Page 51 of You Had Me at Chateau
It’s not every day a hot Frenchman says he’ll essentially have a bath with you, is it?
Henri leads me to a charming little bridge that arches over a frozen stream, and then along a path that leads to a secluded garden. Even in winter, covered in snow, the garden is beautiful, with evergreen shrubs and white-dusted benches.
‘This garden has a bit of history,’ Henri says, gesturing around. ‘If you like a good love story, you will love this. Old stories tell that a young prince and a commoner fell in love here, centuries ago. His family disapproved so they would meet in secret, here, in this garden. The prince is said to have planted those evergreen hedges as a symbol of their everlasting love. People who know the story come here, to touch the leaves, and some say that if you sit on one of these benches and make a wish, it will come true.’
I smile as I stroke the leaves, then sit on a bench, closing my eyes for a moment as I make my wish.
When I open them, Henri is watching me with a soft smile. A piece of hair has fallen in front of my face, which Henri gallantly reaches out for, tucking it behind my ear.
‘Did you make a wish?’ he asks.
‘Maybe,’ I reply, smiling back.
‘I don’t suppose you will tell me what it was?’ he asks curiously.
I mean, I can’t tell him that I wished for a little inspiration to write spicy book scenes. Henri thinks I need romantic scenes, not horny ones – to be honest, I think if I told him I needed spicy inspiration, it would only sound like a dodgy chat-up line anyway.
Next, he leads me to a quaint little chapel nestled among the trees. It’s simple yet beautiful, with a bell tower and stained-glass windows.
‘This is the resort chapel,’ Henri tells me. ‘It has seen countless weddings over the years. It was here long before the resort was. We are very fortunate to have our own chapel – if you ever want to get married. My sister married here, it was beautiful.’
I smile. I’m glad he only flirted with the idea of me getting married, rather than asking me my thoughts on it, because I don’t even know what I’d say. Well, as the saying (sort of) goes, those who can, do. Those who can’t write stories about it.
‘That’s so touching,’ I say, feeling a lump in my throat.
‘Let’s move on, before you get ideas,’ he teases.
Nearing the main hotel building again, Henri takes me towards the ice rink – which unsurprisingly is empty at this hour in the morning. The pristine-looking ice sparkles under the lights. I’ve never actually been ice skating but I suspect Tom would have made me promise not to do it, along with skiing, if he had known it was on offer.
‘This ice rink has a special place in my heart,’ Henri says, his eyes twinkling. ‘My family has used it for years – for generations. Of course, we have modernised it, and made it safe, and family-friendly, but it still feels like the one I used to use, when I was a child.’
Interestingly, as well as working here, Henri seems to have a lot of history with the place.
‘Do you like to ice-skate?’ he asks.
‘I, erm, I’m not sure I’ve ever tried,’ I reply – well, I am actually sure that I haven’t, but I feel like a dork admitting it, so I guess this is me playing it cool.
‘Would you like to skate now?’ he asks. ‘Just me and you.’
Oh, God, what a spectacular opportunity to embarrass myself.
‘I’m not sure I’m any good at it,’ I say, my confidence fading fast.
‘I could teach you,’ he suggests. ‘It will be like the movies. I’ll hold your hands, keep you steady, if you fall I will catch you, dip you, make it seem like I’m going to kiss you – all for your book, and for inspiration, of course.’
Biting off his hand is just one of many physical things I could do with him that are springing to mind right now but – oh God, shit, crap. It’s Caleb, he’s coming this way. He looks like he’s out for a run, and he’s fussing with his headphones so he hasn’t seen me yet, thank God, and I don’t want him to. Well, how do I explain my relationship with Caleb to Henri? Obviously we don’t want anyone to know what we’re doing, because I’m trying to pass myself off as Annabelle, which means we’ll have to say we’re just friends, who arranged to be here at the same time, and because that’s not true then I’m going to be all shifty about it – it’s going to seem like something sus is going on. Best no one who knows me connects me with Caleb, just in case. Sometimes the harder you try to explain things, the worse they sound. Also, I really, really don’t want the other writers finding out about this, because I think they already think I’m a weirdo, and this will only add to that.
I hook my arm with Henri’s and pull him close, practically dragging him behind a tree until the two of us are tucked away in a clearing. I hold my finger to my lips, as if to say: shh.
My heart is beating so loud I can hear it in my ears. Henri steps closer to me, almost like he’s leaning in, smiling.
‘Amber?’ he says softly.
I notice, over his shoulder, that Caleb has headed the other way. I think we’re in the clear.
I step back from him, worried it seems like I was about to put the moves on him.
‘Sorry, I thought I saw a moose,’ I tell him. ‘I must have imagined it. Do you have those here?’
