Black Diamonds by Eliza Redgold Page A

bitter tasting. Very beautiful, very chic. Gamine . Great.
    “The problem was, she hadn’t grown up in the world of la vigne or la truffiere ,” Xavier continued. “She thought it was going to be all wine, truffles and glamour. It can be that, sometimes, like tonight. But …”
    “But there’s not much glamour in picking grapes or cultivating truffle fungi,” Jackie filled in.
    “Exactly. You understand. Even if you live in a chateau, when you run a vineyard or a truffiere— you’re a farmer, really. You’re always watching the weather and worrying about the crops. Camille got tired of it all. She thought I was obsessed.”
    “It’s hard not to be obsessed with truffles.”
    With a shrug he said, “Truffles are like love. One must be a little obsessed, a little crazy, in love.”
    His words flared in that deep place within her, sending flickers of flame searing through her skin. She amended hastily, “I just meant there’s so much that can go wrong with cultivating them. A bit too much rain, or not enough, the wrong grafting …”
    Xavier took another swig of brandy. His opaque expression met hers over the edge of the glass. “Truffles are an aphrodisiac. Just like love.”
    He turned away. Casually he placed the brandy balloon on the silver tray.
    Jackie touched her fingers to her tell-tale cheeks in a vain attempt to cool them. “You were telling me about Camille,” she reminded him.
    “Ah yes. We were married for six years. Eventually, Camille went back to Paris, for a more exciting life.” He didn’t turn around. Instead, his jaw clenched in profile, he lifted the blue satin drapes at the window and looked out. Through the glass, Jackie could just make out fairy lights sparkling in the trees outside.
    “I’m not a man who handles failure well,” he said after a while, still staring out the window. “In my business, or in my life. I was raised to run this estate, like my father, and his father before him. Antoine men aren’t emotional. My father—I don’t think we ever really connected unless it was about business. Perhaps I should have tried to change. But running my vineyard and truffiere isn’t just what I do. It’s who I am.”
    He spun around to face her, a muscle working in his jaw. “I’m not proud I was divorced. It wasn’t what I wanted. For me, marriage is for life, the way my parents were married. It’s taken me some time to get over the fact that I couldn’t make it work.”
    “Things don’t always go the way we expect them to,” she said softly.
    The air crackled with energy as he came closer. With one long finger he lifted her chin. “I think we both know that.”
    His kiss was different this time. When he’d kissed her in Australia, she’d been burnt with the suddenness of her desire. Now, it was as if a slow fire had been smouldering, just as hot, and infinitely more powerful.
    Her arms slid up around his neck as his strong hands ran down her back, over the satiny smoothness of her kimono to the curve below. He grasped her, thrusting the lower half of her body against his. In response she gasped, her mouth widening to him. The taste of him was known to her now, yet still his tongue searched hers, the brandy he’d drunk intoxicating her, inflaming her with desire.
    He lifted his head and a finger to her quivering lips. “It seems one taste of you, like your truffles, is not enough. Goodnight, Jacaranda.”
    “They’re perfect on you! You have to have them!”
    Jackie found the price tag on the silver and amethyst earrings and frowned. “I do like them, but I’m still not sure what the Australian dollar is in Euros.”
    Eve leaned over and looked at the price. “They’re a bargain in any currency, and they suit you perfectly. You must get them!”
    Jackie held up her hands in surrender. “All right. But that’s it, Eve. I have to stop after this. I’m cleaned out!”
    In reply Eve gave a mock grimace. “And here I was hoping you’d have more shopping