When Rafael worked, he worked hard. When Rafael brooded he worked harder. He’d taken to the fields after his words with Gabrielle. Taken the Toyota and a trailer and an axe so he could cut down a dead and dangerously leaning tree. It would drop down on a border fence regardless of where he placed his cut so he’d brought the fence cutters too, and wire and materials for rebuilding the fence later. He might get around to putting the fence back up today.
He might not.
Why the hell would someone want to look back on a childhood like his? On a mother who’d ruled with an iron rod, or a leather horsewhip or whatever else had come to hand. A mother whose moods had see-sawed faster than light. Remote one minute, a banshee the next, but never ever loving towards her children. Gabrielle she’d tolerated, on occasion. Her feelings for her son had been crystal clear and brutally unwavering.
She hated him.
Rafael smiled grimly. Over the years, the feeling had become entirely mutual.
The slam of his axe bit deep into the tree’s heartwood. The axe was small. The tree was huge. It would take a while to bring it down.
Good.
He needed the exercise and he sure as hell needed the release. And as for being too scared to revisit his time with Simone…
Thwack went the axe into the wood. He wrenched it free and swung again. This time when it lodged into the wood he left it there. He returned to the ute, reached in the window for his phone and dialled the guest house. When Sarah answered he got her to put the call through to Simone’s room.
‘I’m felling a tree,’ he said when she answered. ‘Then I’m repairing a fence. And then I’m showing you around the vineyard. I will be filthy. I will be hard to communicate with. I will be at the Angels Landing cellar door at four.’
There was a pause. A very lengthy pause.
Then, ‘I’ll be there,’ Simone said dryly, and hung up.
Gabrielle laughed when Simone relayed the gist of the conversation to her. She belly laughed when Simone relayed the conversation word for word.
‘Stop it,’ Simone ordered. ‘Did I laugh at you when you were worried about seeing Luc again? No. I gave you sympathy.’
‘You have my sympathy,’ said Gabrielle earnestly, right before the laughter started up again. ‘He’s such an ass. Do you have a plan?’
‘Working on it.’ Simone settled back against the bed head. ‘The only way Rafael seems to think he can deal with me is if he calls all the shots. I’ve been very patient with him, Gabrielle. Extremely patient. But you do realise it has to stop.’
‘Oh, I do.’ Gabrielle tried for solemnity, she really did. But moments later she was lying on her back on the end of the bed as mirth took hold of her again.
‘Stop that.’ Simone poked at her with her foot. ‘I need you coherent. I need a plan.’
Gabrielle wiped at her eyes as her laughter subsided. Eventually, she sat back up. ‘Well, it’s about time,’ she said. ‘Does it involve seduction? Puppies? Pheromones?’
‘No. That would be a threatening move on my part and his defences would go up. We don’t want that.’
‘No, we most certainly don’t.’ Gabrielle drummed her fingers on the bedspread. ‘Why don’t you play the damsel in distress and have him come to your rescue?’
‘Because he wouldn’t,’ said Simone dryly. ‘No, for that to work properly I’d have to legitimately be in distress, and I hate that role.’
Gabrielle started to grin. Simone stopped her with a glance. ‘He needs to stop seeing me as a threat, but I can’t be seen to be weak. He needs to see me as an ally.’
‘Alliance is good,’ said Gabrielle cautiously. ‘Who’s the common enemy?’
‘There’s the catch. Apart from Josien, who’s not here and to my way of thinking seems to be going some way towards improving her relationship with you and losing her enemy status into the bargain, we don’t have one.’
‘What about a common goal?’
‘Common goals are good, and I think we may have a common goal in wanting your wedding day to be a magical one. I wanted to ask you…’ Simone took the time to phrase her question with care. ‘Rafe doesn’t have a problem with you marrying into the Duvalier family, does he?’
‘No,’ said Gabrielle with a quick shake of her head. ‘Oh, Rafael knows as well as I do that there’ll be challenges ahead and that some people won’t approve of this union—but he’s not one of them. He knows I’m marrying the man I love, Simone. He knows Luc’s heart is true. Rafe may not be entirely comfortable with gaining you for a sister-in-law, but he’s given my marriage to Lucien his backing and his blessing. He may be an ass,’ said Gabrielle with a grimace, ‘but he’s my ass, and he only wants what’s best for me. I think you should take his invitation as a sign that he’s trying to make his peace with you. Whether he will or not is anyone’s guess. But he’s trying.’
Simone put her hands to her head and rubbed hard before finally smoothing her hands over her hair. She’d had a sleepless night and a jet-lagged day and she needed a strategy for dealing with Rafael that would keep her heart safe. So far, she’d come up empty.
‘He is very good with damsels in distress,’ said Gabrielle again. ‘It’s that overprotective streak that was honed to perfection during the childhood he tries hard to forget. You couldn’t just—’
‘No,’ said Simone abruptly. To call on Rafael’s vulnerability—the very protectiveness that had once made her love him so deeply—and play it for a weakness?
‘No, Gabrielle. I could not.’
By ten to four the tree was down, the fence was fixed and Rafe was heartily wishing that he’d brought the chainsaw along with him to finish the job. The axe was blunt, his shoulders ached, and the release that he’d sought in hard physical labour had so far eluded him. He was hot, he was bothered, and why the hell he’d let Gabrielle goad him into spending time alone with Simone was a mystery to him.
He wanted a cold shower and an even colder beer, and he wanted to forget he’d ever suggested showing Simone around the vineyard he’d brought back from ruin.
He wanted a woman, wanton and willing. One he could lose himself in for a time and walk away from unscathed.
Not Simone, sensual and fearless, who would call forth desires too deeply held.
Not Simone.
Cursing beneath his breath, he loaded up the ute and headed for the cellars. With any luck she’d be running late and he’d have time to wash down and cool off before she arrived. With a bit more luck she might have changed her mind about touring the vineyard with him altogether.
A silver-grey Audi sat in the car park beside the cellar door.
A dark-haired ingénue wearing a vivid pink strapless sundress leaned against it and watched his approach.
Guess not.
‘A tree?’ she said once he stood before her.
‘And a fence.’ He’d warned her that he would be filthy. He looked down at his T-shirt where tree sap and splinters vied for supremacy. Possibly not this filthy, but there was a tap and a sink inside and he had a spare T-shirt in the ute. He found the shirt and