Roland was sorely missed. Joshua must’ve had the same thought because his hand slid over Alyssa’s in a way that could only be described as comforting.
Caitlyn made for one of the sofas.
“Would you like a glass of sauvignon blanc or sherry?” Phillip asked Caitlyn.
“Sherry, please.”
Rafaelo sank down beside her on the sofa. Caitlyn stilled, instantly aware of his overwhelming, breathtaking masculinity. Then she turned to him and said in a cheerfully polite voice, “You must taste Flores Fino. It’s a Saxon’s Folly favourite.”
“I’ll try the white wine.” Rafaelo’s lips were tight. “So, you call it sherry here, do you?”
Uh-oh. Detecting tension, she picked her words carefully. “Habit. The label doesn’t refer to sherry—it describes it only as Flores Fino. But in the style what we produce is Spanish fino, based on—”
“Based on?”
Based on his great-uncle’s process.
She shook her head and took a quick sip from the glass that Phillip handed her. Despite the sweetness of the amber liquid, her mouth tasted bitter. Rafaelo had come not only to seek vengeance on his mother’s behalf but also because he believed that Phillip had stolen his great-great-uncle Fernando’s journals. Yet after that dreadful confrontation in Phillip’s office, Phillip had pulled her aside to explain that he’d bought the journals from Maria before swearing Caitlyn to silence. He didn’t want Rafaelo getting his hands on the journals—or the magic methods they recorded.
To her relief Rafaelo didn’t demand an answer. Instead he asked, “That is Flores Fino, yes?”
Her heart thudding with anxiety, she ran her tongue over dry lips, her mind blank. Finally she nodded.
“The first time I tasted Flores Fino—” Rafaelo nodded toward her glass “—I was, how do you say, blown away? It was what I had been trying to achieve for years. As a child my mother told me tales of the sherry my great-great-uncle had made. She tried to remember what she’d read in the journals.” He gave Phillip a dark look. “She’d jotted down some short notes in her diary, the notes of a history student, not a winemaker. But, helped by my fa—by the Marques—they gave me a start.”
Caitlyn swallowed, distressed by the longing in his eyes.
“I wanted to produce a fino sherry like that. A sherry that would’ve made my great-great-uncle proud.” An air of poignant longing clung to him. Then he shook himself and it vanished. “Instead I tasted that in France. Everyone was excited by the outstanding quality. It was like tasting the nectar of the gods. Perfection.” Rafaelo gave her a sidelong glance that made her heart sink still farther. “I noted the makers. Ross and Saxon. And admired—yearned for—their talent.”
Caitlyn suspected she knew where this would end. “Rafaelo—”
“But it wasn’t God-given talent, was it?” There was a rawness to his harsh tone. “I cannot tell you what I felt when my father—the Marques—revealed that my real father was Phillip Saxon.” His eyes were flat and empty, all the energy and spark gone. “It was as if the missing piece to the puzzle had been dropped into my lap. I hardly needed to hear the story that my mother wished to tell. Because I knew.”
Caitlyn waited, dry-mouthed.
“I knew instantly that the nectar I had tasted was too similar to the notes my mother had given me. I knew…” His voice trailed away as Phillip came closer. Looking from Caitlyn to Phillip, he asked with a hard edge, “So who is the expert then?”
In the manner of a true academic Caitlyn had been fascinated by the leather-bound volumes. She’d fished the dusty journals off the bookshelves and had read them, cover to cover. It had fired her up. She had seen the possibilities.
“I’ve always made sherry,” Phillip said, trying to look modest, and Caitlyn’s shoulders sagged. “Caitlyn worked with me when she first came, but once Heath left she had so much else to do.”
For a moment annoyance at the dismissal of her role in establishing Saxon’s Folly as a top producer of fortified wines overcame her relief. Then she caught sight of the fury in Rafaelo’s face and she wanted to cry. Rafaelo believed Phillip’s skill came from Fernando’s journals—the very journals he believed Phillip had stolen from his mother. Phillip’s attitude would do nothing to dampen Rafaelo’s desire for revenge. Did Phillip not realise that far from establishing himself as a figure of admiration in Rafaelo’s eyes, he was simply alienating, enraging, his firstborn son more?
Finally she compromised. Let Phillip have his pride, but she had to take responsibility, too. “Phillip has always been my mentor—it was something we were both fascinated by. But it’s true that since Heath bought Amy’s father’s estate on the other side of The Divide and ceased to be Saxon’s Folly’s winemaker, I’ve had less time for sherry.”
“Heath should never have left,” Phillip muttered.
Across from them, Joshua started to frown.
“Too many things we couldn’t agree on, Dad,” Heath said quietly from the doorway. “And I will have sherry, thanks.”
“You’re late,” Phillip said gruffly.
“Mother told me that Amy wasn’t coming this evening. I stopped in on my way here to see if she was okay.”
“It would’ve done her good to get out for the evening.” Kay shook her head sadly. “She hasn’t been at work the whole week.”
“She looked so pale and unhappy the last three weeks, I think it’s better that she’s taken some time off.” Megan looked troubled. “I don’t think she ever grieved properly after Roland’s death. She was so busy trying to cheer us up…and pick up the slack at the winery.”
Heath came closer. “I tried to talk her into coming tonight—she didn’t want to. Hell, I can’t even get through to her right now.” Frustration simmered in Heath’s eyes. “Everything I suggest, she resists.”
“Should I talk to her?” Joshua looked around at the others, his gaze alighting longest on Alyssa. “Will that help?”
Heath hesitated. “Maybe.”
“Both of you need to back off and give her time. She’s lost the man she loves.” Alyssa turned her hand and threaded her fingers through Joshua’s and squeezed. “In her shoes I’d be heartbroken.”
“That she is.” Heath collapsed on the sofa facing them, and Caitlyn decided that he looked even more weary than she felt. It was a terrible time for Heath, Megan and Joshua. Their brother’s death, the shocking discovery of Rafaelo’s existence and learning of their father’s betrayal of their mother all meant that everyone’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point.
Caitlyn wished that the clock could be turned back and everything made right.
Ivy arrived bearing a tray and offered around dainty glasses filled with amber-coloured sherry and glasses of pale gold sauvignon blanc.
Rafaelo bent forward to set down his glass of wine as Ivy departed.
“Wait.”
