top of page

The Beaulieu Birthright: Enzo’s Proposal and Iona’s Dilemma




This scene is an excerpt from Chapter Four of The Beaulieu Birthright, where Enzo, French perfumier and our main male character, asks Iona, Scottish budding soap-maker and female lead, to set aside the ten years of bitterness between them to consider a proposal to save him from losing his business and the Beaulieu birthright.


Other characters who are mentioned are Lachie, the current Laird who is Enzo’s best friend and Iona’s elder brother, Agnes, Iona’s twin sister, and Thierry, Enzo’s embittered father.


Enzo and Iona are seated at a table in the town square of Kellburgh outside a coffee shop.


______________


Dragging his middle finger across the moisture on his top lip, he leaned away from her. His hands were shaking. He clamped them together. “This is delicate. Not even Lachie has an inkling of what I will tell you. If you can’t keep my confidence from everyone, including Agnes, I won’t go any further.”


“Are you confessing to murder or another illegal activity?” Iona’s mouth firmed.


“Non! Non, cherie. The matter is intensely private with significant business implications.” He sipped his coffee, grimacing when he found it cool.


She tracked his movement. “Okay, if you’re not going to land me in deep manure, I’m fine.”


“You will have to decide on whether it is manure, ma douce, and how deep it is,” he said, cocking one eyebrow.


“I’m intrigued, especially since you’re suddenly calling me ‘sweet’, eh.” Her pinkened lips pulled into a moue.


After huffing a brief laugh, he exhaled and sobered. “Do I have your word as a McKell you will keep my secret safe?”


“Aye, you have my word.”


Enzo nodded, but couldn’t go on. Instead, he focused on Iona’s hands as she lifted her coffee cup. Her expression mirrored his earlier action. It made him smile, and he relaxed.


“I want two months of your life,” he said.


Her eyes widened. “Oka-a-ay. Not what I expected. How? When? Where? Why? What?”


The gunshot questions made him chuckle. “‘When’ could start now,” he said. “‘Where’ is through several cities ending with a month at my home in Grasse. The ‘why’ is the tricky part.”


Avoiding the interrogation on her face, he stared at the few clouds scattered across the sky, heaved a breath, and returned to hold her gaze.


“My father is eighty-four years old. He plans to sell the Beaulieu business and the Beaulieu name to our arch enemies if I can’t prove I have my life in order by my birthday—despite the fact I’ve been running the business for a decade. The ‘how’ to getting around his threats, is to prove I’ve settled down, with one woman, ready to produce the next Beaulieu heir. The ‘what’ is to have a fiancée or a wife, before my birthday in August, who shares my commitment to the Beaulieu birthright and to producing said heir.”


“You’re kidding me, right? How can he do make you do something as serious as that with your life? What an arsehole, pardon my…er, language.” Her glance slid sideways then returned to focus on him. “You haven’t explained how this relates to me and your help with my soap,” she said, pinching her chin between her forefinger and thumb, her elbow on the table.


Enzo clenched his fists in his lap, away from Iona’s sight. This was his one shot. There was no one else he would trust the way he trusted her. Apart from her being the only woman in the world who could bring him to his knees by crooking her pinky finger, there was no time to find an alternative, believable candidate. His right arm stretched toward her. “I would like you to be my fiancée.”


Jolting upright in her seat, her stunned expression demanded he explain himself—with a lot more information. “Are you asking me to marry you?”


“I would if I had any expectation you would say yes.” He flashed her a consciously seductive smile, hoping she would treat his comment as a joke. Her cheeks went pink. It bewitched him how a twenty-eight-year-old woman blushed so easily.


He leaned further forward. “You understand me, Iona. I’m not fit for marriage. My father’s intention to create a replica of himself was far too successful. I wouldn’t inflict Thierry on a kind-hearted woman like you nor should I expect you to tolerate me either. Marriage is not in my future. It’s the sword he’s holding over my head. For now, I’m asking you to be my fiancée until my father transfers the business ownership to me on my birthday. We can spend another two weeks in Grasse, then you might find you have urgent business back here. We argue, decide we’re not compatible, and go our separate ways.”


Her skin paled and a smattering of freckles he’d never noticed before materialized in sharp relief across her nose. He took her hand. It was freezing. “Iona, cherie, this has been a shock. Can you consider what I’ve said? I’ll order fresh café.”


He slid his hand from hers, leaving her alone to consider his proposition.


______________


If you enjoyed this passage and would like to read more, the e-book for The Beaulieu Birthright is available directly from Champagne Book Group or from your favourite e-book retailer through Books2Read.

Comments


bottom of page