Fleur’s laugh was as beautiful as the early morning call of the Lyre bird. “Well, can you blame me? I know nothing about you, and all of a sudden, you arrive with my cousin, clearly devastatingly happy, and engaged to be married. And after Matt swore off marriage and love for good!”
Skye pushed a brittle smile to her face. “And naturally you have questions about me?”
“I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t,” Fleur admitted with a toss of her silky dark hair. “You must know how close Matt and I are.”
Skye nodded, because it felt like something she should know. “It’s a shame we’re meeting like this,” she said quietly.
“Is it?”
“I just mean, with the stress of your grandfather…”
“Ah, but he is well now. That is a cause to celebrate. In fact, we should have some champagne. Wait here a moment.”
Skye watched the other woman disappear into the home, and a moment later, she returned, followed by a housemaid carrying a platter—a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, two champagne saucers, and a silver bowl that on closer examination revealed lush, red strawberries.
“This is my favourite vintage.” Fleur lifted the bottle from the ice bucket and began to unfurl the foil top. “Matthieu and I helped pick the grapes, you know.”
Skye’s brows lifted. “Somehow I find that hard to believe.”
Pop! The cork left the bottle, spilling a little of the sudsy liquid onto the tiled terrace.
“Of him, or of me?” Fleur didn’t miss a beat, swiping a champagne saucer from the tray and holding it under the explosive liquid before transferring it to the other.
“I don’t know you well enough to comment.”
“So you think Matthieu isn’t made for manual labor?”
“You’re putting words into my mouth,” Skye denied, taking the offered champagne flute and watching the bubbles zip around for several moment.
“I’m just teasing you,” Fleur reassured Skye. “Matthieu loves the winery. When we were teenagers, we would spend all our summers on the vineyards. He was out there from dawn til dusk, following around the teams of gardeners—,”
“Driving them mad, no doubt,” Matthieu’s voice cut across Fleur’s, and both women angled their faces in the direction of his arrival.
He stepped out of the shadows of the house, pushing up his sleeves as he walked, making his way directly to Skye.
“I’m sorry, my darling,” he murmured as he approached.
“Don’t apologise,” She responded, hoping her voice sounded natural. “How is he?”
“Much better than I thought. He’s anxious to meet you.” Strain tightened his voice. She eyed him sympathetically, wishing she could say something—anything—that would reassure him. Only Fleur was watching their interaction, the intensity of her eyes burning over Skye’s skin.
“As I am to meet him,” Skye promised. “But it will wait. Let’s let him recover his strength today.”
“In the meantime, I want to hear everything. How did you two meet? Was it love at first sight? When will the wedding happen? And where?”
Skye blinked at Fleur, while her stomach squished into a thousand knots. “Much of that is yet to be decided,” Matthieu appeased his cousin with a smile, placing an arm around Skye’s waist and drawing her closer. “The wedding date will depend on a few factors,” he said. “We are in no rush.”
“But a Christmas wedding would be delightful,” Fleur pointed out.
Skye’s heart slammed to a stop. A Christmas wedding? She jerked her gaze to Matthieu’s face. His expression gave little away, but then, he turned to meet Skye’s eyes and there was warning in the depths of his irises. A reminder to play the part of the doting fiancé.
“We only became engaged last week,” he said, dropping his head and pressing a kiss to Skye’s lips. Her eyes fluttered closed as familiar surges of desire rushed through her body. “Don’t panic my fiancé with pressure to pull of the perfect wedding in six weeks’ time.”
“It doesn’t have to be the perfect wedding,” Fleur said. “Believe me, a perfect wedding doesn’t lead to the fairytale ending—and I should know.” She lifted a hand to her lips, her eyes flying from Skye to Matthieu. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up the divorce.”
“It’s fine,” Skye rushed to reassure her, sympathy on her delicate features.
“No, it’s not. You guys are on the cusp of this amazing commitment. I don’t want to darken your happiness.”