hard to grow.”
He nodded. “The Quinns had a vineyard in Yaarshire, but it wasn’t profitable. It was about to be leveled to the ground when George Strong arrived in 1852.”
I glanced at the label. Strong Family Wines, it read. “I think it’s safe to say he turned a profit.”
Auggie chuckled. It was funny how that sound was every bit as potent as his saying hello. “He knew how to make the bitter Yaars grapes sweet. It was knowledge he learned as a slave working vineyards in South Africa.”
My eyes widened. Auggie continued with the tale.
“Aldayne has never allowed slavery since my family took over the throne in 1150. Back then, the Vikings had a nasty habit of enslaving the Irish and the Scottish. They raided Aldayne and overtook the ruling clans and made slaves of any of their relatives that might have a claim to the throne, including the Quinns. But good ol Seamus had made the misfortune of falling in love with one of his master’s daughters, Freya. He wanted his freedom and he wanted her. He decided the only way out of the situation was to kill every member of the invading horde.”
“How’d he do that?” I asked.
Auggie held up the glass to toast me. “He poisoned their wine.”
I reached over to turn my glass upside down on its rim, which made him laugh. “Aldayne was so grateful they made Seamus their king when he was only sixteen years old. He took fifteen-year-old Freya as his queen. They made the official decree that Aldayne would never use slave labor, and in fact would be a refuge for those seeking freedom in all the centuries since. We were challenged a time or two, but Quinns know how to deal with slavers,” he grinned, taking another sip of his wine.
“So, when George Strong landed in Aldayne in 1852…,” I started, and he nodded as he continued the tale.
“He was an asset, rather than a liability. He had knowledge we didn’t have. So, he was given his freedom and a parcel of land. He chose Yaarshire because it was well-known that the vineyard there was one of Quinn’s few failures. He promised King Riordan he would make the greatest wine the country had ever seen. They rest, as they say, is history.”
“That’s an amazing story,” I said.
“It’s an amazing wine,” he replied. “I’ll send a bottle with you. Enjoy it tonight when you’re not working.”
“I look forward to it.” That reply was completely honest. I truly couldn’t wait to have a sip, whether it was in two weeks or nine months.
“There will be plenty of time to enjoy it,” he promised. “It’ll be flowing like a river at Old Mother’s Silver Jubilee.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “You call her Old Mother?”
He offered a lopsided grin. “It’s not like I can call her grandma, now is it?”
I giggled. “I suppose not.” I treaded lightly. “What is your relationship like with the Queen?”
He studied me for a moment, as if deciding whether he wanted to answer that very direct, very personal question. Was he offended I even asked? His expression was unreadable. “In time,” he decided. “One doesn’t simply go to the last page of the book. We have many months together to answer the big questions,” he said in that hypnotic low voice that made a quick tangle of my insides. “Which reminds me. How long do you think it will take for you to write my book?”
I nearly choked on my tongue. “Book?” I repeated.
He nodded. “You are aware you’re writing my memoir, aren’t you?”
I didn’t know what to say. It certainly explained that big ass check. “I… I don’t know,” I stammered, adding, “how long it would take,” to cover my ass, Lydia’s ass, or both. “I’ve never written a book.”
The answer seemed to appease him. “Then we will learn together,” he decided. His eyes met mine. “And it will take as long as it is going to take, I reckon,” he said with a wink.
I gulped. I thought this was going to be over in six months. Now he wanted me to write a book? How long was that going to take? A year? Five years? What did I just sign up for?
“Are you all right?” he asked.
I nodded and tried to smile. Finally, I said, “I guess I’m a little startled. I thought we were getting an exclusive interview revolving around your grandmother’s Silver Jubilee in August. I didn’t realize that you needed someone to write an actual book