Protecting Isabelle

by Arabella Kingsley

  “I think it was more than feeling a bit faint, Isabelle. You were remembering something that happened a long time ago. Did someone hurt you in a lift?” his voice was curious and careful. “You kept telling someone to leave you alone. You were sobbing and asking them to stop.”

  Isabelle felt her whole body tremble, terrified her secret was going to come out. He said he would kill her if she told anyone. She’d only ever told one person who had protected her from him and now that man was dead and could no longer help her. Isabelle gave Lucien a shaky smile.

  “I was just frightened after what happened in that office. I must have got hysterical. There has been so much going on around me lately. I—”

  “In all the years I have known you since I was a child you have never given me the impression that you were a hysterical type of woman. A strong one, definitely. But never hysterical. Something happened to you but if you don’t want to talk about it right now then we won’t get into it. Here have some more cognac. I want you to drink it all.”

  Thankfully Lucien was true to his word and said no more on the matter. He fed her the cognac and then sat down beside her. The fiery liquid settled her shaking and her stomach. Lucien’s men sat at the next table and gave them a small amount of privacy.

  “I want you to eat something, Isabelle. I know you haven’t been eating and I am concerned about your health.” There was a sudden stern parental note to Lucien’s tone as though he was expecting trouble from her.

  “I have been eating,” she lied. “I am fine and I really don’t fancy eating anything just now,” she said, trying to inject some firmness into her voice. Lucien could be a very persuasive man with his handsome charm and she really couldn’t eat a thing. She wasn’t going to be forced. The result would produce vomiting, of that she was sure. Once she got to the end of all this trouble and found true freedom from Declan, then she was sure her appetite would return. But Lucien appeared to be in no mood to accept her excuses.

  “You are going to eat this time, even if I have order for you myself. You can’t function on thin air, Isabelle. Don’t argue. I have had you followed and I know you haven’t eaten or slept very well. Then there is your run in with Christian Dalban. We will talk about that later. I do not trust that man. He is nothing but trouble. I will not allow him to protect you. As I said, we will talk later. Rest and relax.”

  To signal he wasn’t going to talk about the matter anymore, he put his black designer sunglasses on and sat back in his chair soaking up the sun.

  He was using that parental tone again. It made her feel like a naughty child. Yet there was something comforting and protective about his apparent need to father her despite the thirteen years age difference, she being older. She couldn’t help raise her eyebrows in surprise.

  Isabelle remained silent for a moment, feeling any further protest would cause a row. He was only going to waste food and if that was what he wanted to do then so be it. In the meantime, Isabelle tried to concentrate on a way of escape. That fierce idea of doing everything on her own without any help resurrected itself with overpowering strength. Being pushed from Declan to Christian Dalban and then Lucien made her feel like a pawn in a very dangerous game of chess.

  She watched the multitude of tourists getting into coaches lined along the side of Les Jardins Tuileries across the road.

  Maybe I can make a run for it and hide myself in the throng of tourists.

  Isabelle suddenly felt Lucien lean in towards her. His hand cupped her chin and turned her to him.

  “It won’t work, Cherie,” he whispered darkly sending a spark of arousal flaring between her thighs unexpectedly. “If you try to run from this table, I will pick you up and throw you over my knee. Then I will bare your luscious bottom and spank it soundly in front of all of these people,” he threatened, making her eyes widen with shock and her bottom sting to remind her of the spanking she received the night before.

  “You can’t— You wouldn’t —"

  He lifted her chin higher, an amused wistful smile curling his sensuous lips. She was hypnotised by them.

  “Oh, yes, I can and I will. Try it and see what happens." He patted his knee.

  “I would love to see you over my knee with your bare bottom helplessly thrusting up at me, waiting for a spanking for the way you left that hospital unaccompanied, without my protection. We will definitely be discussing that later over my knee. If you try to leave this time I will be unable to wait and you will get a double helping of punishment for all here to see. Is that what you want?”

  There was a throbbing ache blossoming between her thighs and her breasts felt heavy and swollen, the nipples tight and puckered at the very thought of being chastised over Lucien’s knee. Although the idea of her punishment being public was abhorrent, the way he informed her he would take her robustly in hand made her feel damp and meekly submissive. A part of her craved to be taken in hand by a strong, dominant caring man who would protect her unconditionally despite all that she pleaded externally and tried to convince herself of internally. Her thoughts and the confession as to her true nature after all she had experienced at Declan’s abusive hands were to leave her feeling confused, worried and deeply ashamed.

  What has Declan turned you into? Maybe it is some kind of trauma effect. I need to see a psychiatrist or something. Oh, help!

  Isabelle shook her head and dared to say no more.

  After some persistent persuading, Isabelle finally agreed to order a sandwich - one of her favourites, brie and black grape. She sat forward on the edge of her chair, clutching her bag and looking around suspiciously.

  Where are you, Declan? They would have called you from Christine’s office. I know you must be here somewhere watching. You can’t take me from Lucien. It is more than your life’s worth. His father is desperate to tempt him back into the family fold to take over the business and if you attack him, you will start a war. Where are you? I know you are here. Come out, come out wherever you are….

  She felt Lucien’s hand rest gently on her arm and guide her back in the chair.

  “Relax, Isabelle. Don’t worry. I know he is there. He will come and confront us soon. You need to trust me to keep you safe. I won’t hide from him. He needs to know you are under my protection now,” Lucien told her firmly.

  “I don’t want you or anyone else to get hurt.”

  “I hardly think they will do anything here in front of all of these people,” he continued. “Besides, I won’t let him. He will not take you again, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe from him.”

  Lucien opened his jacket a little way, just enough to let Isabelle see his handgun tucked in its holster.

  I hate guns.

  She couldn’t help but turn away, her eyes darkening with anger and disgust at the violent world in which she was forced to live.

  Just then, the waiter came with her sandwich, a glass of wine and a coffee for Lucien.

  Isabelle stared anxiously at the sandwich. It looked lovely but once again her throat grew dry. She shuddered at the thought of vomiting if she tried to put it in her mouth. Everything she had eaten recently had come straight back up, undoubtedly because of the extreme nervous tension.

  “Lucien, please, I can’t eat this.”

  “Have the glass of wine first. It will help you relax.”

  “I don’t want to drink the wine.”

  “Isabelle, enough. Do as you are told. Or do you need that spanking?”

  There was outrage on her face, but inwardly she felt her clit twitch with excitement and her pussy moisten at his sharp paternal tone. A warm feeling of safety seeped inside her body and to her surprise, the tension in her throat and stomach briefly eased.

  Bowing her head like a small, chastised child she nodded her obedience and pulled a small amount of the sandwich off in her hand and moved it towards her dry mouth. Lucien handed her the glass of wine.

  “Drink some please. It will help your food go down easier, Cherie,” he cooed.

>   “I am not supposed to have a lot of alcohol with my tablets,” she protested.

  “You can drink some. Now do as you are told or I will spank you here and now, petite fille.”

  Grudgingly, disturbed by her body’s reactions to Lucien’s fatherly tone and behaviour towards her, she took the wine from him, sipped it and then inserted the food into her mouth. He was right; the food did go down easier than expected. She hoped Lucien would be placated by the small morsel she had eaten, but she was mistaken.

  “I want you to eat more than that,” he said, putting his coffee cup down abruptly on to its saucer. He shook his head with impatience and moved the plate over until it sat in front of him. Picking up the knife that lay on the plate next to the baguette filled with brie and black grapes he cut it into small pieces. Isabelle felt her cheeks colour with embarrassment when he held up a piece to her mouth and instructed her to part her lips.

  “If you will not feed yourself, petite fille, then I shall do it for you. Open your mouth and eat for me like a good girl,” he said softly.

  His seductive black eyes made her breathless. She obeyed, although inwardly she riled at herself for allowing him to feed her like a child.

  “Please, I can feed myself —”

  “Hush. You have proved you cannot be trusted. Now open wide again and let me feed you like your Papa would. That’s it, good girl.”

  Shamed, but touched by his loving care, Isabelle gave up and let Lucien feed her. Intermittently she drank the wine and for the first time in over a week she managed to eat something and keep it down.

  She dabbed her mouth with a napkin and allowed Lucien to order her a coffee. That was when she saw him. The Angel of Death, Declan Mayer, approached with two of his men.

  “Isabelle, breathe, Cherie," Lucien instructed her. "Trust me and do everything I tell you and most of all—”

  “Don’t argue,” she finished for him.

  “Declan, it’s been a while.” Lucien lifted the corners of his mouth into a menacing smile that would make the devil proud. His eyes were unreadable, concealed by his dark sunglasses. Declan and his two men pulled up chairs next to Isabelle. Lucien’s brow creased when he saw Declan and his men give Isabelle threatening looks. He waved over his own men and motioned for them to stand beside her.

  Declan shook his head and laughed cruelly. Isabelle could see odd misshapen teeth making her reel from him. For all of his sophistication, the man needed to have his teeth seen to, but a fear of dentists kept him away. This was the man who shot someone for looking at him the wrong way and yet he was terrified of seeing a dentist. It was almost funny.

  Declan smoothed his hand around his beard. At forty-five, he was an attractive man even with his bad teeth. He had short hair and cold grey eyes. Isabelle always thought of his eyes as being a necessary characteristic of a murderer.

  “Hello, Isabelle. Did you really think you could just walk out on me like that? Just leave London and come running to Paris? I always catch up with you."

  Isabelle felt the contents of her sandwich churn in her stomach as he folded his arms on the table and leaned towards her.

  “What can I do for you, Declan? We are trying to have a nice quiet drink here.” Lucien smiled, making Declan give a small laugh.

  “It has been a while, Lucien. The last time I saw you was back in London when you were trying to avoid your father. Must be seven, eight years ago. You haven’t changed at all.”

  Isabelle listened to him speak in that sophisticated, sinister upper crust English and shivered.

  The younger man with Declan was watching Isabelle intently, his arms folded on the table. She made sure her features were cool and regal as she stared straight back at him with menace. Stiff upper lip and all that.

  “Tough. So Lucien, what are you doing with Mayer property?”

  “I am not anybody’s property!” Isabelle couldn’t help herself. She felt her heart leap when she saw Lucien smile at her with pride.

  “You heard the lady,” he told Declan. “Isabelle is with me now, and under the protection of the Deschanels. You have no business being here and threatening her.” Lucien tilted his head again to mimic soaking in the sun.

  “I am very worried about you, Isabelle.” Declan looked directly at the remnants of the bruises on her cheek. There was a slight downward turn of his lips. “There are people who will hurt you and even kill you for your inheritance. Lucien here is just using you. I love you very much and I am willing to forget everything, if you return now. If not, then your life will end.”

  Lucien tutted at him, shaking his head with dismay.

  “Really, Declan, do you think I am going to allow that to happen?” Lucien pointed his index finger at Declan. “You go anywhere near her or even glance at her after this little meeting and I will kill you.”

  Isabelle shivered and couldn’t stop after that. It was an effort to keep still in the chair and not doing something stupid— like bolt. With her teeth clenched – struggling to keep them from chattering – she went on the offensive to hide just how much he intimidated her. “You come near me again, Declan, and so help me, I will kill you myself. I have taken enough from you. Like it or not, Uncle Michael left everything to me and even if you kill me, it goes to his favourite dog charity. You're finished. As are all of the families. Get used to it,” she shouted at him, feeling her anger rise to the boiling point and outwit her fear for domination in her thoughts and actions.

  A dark thunderous cloud rumbled over Declan’s features. The familiar feeling of panic came back to haunt Isabelle. He was going to hit her and she had no doubt of it. With lightening quick precision, Declan raised his hand and reached to slap her. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the hard blow, expecting it to send her flying from the small table and away from Lucien. But there was just the scraping sound of a chair against the pavement. She felt Lucien up on his feet next to her. Opening her eyes revealed he had caught Declan’s hand and the two men were fighting across the table. Lucien moved away from the table telling his men to guard her as he wrestled with Declan on the pavement in front of the restaurant tables. The men rushed to defend her as Declan’s men lunged for her. All of the men were preoccupied.

  Declan and Lucien would fight, but they would not kill each other. Family links and rules would not permit it without serious consequence, multiple deaths and a serious loss of money - all of which were unacceptable to any member of the families. Realising Lucien would be safe and the others were too busy fighting to notice her actions, she ran down the street through the covered archways and quickly sought out a taxi.

  Chapter 9

  An hour later, Lucien Deschanel put his foot in the doorway and stopped Isabelle from closing her hotel room door on him. She would have to get used to the fact he had no intention of going anywhere. He put his hand on the door and forced it opened in one firm movement taking it away from her hands. She gave a small nervous gasp and took three steps back from him as he strode into the room, his two men following dutifully behind him.

  Lucien towered over her, making her feel vulnerable. She stared up at him with the guilt of a naughty child. Despite the fear the Deschanel name engendered, Isabelle had always felt curiously safe and protected when she was with Lucien. Even now, although she felt vulnerable, she wasn’t afraid.

  At thirty-one, he was thirteen years younger than her, but every time she caught him looking at her, she could see he was attracted to her. She had been aware of it at family gatherings going at least seven or eight years, if she was honest with herself. She had always dismissed it as folly and a silly crush on an older woman, yet it was still there. The black in his eyes intensified as he looked down at her. For a moment they made her breathless. She hadn’t realised just how strong his attraction had become. Isabelle didn’t know whether to be flattered or worried. Perhaps she should be both.

  She turned away quickly, feeling a warmth gather in her cheeks at his intense stare which made her feel like a sixteen year old
schoolgirl. When she looked back, he was glancing around the small room with disapproval.

  “What are you doing in this cheap hotel?” There was distaste in his tone. It made her prickle.

  “It is all I can afford. Declan took all of my money. I am using what my brother gave me.” She grimaced, listening to herself offer a defence. She folded her arms and fought back the tears that came all too quick these days and often for no solid reason. She frowned at him and pouted defensively.

  But when his eyes softened and he briefly touched her arm, she knew he’d seen the tears gathering in her eyes. Embarrassment and resignation that her pain was becoming more difficult to hide left her feeling distraught and exhausted, heightening her sense of vulnerability in front of Lucien. And it was obvious by the gentle velvet tone he adopted when speaking to her next that he knew. His sympathy and concern made her all the more determined not to be lulled into giving up control of her life to him.

  “I am sorry. I understand. But a woman like you should not be forced to endure such surroundings.”

  His voice deepened and lowered until it was almost a whisper. It caressed over her body, melting the tension, captivating her senses. She fought hard against it.

  “Why did you run away?” He sounded frustrated. “You look exhausted. Your life is in danger every minute you are alone without my protection.”

  “I am fine, Lucien. There is no need to worry. I can look after myself.”

  Lucien stared at her in disbelief and then gave a small laugh before shaking his head.

  “No, petite fille. You can’t look after yourself,” he said firmly, flatly. There was no room for discussion and every time he called her that, her traitorous deluded mind melted.

  Anger flared inside her. She opened her mouth to offer him a retort, but he was to speak before her.