
the tattoo, mind, although more than one woman had professed herself captivated by its beauty. Not once, in all the years it had graced his skin, had he ever sought its image.
He
never
looked back.
What the
hell
was taking her so long?
He had a million things to do today. Laying down the law on exactly how Simone Duvalier would conduct herself during her stay here hadn’t been one of them. That task had been on his list of things to do
tomorrow
.
Not that that bothered him. Rafael was an opportunist in the purest sense of the word. Today would do just as well. ‘Here’s how it’s going to be,’ he would say.
‘You’re going to stay out of my way. I’m going to stay out of yours. And you will not set foot in my house or on my land during your time here because I don’t want you there. Ever. Clear?’ And she would say, ‘Yes, crystal clear,’ with her eyes downcast, at which point he would get the hell out of there before he changed his mind.
Rafe paced the courtyard—he figured this took all of three seconds. He considered he might just probably be climbing the courtyard walls by the time Simone deigned to put in an appearance. How could it
possibly
take her ten minutes to throw on some clothes and run a comb through her hair?
Exactly ten minutes later Simone emerged from the bathroom, a vision of elegant sophistication and poise. She didn’t look towards the still open door, no, she turned her head towards the courtyard and looked straight at him, as if she’d known all along that he would be waiting for her there. He felt the impact of that quiet assessing gaze hit him like a silken fist.
She stepped out into the courtyard, one elegantly sandal-clad and perfectly pedicured foot in front of the other. ‘I thought we might perhaps manage a greeting this time round, but I can see you’re not in the mood,’ she said quietly.
He wasn’t. And it rankled him mightily that she knew it.
‘Would you care for a drink?’ she said next. ‘I was about to call for some coffee.’
‘No.’
‘Or, there’s probably juice or cola in the fridge if you’d prefer something cold. Come to think of it, I’d prefer something cold. Are you sure I can’t get you something?’
She disappeared back inside, leaving Rafe to either follow her, which he would never do, or stay where he was and seethe in silence, which he accomplished effortlessly.
She returned a minute or so later with a tall glass of clear liquid. ‘They only had water,’ she said. ‘I guess you order what you want from room service. That or Sarah will restock the fridge when she does the flowers.’
‘We need to set some ground rules,’ he told her curtly.
‘Not a social visit, then? Who would have guessed?’
Rafael watched in silence as Simone sipped her drink, soft, lush lips to cool, smooth glass. Rafe hadn’t been thirsty a moment ago. Now he was parched.
‘Am I going to like these ground rules?’ she asked next.
‘You might,’ he offered, dragging his gaze from her lips. Not that he gave a damn whether she liked them or not. ‘You might find that they make your stay here easier for all concerned.’
‘Ah, yes. The easy road.’ She looked around the courtyard, her gaze following the trail of jasmine up and over the wall. ‘Why is it, do you think, that the easy road so rarely takes a person where they want to go?’
‘It can,’ he said. ‘It depends where you want to go.’
‘Call it a wild hunch, but I don’t think we’re heading for the same place.’ She slanted him a glance, heavy on the doe-eyed innocence. Warning klaxons rang in his brain. Childhood memories surfaced. The ingénue look had usually signalled Simone at her devious best. And Simone at her devious best had been very wily indeed.
‘So…about these rules…’ she said. ‘Am I to stay out of your way as much as possible? Refuse all invitations from Gabrielle to show me the vineyard you restored and made your own? Am I to pretend that our shared history does not exist?’
She knew him too well. He glared at her, but he didn’t contradict her. ‘It’s a start.’
‘It’s a mistake,’ she countered lightly. ‘Funny things, boundaries. All they ever seem to do is make a person want to push against them.’ Her gaze turned dark and knowing. ‘But then…you already know that.’
Just like that, effortlessly and with surgical precision, she cut the ground from beneath him.
‘I will not cower in the shadows during my stay here, Rafael.’ She stepped closer, too close. ‘I will not pretend polite indifference towards you. I reject your rules of engagement. Mine is a different road.’
He could smell the scent on her skin, something delicate and floral and quintessentially French. He was close enough to touch her if he wanted to. And he
did
want to. Not lovingly or gently but in desperation and in need. Slowly, deliberately, he jammed his hands in his pockets and stepped back. ‘Yours is a dangerous road.’
‘We played together as children,’ she said quietly. ‘I knew you then. I knew your soul and it wasn’t a simple one, but I knew it nonetheless. We loved together in our youth and I felt your dreams and breathed your fears, but duty prevented me from following where you led. Sometimes, when I look back, I regret the choices I’ve made. And sometimes I don’t.’
She looked away then, as if the sight of him hurt her eyes. ‘I cannot change our past, Rafael. It happened. It’s done. But I can influence the present and I would have us leave the past behind if we could. I want new memories to replace the old. Even bittersweet ones would be better than the ones I carry now.’
She took a shuddering breath. There was fear here; he
felt it as if it were his own. Maybe it was. Run, he pleaded silently. Dear God, Simone, don’t do this. Don’t even try.
‘Do you know what I would take from you this visit?’ she said quietly. ‘Friendship.’
‘Don’t,’ he muttered. ‘Simone,
don’t
.’
‘Guarded if you like. Conditional if need be. But I would very much like to get to know the man you’ve become.’
‘No.’ She asked too much of him. She always had. He headed for the door, knowing it for retreat. Knowing that whatever ground he’d thought to protect, he’d somehow just lost. ‘I can’t walk that road with you,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Not now, not ever.’ He let his anger surface, he let it fan his pain and she flinched away from what she saw in his eyes and well she should have. He headed for the door, fast, before he hauled her in his arms and showed her exactly why he could never be her friend. ‘I just can’t.’
Simone stood her ground as he strode from the court-yard and then from the room without a backward glance. She knew he wouldn’t look back, he never had, even as a boy. Forward was the only way for Rafael and she had hoped to appeal to that need in him. Confront the past head on in order to
move
on.
So much for that particular notion.
Simone closed her eyes and let the twin blades of weariness and abandonment overtake her.
She’d come here for a wedding because she had to. She’d come here, out of her element and out of her league, to try and broker some sort of peace with her past and with Rafael.
She was trying, dammit!
Coffee would be good. Coffee, and then she and Sarah would fit the bridal gown to the dressmaker’s dummy and then she would make that call to Gabrielle. There were jobs to do. Steps to take. She would take pleasure in helping to make Luc and Gabrielle’s wedding day a perfect one. She would find joy in the little things. She would not give way to despair.
As for Rafael, with his smouldering gaze and his barely concealed anger…
Courage.
‘I
T’S
exquisite,’ said Gabrielle in a hushed and reverent whisper as she fingered the pearl edging of the neckline. ‘I knew when they took my measurements and we agreed on a basic design that it’d be lovely, but never in a million years did I imagine a gown as beautiful as this. It’s like something from a fairy tale. A very sophisticated French fairy tale,’ she added with a grin. ‘Wait ‘til Lucien sees it!’
‘Exactly,’ said Simone. ‘I trust you’ve organised hair and make-up assistance for Sunday?’
‘Done,’ said Gabrielle. ‘Oh, Simone, thank you. Thank you for bringing all this with you, and for coming. I know you have your reservations, but I’m so glad you’re here.’
‘Yes, well…well-founded reservations notwithstanding, I’m glad I’m here too.’ She sat back and smiled at Gabrielle’s continued fascination with her wedding gown. ‘I think we need to get better acquainted with the room service hereabouts. How does a plate full of salmon and black caviar canapés sound? It seems it’s on the menu.’
‘Do they come with a chilled Semillon Blanc?’
‘I’m sure they
could
…’ Simone grinned and reached for the phone. ‘Let me see.’
Simone added a selection of local cheese and biscuits to the order and replaced the phone in the receiver, well satisfied with her efforts. ‘Food and beverage is on the way. What else do bridesmaids usually do?’
‘They show the bride their bridesmaid gown.’ Gabrielle dragged her gaze away from her wedding dress long enough to spear Simone with a narrow-eyed glance. ‘And what do you mean by “well-founded” reservations? You haven’t even seen Rafe yet.’
‘Not true. He happened by this afternoon.’ Simone headed for the outer hanging cupboard and pulled a strapless floor-length gown in coffee cream with slightly darker pearl beading across the bodice from its depths. ‘
Voila!
It suits me very well and offsets your gown to perfection. I told you the couturier knew what he was doing.’
‘And so he should, considering what he charges. But you’re right, he does know clothes. You’re going to look divine.’ Gabrielle sent her a questioning smile. ‘Ordinarily I would wax lyrical over the gown a little longer, but my curiosity’s killing me. Rafe was here earlier?’
‘Mmm-hmm.’ Simone slid the dress back into the cupboard and shut the door.
‘And?’ Gabrielle sounded impatient.
Simone turned to face her. ‘And what?’
‘Stop stalling. Was he civil?’
‘After a fashion.’
‘Were
you
civil?’
‘But of course,’ she said lightly.
‘It was a disaster, wasn’t it?’ asked Gabrielle darkly.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you still have feelings for him?’
‘We grew up together, Gabrielle. I’ll always have feelings for him. Nothing can change that.’
‘Okay, fair enough, let me rephrase. Do you still desire him?’
Trust Gabrielle to get straight to the heart of the matter. ‘It’s hard to say.’
‘Say it anyway,’ muttered Gabrielle. ‘Let me rephrase
again
. Does he still want you?’
‘He couldn’t get away quickly enough,’ muttered Simone. ‘Does that answer your question?’
‘Not in the slightest,’ said a disgruntled Gabrielle. ‘I knew you’d be an unreliable witness. Why do you think I wanted to be there?’
A discreet knocking sounded on the door. Simone flinched, and stilled, but the knocking did not get louder or more insistent. It had to be room service knocking. The door would not open to reveal Rafael this time. She hoped. Releasing her breath slowly, Simone forced tense muscles to relax and turned towards the door.
‘Allow me.’ Gabrielle shot her a curious glance before heading for the door and opening it to reveal a smiling Sarah bearing a trolley laden with food, elegant crystal wine glasses and white wine on ice.
‘Sarah, you’re just in time,’ said Gabrielle as she helped Sarah wheel the trolley into the room. ‘Did you see Rafe earlier?’
‘Yep.’
‘How did he look?’
‘Bothered.’
‘What about hot?’ asked Gaby the shameless.
‘He always looks hot,’ said Sarah, putting a hand to her heart. ‘Hot and bothered was a new look for him, but frankly, he wore it well. Shall I pour wine for two?’
‘Double over here,’ murmured Simone.
Gabrielle snickered. ‘You
do
still want him.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Simone said indignantly. ‘Sarah, did I say that?’
Sarah dimpled and handed her a wine glass filled perilously close to overflowing. ‘So you’re the one.’
‘Pardon?’
‘The one who’s got him all riled. The one who got away. The one who ruined him for all other women,’ offered Sarah expansively.
‘Oh, that’s harsh,’ said Gabrielle, accepting a much smaller glass of wine from Sarah. ‘Harsh, yet disturbingly accurate.’
‘I did
not
ruin him for all other women.’ ‘Not
knowingly
,’ conceded Gabrielle. ‘If you had I couldn’t love you the way I do.’
‘Anyway, define “ruined”,’ argued Simone. ‘He didn’t look particularly ruined to me.’ He’d looked dangerously, broodingly desirable. ‘I’ll bet
plenty
of other women have found his attentions more than adequate.’
‘I’m sure they have,’ murmured Gabrielle soothingly. ‘The point being that he never attends them for very
long
. More wine?’
Simone had forgotten all about the wine. She sipped, and sipped again. They were big sips. Fortifying sips. It was very good wine.
‘You need a plan,’ said Gabrielle.
‘I have a plan. It’s called stay for your wedding and then leave.’
‘You need a better plan,’ said Gabrielle, sipping her own wine thoughtfully. ‘Sarah, can you ask Inigo if we can bring forward the menu planning to this afternoon? Say 5:00 p.m.?’
‘I can,’ said Sarah. ‘And he will. But he won’t be happy about it.’
‘Tell him there’s a bottle of Angels Tears in it for him. That ought to cheer him up.’
‘It’d cheer me up,’ said Sarah as she headed for the door.
‘Who’s Inigo?’ asked Simone.
‘The restaurant manager,’ murmured Gabrielle. ‘He’s very fussy about food choice. Anyone would think he was French.’
‘Most of us just think he’s mad,’ said Sarah from the door. ‘But he does run a fine restaurant service. He’s been trying to nail Gabrielle down to a meal plan for the reception for weeks.’
‘I was waiting for you to arrive,’ said Gabrielle to Simone as Sarah closed the door behind her on her way out. ‘My decision-making powers have temporarily deserted me. Mind you, if you prefer one thing and I prefer another we’ll still be without a decision. I’d better call Rafe. He can meet us there.’ She offered up an encouraging smile. ‘You don’t mind if he joins us, do you?’
‘I don’t mind,’ said Simone carefully. ‘But Rafael might not be enamoured of the notion.’
‘He doesn’t have to be enamoured,’ replied Gabrielle blithely as she fished her mobile from her handbag. ‘Although I’m not ruling it out.’ She pressed a couple of buttons and put the phone to her ear. ‘He just has to be there.’
Which was how, at exactly five past five that afternoon, Simone came to be examining plateware patterns in a sumptuously appointed private dining room with Gabrielle the indecisive and Inigo the sorely put upon. Rafael had not yet arrived, but the spectre of him doing so made concentrating difficult.
‘What about the pink and ivory Limoges design?’ asked Gabrielle.
‘Very elegant,’ murmured Simone.
‘Or just the plain white Limoges with the silver trim,’ said Inigo, pointing to it in the cabinet. ‘Food sits well on that plate too.’
‘Safe choice,’ agreed Simone.
‘Not helping,’ said Gabrielle.
Simone sighed. ‘Inigo, do you mind if we take some plates from the cabinet and set a few table places for comparison? We’ll need silverware, napkins and glassware as well.’
Inigo did not mind. Inigo was all for a decision. Any decision. He opened half a dozen sideboard drawers and indicated the silverware choices. Opened sideboard cupboards to reveal the glassware.
‘Is the restaurant décor similar to this?’ Simone gestured around the antique-filled room with its dark wooden floors and tables and fireplace filled with fresh flowers. Inigo assured her it was. Simone glanced at Gabrielle next. Gabrielle looked overwhelmed. ‘You’ve seen all this before?’
Gabrielle nodded. ‘As far as I’m concerned it’s
all
beautiful.’
Yes, it was. Fortunately, some of it was more beautiful than the rest. ‘And you really want my input? You do realise that the only opinion that counts in all of this is yours?’
‘I do,’ said Gabrielle. ‘And I have no idea what I want. Apart from Lucien beside me on my wedding day. The rest could be sawdust.’
‘Yes, well, it
could
be,’ murmured Simone, grinning at Inigo’s aghast expression. ‘But spare a thought for the
rest of us.’ Simone stood and surveyed the tableware on offer. ‘Inigo, we’ll need the Swarovski glassware—no, not the large red wine glass, the medium-sized one, and the glasses for the white wine and the champagne too,
merci
. Then the silverware with the cutaway groove.Yes, please. Then the pink and ivory plates, the café-au-lait coloured napkins and we’ll finish with the pewter hedgehog napkin rings for whimsy.’ She surveyed the flowers in the fireplace with an eye to colour and form and finally plucked half a dozen old roses in creams, palest pink, and apricot and placed them above the setting.
‘What about tablecloths?’ asked Inigo.
‘No tablecloths on this woodgrain,’ murmured Simone, sliding her hand along the gleaming woodwork. ‘Let’s set another place. This time I’d like the white Hermès plates with the red and gold swirl, and to go with them the plain-edged silverware and white napkins.’
‘
Very
nice,’ said Inigo as the second place setting took shape with gratifying speed. ‘What else?’ Inigo held up a crystal champagne flute with a fine gold swirl running through it, and at Simone’s nod added it to the setting along with plainer wine glasses for the red and white wine. Simone chose another handful of the old roses from the basket in the fireplace, bolder hues this time, and added them to the table. Finally, she stood back and surveyed the two settings critically.
‘The Hermès gets my vote,’ she murmured, for it was gorgeous and vibrant and the room could take it. ‘Gaby? What do you think?’
‘This better not be your emergency, Gabrielle.’
Dark-edged, softly spoken words, threaded through with impatience. Simone felt the slide of them across her body as if a whip had lashed lightly across the skin
on her back. Not to inflict pain, not yet, but the threat was there, and with that threat came the deeper knowledge that there was pleasure to be had in pain and that Rafael was more than capable of helping her find it.
Her pulse would triple, her heart would ache, and her eyes would be greedy once she’d turned to face him, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
She took her time turning to face him, knowing as she did so that she would find no welcome in his eyes. Knowing too that she would force him to acknowledge her and that she would pay for her boldness with pleasure and with pain. Oh, yes. There was a sweet, aching pleasure to be taken here and take it she would.
‘
Bonjour
, Rafael.’ He was still wearing his work clothes. He still looked dangerously out of sorts. Her heartbeat thudded its approval. ‘Big day in the field?’
‘Evening, princess,’ he murmured, those brilliant blue eyes shaded with no small measure of mockery. ‘This your idea?’
‘Mine? No.’ Simone waved a hand in Gabrielle’s direction. Gabrielle waved languidly back, amusement writ plain across her features. ‘I’m just trying to be a good bridesmaid and get through the day as best I can. But seeing you’re here, pick a place setting, any setting. As long as it’s one of the two on the table.’
Rafael surveyed the table settings, but not for long. ‘The one with the red.’
‘Decisive,’ murmured Gabrielle.
‘Isn’t he?’ agreed Simone, never mind that his opinion echoed hers.
‘Isn’t that what you want?’ said Rafael.
‘It’s what I want,’ said Inigo with a flirtatious leer in Rafe’s direction.
The look Rafael sent the maître d’ was darkly amused. ‘Inigo, you know I don’t play ball.’
‘Oh, I
know
.’ Inigo’s smile came swift and undaunted. ‘It’s just so
hard
to find that kind of authoritarian streak amongst the ladies.’
‘Give him time,’ Gabrielle murmured to Simone. ‘He’s only just seen you. He’ll figure it out.’
‘Well, while he does, tell me which table setting you prefer,’ said Simone. ‘The red is the bolder choice of the two, but then, you’re not exactly a wallflower. You probably don’t need reminding that neither is Luc.’
Gabrielle’s smile was that of a satisfied woman. ‘The red
is
gorgeous.’
‘Inigo, if I can interrupt the courtship process for a moment, we have a decision on the table décor,’ Simone said smoothly, and had the satisfaction of seeing Rafe’s eyes narrow in silent warning. She acknowledged his warning with the tilt of her lips. She’d seen many a woman flirt with Rafael over the years. She’d never seen a man attempt to until now. It was enough to make a woman start humming a little YMCA ditty to help set the mood.
‘Ooh, my favourite song,’ declared Inigo.
‘Mine
too
,’ she said.
‘Stay,’ she heard Gabrielle mutter from somewhere to her left.
‘So help me, Gabrielle, you’ll owe me for this,’ came Rafe’s muttered reply and Simone’s smile widened.
‘Will a thousand thank-yous be sufficient payment?’
‘No.’
‘I’ll clean your house,’ whispered Gabrielle next. ‘Twice.’
‘Who cares?’
‘Please, Rafael.’
The please was the clincher. When Rafael loved, it was all or nothing. It was his greatest weakness or his most beloved strength and Simone knew before he spoke that he would have no defence against Gabrielle’s pleading.
‘What do you need?’ he said gruffly.
‘You. Here,’ said Gabrielle.
The quietly spoken words echoed Simone’s deepest yearnings. The humming stopped. ‘Inigo, we’ll use the setting on the left,’ she said with a tired smile and tried to quell the desire to reach out and capture some of Rafe’s tenderness for herself. She wouldn’t know what to do with it if he gave it, and that was God’s truth. ‘What’s next?’