‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised to Alexa. Embarrassment was clear in his face at all this over-the-top grandeur.
‘Quite unnecessary,’ said his mother airily. ‘Alexa is perfectly familiar with the concept of a fête champêtre. We have already discussed my predilection for the art of the Rococo—and I confess I am much looking forward to showing her all the paintings hanging here, too. It is always enjoyable to discuss these matters with professional artists. Their eye is quite different from that of a mere amateur such as myself. But that is for later—we have many years ahead, my dear, for you to give me your opinions, and of course to choose your own additions to the collection. Guy is far too much of a barbarian for it to be necessary to regard his tastes, so I never do,’ she finished dismissively, and she led the way forward to the table.
‘Come!’ She lifted her hand to them, seating herself regally at the foot. Guy pulled out the chair beside him for Alexa, and sat himself down at the head of the table. He handed a glass of champagne to his mother, and another to Alexa.
She was in a daze—a daze of incredulous happiness—happiness so full, so complete, that it was carrying her on an iridescent rainbow to heaven. She tried to think, to understand—but it was impossible. Impossible to do anything other than what she was doing: letting Guy take her hand once more and hold it loosely, possessively, across the table, as they raised their glasses at his mother’s instigation.
‘To you both,’ said Madame de Rochemont, her eyes suddenly soft, and full with emotion. ‘To your love. And to your long and happy marriage.’
Together, Guy and Alexa tilted their flutes to drink, and the setting sun turned the champagne to molten gold. As golden as their happiness, and their future yet to come.
EPILOGUE
‘DON’T move. Stay just like that—’
Guy stilled, lounging back against the sun-warmed rock behind him. The instruction to stay still was not a problem. Nothing in the world was a problem any more. He relaxed gazing out over the incredible Alpine panorama of soaring mountains. Some rocky peaks were still topped with pristine snow, even now in the high summer, and the lower slopes were garbed in verdant green, plunging down to deep valleys far below. Here on the upper slopes, where they had walked on this wonderful sunlit day, the air was like breathing crystal—clear and sharp. Making him feel so alive…
His gaze went out over the soaring vista, focussing on the eagle rising lazily on the thermals. As free as the wind that bore it upwards. As free as he now was. Free to live the life he wanted—and, oh, more than that! The life that he hadn’t even dreamt could ever be his. The life that was like a precious, precious jewel—and that jewel was here, so close he could reach out his hand
and stroke the tender curve of her calf. Her legs were half drawn under her as she rested the sketchpad on her knees, her wide brow furrowed in concentration as her pencil worked across the paper. He gazed lovingly at her as she worked.
Alexa—his Alexa! His beautiful, beloved Alexa! He felt his heart fill with emotion, with love. Oh, she was a jewel indeed. He had thought her lost—thought he had driven her away—but she had come back to him, given him the gift of her heart, her love. And he would treasure it all his life. His eyes softened. For a moment he saw her as he had first seen her—lifting her gaze to his and doing exactly what she was doing now: reeling! He had seen it then, at their very first meeting, and it had sent a shot of lightning through him, a satisfaction so intense he had known even in that moment that getting this beautiful, wonderful woman to gaze at him with the same rapt expression was worth everything in the world to him.
For a moment that raptness held, and then he saw her expression change—liquefy and transmute—into something so much more than what it had first been. Now, as his gaze mingled with hers, and hers softened to his, between them flowed the message of their love—strong and pure and eternal.
Then her expression changed yet again, and her mouth pursed.
‘Stop it—I can’t concentrate,’ she admonished sternly.
A smile played at his mouth. ‘Of course you can,’ he replied. He stretched back, lengthening his legs and crooking his arms behind his head, lean and relaxed. ‘You just concentrate on me, ma belle.’
His evident satisfaction at this state of affairs drew an answering smile. Alexa put aside her sketchpad.
‘It’s hopeless,’ she said. ‘I want to draw you, but I can’t. You are far, far too distracting. I don’t want to draw you—I want to kiss you.’
She leant forward, her hand cupping the outline of his jaw, and brushed his mouth with hers.
He folded her to him, nestling her against his heart as they both gazed out over the breathtaking vista all about them.
‘It was so good of Louisa and her gorgeous young bridegroom to lend us their chalet for our honeymoon,’ she said.
A frown creased Guy’s brow. ‘Gorgeous?’ he growled, in mock anger.
She glinted up at him. ‘Well, he is gorgeous—if you like those sort of looks. Which Louisa obviously does. Even though I—’ she gave a mock sigh ‘—am utterly addicted to green eyes, and so sadly young Stefan leaves me quite unmoved.’
‘That’s better,’ said Guy, and hugged her more closely against him. ‘I’m glad you like Louisa, though—she’s a nice kid.’
‘Pretty, too—much prettier now she isn’t being forced to wear those formal clothes her mother chose for her,’ said Alexa.
She’d met Louisa properly now, when Alexa and Guy had arrived from their lavish wedding reception at the château the day before and the young couple had shown the honeymooners around their chalet before heading off down the mountain themselves, to visit Stefan’s family on the far side of the range. Louisa had been first astonished, then delighted, and then smug when she’d recognised Alexa from their initial anonymous meeting in the hotel powder room.
‘Didn’t I tell you that you were exactly the sort of woman Guy would go for? Elegant and soignée—unlike me!’ She’d grinned. ‘And that ring looks far, far better on you than it ever could on me.’
Alexa had glanced down at the huge betrothal ring glittering on her finger. ‘I’m afraid I’ve done what I advised you to do—asked for another one for everyday wear. I’m keeping this for best!’
Now, as she sat within the circle of Guy’s arms, high on the alpine slope, only the simple gold band of her wedding ring adorned her hand. She glanced at it wonderingly.
‘Are we really married?’ she asked dazedly.