Page 62 of All the Gossip from Paris
Camille nodded. “Ok. But if you want to talk. I’m here.”
“Thanks. Now let’s get inside into the warmth, and stuff ourselves with some fabulous food. But go easy on the dessert. As soon as we get home from midnight mass, I’m going to give everyone a big slice of my Bûche de Noël.”
“Sounds perfect.”
The tiny restaurant housed inside a seventeenth century building served simple but utterly delicious food. Liam wanted to lick the last of the roasted artichokes and wild garlic cream from his plate. It had been forever since he’d enjoyed such perfectly prepared vegetables. He could have sworn the taste buds on his tongue were doing a happy dance in delight.
He silently cursed himself for having spent the past couple of years avoiding good restaurants, and wonderful food. If he was ever going to get back on the culinary horse, he couldn’t think of a better place to do it than here in France. A country where food was taken seriously as an artform.
This afternoon he’d watched with fascination as Sophie had taken what was basically a plain chocolate covered cake and transformed it into something which looked like a log. She’d skillfully worked with colored ganache frosting to create the decorations. There were pine fronds, red and white mushrooms, and tiny little red holly berries. The crowning piece was the icing sugar which she carefully misted over the top of the cake. It looked like snow had fallen on the log.
Seated next to him on the overstuffed red fabric couch, Sophie cut up a piece of her white asparagus and handed Liam the fork. “This is one of the specialties of the house. You must try it.”
The moment the asparagus touched his tongue, Liam let out a hum of delight. He finished chewing the tasty morsel, and smiled at Sophie. “That was amazing. If I lived at the chateau, I’d dine at this place every night.”
“But then you’d have to deal with our head chef at home. He doesn’t take kindly to us sneaking off and eating in the local village,” remarked Camille.
On the other side of the table his brother and wife were finishing their meals. It hadn’t escaped his notice that they kept exchanging furtive looks. At some point the subject of him and Sophie would be raised—it was unavoidable.
He wasn’t sure what he would say if and when he was asked. The last thing he wanted was to upset Camille in her pregnant condition, or incur the wrath of his brother. Lord knew he’d caused them both enough trouble already.
But this wasn’t just about him. Whether she liked it or not, Sophie had skin in this game.
The server came and began clearing their plates away. Liam took a sip of his wine, all the while doing his best to come up with another topic of conversation—one which would keep people’s minds off the subject of him and Sophie.
“So how long are you two planning on staying in France?” he asked. The parents to be hadn’t shared their plans for where they would be when the baby arrived.
Ryan reached out and took a hold of his wife’s hand. “We’ve been talking about it for the past month or so. Basically ever since we got here. And we think…”
Camille smiled sweetly at her husband. “We think I will have the baby here in Paris. Mama is adamant that her first grandchild should be born in France. And since we will eventually go back to the US to live and raise our family, it makes sense she gets her wish.”
A diplomatic answer to the thorny question of having family on both sides of the North Atlantic.
“Mom and dad will fly over as soon as the baby is born, and come stay here at the chateau,” added Ryan.
“So none of your brothers have children?” asked Liam. Until that moment it hadn’t occurred to him that Camille and Ryan’s child would be the first of the Royal babies.
Sophie snorted. “God no. They are far too busy building careers or chasing the Formula One global circus. None of them seem serious about settling down. I think Mama and Papa secretly had their hopes pinned on me and Patrice being the first to give them grandchildren.”
She set her knife and fork on her plate. “Merci,” she said to the server as he bent and picked it up.
So things between her and her ex had been that serious, had they? Serious enough that François and Marina had expected Sophie would be married before Camille. The thought of Sophie marrying that ass Patrice had Liam feeling sick to the stomach.
Little wonder Patrice kept sniffing around Sophie. He’d thought he had secured the golden ticket to join the Royal family. But he’d messed it up. And he was still trying to find a way back.
That diamond bracelet must have cost him a pretty penny.
The waiter returned to their table. “The next course for tonight is the Selle d’agneau rôtie, petits pois et fèves, jus d’agneau infusé à la menthe. I shall go ask the chef to start preparations.”
As soon as he was gone, Sophie leaned over and whispered. “Roast lamb with peas and beans. Served with a mint jus. But of course it sounds so much better in French.”
She was right; it really did. The thought of cooking had Liam wondering if the big box of cookbooks he’d hidden away in the top of his parent’s garage was still there.
I might go check once I get back to the US.
Liam tried to think about food. About the wonderful way the meal had been prepared. But his mind kept coming back to the thought of Sophie and her ex. Of the little moment they’d shared earlier.
Had Patrice decided Liam posed too much of a threat? Did Sophie somehow need reminding as to whom she would eventually end up marrying?
