‘I’m responsible for this situation. I must take the consequences, and pay my dues.’
He made it sound like a parking offence.
‘You can’t just announce it like that!’ She gasped.
‘Don’t I have any say in the matter?’
‘Why would you want anything different?’ He stared at her, mystified. ‘Our child will be the legitimate heir to the Moreau name. Some day it will inherit my title, and everything I’ve worked for on my own account. What could be better than that?’
‘But…’ his reasonable tone left her scrabbling for objections ‘…I’m a chef…and you’re a count!’
‘That will make you the perfect wife for me.’ Etienne’s voice was strained through centuries of breeding. ‘Your work at Le Rossignol has shown me how good you are in social situations, however difficult. You have a decent enough business brain and grace under pressure. You will make the perfect countess,’ he said as if there were no question about it. He had spoken, and it would be her duty to obey.
‘Have you stopped to consider for one single second that I really might not want to marry you?’
‘What?’ Etienne stared at her. He looked genuinely surprised. ‘No. Of course I haven’t.’
Gwen nodded. She should have known. What sort of a relationship was this? They knew nothing about each other beyond the confines of business. She had served him with a coffee. He had given her a lift home. She had fallen into his arms. That was just about the extent of it. They had only one thing in common. It was the whirlwind excitement of one passionate night. An hour earlier, the thought of marrying Etienne would have been an impossible fantasy—something she had not dared admit to herself. Unconsciously, her hand strayed to her stomach, curving protectively. Now the fantasy had suddenly become a cold-hearted business deal.
‘What is the matter, Gwen? Why are you looking at me like that? You can’t honestly be about to refuse.’ His voice was gently mocking. ‘I’ve never known a woman who wouldn’t jump at the chance to become a countess.’
Gwen thought of his stepmother, the odious Sophie, and her poor, nervous niece.
‘Well, you know one now,’ she announced.
Etienne hit back with an equally solid response. ‘This isn’t about what either of us wants as individuals. This is about my heir, your pregnancy, and our baby. We have to stop thinking about ourselves and put all our energy into preparing for the future.’
He sounded so aristocratic, so certain. ‘Our lifestyles are so different,’ she said faintly. ‘What about your future?’
‘My future is never in any doubt. Let me handle this, Gwen.’ He moved as though to put an arm around her shoulder. At the last moment, he hesitated and turned the movement into just a reassuring touch of his hand.
When it came to keeping Le Rossignol afloat, Etienne had been as good as his word. He had not interfered. Gwen wondered whether he would be content to throw money at parenthood in a similar way. She didn’t know whether he would back off or take compete control. With her mind in a whirl and no idea how she would set about raising a child, she didn’t know which would be worse. That alarmed her.
She searched his face, trying to see the emotions behind his dark eyes. It was so tempting to give in—simply to let him take control and sweep her away.
‘I don’t have a clue about babies, and there’s so much to do if we’re going to get married before I’m…’ Instinctively, she looked down at her waist. It was still neatly defined, but for how much longer?
‘That’s the great thing about being a member of the aristocracy. Contingency plans for all the major life events are permanently in place. They only need a few phone calls to set them in motion. And relax—I don’t know anything about babies either. I doubt if many first-time parents do. And we’ll have more than enough help.’
Gwen watched him tap numbers into his phone and start mobilising his staff. He was oblivious to everything else, so she could observe him in detail. He was still the gloriously handsome, detached figure who had walked into her life on that fateful first evening. This cool professionalism had always been one of his attractions. He shared her need to be in control of every situation. With a surge of desire she saw he was determined to be a part of her baby’s future. Etienne barely noticed her interest in him. He was a man in a hurry. The moment he closed his call, he picked up her handbag and set off downstairs. ‘Come on. Let’s discuss this on neutral territory.’
‘Where are you going with my bag?’
‘We’re going for a drive. This is the bait to get you into my car.’ He dangled her bag from his fingers as he opened the passenger door of his Ferrari for her. Gwen came to a halt on her front doorstep.
‘Where are we going?’
He gave her a smile that was almost encouraging. ‘There’s no need to look so suspicious. I know a little bistro right out in the country. The owners are very discreet. We won’t be troubled and we can talk freely. There’s no risk of being overheard.’
‘I’m going to have a baby. What is there left to say?’ Gwen concentrated on the ground as she walked towards the car.
‘We’re going to be married; there are many things to discuss. And let’s get one thing straight from the beginning. You’re not having a baby. You are carrying my child. There is a difference. It means you aren’t alone.’
Everything had changed, yet some things were still the same. Etienne was looking at her in the same way he had done over the conference table on The Windflower. He was perfectly composed and in control. And he was still as spectacular as ever. A treacherous suspicion of hunger stirred within her, sealing her fate.
‘OK. A discussion over lunch. I can handle that,’ she said, trying to gain some control over her dangerous emotions. It would not be a good time to let her feelings get the better of her. She was too confused to know what they were.
Etienne’s mouth tightened. ‘Yes. There are things I must talk to you about.’
‘In the same way you “talked” to Angela Webbington?’ Gwen queried, remembering the coverage she had seen of their stormy relationship. Her accusation did not have the effect she expected. Instead of exploding with rage or denial, Etienne simply nodded.
‘Oui. In exactly that way. Only this time, each of us is going to listen to what the other has to say, Gwen.’
She fell silent. Angela had vanished from his life. Gwen couldn’t help wondering if the same thing might happen to her, if she refused to toe his line. She thought of being responsible for a tiny new baby and never seeing Etienne again. Suddenly, a fierce wave of longing engulfed her. Marrying Etienne would give her child a safe, secure life and keep them both within his orbit.
‘So…if I marry you, it’s a guarantee that everything will be all right?’
Staring resolutely through the windscreen, he eased his car into gear and pulled away. Unusually the Ferrari moved off with dignity, rather than in a shower of gravel.
‘Not even I can promise that, Gwen. Nobody can predict what the future holds. But I can promise you one thing. We are going to do this together. My child will be raised to take his place as the next count. He is owed the best of everything, and I intend to see that he gets it, whatever that takes. My responsibility for him began the moment I got you—’ he waved a hand in the general direction of her lap ‘—the moment all this happened. I would never abandon a woman to bring up a child of mine alone—least of all you. We’re partners in business. This is a joint effort, too.’ He glanced across at her with an encouraging smile.
‘Did you talk to your ex-fiancée in this deeply romantic way?’ Gwen sent the question spinning towards him like a guided missile. Etienne flicked it aside with a grimace.
‘You are not Angela, and you never will be,’ he said with such painful restraint Gwen wondered again what Angela had really been like to have had such an effect on this man. ‘Things are going to be very different this time.’
Gwen had been warning herself for weeks that it was a bad idea to br
ing her feelings into this business partnership. Now he would be increasing his influence over her personal, as well as her professional, life. If she agreed to marry him, she might soon be unable to afford the luxury of any emotions at all.
He drove on. His silence was as arid as the countryside flashing past the car. When they stopped, Etienne took his time in going around to open the door for her. She blinked in the harsh sunlight. They were in a little village square, sleepy with heat. Luckily, there were few people around. No one would recognise her when she was this far out in the wilds, but that didn’t mean she wanted people to see her at a time of total turmoil.
The bistro’s proprietor rushed out, wreathed in smiles. He met them like visiting royalty. In spite of herself, Gwen’s heart fluttered a little to see Etienne greeted so kindly, and by his title. Then she thought back to the Internet coverage she had seen of his past. Etienne was famous for his vast number of female ‘friends’. He must have brought dozens of girls here in the past. How could marriage change a man like that?
They were led away from the public areas of the restaurant to a secluded table set beneath a bower of vines and creepers. Spectacular passion flowers studded the greenery, their pure white flowers pencilled with blue and yellow detail.
‘Gwen will drink fresh orange juice over ice, she’ll start with melon and strawberries, followed by the poached fish and salad. And make sure everything is well washed in Evian,’ Etienne announced to the waiter.
Gwen said nothing until they were alone together.
‘Don’t I get any choice in my food?’
‘Was there anything you particularly wanted?’
‘No, but—’
‘Then relax!’ He tried to smile. This time his efforts were slightly more successful. ‘I’ve simply saved you the task of choosing the healthiest options. My child will have only the best.’
Gwen heard nothing after that. She tried to listen, but it quickly became obvious Etienne’s mind was made up with regard to every detail regarding her, his child, his heritage and his future. Etienne was laying out his big ideas as they applied to her baby, and life in general. Her function was to listen, and presumably nod in all the right places. Unable to think about the implications, she concentrated on her meal. Her earlier wave of sickness was a distant memory, and now she was ravenous. As it turned out, Etienne had made all the right choices for her. Her food was totally delicious. Damn the man, she thought mutinously.
‘And what do you have to say to all this, Gwen?’
Etienne’s question caught her completely off guard.
‘I—I don’t know. The only thing I know about motherhood is that I’m not cut out for it,’ she said hopelessly. ‘I’ve only just managed to escape one family. This taste of freedom after being suffocated for so long has been incredible. Le Rossignol is my life now. How can I sacrifice that, when I’ve worked so hard to get it? I’ve only had a few weeks to enjoy it. I’ve hardly begun to live. Now I’ll have to spend the rest of my life running around after…somebody else.’
Etienne did not answer, but his face darkened and he summoned the bill. ‘Let’s get home. The doctor should have your results by the time we get there.’
Gwen let him lead her back to the car. As he held the door open for her she saw a perfect illustration of what her future might hold. It was trailing across that pretty little village square.
‘Gwen—what is it?’ Etienne’s voice sharpened. Afraid she might be about to faint, he reached out and caught her by the shoulders. Pulling her towards him, he was ready with reassurances, but they died on his lips. She wasn’t looking at him. She was staring over his shoulder. He raked the village square with a glare, but couldn’t be expected to see it in the same way she did. It was practically deserted. A few white doves pecked around the feet of some old men enjoying the afternoon in the shade of an ancient walnut tree. Meanwhile, a screaming toddler was being dragged across the cobblestones by a harassed young woman weighed down with shopping. She was struggling on alone, with no one to help her.
Gwen saw, and understood. She was alone and pregnant in a foreign country. But Etienne had helped her once before and, whatever had happened in his past, she did have complete faith in his ability to protect her and her baby. Who was she to jeopardise her child’s future simply through fear for her own heart?
‘It’s nothing. I’m fine,’ she reassured him with a wan smile. ‘I just caught a glimpse of what life might be like on my own, that’s all.’
‘I must get you back to the chateau,’ he said with concern. ‘You look exhausted. It’s been a hectic few weeks. You need rest—whatever the outcome of your tests.’
The doctor delivered her results in person. They were positive, as both Gwen and Etienne had known they would be.
‘I shall need a full report on my…fiancée’s—’ Etienne spoke the word with difficulty ‘—condition, and written lists of your recommendations for her care and diet,’ he began, then spent the next half an hour grilling the doctor about what would happen, minute by minute. Locked inside her own thoughts, Gwen hardly heard a word he said.
‘I’m not up to this, Etienne,’ she said miserably. ‘I don’t know how to be a mother! And what about the restaurant? I need some time to get used to all this—’
‘Haven’t you been listening? You don’t need to do anything. From now on, I shall be taking care of absolutely everything for you.’
Gwen felt again the stirrings of unease. Her life was spinning entirely out of her control. Etienne’s words tailed off, his smile fading as he saw her expression.
As he sensed that she was wavering his voice became soothing, a velvet glove encasing cold, hard steel. ‘I keep telling you. This is a team effort. Between us, we’re going to give our baby the best of everything.’ When she did not answer, he continued, in an appeasing tone, ‘You’ve often said how traditional your family are. I could ask your father’s permission to marry you, if you like.’
Any colour Gwen might have regained disappeared as she saw Etienne pulling out his mobile. ‘No! My parents must never know I got things back to front!’ She was adamant. ‘As you said, they’re old-fashioned. It’s wedding first, babies later as far as they’re concerned.’
Etienne tucked his phone away again. ‘Fine. Just as you like. My people will get all the paperwork sorted out. The moment it’s complete, we’ll marry with the minimum of fuss. Then we’ll fly straight to your parents. You may not want me to ask their permission formally, but they will be the first to know. It’s the least I can do. Trust me, Gwen. Everything will be over and done with in a few signatures,’ he assured her. ‘My people will do everything, including the catering—for once, you will not need to lift a finger.’ Gwen’s head was whirling, filled with so many panicked thoughts that she could hardly muster a single straight sentence. One thought, however, was clear.
‘So…I’m not going to have a hand in catering for my own wedding?’ she said slowly.
Etienne looked puzzled. ‘Why would you want to? It’s your big day. You’ll want to mingle with my friends and family. I’ve seen how much you enjoy the social aspect of your work at the restaurant.’
‘But I hate all that, Etienne! I only do it for the sake of my business!’
‘I’m not so sure, Gwen. No one could fake the way you handle yourself in a crowd, and deal with the diners. You’ll be the new public face of the house of Malotte. It’s about time we had an injection of brains and beauty. The Moreau family has cornered the market in fighters and philanderers for centuries. I’m going to turn our little accident into the best thing that has ever happened to my family.’
Gwen was silent for a long time. If she married Etienne, would there be any room left for her? It already felt as if she were drifting away—dwindling into someone smaller and weaker. But what were her options here? She didn’t want an abortion, her family certainly had no money to spare and would be horrified by her predicament…and here was Etienne, determined to take care of everythin
g. Was it such a high price to pay? It was his duty to do the best for his ancient family. He wanted it to do more than simply survive. He wanted it to thrive, and that was exactly what she wanted for her baby. It was an unromantic basis for a marriage, but, to use his executive-speak, it ticked all the right boxes for both of them. Not simply practical boxes either. Looking at Etienne now, she saw his eyes glowing with enthusiasm for his latest project. Unable to help herself, she thought back to the one unforgettable night they had shared. She felt the memory warm her like a caress.
‘When you put it like that, who am I to refuse?’ she said at last.
CHAPTER NINE
FROM that moment, Etienne would not let Gwen lift a finger or take any decisions. His staff swung into action. Within hours most of her belongings had been moved out of the gite and installed in the chateau. He supervised everything, including Gwen. Whenever he saw her, he complained if she wasn’t sitting down, eating something nourishing or preferably doing both at once. The whole estate became a visible whirlwind of activity. Wherever Gwen went, it felt as though she was in the way. A constant procession of gardeners brought flowers into the house for the indoor staff to arrange. The building was filled with the sounds of curtains being pulled back and squadrons of cleaners opening up long-locked rooms. When the racket finally stopped and Gwen escaped to her new bedroom that evening, she fell asleep within seconds. Doing nothing was turning out to be more exhausting than working for a living.
She woke next morning into a glorious delusion. Opening her eyes to see the unfamiliar surroundings, for a few seconds she imagined Etienne must have swept her into his bed again. Then she realised she was alone. Almost straight away, a feeling of nausea threw her out of bed. It shredded her dreams with the efficiency of a demi-lune. Already exhausted, she dragged herself into the shower room. The surroundings of cool green marble revived her a little, and she managed to summon up enough energy to check its cupboards. Her bathroom, like Etienne’s, was stocked with a staggering array of soaps, gels and moisturising milks. The whole place hummed gently with a cocktail of organic, plant-based fragrances. She settled on a bottle of invigorating shower gel allegedly chock-full of sea minerals. Ten minutes beneath a spray head the size of a dinner plate was enough to start her thinking about breakfast. In the time it took her to dress in a black skirt and simple white blouse, she was ravenous. Despite her dread of meeting anyone who might tell her to sit down or go back to bed, she set off in search of food.
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