The Winemaker Page 31

He took a few steps toward her. His face told her the answer even before he opened his mouth to speak. She looked away from him. “Zenna,” he said softly, “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I didn’t expect you back so early.”

  “What is going on?” She turned her face back to him. The effort of holding back the tears made her chest ache.

  He held up his hands. “I need to explain to you...”

  “I thought you said you’d never marry again. Or did that only apply to me?”

  “The situation is exceptional.” He suddenly looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. The way he hunched, the way in which he pulled a hand over his tired face, made her pause, made her look at him, and listen.

  “Zenna, it’s the new land reclaim bill. It’s as good as done. The only way to save our land, our heritage, is to combine it with our neighbor’s, with Juan’s. The only secure way to do it is through a sacred joining.”

  “Marriage?” She verged on hysteria. “You are divorced. You can’t marry in church again.”

  “My father has already gotten me special permission from the church. Since I declared the divorce against my will at the time, the church has pardoned me.”

  “How can you do such a thing? How can you sacrifice yourself?”

  “Zenna, there are things in life that are bigger than us. We do our duty when we have to.”

  “What about her? What about Clara? Doesn’t she want to marry someone she loves?” A painful thought suddenly hit her. “Or does she love you?”

  “Clara is from a prominent family, Zenna. She knows what is expected of her. She is not doing this against her will. We both agreed to it. We were just discussing the more ... practical ... details of our future life together before you decided to drop a glass of ice tea in her lap.”

  Zenna’s hands flew into the air. “What’s the point? You’ll save the land, but for what? For who?”

  Etán was quiet for a long moment. When the meaning of his silence finally dawned on Zenna, her eyes widened in disbelief, and in pain.

  Etán took another step forward. “Clara may be young, but she has both her feet firmly on the ground. We have agreed we will have a marriage in name. It won’t mean sharing a marriage bed except for the heir we have to produce.”

  “So you’re going to have sex just to have an heir. Then, you each stay in your own separate bedrooms and fuck whoever the hell you please?”

  Etán’s face darkened. “We won’t sleep with other people.”

  Zenna rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s very noble. Why don’t you simply become a eunuch for the sake of your family?”

  He tried to smile. “I could, as long as I’ve first performed my duties to bring a child into this world.”

  Zenna shook her head. “This is all so wrong. For all the wrong reasons. Don’t you want to be happy?” A sob escaped her. Tears she couldn’t hold back any longer streaked her cheeks.

  He closed the distance between them and pulled her to him. “Zenna, if there was another way...” He kissed her hair. “Whatever it is, this thing, between us ... I don’t even know what to call it. I will always remember your touch, your kiss, the way you smell... Anyway, I couldn’t give you what you wanted, baby. You deserve more. Not some second-grade love from a man with a cold heart.” He sighed heavily. “This way is best. Clara doesn’t expect my heart or my love. She only asks for my respect and friendship in return for saving our lands.”

  Zenna pushed away from him, her body trembling. “Where is Ana? She can’t possibly agree with this.”

  Etán wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “My parents have both given us their blessing, Zenna.” He smiled lopsidedly. “Nothing needs to change. You’ll still work in the office, maybe move in with Luca. You’ll always be a part of the family.”

  Zenna looked at him in disbelief. Did he really think Luca could be a substitute for what she felt for him? Didn’t he know Luca was like her brother? She shook her head. She couldn’t talk about it any longer.

  “I suppose congratulations are in order,” she whispered through her tears, before she ran from him to lock herself in her room.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  As the wedding arrangements started to throw the house into turmoil, both Zenna and Luca grew quiet and withdrawn. Nothing came to a standstill as Zenna believed it would. Like she felt it should. Her sessions with Margarita ended three days later. The latest wine brochure went to print. Her court date had been fixed. The course at the university was due to start. Only a handful of security guards remained, guarding the house and acting as her bodyguards.

  Where Etán had once shared his suite with Sanita, the one on the opposite side of his, facing the inner courtyard, was now being prepared for Clara. Ana and Pedro tried their best to maintain a festive atmosphere. Luca disappeared for three days, and, when he came back to once more sleep at the estate, it was only to leave early every morning on his motorbike and not return before dawn.

  Zenna felt empty and cheated. Mostly, she felt sorry for Etán. It was impossible to read his emotions. He was polite and professional, not showing his true feelings. Sometimes, when he thought he was alone, Zenna would catch him pinching his nose, and she would glimpse the unguarded look that filtered into his eyes. There was nothing she could do to change his mind. Etán was like a rock. Unmovable.

  People, caterers, dressmakers, came and went. The ceremony and the reception were to be held on the estate. Even if the marriage was not born from love, Juan had insisted on a huge reception, not only for appearances’ sake, but also to honor his only daughter.

  Zenna watched it all unfolding around her and couldn’t help but feel her world and her life had been pulled from under her feet. Etán had been her rock, her security, and now, he was to become another’s. She had no doubt in her mind Etán was the kind of man who would honor his vows, his promises to Clara. Once married to Clara, she would never feel his kisses again.

  When, two nights before the wedding, Luca took off again on his bike, going clubbing and drinking like he had from the day they had learned about the wedding, Etán walked up to Zenna where she stood, shoulder braced against the doorframe, regarding the setting up of the wedding to take place in the garden.

  “Zenna,” he said in a soft greeting as he stopped next to her.

  “Etán.” She didn’t look at him.

  “I’ve given Teresa the night off. She needs the break. My parents are having dinner at my... at Juan’s place.” There was a little pause. “Cook for me, Zenna.”

  The plea in his voice made her turn her head. Dark circles lined his green eyes. They looked sad and haunted. Zenna felt her heart reach out to him. She knew what he was asking from her. She read between the lines. It was the way in which they shared, their special way of communicating—her with her food, him with his wine. After this, she would never cook for him again. After this night, she would not have the right, and he wouldn’t ask her.

  “Come,” she finally said, taking his arm and leading him to the kitchen.

  He opened a bottle of Tierra de Sol 2002, a classic Bordeaux style blend, and poured them each a glass.

  She drank the wine. “Cassis, forest floor, chocolate, and cedar.”

  “Notes of lemon, sage and olive.”

  “Palate intense and well-rounded.”

  Etán lifted his glass to hers. “Balancing olive with cassis—like your skin, your lips, your taste; plum with wood, leather with intense berry—like your character, all woman, but a warrior at heart.”

  For once, Zenna accepted the compliment he offered. “Dusty, soft tannins. Impeccable structure. It will only get better over the next five years and drink beautifully over ten,” she returned the compliment. She lifted her glass. “To your future, Etán.” Her eyes were drowning in the sadness of her expression.

  He couldn’t answer. They didn’t speak as she prepared a salad with endives, diced apple, raisins, walnuts, and mandarin oranges, topped with a mixture of
homemade mayonnaise and curry powder. He silently watched, drinking in her movements as she prepared a quick chicken and pecan nut curry.

  When the food was ready, she turned to him. “Do you want to eat here, or in the dining room?”

  “It’s just the two of us. Let’s eat here in the kitchen.”

  He helped her lay the placemats and plates and allowed her to serve him. They ate in silence with only the ticking of the wall clock telling the passing of the time in the background. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was a sad one, in which they each savored the other one’s presence.

  When their plates were empty, Zenna rose to clear them.

  “Not yet,” he said. “I have a gift for you.”

  She sat down again.

  He got up and moved to the kitchen counter. He removed a bottle of wine from its protective carton and carried it to her.

  She took it silently, looked at the label, and gasped. Her eyes met his.

  “This one, Zenna, is for you. My best one, ever. No other will ever match it or even come close.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Zenobia 2010 Merlot. You named a wine after me, Etán?”

  “You inspired that wine,” he said softly. “Before our launch you were like the Tierra de Sol 2002 to me. Now you have grown, evolved, become, even more than before, the bravest, most beautiful woman I have ever known. For me, this is you.” He motioned to the wine. “Color opaque. Nose is tight, meaty, and earthy. The mouth offers layers of bittersweet chocolate and powerful blackberries.” He gave her a sad smile. “A tad bit hedonistic and heavy, with all sorts of overflowing fruit, but isn’t it exactly what one wants in a modern red wine?”

  She was touched. She fingered the label. Now, she understood. “This is the one, the big secret you’re sending for the Berlin Tasting, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “I wanted it to be a surprise for you.”

  “Etán...” She looked away.

  “You are the hedonistic pleasure of my senses, Zenna.”

  It was more than having ever owned an engagement ring. He had made a wine just for her. They’d always know why and what it meant. There was nothing more to say. It was his final declaration. There would never be another one, a more beautiful, a more complex, or complete one, in all of her life. For her, that would be enough for one lifetime. She got up again to clear the plates.

  As she brushed against Etán, moving beside him, he took her arm. “Zenna, leave the dishes,” he said softly.

  She stilled. His hand slipped from her arm to her hand. He came to his feet, tightening his grip around her fingers. Silently, he pulled her behind him, leading her down the corridor to their rooms. He stopped in front of his suite. She expected him to say goodnight, to let her go alone to her room, but he didn’t. Instead, his hands went to her face, his eyes searching hers. There was so much need in his stare, so many unsaid things. She only stood, unable to move.

  His hands moved to the silken strands of her hair, pulling her head down, and then, slowly, he lowered his head until his lips found hers. He kissed her with a demand so passionate, so thick with meaning, her knees weakened. His lips left her mouth to taste her jaw, his head moving lower until his teeth raked over the soft flesh of her neck.

  He lifted his head to look back at her with smoldering eyes. “My Zenna. My sweet Zenobia, my hedonistic weakness,” he said, his breath hot on her skin.

  His hands lowered to her hips, moving back up the side of her body to rest lightly on the curve of her breasts. He circled one arm behind her, feeling for the knob of the door, opening it at her back.

  “Give me something to hold onto, Zenna. Give me something to remember. Give me something to live for, baby,” he begged as he pushed the door open.

  He didn’t move her forward. He stood waiting, his eyes pleading, his body pushing against hers. When she didn’t run or speak, he moved her into the room with his body, shutting the door behind them, his eyes never leaving hers.

  She felt herself exploding with fire, the strength of it threatening to devour her to her very core, as they faced each other.

  He took her hand, lifted her palm to his mouth, and kissed her skin. “Undress for me, Zenna,” he demanded, his eyes a darker shade.

  She couldn’t help herself. She wanted to obey his each and every command. She had wanted this moment for so long, and she would take it with her to remember. She took a step back, and slowly pulled the sweater over her head. His eyes followed the movement.

  Closing the distance between them, his mouth lowered to her shoulder, tasting the unique flavor of her. “Nectarines. Floral notes. Like a Riesling.”

  Her hands went to her jeans, unfastening the buttons. His hands went to the clasp of her bra, undoing it and dropping it to the floor.

  His mouth went to her breasts. His tongue tasted a rosy, pink bud. He groaned. “Drips rather than oozes with red cherry and plum.” His mouth took all of the flesh. The feverishness with which he devoured her as he had done time and time again in her dreams, almost bordered on pain.

  “The finish is light, dusty, and elegant.”

  She gasped, fighting for breath as the warmth of his mouth moved to her navel. He nipped at her flesh before he drew the soft, tender skin into his mouth. “Spearmint ... light leafiness...”

  She was frozen in ecstasy. She felt his fingers hooking into the opening of her jeans, easing them down her hips.

  His mouth found the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. “Forest fern. Elegant, unforced red fruit aromas.”

  He lifted her feet, one by one, freeing her from the restraints of her jeans and underwear. His fingers slipped from the bridges of her feet up to her ankles, trailing a path over her body that left her gasping some more.

  “Tell me, Zenna. What do you taste like?” he asked, his eyes burning. “You taste like Uvas Orgánicas 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon.” His fingers caressed her collarbone, her neck. “It’s not mine.” His voice was thick. His features were tortured. “This time the winemaker isn’t me.”

  She could only stare as he bound her eyes to his, straightening to undress himself. He made her watch, as he unbuttoned his shirt, and his jeans, removing each piece of clothing that stood between them, until there was nothing left but the passion raging between them.

  He stepped forward until their bodies touched. His eyes closed briefly at the heat of the contact. His hands circled her waist, crushing her against him as his mouth searched hers. She felt herself spiraling down into a kiss that exceeded every other one he had ever given her. There was no more holding back. Only the truth. The truth was a deep, open, naked desire.

  His powerful thigh pushed her legs apart. His hand moved down her thigh, pulling her leg up around his. With his free hand, he lifted her to him. “I’ve wanted to feel you like this, ever since that day in the cellar. Do you remember, Zenna?”

  She remembered everything. She couldn’t speak as he carried her to his bed. She was aware of the way in which he said her name and nothing more. He lifted her in his arms and moved her to the center of the bed. He stretched out on top of her and pulled her arms above her head, their fingers intertwining.

  “I know you don’t like it on your back, baby,” he said, a teasing flame lighting up his eyes, before he fleetingly brushed his lips over hers, “but it has to be like this. I have to see you.”

  He didn’t look away from her. Not once. Their eyes locked as their bodies did. He made love to her like she had never been made love to in her entire life. Slow, gratifyingly deep and intense.

  He grimaced, pinning her body to the bed with his weight when she moved too fast. His head lowered. “Hold on for me, baby,” he panted against her ear.

  When she thought she had reached the end of the abyss, when she couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled away, and flipped her onto her stomach. He stretched out over her again, their hands bound together like inseparable vines. Her back arched as he flooded her body and soul, like an intoxicating wine. Her fingers dug into the s
heets as his groped on the strands of her hair that fell around her face. Their breathing was broken. He buried his face in the mass of her hair and in her neck, biting into the flesh of her shoulder as ripples of ecstasy finally shattered like beautiful pieces of broken crystal through them both.

  It was as if it was their last night on earth, and, for once, Etán didn’t run or hide. He gave her his all, and she returned it, refusing to think about the future, or even the next day.

  Etán was aware of his weight resting on her body, but he didn’t want to break the contact. He savored every moment. Finally, reluctantly, he rolled away from her, pulling her into his arms, kissing her until she moaned for air.

  Long after, he still held her close. He had covered them with the goose down duvet. Warm in his arms, she wanted to stay there. Even before he moved, Zenna could sense his intention, his reluctance. He kissed her again before he regretfully pulled away from her, sitting up, pulling her up in his arms.

  Wordlessly, he led her to his shower, waited until the water ran hot, and drew her inside. He soaped her body and washed her hair. They made love again, under the spray of the water. When her skin was wrinkled and hot, he turned off the water. He gently dried her hair and body with a soft towel before he wrapped her in his gown and took her hand.

  “Ready?” he asked, looking at her with a sad smile.

  She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. He took her by her hand, walking her to her room.

  As they stood in front of her door, she heard the footsteps in the corridor. It was too late to escape into her room without being seen. Before Etán could turn, Zenna saw Luca, as he came to an abrupt stop a few paces away from them.

  He looked from Zenna, clad in the white gown, to Etán, his hair wet, a towel wrapped around his waist.

  “Luca...” Etán stood, rooted to the spot.

  Luca’s face distorted. “You’ve always taken everything, Etán.” He turned and walked away.

  Zenna moved, tried to take a step forward, but Etán held her back. “Let him be,” he said. “I’ll talk to him.”