‘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?’
‘The menu,’ said Inigo, effortlessly following her train of thought, which was no mean feat all things considered. ‘Unless you’d rather start with the table wine choices and work back to the menu from there? I won’t tell the chef if you don’t.’
‘At the risk of sounding decisive, I’m all for choosing the wine first,’ said Simone. ‘Gaby?’
‘All we need is some still white wine for the tables,’ said Gabrielle as Inigo placed a leather-bound folder on the table in front of her. ‘We have the cabernet sauvignon and the champagne sorted.’
‘We certainly do,’ said Inigo. ‘The chef keeps sneaking into the cool room to look at the champagne and genuflect. Would you like a tasting bottle brought up?’
‘Yes,’ said Simone and Gabrielle in unison, never mind the half-empty bottle of white wine back in Simone’s room.
‘And for the red I’ve set aside the Angels Tears,’ continued Inigo as he headed for the doorway. ‘I’ll bring a bottle of that up for you too.’
‘I thought your wine was called Angels Landing,’ said Simone, harking back to an earlier thought.
‘Most of it is,’ said Gabrielle. ‘This is private stock. Rafe and I bottled it years ago, just after I arrived on his doorstep. He let me name it.’
‘That’s quite a name.’ Simone sought Rafael’s gaze. He stared back at her impassively, as if determined to give her nothing to work with. No words. No emotion. Nothing. Surely, he could give her something to work with. It didn’t have to be tenderness. Civility would do.
‘It’s possible I may have been a little morose at the time,’ confessed Gabrielle. ‘What can I say? I was sweet sixteen and I’d just been kissed. I’d also just been banished to what felt a lot like the end of the earth. It wasn’t one of my better years, but it had its blessings,’ she added, with a quiet smile in Rafe’s direction. ‘The wine is good,’ she said, turning her attention back to Simone. ‘It’s very good.’
Simone believed her. ‘I look forward to tasting it. Meanwhile, shall we take a look at the table whites they have on offer?’ Ignoring Rafe, she tried to get on with the task at hand. What had Gabrielle chosen to go with the finger food earlier? ‘A Semillon Blanc?’
Gabrielle nodded and flipped the pages over until she reached the required section. Simone perused the list over Gabrielle’s shoulder. It was a big list. Most of the wines were Australian. She knew nothing of Australian white wines. ‘Something regional?’
‘Not this region,’ said Rafael, finally offering input. ‘Red wine rules here, not white. And if it has to complement the Caverness, I suggest you start at the bottom of the list and stay there. This one.’ He pointed to one of the labels. ‘Or these two.’
‘Decisiveness is quite appealing in a man at times, isn’t it?’ murmured Gabrielle.
‘Oh, quite,’ agreed Simone, while her gaze clashed with Rafael’s in a battle that had nothing to do with the words and everything to do with establishing which of them was better at controlling the raw and powerful need that ran between them. ‘Such a pity Inigo isn’t here to witness it. We could have watched him swoon.’
‘You can watch me swoon instead,’ said Gabrielle. ‘I’ve just found the rack price for those wines.’ She looked to her brother. ‘I can’t ask Harrison to pay that price for wine.’
Harrison was Rafael and Gabrielle’s father, remembered Simone. Josien had refused him access to his children in their younger years, but Rafe had gone to him when he’d left Caverness. Harrison had welcomed him. He’d welcomed Gabrielle too, when she’d been unceremoniously bundled off to Australia. A generous man, thought Simone. And a patient one. What was it that he farmed again? Some sort of beef cattle. Lots of ups and downs in the beef-cattle market. ‘Ask Luc to pay for the wine,’ she suggested.
‘Ask me,’ said Rafael with a lopsided smile that tugged at Simone’s heart. ‘How many times are you planning on getting married, angel?’
‘Once,’ said Gabrielle with quiet conviction.
‘Then do it right,’ he said gently. ‘Harrison will pay. Try stopping him. And so will I.’ He spared a lightning glance for Simone. ‘We don’t need Duvalier money.’
‘Isn’t pride a sin?’ murmured Simone, goaded into retaliation. ‘I thought it was.’
‘Stick around,’ he said grimly. ‘I’ll give you a taste of all seven.’
‘If you say so.’ Simone allowed herself a brief fantasy interlude. Rafael’s mouth on hers, hot and devouring. Her hands on him, desperate and racing. Desire bit deep and flared beneath her skin, overwhelming caution and reason and straining her control. How far could she stretch his seemingly iron control? ‘Can lust be next?’
‘Oh, boy,’ muttered Gabrielle. ‘Just pretend I’m not here. Come to think of it, I’ve just remembered a very important meeting I should be at.’
‘Stay,’ said Simone and Rafael in unison.
‘This was your idea, remember?’ added Simone.
‘What the hell was I thinking?’ said Gabrielle. ‘Oh, yeah. I remember now. I was trying to help the two of you arrive at some sort of truce before my wedding. Silly me.’
Simone felt a stab of contrition. It joined the lust and mingled surprisingly well. Probably the latent Catholic in her. ‘I’m sorry, dear heart. I will behave.’
Inigo reappeared, bearing champagne in an ice bucket in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. ‘Do I hear the satisfied silence that comes of having made a swift decision?’