feel anything more acutely, as they were about to leave the terrace and enter the château again, he held the door open for her—but, instead of standing back while she walked through, he remained with his hand leaning against it so that she was forced to pass under his arm. The sense of domination was overwhelming. With that one gesture he made her feel tiny and vulnerable and cherished, whilst he towered over her like some lusty knight from an ancient engraving; commanding and powerful, seductive and vigorous…
‘Dinner will be served on the Grand Terrace,’ he said as he took her through another door. ‘From here you can see all the lights.’
Collecting herself, Kate turned around. What she saw was completely mesmerising. ‘I’ve never seen anything so lovely,’ she murmured. From every window in every turret of the château lights twinkled and blazed against the deep blue velvet of the cloudless night sky.
‘Do you like it?’
‘Like it? It’s absolutely stunning—’
‘But?’
‘But nothing—except…’
‘Yes?’ he prompted as they walked towards the intimate table set for four under a silken canopy in the centre of the huge formal terrace.
‘So many more people could have enjoyed it. It’s such a shame your father couldn’t have…’ She could have bitten off her tongue when she saw the flash of pain in Guy’s eyes.
‘There was never any money to do this,’ he said quietly as he held out her chair.
‘And this is one thing on which I will not compromise,’ he reminded her. ‘The Villeneuve estate cannot play host to hordes of people and remain a smooth-running machine…’
‘A smooth-running machine,’ Kate echoed softly.
‘You don’t approve?’
‘For a business?’ She shrugged. ‘Yes, of course, I like to think that my business is a smooth-running machine. But Château Villeneuve is so beautiful, Guy. The architecture, the grounds, the interior are all exquisite.’
‘All the more reason, surely, to keep it exclusive, to retain its mystique, preserve its perfection.’
‘You make it sound like a museum.’
‘And so it is, in many ways.’
‘Oh?’ Kate said softly. ‘I thought it was your home.’
Megan and Professor Gilman joined them then, remarking on the splendour of the lighting display as they walked up the broad expanse of stone steps that led up to the terrace.
‘Everything all right, Kate?’ Megan asked discreetly as she took her place at the table.
‘Fine.’
‘Don’t lie to me,’ Megan whispered.
‘All right, then,’ Kate said, flashing a glance at Guy, who was conferring with his sommelier on the serving of the wine, and Professor Gilman, who was studying an interesting modern silver peppershaker. ‘I can tell you now that he’s absolutely adamant about enforcing the no-holiday-home rule on the estate. The only way I could get away with it is to offer free holidays—make out that everyone was my personal guest…’
‘Now there’s a thought.’
‘And where would your wages come from?’
‘Point taken.’
‘But look at all this, Megan,’ Kate said, swivelling round in her seat. ‘There’s nothing like it in the whole of Europe—but at the same time there’s no life here. It’s fabulously beautiful, but sterile and bleak.’
‘It needs an injection of Kate, if you ask me,’ Megan supplied, planting her chin on her hand as she surveyed the spectacle of lights.
‘The only thing missing here are the crowds,’ Professor Gilman said when Guy had finished his discussion.’
‘Exactement,’ Guy said, shooting a look at Kate as if to make sure she had heard the professor’s remark.
‘But a few more people couldn’t hurt,’ Professor Gilman added, unaware of the undercurrents around the table. ‘Forgive my bluntness, Count, but I can’t help thinking that you must get awfully lonely here.’
‘Lonely? No,’ he said. ‘I confess there used to be a lot more people here when there were holiday homes on the estate. But I’m afraid there just isn’t room for that sort of thing now.’
‘I can understand your reticence,’ the Professor continued. ‘I have seen some dreadfully insensitive commercialisations of similar heritage sites. But surely several discreet properties could only enhance the area—give it the appearance of a real working estate. I imagine that most of your staff live in the village these days?’
‘That’s true,’ Guy admitted. ‘But I’m sure with the right incentives I could lure them back here.’
‘Surely not, when they have everything they need on their doorstep,’ the Professor argued. ‘Whereas one or two holiday homes of the type I’ve described might add a little spice to this glorious but rather secluded environment. After all, people are prepared to make a little more effort in the short term…’
‘Ah, that’s where Mademoiselle Foster comes in,’ Guy said dryly.
‘Oh, really?’ the Professor said, turning to Kate. ‘I had no idea that you lived here.’
‘I have the only remaining holiday home on the estate.’
‘Is that right?’ the Professor said, her curiosity aroused.
‘I believe Kate has some innovative ideas for the place,’ Guy said innocently.
‘Ideas?’ Professor Gilman said, turning to Kate. ‘For a business?’
If Professor Gilman had been anyone else Kate might have suspected Guy had put her up to it. She looked across the table to see if Megan could come up with another of her brilliant diversionary conversational tactics. But she was out of luck this time.
‘Why don’t you explain what you intend to do with La Petite Maison, Kate,’ Guy suggested dryly. ‘I can see that you would like to hear more, Professor Gilman.’
Oh, no you don’t, Kate thought, shrewdly side-stepping the trap. ‘Professor Gilman, I would be delighted to send you some promotional literature,’ she said calmly, ‘once we are up and running.’
‘I’ll look forward to receiving it,’ the Professor replied, giving Kate an amused, measuring look.
As the Professor prepared to leave later that evening Megan leapt up too. ‘Would you mind if I shared your taxi, Professor Gilman? I fear I won’t be much company. My eyes are playing up—the onset of a migraine, perhaps,’ she said, looking apologetically at Kate.
‘Shall I come with you?’ Kate said, half standing.
‘No offence,
