by Penny Jordan
But they weren’t looking for a bed for the master bedroom here; they were looking for one for Joy and Andy. And since they already knew exactly which one they wanted…
‘I really ought to get back,’ Belle told Luc hurriedly, closing the brochure. ‘But first I need to go upstairs and wash my hands…’
One of the drawbacks to the house had been the fact that it had not possessed a downstairs cloakroom. They had had plans to add one at the same time as they added an extra bedroom suite. Confidently Belle made her way upstairs whilst Luc carried their tea things back to the kitchen.
Up here, too, nothing seemed to have changed. The dried flowers she had arranged were gone from the deep window on the landing, but the curtains were the same, and… On her way to the bathroom she suddenly paused, stopped, and then retraced her steps.
The door to the master bedroom was closed. Very gently she turned the handle and then stepped inside.
It was like stepping back in time to another world. Once inside the bedroom she had shared with Luc the memories came flooding back with such force that she had to cling to the door for support. It was in this room that they had loved, laughed and fought. Belle could hardly bear now to think of the sacrilege it had been to fight in a room which should have known only the intimate content of their love.
Shakily she let go of the door and walked over to the bed, her hand trembling as she automatically smoothed the creases out of Luc’s side of the duvet.
Luc’s side…
Unwanted and unheralded the tears came hot and fast, a silent glissade of pain and regret. Her body shook with the force of her sobs, but still she didn’t make a sound.
‘Belle?’
Shocked, she stiffened her body in rejection of the warmth of Luc’s arms. She hadn’t heard him come in, didn’t want him to see her like this.
‘You’re crying,’ he told her, begging rawly as he turned her round to face him, ‘Don’t…please, don’t.’
‘Oh, Luc, I feel so ashamed when I remember the things I did…the things I said,’ Belle wept, unable to conceal what she was feeling. ‘I was so thoughtless, so selfish…’
‘No more thoughtless or selfish than I was stubborn and unreasonable,’ Luc comforted her.
‘It’s all such a waste,’ Belle cried heartbrokenly.
‘Love is never wasted,’ Luc told her softly. ‘Just like it never dies…’
Belle looked up at him.
‘It’s not too late for us, Belle, we still have the future…our future…together—if we choose to take it…’
‘What are you saying?’ she whispered. ‘We said that we wouldn’t rush things or make promises, that we’d take each day as it comes…’
‘I know, but I know as well that each day isn’t going to be enough for me. I want all your days. All our days.’
‘Remember Cheringham House?’ he asked her obliquely.
Belle nodded her head. The stately Georgian property was owned by the local council and had been painstakingly renovated and opened to the public. She had always loved it, often coaxing Luc away from his studies to go round it with her.
‘Under the new law, it’s now been given permission to hold weddings. It has an island…’
‘In the middle of the lake with a pretty mock-Gothic temple… Yes, I know,’ Belle agreed.
And then, as she looked at him, she breathed, ‘Oh, Luc, we couldn’t…could we?’
* * *
Ten minutes later, when she had finally extracted herself from his arms, she reminded him, ‘We’re supposed to be going out to dinner, remember?’
‘I’ve got a better idea,’ Luc told her masterfully. ‘Why don’t we eat here…?’
‘Here?’
Belle looked at him.
‘What are we going to eat?’ she asked him shakily.
‘I know what I want to eat,’ Luc responded sensually. ‘All right, all right,’ he acknowledged as he fielded the look she gave him. ‘Let’s go down and see what we can find in the freezer.’
* * *
‘Mmm…champagne and lobster. You really are spoiling me,’ Belle told Luc contentedly as she licked her fingers.
‘Well, I have to admit it was a lucky find. I’d forgotten all about the lobster. It was a present…’
‘From one of your students?’ Belle asked a little possessively, a warning glint in her eyes.
Luc laughed.
‘No, from my mother, as it happens.’
Belle allowed herself to relax. His mother was a wonderful cook, and loved nothing better than passing on the results of her skills to her friends and family.
‘Mmm…that was wonderful,’ Belle declared, stretching sensuously.
‘Mmm…wonderful,’ Luc agreed, reaching across to slide his hand into the tempting vee of flesh exposed by the borrowed shirt she was wearing and bending his head to kiss her.
‘Just think,’ he murmured as he covered her mouth with his, ‘if we bought a four-poster, we could close the curtains and eat in bed in true Tudor fashion.’
‘Throwing the bones out for the dogs and serfs, you mean?’ Belle teased back, wrinkling her nose as she disagreed. ‘Yuck, I don’t think so. Although I must admit the idea of a four-poster does have a certain amount of appeal…’
‘Mmm…although I have to say that there is something deliciously sensual about the way the light from the window touches your skin which I couldn’t enjoy through closed curtains.’
‘Luc…’ Belle reproved unsteadily as he gently pushed his shirt back off her shoulders, exposing her breasts to the early evening sunlight streaming in through the windows, and then moved back to enjoy the results of his handiwork.
‘Your skin looks as though it’s been sprinkled with gold dust,’ he told her softly. ‘You have the most beautiful skin, Belle, the most beautiful body…’
‘I’m thirty-four,’ Belle protested, but in truth she thought that Luc’s body looked even more sensually exciting now than it had done when they were younger. Perhaps Luc was right in what he had said to her earlier, that it took pain and loss and despair to make one appreciate love properly.
Well, she had certainly experienced all of those. They both had.
She trembled a little with excited anticipation as Luc’s hands cupped her breasts. Her body was so intensely responsive to him it frightened her a little.
He kissed her throat and then her nipples, his eyes darkening as he looked back into her face.
‘I don’t know how I managed to live without you,’ he told her rawly, and then added, ‘But it wasn’t really living; it was simply existing.’
His mouth returned to her breasts, teasing their hard crests. Belle moaned eagerly beneath her breath and reached for him. Her need for him overwhelmed her, urgent, immediate and hotly demanding. The feel of his weight against her body, between her thighs, made her shudder wildly. Her hands clasped his back, her nails pressed hard against his skin as she clung passionately to him. She cried out as he entered her, a wild, elemental cry of love and need mingled with pain and regret for all that they had lost, all that she had thrown away, and then the past was forgotten, the future just a shadowy vision, the only thing that mattered the thrusting movement of his body within hers.
Luc cried out fiercely against her as his own need peaked and her body exploded into a frantic spiral of orgasmic pleasure.
Damp, panting, her heart still racing, Belle looked up into his eyes.
‘Great-Aunt Alice could have an awful lot to answer for,’ she warned him meaningfully. ‘This wasn’t something I’d planned for…’
‘All the more reason to take that trip to Cheringham House just as soon as we can, then,’ Luc responded.
‘I might not—’ Belle began, but Luc shook his head, and then bent it and kissed her tenderly.
‘With or without child, I want you back in my life, Belle.’ Belle snuggled closer to him and then tensed.
‘Luc, I don’t want to have to tell anyone about us…not yet…it’
s too soon. What we have between us is too…precious. I…’
‘I understand,’ Luc confirmed as he kissed her again.
* * *
‘Belle.’
Belle gave Luc an answering smile as he called her name and cut a swathe through the busy fellow wedding guests to reach her side.
‘What happened?’ he asked her quietly, adding with a rueful look, ‘I was just beginning to wonder if I ought to send my mother on a search party to the Ladies for you.’
‘It’s just as well that you didn’t,’ Belle whispered, glancing warningly at where his hand rested, just a little too possessively and potentially betrayingly on her arm. ‘Body language, Luc,’ she reminded him under her breath. ‘People are watching us.’
‘Mmm…what do you mean, just as well I didn’t?’ Luc demanded, ignoring the second part of her comment.
‘I never actually got as far as the cloakroom,’ Belle informed him as they were caught up in the throng of people moving excitedly towards the exit so that they could watch the bride and groom leave.
‘Why, what happened?’ Luc asked her anxiously.
‘My mobile started to ring,’ Belle answered him, ‘and once I realised who was calling I decided that it might be an idea to make sure I took the call in private. So I went out to the car.’
‘In private?’ Luc started to frown.
* * *
‘Look over there at Luc and Belle,’ Luc’s mother sighed disappointedly at her husband as she caught sight of her son’s frowning face.
‘Just when I thought that the pair of them seemed to be getting on so well. I suppose I should have known it was too good to be true. And to think I’d actually begun to hope…’ She shook her head ruefully. ‘They always seemed so right for one another, and I can’t help wishing…’
‘Leave them to lead their own lives,’ her husband advised her gently.
* * *
‘In private,’ Luc repeated with concern.
‘Mmm…’ Belle responded dreamily.
Belle’s face was slightly flushed and Luc could almost feel the excitement bubbling up inside her. Her eyes, when he looked down into them, shone with barely concealed happiness. So much so that he could almost feel it radiating from her. She looked, Luc decided wryly, buoyed up with a secret—and with love.
‘It must have been a very special call—and a very special caller.’ Luc couldn’t resist challenging her.
Belle’s smile deepened, and so did her pretty pink colour.
‘It was,’ she admitted candidly.
‘Belle, quick. She’s leaving. Here…’
A handful of rose petals were pushed into Belle’s hand by her mother, to shower onto the bride. Obediently, Belle turned her attention away from Luc and towards her niece and her new husband.
‘Belle looks wonderful, doesn’t she?’ one of Belle’s female cousins commented to another.
‘Positively glowing…’
Belle, who had overheard their comment, waited until they were out of earshot before turning to Luc and remarking in a very, very soft whisper, ‘Positively blooming might have been a more appropriate description—under the circumstances. Doubly so, in view of the fact…’ She added mock coyly.
She stopped and waited for the penny to drop.
‘My call was from the doctor’s surgery,’ she added helpfully, her own face breaking into a wide grin of excited happiness as she saw the enlightenment dawn in Luc’s eyes.
‘It’s quite definitely twins,’ she told him breathlessly.
‘Twins… Two babies…’ Luc gazed at her in adoring awe.
‘Yes, twins does mean two babies,’ Belle agreed teasingly, tongue in cheek.
She had had her suspicions for a while that she might be pregnant—she had even gone out and bought herself a home pregnancy test But Luc had been away at the time, and in the end, she had wanted him to be there to share the moment with her. After all, he had been there—very much there—when their baby had been conceived, and they had agreed that this time round they were going to share their lives as true partners, true lovers.
Luc had been with her when she had first been told that she might be carrying twins, and today’s phone call was the formal confirmation of the news they had already unofficially been given.
‘Luc—Luc, stop it,’ Belle protested as Luc suddenly wrapped her in his arms and gazed deeply into her eyes before starting to kiss her.
‘Luc, people are watching us,’ Belle protested huskily beneath his mouth. ‘Luc… Luc… Mmm… Mmm…’
‘Let them watch,’ Luc whispered back hoarsely.
Around them Belle could hear the astonished whispers of the other guests as they turned away from the departing bridal car to stare at Belle and Luc.
‘I think we’d better tell them, don’t you?’ Luc whispered lovingly. ‘Otherwise, if we don’t…’
His hand covered her still flat stomach protectively, and even though she knew technically it was impossible as yet Belle could have sworn the two beings they had created with their love were kicking their assent to their father’s suggestion.
‘Well, they’re going to have to know some time,’ Belle agreed philosophically as she glanced down at her body. ‘But a lot of them might not approve,’ she warned him. ‘After all, it’s not exactly conventional.’
‘We have the right to live our lives the way we want to live them, unconventional or not,’ Luc argued softly.
And then, still holding her in the protective circle of his arm, he cleared his throat and began, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends. Belle and I have an announcement to make.’
As he looked down at her, Belle looked back up at him, all the love she felt for him showing clearly in her eyes. A shaft of light touched the gold of the new wedding ring she had just removed from her purse and slipped onto her wedding finger—they had had it made from the gold of her old ring and Luc’s, a symbolic fusing of the old to create new in a bond that could never be broken.
Her sister saw it first, pre-empting Luc’s announcement by screaming excitedly,
‘Belle, you’re married—you and Luc have remarried! Oh, how could you, without saying anything. Oh, Belle…Luc…Oh, this is so wonderful…’
‘Wonderful,’ Luc echoed as he raised Belle’s hand to his mouth and gently kissed her fingers.
Through the excited hubbub that followed, Belle could hear her great-aunt Alice saying quite clearly to her mother, ‘There you are, Mary, I knew I was right They are married…’
As their relatives pressed happily around them, Belle could feel the joy bubbling up inside her.
Oh yes, they were married—had remarried. In a small, perfect, private ceremony on the island on the lake at Cheringham House, two weeks ago.
She had wanted to keep it a secret for just a little longer but… She patted her stomach tenderly.
Some events had a way of precipitating their own celebrations.
Above the heads of their excited audience Luc mouthed softly to her, I love you—and them.
Blissfully Belle returned his smile. One day—not this time, perhaps, but one day——they would have a little girl, and when they did, when they did, she rather thought they might call her Alice.
* * * * *
Now, read on for a tantalizing excerpt of Dani Collins’ next book,
CLAIMING HIS CHRISTMAS WIFE
After their marriage ends in heartbreak, Travis never wants to see Imogen again. But to avoid a scandal they must agree to a temporary reconciliation—leaving Travis tempted to reclaim his wife…for good!
Read on for a glimpse of
CLAIMING HIS CHRISTMAS WIFE
CHAPTER ONE
“MR. TRAVIS SANDERS?”
“YES,” he confirmed shortly, willing the woman to hurry to the point. His PA had interrupted a high-level meeting with this “extremely important” call. “What is this about?”
“Imogen Gantry. She’s your wife?”
Memory washed through hi
m in a rush of heat and hunger. He tensed against it and glanced around, lowering his voice. That broken teacup had been swept firmly under the rug four years ago.
“We’re divorced. Are you a reporter?”
“I’m trying to locate her next of kin. I’m at…” She mentioned the name of one of New York’s most beleaguered public hospitals.
Whatever old anger had sent him soaring at the mention of his ex-wife exploded in a percussive flash. He was blind. Falling. Wind whistling in his ears. Air moving too fast for him to catch a gulp.
“What happened?” he managed to grit out. He was dimly aware his eyes were closed, but she was right there in front of him, laughing. Her green eyes glimmered with mischief. Her hair was a halo of flames licking at her snowy complexion. She swerved her lashes to cut him a glance. So enchantingly beautiful. Gaze clouding with arousal. Sparking with anger. Looking so wounded and vulnerable that last time he’d seen her, his heart still dipped thinking of it.
He’d quickly learned it was a lie, but that didn’t make any of this easier to accept.
Gone? He couldn’t make it fit in his head. He had told her he never wanted to see her again, but discovered he had secretly believed he would.
From far away, he heard the woman say, “She collapsed on the street. She’s feverish and unconscious. Do you know of any medication we should be aware of? She’s awaiting treatment, but—”
“She’s not dead?”
He heard how that sounded, as if that was the outcome he would have preferred, but leave it to Imogen to set him up to believe one thing, contort his emotions to unbearable degrees, then send him flying in another direction. That betraying, manipulative—if he could get his hands on her, he’d kill her himself.
“And she was taken to that hospital? Why?”
“I believe we were closest. She doesn’t seem to have a phone and yours is the only name I’ve been able to find in her bag. We need guidance on treatment and insurance. Are you able to provide that?”
“Contact her father.” He walked back toward the door to his office, saying to his PA behind her desk, “Look up Imogen Gantry’s father. He’s in publishing. Maybe starts with a W. William?” He hadn’t met the man, only heard her mention him once or twice. Hell, they’d only been married fifteen minutes. He knew next to nothing about her.