Tessa Radley - The Saxon Brides

“If you ever marry, your wife is going to have to love this place.”

“It’s in my blood,” he said with a simple acceptance that she envied.

“What about Caitlyn?”

He blinked at the sudden question. “What about her?”

“Have you ever dated her?”

“Caitlyn?” He gave a surprised laugh. “What makes you think that?”

“It seemed like such an obvious partnership. The winemaker and the winery boss.”

“I like Caitlyn. She’s smart—a great winemaker. But she’s always been one of the boys. There’s no chemistry.”

“One of the boys?” Caitlyn? Alyssa stared at him in astonishment. Was he blind to the other woman’s tall, slim strength? Granted, she wore jeans and boots and men’s shirts that gave her a tomboy look. But her light blue eyes, dusting of Celtic freckles and strawberry-blond hair had an undoubted charm even if her hair was always pulled back in a no-fuss ponytail and she wore no make up, but she hardly resembled a boy.

Men! Alyssa shook her head in disbelief, but she couldn’t prevent the relief that flowed through her that he’d never been attracted to the other woman.

Joshua leaned toward her. “Here come your first customers. Are you ready?”

She looked up to see three women and two men in their late twenties approaching. Alyssa gave them what she hoped was a welcoming smile and waved them onto the barstools in front of the counter.

“What would you like to taste?” She lined up five tasting glasses. One of the women and the two men chose the Cabernet Merlot, the other two women pondered indecisively. Alyssa poured the red wine into the three tasting glasses and watched as they picked up and swirled it around.

“I’ll try the Semillon,” said one of the two who had been undecided.

“Sav Blanc for me, please,” said the other.

“Black currants,” said one of the men, sniffing at the dregs of the red in his glass. “It smells of black currants.”

The others laughed. “I tasted red grapes,” said the blonde who had tasted the red.

“You wouldn’t be wrong to say black currants,” Joshua’s voice was low and serious.

“And I suppose the Sav tastes of grapefruit?” The woman with the Sauvignon Blanc gave him a flirtatious look from under her lashes.

Unaccountable annoyance rose within Alyssa. “The Saxon’s Folly Sauvignon Blancs are known for their stone fruit flavours.” She forced herself to smile blithely at the flirt.

“Stone fruit?” The woman gave her a blank look.

“Yes, peaches and nectarines.” Alyssa poured a little more wine in her glass.

“Can you tell the difference between a Sauvignon Blanc and a Chardonnay,” asked one of the men, giving her an interested look.

“Yes.” Alyssa took out two clean glasses and placed them before him. She poured a little Chardonnay in the one and a sample of Sauvignon Blanc in the other. “You’re looking for taste on the palate. The Chardonnay will have hints of oak—it’s been barrel fermented—not in the bottle. It’s also a little buttery, whereas the Sauvignon Blanc is fruitier. Have a taste of each.”

“Ooh, can I try, too?” one of the women asked.

“Sure.” Alyssa repeated the ritual for her.

“I taste a hint of peaches,” said the woman.

Joshua had said she tasted of peaches when he’d kissed her up on the hill. A tremor ran through Alyssa. She flashed him a sideways look from under her lashes—and found him gazing at her, his gaze hot, his eyelids heavy.

A flare of excitement ignited deep in her belly.

“The stone fruit flavours are very specific to this region, if you travel down to Marlborough, you’ll discover that the flavour’s grassy, reminiscent of gooseberries.” Joshua’s voice washed over her talking about fruit and flavours and she listened to the mesmerising cadence of his voice, words like peach and smooth and creamy creating a sensuous flow that surrounded her.

“Can you taste the differences between the same wines?”

“You mean, from different producers?”

The tall man nodded.

“That’s called horizontal tasting. So Saxon’s Folly makes Sauvignon Blanc, and over the hill at his winery my brother makes Sauvignon Blanc, too. They’re different. He’s a fine winemaker … but so is Caitlyn Ross our winemaker—”

“A woman makes wine here?” One of the men sounded shocked.

“Good wines, too.” Alyssa found herself bristling a little.

“Of course you’d say that, you work here.”

“Actually I’m a journalist—”

“Ooh, you’re doing a story? How exciting. Which newspaper?”

Alyssa told her the name of the magazine.

“I know you,” said the tall man. “You’re Alyssa Blake—you have a column in the Sunday papers, too. And I’ve seen you on television. So what do you think of the wines here?”

Alyssa gave him a smile, aware that Joshua was growing tense beside her, his hand tightening around the bottom of the wine bottle. Did he really believe that she would say something that might be detrimental to Saxon’s Folly?

“You taste and tell me what you think,” she responded, passing a glass to the man who had spoken. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Joshua’s grip had relaxed a little, his knuckles were no longer white.

“Make sure you get some photos of him—” the flirt pointed at Joshua “—I might even buy a copy of the magazine.” The woman batted her eyelashes in that way that Alyssa found intensely irritating. But she swallowed her annoyance and said nothing.

In the end the group walked away with a purchase of three cases of wine and Alyssa let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Hard work?” Joshua asked, a glimmer of laughter in his eyes.

“Let’s just say it’s not quite the easy sell I thought it would be.” She looked up at him. “So you can tell the difference between the wines you brew and those that Heath makes, hmm?”

He nodded.

“And I suppose you can tell the difference between different Saxon’s Folly vintages?”

“Piece of cake.”

“And then you try and tell me that the samples you supplied for judging in the Golden Harvest Wine Awards taste the same as the same label available for sale in the supermarkets?”

Joshua froze. “Trying to ambush me?” he asked very softly.

Alyssa refused to be intimidated. Joshua made a big deal about his reputation, about how honourable he was. She was entitled to know if that was the truth. What she wasn’t sure about yet was what she would do if she discovered it was all lies. She didn’t want to hurt Kay and Phillip Saxon—or their children. Not now. Not while they were grieving. And she couldn’t bear to find out that Joshua was dishonest.

It surprised her how much she needed to believe that he was as solid and real as the hills surrounding the vineyards he loved. She badly wanted to accept his word.

But she owed a duty to the public. The consumers who were possibly being scammed. She couldn’t rely on her feelings, her desire to find the best in Joshua. Growing up, her father had drummed into her that people lied. All the time. Facts counted. She needed proof. Hard evidence.

It tore her apart to think of what she might discover….

“No,” she said finally. “Just trying to get to the bottom of a disturbing rumour that the Chardonnay Saxon’s Folly supplied for tasting in the recent competition is far superior to what’s available at the retail outlets.”

“So that’s why you gate-crashed the ball.”

Joshua had known all along Alyssa had an agenda. Bitter disappointment corroded the fondness and respect that had been developing against his will. He’d been right not to trust her.