wished he could say the same. But the God of his childhood hadn’t answered his prayers the day his parents had been killed. He had felt alone in the universe that day and the feeling had never quite left him. ‘I don’t think you’re a pariah at all,’ he said. ‘I also think there’s nothing wrong in being selective about who you sleep with. To tell you the truth, I wish I’d been a bit more selective at times.’
She gave him a tiny ‘let’s change the subject’ smile. ‘What do your brothers do?’
Making neutral conversation was good. He could do that. ‘Raoul’s involved in the family business on the investment side of things but he also runs a thoroughbred stud in Normandy. He’s a bit of an extreme sportsman; not only does he ride horses at breakneck speeds, he’s a daredevil skier on both snow and water. And Remy is a business broker. He buys ailing businesses, builds them up and sells them for a profit. He loves his risks too. I guess it’s the gambler in him.’
‘You must be constantly worrying about both of them. I’m almost glad I’m an only child.’
Rafe had survived the loss of his parents but the thought of losing either of his brothers was something that haunted him. They were both so precious to him. He didn’t tell them—he rarely showed his affection for them, or they for him—but he would be truly devastated if anything happened to either of them. Ever since he was ten it had been his responsibility to keep watch over them. ‘We each have our own lives. We try and catch up when we’re in the same country but we don’t interfere with what any of us is doing unless it’s to do with the family business.’
‘What role does your grandfather play in the business?’
‘He’s taken a bit of a back seat lately, which is not something that comes naturally to him,’ Rafe said. ‘He had a mild stroke a couple of months ago. If anything, it’s made him even more cantankerous.’
She looked at him for a little moment. ‘You don’t like him very much, do you?’
Rafe shifted his mouth in a rueful manner. ‘I try and tell myself it must have been hard for him, suddenly being landed with three young boys to raise, but the truth is he was never really all that interested in us even before our parents were killed. My father and he had always had a strained relationship. But it got worse when my mother came on the scene. My grandfather didn’t approve of my father’s choice of wife. It wasn’t just that my mother was French and lowly born. I think it was more to do with jealousy than anything.’
Poppy’s brow lifted. ‘Jealousy?’
‘Yes, he hated that my father was happily settled with someone while his wife—my grandmother—was lying cold in her grave.’
‘Did he ever see someone else or think about remarrying?’
Rafe made a little sound of derision. ‘Oh, he had his women; he’d had them while my grandmother was still alive: housemaids, cleaners, local girls who he paid to keep silent with a few trinkets. He had them all from time to time, but what he didn’t have was what my father had—a woman who loved him not because he was rich or for what he could do for her but because she simply adored him.’
‘That’s very romantic,’ she said. ‘How tragic they didn’t get to have more years together.’
Rafe picked up his glass again. ‘It was, but in a way it was better they went together. I can’t imagine how either of them would’ve coped if they were the one left behind.’
A thoughtful expression settled on her face. ‘Is that what you hope to find? A love like that?’
Rafe refilled both of their glasses before he answered. ‘I guess I’ll have to settle down one day. Sire a few heirs.’
‘You make it sound rather clinical.’
‘I come from a long line of Caffarellis. We’re meant to marry and reproduce, ideally in our early thirties. It’s a familial responsibility. Romance has very little to do with it.’
It had had nothing to do with his grandfather’s marriage, which had been arranged by his grandfather’s parents to increase wealth and possession of property. But, from what Rafe had gleaned from staff or relatives of staff who had previously been in the family’s employ, it had been a miserable marriage from day one.
‘So how will you go about selecting a suitable wife?’ she asked. ‘Check her teeth and bloodline? Conduct auditions to see if she knows what cutlery to use? Take her for a trial ride, so to speak?’
He chuckled as he lifted his glass to his mouth. ‘Hopefully nothing quite as archaic as that.’
‘So you plan to fall in love the old-fashioned way?’
Rafe studied her expression for a beat or two. Would he allow himself to fall in love? It wasn’t something he had ever planned on doing. He didn’t like getting attached to people. Loving someone gave them power over you. The one who loved the most ended up with the least power in the relationship. Falling in love was losing control, and the one thing he didn’t like was losing control over anything, especially his emotions. Even during sex he always kept his head. He always kept a part of himself back, which was why that kiss had unsettled him so much.
Control was his responsibility.
Hadn’t he spent his childhood protecting his younger brothers from the vitriolic and often terrifyingly violent outbursts of their grandfather? He had taken the verbal hits, and on more occasions than he liked to remember he had taken the physical ones as well. His grandfather’s unpredictable temper and emotional outbursts had made his childhood and adolescence hell at times. It had been better once he and his brothers had been packed off to boarding school in England. At least then it was just the holidays Rafe had to keep his brothers out of the line of fire.
No, falling in love was not something he planned to do any time soon, if ever.
Morgan came over to take their orders for their meals. ‘How’s the decision making going?’ she asked.
‘I’ve decided,’ Rafe said. ‘How about you, ma chérie? Do you know what you want?’
Poppy’s eyes widened momentarily at his endearment but she recovered quickly. ‘Yes, the pork belly with fennel and lime.’
‘And you, Mr Caffarelli?’ Morgan stood with pen poised over the order pad.
‘I’ll have the lamb with redcurrant glaze and red wine jus.’
Once Morgan had left Poppy leaned forwards across the table again with a quirked brow. ‘Ma chérie?’
‘It means “my darling”.’
‘I know what it means but why are you calling me that in front of her?’
‘You don’t like being called darling?’
‘Not by someone who doesn’t mean it.’
‘I’m actually doing you a favour,’ Rafe said. ‘Think of what Morgan is relaying to your ex-boyfriend in the kitchen right now—here you are, out with one of Europe’s most eligible bachelors. That’s going to sting a bit, don’t you think?’
Her scowl turned into a reluctant smile that made gorgeous dimples form in her
