Page 82 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

‘You survived.’ His father sounded wounded, but it was all an act. He still had a huge smile on his face.

‘I suffered, but then he went down on his knees and proposed, so I forgave him and said yes.’

‘Well, Aston didn’t ask me to climb any mountains,’ Ana said.

They all laughed, and he wondered, what if he’d asked? Would she have agreed? It seemed vital somehow to have the answer, although he didn’t know how to get it from her.

She gazed up at him, her eyes gleaming in the soft light of the room. ‘But it was a romantic proposal nonetheless.’

‘As we would have expected,’ Aston’s mother said, her own eyes glittering too, as if with tears.

A knot seemed to tighten in Aston’s throat. He took another sip of wine and swallowed it down.

A woman came through the doorway, one of the kitchen staff, who usually worked in the château’s restaurant.

‘Ah, dinner is served,’ his mother said. ‘To celebrate this momentous evening, we have our chef cooking for us. Please, come through to the dining room.’

Aston slid his arm round Ana’s waist, the exquisite red fabric of her dress smooth under his palm as they followed his parents through. As he pulled out her chair at the table, his parents gave Ana an indulgent smile.

A satisfaction settled over him that he hadn’t felt in years, perhaps not since Michel’s death. Everything was falling into place. For once, things were going to plan. The moment was so perfect and real, he might have scripted it.

As Aston sat at table, Ana placed her hand on his thigh and squeezed. They’d marry, he’d climb Everest, then look to the next mountain as Michel would have wanted. But, for now, there was nowhere he wanted to be in the world more than sitting next to her.

The dinner was exquisite, made by the chef from the château’s starred restaurant. Salad with vinaigrette, fish, boeuf Bourguignon, cheeses and an apple tart. Now Ana was delightfully full, replete with impeccable wine, food and conversation. Camille and Simon were gracious hosts. From Simon, Aston had inherited his blue eyes. From his mother, the dark hair and her effortless style. Such a handsome couple, she could see the love shining between them. The way they spoke, looked at each other. The glances. Their shared history and intimacies.

‘Love at first sight’, Aston’s father had said. She believed it. Why hadn’t Aston wanted something like that for himself?

She caught my eye too... She was a goddess...

Her breath hitched, the memory of that Spring Ball now fresh in her mind. The story they’d told. The attraction instant, like a thunderclap, for her at least. Had it been the same for him?

So many questions to which there were no answers, yet it all felt so real. She looked over at his parents and him, deep in conversation in the room they’d retired to for coffee after the meal had finished. There was a still strange undercurrent she couldn’t place, something that made her senses prick up, although it had eased as the night progressed. She could be overreacting, yet if the past six months had taught her anything it was that she should take notice when anything didn’t feel quite right.

It was clear his parents loved him deeply. Yet for some reason he held himself a little apart, somehow separate. She had trouble understanding it, but knew she needed to ask the question. Later, when they reached the farmhouse.

She sipped her coffee and looked into the fireplace, the flames crackling low, likely lit for ambience, more than the temperature. It added a beautiful glow to the elegantly furnished room that was full of French antiques like the rest of the house.

‘I’m so pleased he found you.’

Ana looked up. Camille stood next to her, a picture of sophistication in a fitted black dress with a beaded neckline.

‘So am I.’ It wasn’t hard to be honest now, about this at least. Ana couldn’t imagine being anywhere else than with Aston.

‘As a mother, I was gifted two wild sons. They took after their father.’

Simon didn’t look wild now, but not exactly tamed either. Though Ana had seen a gleam of mischief in his eyes earlier in the evening when he’d talked about his proposal.

‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’

‘Thank you.’ Camille gave her a wistful smile. ‘I wondered what Aston might say to you about Michel. The loss is hard enough to bear for a parent but for a brother... They were inseparable. “The sun and the moon”, I called them.’

‘You named your last Grand Cru after Aston.’

She’d known that much. It had been well advertised. Aston was the face of Girard, and such a handsome face too. It was no wonder they wanted to capitalise on it.

‘Oui. Michel was darker, more intense. Always another mountain to climb for him... Those two boys, forever planning their next adventure.’

Ana thought about the early mornings, the relentless training, how Aston pushed himself.

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