He’d acquired Bracci Castle and surrounding vineyards six years earlier from Paulo Veneto, a Sherdanian count who had gambled his way deep into debt. As soon as the hospital had released Christian after the accident, he’d come here to hide and recover. At first the plodding country pace had pained him as much as his scorched flesh. Between his many business dealings and his numerous social engagements, he was used to operating at frenetic speed. Needing something to keep his thoughts occupied and off both the pain in his right side and the agony in his heart, he started learning what it took to produce wine.
At the time, the winery was barely breaking even and the wines were abysmal. Christian figured out that the general manager and winemaker were selling the grapes produced by the vineyard and buying inferior ones at half the cost, pocketing the difference. Within a week Christian had fired and replaced them with two men he’d wooed away from the competition. After sinking a ridiculous amount of money into desperately needed new equipment, he’d held his breath and hoped the grapes were as good as promised. The first harvest had gone well, and the wine produced that year won the winery its first award.
“These are all my fields,” Christian said, indicating the rows of well-maintained grapevines.
“I remember when you mentioned buying the vineyard. You don’t usually hold on to anything for long. Why keep it?”
“The place makes the finest wines in all Sherdana. Why would I want to give that up?”
“So it’s a prestige thing.” Her tone revealed that his answer had disappointed her. She wanted him to speak the truth not give her flippant responses.
“I have grown fond of the place.”
She nodded. “I can’t wait to see it.”
And he couldn’t wait to show it to her. The seven-hundred-year-old castle had a quirky charm so unlike his sleek, sophisticated apartments at the center of activity in Paris and London. His circle of friends thought he was mad to spend any time here. They couldn’t figure out how he kept himself entertained without clubs or expensive restaurants. The isolation that had first bothered him was now like a balm to his soul. One he enjoyed too infrequently thanks to his business commitments.
The car rolled through the arch and beneath the portcullis that was the only way into the castle’s outer courtyard. Where in medieval times this large area would have been cobbled, Christian had turned the space into a grassy lawn with paths. The car followed the circular driveway and stopped outside the keep’s arched double doors. As the driver got out and opened Christian’s door, several staff flowed out of the imposing stone building and headed toward the car. Christian hesitated before sliding out and turned to Noelle. Marc was starting to stir in his car seat.
“Why don’t you let me carry him into the house,” Christian offered, hoping the child would be less likely to protest since he was drowsy.
“Of course.” Noelle exited the car behind him and stood looking up at the towering stone structure in front of her. “This really is a castle, isn’t it?”
“What were you expecting?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Something more fairy-tale-like.”
Christian chuckled. “It is a hulking brute of a thing, isn’t it? Don’t worry. You’ll like what I’ve done to the inside. It has running water and electricity.”
“No heated buckets of water hauled up from the kitchen and winding stairwells lit by torches?”
“You sound disappointed.” It was good to banter with her. The repartee erased the years of separation and recalled why they’d once enjoyed each other’s company so much.
“There’s a part of me that is.”
With his mood growing lighter by the second, Christian unbuckled his son from the car seat and lifted the boy in his arms. The weight of Marc’s sleepy head on his shoulder filled Christian with blazing joy. Holding his child was such a simple thing. How many fathers didn’t give it a second thought? For Christian the moment was precious, and he closed his eyes to imprint the memory, after which he followed Noelle inside.
The entry hall was a wide room that ran for twenty feet on either side of the front door with a fireplace on each wall. Here they were met by a handsome woman in her midfifties wearing a simple navy dress and a tasteful silver brooch in the shape of a lily.
“Noelle, this is Mrs. Francas, my housekeeper. Whatever you need, you may ask her.”
The brunette smiled in welcome. “Ms. Dubone, how lovely to have you and your son staying with us. I will have your bags sent to your rooms. As Prince Christian stated, anything you need, please let me know. We look forward to making your stay extra special in the hopes you’ll return.”