Chapter 35
‘Do Lucas and Sophia know why we’re in France?’ Theo held up my coat and I slipped my arms in.
‘Lucas raised the question,’ Theo replied. ‘But I kept things simple. My French isn’t bad, but if I tried to explain how my seventeen-year-old son has run off with your seventy-nine-year-old mum and something got lost in translation… I wasn’t going to risk it.’
We exited the stable, closing the door behind us.
‘So what did you say?’
‘That we’re on a last-minute road trip. I asked about local hotels because the petrol situation meant we were going to miss our room reservation. That’s when he offered for us to stay here. I hated lying, but it was better than the alternative.’
‘Good to know should the subject come up again,’ I said as we approached the manor house.
‘S’il vous plait, entrez.’ Lucas gestured Theo and me through a set of French windows into the dining room.
With my hair still wet and in my supermarket-bought attire, I smiled at the two young couples looking back at us. Dressed in their finery, it appeared le Réveillon de Noel was a formal celebration. Nothing at all like the relaxed Christmas Eve my clothes represented.
‘Tout le monde, voici Theo et Erin.’ Lucas handed us both a glass of champagne. ‘Joyeux Noel.’
Lucas raised his glass and following his lead, I, too, drank and telling myself I’d earned it after the day I’d had, I savoured the champagne’s soft effervescence.
‘Let me introduce everyone. First, this is my daughter, Sabine…’
With her dark hair and tall stature, the family resemblance was obvious.
‘…and her husband, Henri.’
‘Enchanté,’ Theo said.
‘I keep asking, but they refuse to give me grandchildren.’ Lucas tutted and shook his head, but the glint in his eye belied him.
‘And this is my son, Gabriel, and his partner, Colette.’
‘Enchanté,’ Theo repeated.
As was customary in France, we were welcomed with a round of kisses.
‘These two are not married,’ Lucas said of Gabriel and Colette. ‘Apparently, they don’t believe in it.’
‘Papa!’ Sabine said. ‘Ils vont penser que tu es sérieux.’ She looked to Theo and me with a smile. ‘Il est impossible. Il taquine tout le monde.’
After the hunter incident I knew my limitations. My perimenopausal brain couldn’t have translated Sabine’s words even if it wanted to and rather than further embarrass myself, I simply smiled in response.
Theo inched closer and placing his hand against my lower back, gave me a reassuring wink.
What Theo didn’t know was that thanks to my colleagues at Foredale and Frogmore, being around people who talked in a foreign language wasn’t new. Crashy, rizz, no cap, dayger, crunk… These were all words I’d heard in the office staff room, none of which I understood.
I returned Theo’s comforting smile and although I wasn’t used to someone looking out for me, I couldn’t deny I quite liked it.
While everyone chatted, I focused on my surroundings and as expected, the house was to die for.
A glass chandelier hung above a long dark-oak dining table that had been laid in readiness for the evening, around which sat forest-green velvet seated chairs.
Gold-framed landscapes adorned the walls and a tall antique display cabinet, home to various decorative pieces, stood proud.
I loved the bronze figurine that sat on a plinth in the corner, but the masterpiece of the room had to be its huge stone inglenook fireplace.
Wondering how they’d managed to get it alight, I stared at the humongous log that burned orange in its grate.
‘It is an old pagan tradition,’ Lucas said, seeing my interest. ‘Long ago, people burned the same log for days. They believed its ashes would protect the house and bring a good harvest in the year to come. These days, people eat Yule logs for dessert.’
Sophia caught my attention as she breezed into the room, looking stunning in her perfect make-up and long-sleeved, black form-fitting dress.
Carrying a huge silver platter on which sat servings of oysters with a mignonette sauce, her eyes lit up when she spotted Theo and me.
‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘You are here?’ She placed the tray down in the centre of the dining table and addressing the whole group, double-clapped her hands. ‘Asseyez-vous.’
I followed everyone else’s lead and sitting mid-row, Colette was to my left and Theo my right.
‘Bon appétit à tous.’ Taking her seat, Sophia gestured we help ourselves and while Lucas got up and replenished our champagne glasses, we all dove in.
Colette leaned forward. ‘I hear you speak French, Theo?’
‘Oui, un peu,’ he replied.
One of the few schoolgirl terms I could remember, I let out a laugh. ‘And the rest.’ From what I’d heard with my own ears, Theo spoke way more than a little.
Colette smiled my way. ‘He is modest, yes?’
I picked up my cocktail fork and used it to detach an oyster from its shell.
I spooned on some mignonette and bringing the shell to my lips, slid the meat and oyster liquor into my mouth.
I might not have known how to speak my hosts’ language, but I knew about French oyster etiquette and instead of swallowing I lightly chewed.
I swooned. It tasted of the ocean with a hint of nuttiness.
Theo leaned in. ‘Careful,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘You know what they say about oysters. I don’t want to be fighting you off later.’
I turned and with our faces inches apart, smiled. ‘In your dreams,’ I said, slipping another oyster into my mouth.
Conversations abounded; the atmosphere around the table was relaxed and jovial.
Back in the UK, our celebrations only ever consisted of Mum, Dad and me; until Dad passed away and three became two.
I’d often wondered what a bigger family Christmas would be like and finding myself part of one, albeit by default, I wasn’t disappointed.
The entrées continued with slices of smooth buttery foie gras perfectly balanced with a fig compote, followed by noix de Saint-Jacques poêlées à la crème which sounded way more romantic than scallops with cream.
Le plat principal was made up of succulent turkey stuffed with chestnuts and herbs and served with gratin dauphinois potatoes and thin green beans sautéed with garlic and butter.
As for the cheese course, if I’d thought the Roquefort and Vacherin Mont d’Or were good, they were nothing compared to the Brie à la truffe.
In my view, whoever came up with the idea to combine black truffles and cheese was an absolute genius.
By the time I’d eaten my last forkful of creamy and chocolatey b?che de Noel, the Yule Log dessert Lucas had earlier mentioned, I doubted any of us would be hungry until the new year. We’d been sat around the table for hours.
Sophia and Lucas had been in and out of the kitchen all evening and even though everyone had offered assistance at some point, including Theo and me, being the perfect hosts, they’d declined.
In some ways, the two of them reminded me of Mum and Dad.
They were younger than my parents of course, and admittedly a lot more stylish, but they worked as a team, and I could see from their casual touches and discreet smiles that they adored each other.
It could have been the champagne and wine taking hold, but it seemed my transference had got worse.
Glad to experience my first le Réveillon de Noel with Theo, I loved hearing him speak French, which I had to admit was quite the turn-on.
He could have been talking about wiring a plug and to my ears, it would have sounded sexy and I was almost disappointed when the conversation dipped into English.
Theo had encouraged me to join in, but I’d been happy to just sit and listen. As well as eat, drink and be merry.
* * *
‘I wonder if Mum and Jackson enjoyed their le Réveillon de Noel,’ I called out.
Having changed into my pyjamas, I rinsed my toothbrush and set it down next to the bathroom sink.
‘I’ve had a great night.’ I switched off the light and made my way to the bedroom.
‘It was kind of Lucas and Sophia to invite us.’
Entering, I stopped still. I might have been disappointed, but I wasn’t surprised to see Theo laid on his back, with his eyes closed. After a frantic couple of days, he had a lot of rest to catch up on.
Careful not to disturb him, I climbed in beside him and slid under the covers.
I inched onto my side and using my elbow to prop myself up, rested my head in my hand.
I watched the rise and fall of Theo’s chest as he breathed and, tempted to run my finger from his forehead, along his nose and down to his chin, studied his profile.
As he stirred and turned towards me, I thought, The man’s handsome even in his sleep.
He was also kind and patient. Funny, even.
Having got to know him more, he had all the qualities I wanted in my Henry Cavill lookalike and as much as I tried to deny it, I knew there was a connection between us.
I sensed it in how he looked at me; in his touch and through his willingness to step in as my protector; be that when I was stuck up a tree or on the fringe of conversations because I didn’t understand what was being said.
Theo wasn’t perfect. He certainly had his secrets and the way, in just a few days, he’d managed to thaw some of the iciness I’d used as an emotional shield all those years seemed both miraculous and frightening.
It scared me to think that after years of refusing to settle, of waiting for my perfect man to melt my frozen heart, I might just be laid there watching him sleep.
As if sensing my stare, Theo opened his eyes.
I smiled. ‘Thank you for today.’
Hoisting himself onto his elbow, he mirrored my position. ‘You’re welcome.’
As we both fell silent, my gaze went from his blue eyes to his full mouth and while my head said, no, don’t do this, my heart and body screamed louder.
I could see in his eyes Theo felt the same and slowly leaning towards each other, our lips tentatively met.
What started out as a simple kiss, became long and lingering and as my whole being ached for more Theo gently manoeuvred me onto my back.
Feeling his body against mine, our embrace grew more urgent.
My stomach gurgled from all the food I’d eaten and feeling my diaphragm contract, I froze.
Drawing his face upward, Theo looked at me concerned. ‘Are you okay?’
Suddenly pushing him off, I leapt out of bed. ‘I’m gonna be sick,’ I said as I ran to the bathroom.