behind them and whistling for the dogs. Two huge canine bodies shot down the driveway like bullets, tails thumping.
Luke jammed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, idly noticing that they had a day, maybe two more, of pruning.
Jess picked up his train of thought. ‘Pruning’s nearly over?’
‘Yep. Time for the vines to rest and rejuvenate.’
Jess looked around her, smiled and pulled in a big breath. ‘The air tastes different here.’
Luke squinted at her. ‘What do you mean?’
Jess scratched her jaw. ‘Back home you can taste the soot, the pollution in the air. Here I can taste fruit: the peaches and the plums, the grapes.’ She turned around and walked backwards, looking at the houses in the setting sun. ‘It’s so beautiful, Luke. You are so lucky to own this place, to be this place.’ When he didn’t answer, Jess placed a hand on his arm and made him stop. ‘You don’t believe that, do you?’
Luke looked at St Sylve and then he looked away. ‘No, not really.’
‘Why not?’
He felt his shoulders lift towards his ears and made a conscious effort to drop them. ‘I guess it’s because I was never made to feel welcome here.’
Luke heard Jess’s swift intake of breath and carried on walking, looking for the dogs, who’d disappeared down a bank. Jess’s shoulder bumped his as she fell into step with him.
‘I really hate it when you toss out statements like that and leave me hanging.’
Her grumpy tone made him smile.
‘I’m a girl, and answers like that make me want to ask more questions.’
Of course they did. Luke sighed when he saw the determined glint in her eye and knew that he’d opened the door to a barrage of questions.
He’d expected a question about his father, so he was surprised by what she did ask.
‘Do you love St Sylve?’
He remembered his thoughts the other day, standing in her bedroom. ‘Love it, hate it, resent it... I suppose you want me to explain that too?’ Luke took her hand, threaded his fingers through hers and tugged her along. ‘Let’s keep walking.’
Jess remained quiet, and when he’d thought about what he wanted to say he spoke. ‘My father always told me that I wasn’t worthy of St Sylve for a whole lot of reasons. I didn’t want to be a winemaker. I couldn’t wait to leave the farm—him—this valley. I didn’t like my father very much and he liked me even less. But I was his only son so I inherited.’
‘And?’
‘And instead of inheriting an estate with normal death duties attached to it I inherited an operation that was so deeply, catastrophically in debt that I nearly lost my shirt, my skin and a couple of essential organs trying to save it.’ He glanced down at her. ‘Your warning eight years ago was slightly...ill-timed.’
‘Now you’re just being kind. I was a brat.’
‘You were a brat.’ Luke pulled her hair and wrapped his arm around her shoulder to give her a brief hug.
‘So, when you say “in debt”...?’
‘About-to-be-foreclosed in debt.’ Luke’s lips twisted. ‘My father managed to rack up a debt that was three times bigger than what the estate was worth.’
Jess looked astonished. ‘But...why? How...? The bank...? Why did they lend him so much money?’
Luke shrugged. ‘The power of the family name—and do not underestimate the power of Jed’s charm.’
‘So what happened when he died?’
Luke removed his arm, stepped away from her and rammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. ‘It took every cent I’d ever made—every bit of credit I had access to—to keep the bank from taking it.’ His eyes hardened. ‘I don’t have my father’s charm. Since then, most of the money I’ve made on other deals has been poured into servicing the debt.’
‘So there hasn’t been the money to launch new marketing campaigns until now?’
‘New marketing campaigns? I didn’t have the money to employ a vintner. I had to learn to make wine—to do everything, really. We have a bit more breathing space now...so you don’t need to worry about getting paid.’
Jess hunkered down into her coat and looked at him from beneath her long lashes. ‘Can I ask you another question?’ She didn’t expect an answer because she carried on speaking before waiting for his reply. ‘Why didn’t you let it go?’
Luke looked at her, confused. ‘Let what go?’
‘St Sylve. When you inherited it, why didn’t you just sell it and walk away? Why did you save it?’
He’d considered it. On more than one occasion he’d decided to do