The Gift of Loving

by Wilson, Patricia

  He watched her rather imperiously as she reluctantly approached and then he took her hand and slid a large diamond ring on to her finger.

  'Voila! You are now engaged. The first step towards your changed life is taken.'

  As far as Lucy was concerned her life had changed long before this but he was right in one thing, it was a very definite step. It frightened her. There seemed to be little chance of escape now. It was so very final.

  'I—I think you're going to regret this, monsieur,' she began quietly, avoiding his gaze.

  It did nothing to lighten his mood, a mood that had been on him all evening.

  'I am not going to regret it at all!' he rasped. 'I planned this and I know exactly what I am doing. The regret is all coming from you.

  No doubt you will remember to regret that your aunt is a thief?' He reached out and grasped her chin cruelly, jerking her face up, forcing her to meet eyes that blazed with annoyance. 'And do not call me monsieur! My name is Guy and you will say the name instead of this endless formality. I have told you that it will make Veronique suspicious.'

  'I don't care! I can't go through with this!' Lucy snatched her chin away from the hard fingers and began to back off but his hands shot out and caught her.

  'Mon Dieu, but you will go through with it!' he said explosively. 'I will make you!'

  It was all the more alarming because he kept his voice low, his temper rumbling like a volcano. He seemed to be on the edge of a towering rage and Lucy stared into his dark eyes, her face white and shocked.

  'You—you can't. Not—not really. If I stand up to you, you'll never -'

  'Will I not?' he growled, pulling her forward. 'You imagine I'm about to call it all off and set you free? You were offered prison as an alternative and it is still there.' He let her go and turned away impatiently, every line of his body furious. 'You had better go before I lose all patience,' he snapped. 'No doubt Veronique would be willing to come up with a helpful story if I decided to get fid of you and let you face your fate. She is quite decided that you are unsuitable. To see the back of you would be something of a relief, I suspect.'

  Lucy took his advice and made for the door speedily but he stopped her before she got there.

  'There will be an engagement dinner at the end of this week,' he informed her aggressively, turning his dark face towards her. 'It will be your first dinner as my fiancée. Remember to wear your shoes, try not to fall over and you will manage quite well, I expect.'

  'Now that I've been transformed!' Lucy managed tartly, her flushed face held proudly.

  His eyes raked over her.

  'You have not been transformed, ma chere,' he taunted. 'You have merely been polished a little. The mouse and the shrew are still there below the surface. See to it that the shrew does not raise its head at the engagement dinner. There will be important guests and I would not wish to see them shocked as I give you a good shaking.'

  She could only glare at him and storm out but she didn't think he was too intimidated by her temper; his own was right at the top, boiling. It was difficult to understand him. Looking back he seemed to be constantly moving between a sort of kindness and a wild rage.

  This afternoon he had been mocking, it was true, but all in all he had been gentle, he had even held her hand.

  Since then, however, he had been smouldering with anger. All the time at dinner he had watched her closely, his dark eyes cold, his face stiff with some sort of annoyance, and now he was in a real rage although nothing had changed. After all, he had already known he was going to give her the ring. She wondered where he had got it from. Had he shopped for that while she was with Veronique?

  Lucy shook herself out of these useless speculations and went to her room. She had more to worry about than the ring. How was she going to manage a glittering dinner in this chateau? How could she possibly pass as the future wife of a count?

  * * *

  As it turned out, she managed very well. Her natural shyness gave her a very quiet dignity that was no doubt mistaken by some for aloofness. Whatever they thought, it seemed to please Guy. After a few taut moments when he was clearly on edge he relaxed and even looked as if he was enjoying himself. He rarely left her side and, when he did, Veronique was there at once, also pleased, so pleased that she smiled a great deal. The servants beamed on her, the lights

  glittered and in one of the dresses that Guy had chosen, a white silk shift, the skirt tasselled with gold, she felt fairly secure.

  She was with Veronique when late guests arrived, a young woman and an obviously older man. They spoke to Guy and then came straight across and Lucy noted that Guy did not this time hurry to join her.

  'So at last he's getting married?' The woman smiled in a conspiratorial way at Veronique and then turned assessing eyes on Lucy. 'I had begun to think it would never happen. You must have the magic touch, mademoiselle. Guy is a confirmed bachelor.'

  'Not any more,' Lucy said quietly. She could feel an atmosphere here. Veronique had stiffened considerably and across the room she could feel Guy's eyes burning into her.

  'I am amazed that nobody knows about you, mademoiselle. I do not even know your name with any certainty. I am Michelle Colliot.'

  'Perhaps you didn't read the invitation too clearly,' Lucy suggested quietly. There had been a very subtle dismissal in the woman's voice, as if Lucy were of no consequence except for her involvement in the unusual event of Guy getting married. 'My name is Lucinda Balfour. I don't suppose people have had time to hear about me yet. I haven't known Guy for very long.'

  'A whirlwind courtship?' Michelle Colliot looked slightly sceptical.

  'Love at first sight,' Lucy assured her seriously, feeling that she must defend herself speedily. It went down very heavily and Michelle did not linger.

  Veronique took Lucy's arm and turned her away just as Guy came up.

  'Time for me to escort you to dinner, Lucinda.' He smiled down at her, but it looked to Lucy as if it was a bit of an effort. She was captured, though, and Guy's hand slid up her arm, pulling her close.

  'What did Michelle want to talk about?' he asked a little sharply.

  'Our whirlwind romance.'

  He drew back and looked at her, his black brows drawn together, anger glittering in his eyes. 'I asked you a civil question. Answer properly!'

  'It may have been a civil question but it wasn't asked very civilly and, in any case, I'm telling the truth. She was astonished that I'd captured you.' Lucy looked up at him pertly. 'I had to confess that it was love at first sight. That satisfied her.'

  'If you are beginning to -' His anger was barely contained but the room was filled with people, many of them looking across at the

  'happy' couple, and Lucy looked straight at Guy with defiance right at the surface.

  'If I am beginning to misbehave you'll shake me?' she enquired crisply. 'Go ahead. It will bring some life into the party. I'm bored out of my mind.'

  For a second he stared into her wide blue eyes and then he relaxed, his lips quirking.

  'Little wretch,' he murmured softly. 'Mon Dieu! You are not as easy to manage as I imagined at first. I will have to train you.'

  'Never in a month of Sundays!' Lucy retorted, gasping as his arm came around her waist, his hand curving round her hip. It sent shock waves right through her but when she looked up he was no longer amused. His eyes were on Michelle Colliot, who was looking at him

  with dark, possessive eyes. She looked at him all the way through dinner, too, and evidently Veronique noticed. She was back by Lucy's side after dinner the moment that Guy left her.

  'I hope that Michelle does not attempt to upset you, Lucinda,' she said in a low voice. 'She is very spoiled and at one time imagined that she would be the next Comtesse de Chauvrais.'

  'What happened?' Lucy asked quietly, her eyes searching for Guy.

  'She married Albert Colliot. He is wealthy and easy to handle, much older than Michelle. Guy has the wealth but has never been easy to handle—not that
he wished to marry her,' she added hastily, her face flushing.

  Lucy doubted that. Guy was standing across the room, talking to a group of people, but his eyes were intently on Michelle who seemed to be well aware of the fact.

  Later, as she danced with Guy, Lucy felt the woman's eyes on her and she turned, not missing the malevolence.

  'Somebody doesn't like me,' she observed brightly.

  'Who could possibly dislike you?' Guy growled impatiently. 'You behave very well except with me.'

  'Nobody has trapped me, except you,' Lucy reminded him. 'I was speaking of Madame Colliot, as a matter of fact. She still seems unconvinced that this is real. Maybe it's because she wanted to marry you herself.'

  Guy snapped at her, his hands tightening painfully, 'As you can see, she is already married. In any case, I have told you, it is not my intention to marry in any real capacity. Women are treacherous and good for one thing only. This marriage is merely to get an heir.

  Surely you don't need to be reminded of that?' he added sardonically, waiting cruelly for her usual blushes to surface.

  They didn't; she was too busy working out that to marry Michelle would now be impossible as she was already married. Veronique imagined that Guy had never asked her, or at least she had hastily said that. Lucy thought otherwise. He had spoken about faithless women. The mystery was solved. He loved Michelle and she had turned him down. No wonder he didn't want a permanent wife if he still loved another woman.

  'What are you thinking?' Guy tilted her face that had suddenly lost its life.

  'My thoughts are private. You didn't buy those,' Lucy said bitterly, feeling cold and inexplicably lost.

  'I have not yet bought anything, except a few clothes,' he reminded her quietly, his dark eyes intently on her face. 'I am not buying you either. It is a job, just like any other job, one that will benefit us both.'

  'No doubt.' She turned away from his eyes, lowering her head, and his hand came around her nape as he held her more closely. It was warm, comforting, but it was probably for the benefit of onlookers, especially Michelle.

  'Somebody has upset you, Lucinda?' he asked softly, his face against her hair.

  'Nobody at all. I'm simply in the middle of a nightmare and, from time to time, I realise it.'

  Her words and her tight voice had the desired effect. He withdrew his hand and held her less warmly, not warmly at all in fact. For the rest of the evening he was cold as ice, black anger just below the

  surface, and Lucy was glad when it was all over and they stood together seeing the guests out.

  'You are a lucky man, Monsieur le Comte,' Albert Colliot said as they left. 'An unusual English bride with skin like velvet and a face like that of a beautiful fawn. You make a handsome couple.'

  'She is not a bride yet, cheri,' Michelle said, with a sidelong glance at Guy.

  'She will be,' Guy assured her in a caustic voice. 'She is an enchantress. Clearly your husband sees it himself. How could I let her escape me?' He had the last word, of course, but then he usually did.

  'You should have married her,' Lucy muttered angrily as they walked back across the huge hall, the last of the guests gone.

  'Who?' He looked down at her coldly.

  'Michelle. Isn't it obvious?'

  'Have I ever told you that you are ridiculous?' he grated, coming to a halt and grabbing her arm tightly.

  'Not that I recall.' She looked up at him with miserable defiance, but he didn't see the misery.

  'Then it was an oversight. I will correct that now. You are ridiculous!'

  'Not really,' Lucy pointed out. 'Just hopeful. Even at the last minute I'm praying that someone will take my place.'

  'Like a married woman, for example?' he asked savagely.

  'Marriages can end. Ours will. It's something to look forward to.'

  His grip tightened and she wondered for a moment if she had gone too far. Misery that had been growing steadily had sharpened her tongue and she had forgotten for a moment that he was capable of wild rage. He controlled it with difficulty.

  'Go to bed, Mademoiselle Balfour, before I forget that I am a civilised man and beat you soundly!' he snapped. His eyes suddenly narrowed on her pale face. 'But then, perhaps you would not care as you are bored out of your mind.'

  Lucy snatched her arm away and walked off up the wide stairs, aware that his eyes were burning into her straight back. She didn't care. He was cruel, merciless. Hadn't she known that right from the first? She looked at herself in the long mirror in her luxurious room.

  Her face was almost as white as the dress, her eyes too big in her face. An enchantress? She didn't think so, and neither did he.

  Michelle was not convinced either. She wondered if Guy still saw her secretly? No. He wouldn't, it would be beneath his dignity. He remembered, though, that was very obvious. She wondered why it made her feel so unhappy. She had enough to feel unhappy about without anything else added to it.

  Guy came to the door when she was ready for bed and she answered because she thought it was Veronique. He stood looking at her as she opened the door and she felt a twinge of alarm although the anger had left his face.

  'What do you want?' She stood in her dressing-gown and regarded him solemnly.

  'I have come to apologise. You are not ridiculous. I have told you that I find you amusing and often quite charming.'

  'Thank you,' Lucy said stiffly. 'Goodnight.'

  His hand came to the door as she made to close it quickly and he smiled at her look of alarm.

  'I am not about to enter and put you out of your misery, Lucinda,' he said with some amusement.

  'I'm glad to hear it,' she got out breathlessly. 'I'd scream the place down.'

  'Will you do that on our honeymoon?' He was inside the room before she could make a move to stop him. 'You have not screamed thus far when I have kissed you. I want to kiss you goodnight to show that I am not angry and to thank you for the great effort you made this evening.'

  'Praise is sufficient,' Lucy said breathlessly, backing off.

  He reached out and collected her to him, closing the door and leaning back against it, pulling her close.

  'Perhaps it is not sufficient for me,' he murmured. 'Come here, Lucinda. It is time you had some practice in being engaged.'

  'No!' She struggled belatedly but it was altogether too late. He pulled her closer, his lips searching for hers, and as he kissed her she stopped struggling. It seemed impossible to struggle any more. His fingers raked through her hair, clasping her head to hold her face to his, his lips searching hers more deeply than they had ever done before and this time she felt the heat sear through her and recognised it. It was desire; her misery before, jealousy.

  She softened and he brought her tightly against him, shocking her as she felt the surge of his body against hers.

  'You are surprised that I want you?' he murmured against her ear, his hand cupping her head. 'Do you imagine I could make this kind

  of bargain with a woman I did not desire at all? I have said you are an enchantress. You are. You are unusual, elusive, a challenge.'

  For seconds she was dreamy, dazed with feelings she had only vaguely felt before and he took advantage of her enchantment, his lips moving over her face and neck before fusing with hers again as he wrapped her tightly to him, forcing her to accept an almost angry desire.

  It was sheer magic until she allowed reason to creep in. Of course he needed to make her believe he wanted her. It was probably easy for a man. Michelle's face swam into her mind, that and the fact that she was merely a very peculiar employee.

  She pulled away, standing free, her chest heaving with a pain that seemed to be spreading all the way through her.

  'Please go away!' she managed shakily, making herself look up to meet angry, narrowed eyes.

  'And if I do not?' He stared into her eyes menacingly and she flushed, her skin like a wild rose.

  'I'll scream for Veronique.'

  'You imagine I would let you?'
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  His eyes roamed over her face, his gaze narrowed and burning. He looked so fierce, so cruel, that she felt a wave of fear and he saw it, his own face tightening further.

  'I assured you that there would be no need to fear me,' he grated.

  'You're convincing me that there is,' Lucy managed. 'I'm not a fool. I know why you're here. Seeing Michelle Colliot upset you, didn't it?

  Well, you're not taking it out on me!'

  She was momentarily off guard, too busy fighting jealousy to care, and he drew her roughly to him, kissing her harshly this time, his mouth open and demanding, not coaxing any more. He let her go when she felt too weak to stand and then he glared at her.

  'I take back my apology,' he snapped. 'You are ridiculous after all!'

  He was gone before she could recover and she almost fell on the door, locking it and leaning against it, halfway between tears and yearning. She would not be able to lock the door on their honeymoon and he would be ruthless. Her hands balled into fists, coming to her hot face, and she began to pace the room, quite sure that she would be doing that for the rest of the night.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DURING the following days, Lucy did a lot of soul- searching. She was caught up in Guy's life and unable to break free. At the beginning she had sometimes doubted whether he would carry out his threat if she either left or attempted to back out of the bargain.

  Now she was in little doubt. He was darkly silent, verging on anger every time he looked at her. His looks too were frequent, so frequent and so brooding that she was sure he regretted this as much as she did, but his plans were inflexible and he had made his announcement to more than the family.

  The whole of the household seemed to be vigorously involved in preparing for the wedding and Veronique was in a state of tight nerves, her face too strained to do much smiling. Guy appeared to do nothing—except watch Lucy narrowly whenever they were in the same room. He rarely spoke to her unless there were others present and seemed to go out of his way to avoid any sort of contact.

  Escape was impossible unless she walked out of the chateau and begged a lift, because although he had spent what appeared to be a fortune on clothes for her, he had made quite sure she had no cash at all, and so had Aunt Wanda for that matter. As cash had always been a scarce commodity in her family, Lucy had not given it any consideration. She did now, but it was too late. She was not about to risk her life begging lifts from strangers, however.