She opened one of two large wooden doors to an intimate dining room. The chandelier above acted as a prism, creating golden light that danced upon the ceiling as the crystals swayed. The walls were covered in rich oak paneling, trimmed in intricate carvings. The one and only table was set with a white linen tablecloth and red linen napkins. A single red rose in a silver vase with two tall candles in silver holders glowed from the center. Releasing his touch of my back, Rett moved forward and pulled one of the large high-backed chairs away from the table for me to sit.
Once again, I hesitated.
My gaze went to the woman in red. Her equally red lips were curved into a smile, and her eyes were set on me.
Okay. She knew I was here.
That should mean it’s safe?
Right?
“Emma.”
My name rolled off Rett’s tongue with the slightest of accents, deep and commanding, as if giving me little choice but to take the chair he offered.
With a deep breath, I moved forward and sat. Rett pushed the chair toward the table and took the other seat. Seductive music infiltrated the air, unlike the loud notes out in the courtyard; this melody was softer and teamed with the melancholy twang of blues. Even without words, it sounded like poetry floating through the air.
Rett lifted a bottle of wine, presenting the label. “My research showed that you’re a connoisseur of red wines, the drier the better.”
I didn’t speak.
What kind of research had he done?
“This cabernet sauvignon is extremely rare. It’s a members-only selection from a quaint vineyard in northern Michigan. I specifically requested it for this evening.” Before I could speak, he continued, “The grapes in 2011 were threatened by an early frost. The harvest was expedited, resulting in fewer than one hundred bottles to be corked. As you can imagine, acquiring a bottle is not easy.”
His dark eyes gleamed with something I couldn’t determine.
He continued, “I enjoy the hunt almost as much as the acquisition.”
Apparently, the cork had already been removed. Rett poured a small portion into a glass, swirled the contents, and inhaled. “But, my dear Emma, once the target is obtained, rareness alone no longer gives it value. For once it’s obtained, the sense of rarity is lost. That is when the true value is tested. That worth comes from the combination of quality, uniqueness, and taste.” He passed the glass my way. “Please, have the first sip.”
I took the glass. “I already drank a hurricane. I’m not sure if I should drink any more, especially before food. That was what I was about to do—”
“Only a sip,” he interrupted, “and you will understand what I’m saying.”
I did as he had, taking the stem in my fingertips and swirling the contents. The aroma filled the globe of the glass, and as the deep ruby liquid stilled, the scents of plum, blackberry, pine, and violets filled my senses. I tipped the glass, allowing the wine to tease my lips. The earlier aromas came to life on my tongue. It truly was unlike any wine I’d ever tasted.
“Well?” he asked.
“It’s delicious and you were right, unique.”
Rett poured himself a glass and sat back, his button-down white shirt stretching over his wide chest. Against the wide girth of the chair, he appeared almost regal, as if instead of a chair, we were seated in thrones.
“I chose this wine,” Rett began, “because of its similarity to you, Emma. Unique, highest quality…” He leaned forward and lifted the glass toward the candlelight. “See how the liquid shimmers?” His dark stare met mine. “It’s beautiful like you.” He took a sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing and the muscles in his neck pulling tight, an involuntary response to the tartness. A grin returned to his full lips. “Pursuing you has been fascinating. I’m aware of your quality and unique nature. Now that you’re here, the only parameter yet to decide is taste. However, I have no doubt that you too will taste delicious.”
My lungs burned with my caught breath as heat radiated from my cheeks. “That…it’s…inappropriate.”
His smile returned, this time gleaming from the black holes of his orbs. “No, Emma. It’s a perfectly appropriate thing to say to you, the woman who is about to be my wife.”
FIVE
MY PULSE KICKED up as Rett’s words registered.
Yet how could such a statement truly register?
It was a proclamation with no basis in reality.
Lowering my glass of wine to the linen tablecloth,