Come The Vintage. Anne Mather

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ down her spine and into her legs. Married! Married to Alain de Beaunes! She would be Ryan de Beaunes; Ryan Ferrier, no longer. It was an incredible prospect!

      The church bells were ringing out the hour and she glanced automatically at her watch. It was nine o’clock. She would have to go downstairs and face her future husband. She caught her breath on a gulp. If it was not so deadly serious, it would be laughable.

      A slim figure in denim jeans and a chunky green sweater, her chestnut dark hair confined with an elastic band, she descended the winding staircase and reached the panelled hall. A smell of freshly ground coffee emanated from the direction of the kitchen, and Ryan’s spirits rose when she thought that perhaps Berthe had returned.

      But when she opened the kitchen door, it was not the plump housekeeper who was bending over the fire, but Alain de Beaunes, his tanned skin contrasting sharply with the curious lightness of his hair. Dressed in close-fitting corded pants and a thick black sweater, his trousers pushed into tall black boots, he had obviously been outside, and he exuded an aura of virile good health.

      ‘Good morning, Ryan,’ he greeted her easily, as though nothing had changed since the previous day. ‘I was just about to bring you some coffee upstairs.’

      Ryan closed the door and leaned back against it. ‘That wasn’t necessary,’ she managed, picturing her own alarm at the image of him entering her bedroom. He would dwarf its less than generous proportions.

      He shrugged, and indicated the percolator on the stove. ‘Help yourself,’ he directed. ‘I am afraid there is no fresh bread, but perhaps tomorrow …’

      Ryan crossed the room rather awkwardly, and reaching down a mug from the dresser poured some of the strongly flavoured liquid into it. She added cream and sugar and stood cradling the cup in her two hands, watching him adding wood to the already blazing logs. Then she licked her lips and said: ‘When is Berthe coming back?’

      Alain straightened and looked round at her, brushing his palms over the seat of his pants. ‘Berthe is not coming back,’ he replied flatly.

      Ryan’s eyes were wide. ‘Not – coming – back?’ she faltered.

      ‘No.’ Alain lifted his shoulders expressively. ‘Berthe stayed because of your father. Now there is to be another mistress in the house, she has left.’

      Ryan’s cheeks coloured. ‘But – but that’s not necessary.’

      ‘Isn’t it?’

      ‘No.’ Ryan spread an expressive hand. ‘Who – who will do all the cooking here – the cleaning – looking after the animals?’ Then at the mocking look in his eyes, she uttered an exclamation of protest. ‘Not me!’

      ‘Why not you? What do you intend to do all day?’

      Ryan sought for words, swallowing some of the coffee as though its bitterness might sharpen her means of retaliation. ‘I – I – I’m not a housekeeper!’

      ‘What are you, then? Or rather, what do you intend to be?’

      Ryan’s brows drew together. ‘I – I’m a librarian—’

      ‘There are no libraries in Bellaise.’

      ‘I could do other work – other office work—’

      ‘For whom? I know – you may take charge of the book-keeping which up till now I have dealt with myself.’

      Ryan bent her head. ‘You don’t understand—’

      ‘On the contrary, Ryan, it is you who do not understand.’ He felt about in his pockets and drew out a case of narrow cheroots. He put one between his teeth, and as he lighted it with a spill from the fire, he went on: ‘Let me tell you something, may I?’ He did not wait for her acquiescence, but continued: ‘You have a lot to learn, Ryan. Oh, I know your father has shown you the vineyards, taken you down to the cellars, and introduced you to the men who work for us. But as yet, you know nothing of our life here. Ours is a small vineyard. We produce less than two hundred cases of wine every year. But we like to think that what we do produce is good, very good. Our wine is comparatively unknown as yet. It is drunk locally, in the hotels and restaurants of the tourist resorts, but we do not make a lot of money. We do not compare to the great wine-producing chateaux of Bordeaux and Burgundy. In consequence, our life is quite simple. We do not waste money employing housekeepers when the mistress of the house is perfectly capable of running her own establishment, do I make myself clear?’

      ‘But I’ve never – I wouldn’t know how—’

      ‘You will learn. I will employ a young girl from the village to help you with the heavy tasks, but you will find there is reward in knowing yourself capable of managing alone.’

      Ryan finished her coffee and put the mug down heavily on the draining board. ‘You have it all worked out, haven’t you?’ she demanded bitterly. ‘When did you tell Berthe she would no longer be needed? As soon as my father was dead? Were you so sure I’d agree to your outrageous plans?’

      ‘They were not my plans, mademoiselle,’ he retorted, and his voice had cooled perceptibly. ‘I suggest you stop feeling sorry for yourself and start appreciating your good fortune!’

      ‘The good fortune of marrying you, monsieur?’ she taunted him insolently, and then felt an inward thrill of fear at the menacing darkening of his tawny eyes.

      ‘Have a care, little one,’ he said chillingly. ‘Once we are man and wife I will have certain rights where you are concerned. Do not tempt me to exert them.’

      Ryan’s cheeks flamed now. ‘But you said—’

      ‘There are other rights beside the conjugal ones,’ he retorted swiftly. Then he made an impatient gesture. ‘But this is getting us nowhere. I suggest we stop this bickering and begin accepting that for both of us there will have to be – adjustments.’

      ‘Adjustments?’ Ryan felt stupidly near to tears. She knew whose the greater adjustment would be. Schooling her features, she nodded. ‘All right, all right. I suppose I have no choice, as I’m to be confined here …’

      ‘In what way confined?’ His voice was dangerously quiet.

      Ryan spread her hands, unconsciously revealing her likeness to her father. ‘What else is there for me to do? There are no buses here. No trains that I can see. I can hardly walk to the nearest town, can I, and the village isn’t exactly huge!’

      ‘You don’t drive?’ It was more of a statement than a question. ‘No? Then I will teach you. There are two vehicles here – the station wagon, and a Landrover. You are welcome to use either of those when you have become proficient. Anciens is only twenty kilometres away. There are shops there, and a cinema. And a library, too, should you require one.’ This last was said with a reversion to his earlier mockery, but Ryan chose to ignore it.

      ‘Thank you.’

      He inclined his head. ‘It is nothing. And now I suggest you help yourself to something to eat. Fatigue follows swiftly on the heels of malnutrition.’

      Ryan shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry.’

      ‘You will be before the morning is over. СКАЧАТЬ