A Forbidden Night With The Housekeeper (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Heidi Rice

  Maybe Maxim had never said that he appreciated her input. Perhaps he didn’t even notice the changes she’d made—he spent very little time at the château after all. But she noticed, and it made her happy—which was why tonight had felt like a step back.

  And now he’d hit a man.

  ‘That bastard insulted you.’ Maxim bit the words out as he marched out of the palazzo’s main entrance and demanded his car be brought round by the wide-eyed doorman. The limousine whisked to a stop in front of them moments later.

  ‘What did he say?’ she said, confused, not just by the searing comment itself but by the inappropriate flutter of something in her chest at the thought that Maxim had punched a man to defend her honour. ‘He doesn’t even know me.’

  Maxim let her down but, before she had a chance to climb into the car and escape the stares of the staff still watching from the palazzo’s entrance, Maxim grasped her hips and pulled her into his embrace.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, he won’t be repeating it,’ he said, before covering her mouth with his.

  The kiss was firm and hungry, devouring her gasp of surprise. His hands roamed over the bare skin of her back and sent her senses reeling. As always, she reacted instinctively, the flutter turning into a vibrant hum as she kissed him back like a starving woman.

  This, at least, was something she understood, something she knew how to do.

  He groaned, and ripped his mouth away. ‘Get in the car. I can’t wait much longer to have you.’

  The urgency in his voice, and the desire flaring in his eyes, sent her senses into overdrive. She scrambled in.

  ‘Take us to the Castillo. And don’t disturb us,’ he said to the driver, before pressing the button to raise the privacy screen, plunging them into shadows.

  The car drove off into the night.

  She could hear her own breathing, and his, before he reached for her and dragged her across his lap. She straddled him, her hands gripping his strong shoulders, trying to find purchase as the giddy rush of emotion—that he needed her so much—threatened to overwhelm her.

  Her thighs quivered as his strong hands skimmed up her bare legs, lifting the gown to the waist.

  ‘Release me, Cara,’ he demanded as his fingers found the lace gusset of her panties and sunk beneath to torture the molten spot with his thumb.

  She bucked against the delicious torment, fumbling with his fly in the darkness, her hands clumsy with need. Her body was already on the edge of the familiar precipice. At last she found the tab and eased it down, then captured his solid length in her hand.

  He moaned, the guttural sound like a benediction. The desire to take him into her mouth—the way she knew he loved—was overwhelming but, as she edged back to give herself room, his hands clamped on her hips, preventing her.

  ‘No, Cara, not like that, not tonight. Tonight I need to be inside you.’

  She nodded, unable to speak, desperate now too.

  The shocking sound of ripping lace barely registered as he tore away the last impediment to their joining, then lifted her hips to lower her onto the rampant erection.

  His size and girth stretched her as he impaled her, making her shudder. She clung to him, her nails digging into the fabric of his tuxedo jacket as she tried to control the waves already threatening to annihilate her.

  It was too much and yet not enough.

  Holding her hips, he began to move her on the huge erection, guiding her to ride him in a slow, sensuous, all-consuming rhythm.

  Their pants misted the car’s windows, the hum of the engine vibrating through her as the waves of release crashed over her and then receded to build again...

  She couldn’t take any more, her body battered and bowed, another orgasm hurtling towards her. Freeing her breast from the satin, his mouth found her engorged nipple and suckled hard.

  The strong drawing sensation sent her crashing over again. She collapsed on top of him, a sweaty heap as his roar of completion echoed in her ear.

  She came down slowly, spent and exhausted and raw, as she struggled to contain the familiar rush of emotion.

  But, just as she attempted to lift herself free, she felt the little dig inside her body of their baby, making its presence felt. She clasped her belly, and his whole body tensed.

  ‘You are okay?’ he murmured in the darkness, sounding stricken.

  ‘Yes, it’s... The baby moved, that’s all.’

  He lifted her gently off him, carefully pulled up the bodice of her gown to cover her exposed breast. It was only then that she realised the car had stopped moving.

  She adjusted her gown, painfully aware of her husband’s sudden withdrawal as the lights of the Castillo Hotel flickered through the misted windows.

  He tapped on the partition. ‘We are ready to disembark.’

  The driver opened her door seconds later and helped her out, keeping his eyes downcast. Had he guessed what they had been doing? He must have done.

  But somehow she didn’t care. Why should they be ashamed of their need?

  Maxim got out of his side of the car, then strode round to capture her hand. He led her into the hotel. They travelled in silence in the lift. What had happened? Why did she feel bereft, unable to bridge the gap between them? How could the sex be so intense and yet change nothing?

  As they approached the door to the suite, he dropped her hand. ‘I will see you at the estate in a few days’ time.’

  She clasped her arms over her bosom, her nipple still raw, the hum of sensation from their frantic lovemaking still there in her sex. ‘You’re not... You’re not coming in?’ she asked.

  ‘I have my own suite,’ he said.

  The news was like a blow. She had assumed, had hoped, that tonight they would be sharing a bedroom... And that Maxim would wake up with her in the morning.

  Maxim always left her rooms after their lovemaking, but she knew it had become more and more of a struggle for him. Each night he had held her longer and waited longer to leave. And she had rejoiced at this sign of progress. But why had she deluded herself that tonight would be the first night they would spend the whole night together when he hadn’t even bothered to call in the last seven days?

  ‘Maxim, wait,’ she said, gripping his arm. ‘Did I... Did I do something wrong tonight?’

  He pressed a finger to her lips, his expression no longer blank but filled with regret. ‘Shh, Cara, you were exquisite. You are the perfect wife.’

  If that were so, why did she feel like even less of a wife than she had a week ago? She gulped down the fear expanding in her throat. And forced herself to ask the question that was torturing her. ‘Then why don’t you want to stay in my bed for a whole night?’

  ‘I cannot stay.’ He cupped her cheek, stroked his thumb across the sensitive flesh, tender from the rub of his stubble. ‘If I did, I would exhaust you and the baby.’

  It was an excuse he had used before, to leave her bed at dawn, and she’d never challenged it because she knew where his fears about her safety came from. But this time the truth spilled out of her mouth, regardless.

  ‘You wouldn’t exhaust us.’ She gathered every last ounce of her courage. ‘I’m fit and healthy and so is our baby.’

  His gaze dipped to her stomach, prominently displayed in the close-fitting gown. Had the baby’s movement spooked him? But he didn’t look spooked, just distant. And suddenly so aloof.

  ‘You need your rest,’ he continued before she had a chance to gather her wits and question him more. ‘You must travel back to Château Durand alone tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re not returning home with me?’ she blurted out, the panic twisting into something more painful.

  His eyebrow quirked at the mention of the word home and she realised Maxim still didn’t see the château as a home, even though she had tried so hard to make it one.

  ‘I need to re
pair the deal with Donati, if I can. If not, I have other business in the Loire before I return. But I should see you in a few days.’

  He lifted her numb fingers and buzzed a kiss across the knuckles. The stupidly gallant gesture made her want to cry.

  He’d made no promises, and she had no doubt at all that he wouldn’t contact her before he returned. But somehow it wasn’t enough any more.

  ‘Au revoir, Cara,’ he murmured, before leaving her standing in the doorway to her suite.

  She watched him go, his broad shoulders stretching the seams of his suit jacket. A jacket she had gripped for dear life only minutes ago, while he took her apart with his lovemaking.

  But it wasn’t lovemaking, she thought as she stepped into the suite and closed the door. Not for him.

  How many times had she been rejected in her life? So why should this rejection hurt so much more?

  She leant against the door, blinking back the stinging sensation in her eyes and swallowed around the tightness in her throat as she finally acknowledged the truth she had been denying for weeks—every time Maxim took her with such passion, every time he stayed a little bit longer in her bed, every time he smiled at her, his eyes dark with approval, every time he frowned, concerned for her well-being or that of the baby...

  She had fallen hopelessly in love with her temporary husband.

  She pushed away from the door, kicked off her shoes, walked into the lavish bedroom and gazed at the four-poster bed where she would sleep alone tonight, while her husband slept alone down the hallway.

  She was scared, terrified really, of her feelings for him. But as she lay down on the empty bed, inhaled the smell of him still clinging to her skin, she wondered...

  What if Maxim were running scared too, of his feelings for her?

  She rolled onto her side and curled up into a tight ball to cradle the precious bump of her pregnancy.

  When Maxim returned to the château she had to find a way to confront him, to show him how she felt. And somehow, eventually, she had to find the courage to demand from Maxim something she had believed she could never have, never deserve, ever since her father’s desertion all those years ago. His love.

  It was a risk, a huge risk. If she failed, she would feel like that abandoned child again, alone and unlovable. But if she succeeded? Her heart lifted into her throat. If she succeeded, perhaps she could finally let go of that girl for ever and have Maxim’s heart, as well as his body.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ‘WHERE SHALL WE put this bunch?’ Antoinette asked, her eyes bright with excitement.

  Cara grinned back, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl with a secret. Not that she’d ever been naughty as a schoolgirl, she’d always been too scared that if she caused any trouble her latest foster family would chuck her back into the system.

  But she wasn’t that insecure child any more, she thought staunchly as she grasped the ribbon on the bunch of gold-and-silver balloons Antoinette and two of the estate’s footmen had been helping her blow up to decorate the dining room.

  Maybe part of that child still lived inside her, she would have done something like this a lot sooner if she didn’t. But it was way past time she put that child aside.

  ‘Move the ladder and I’ll put them up there,’ she said, pointing at the cornice above the table she and Antoinette had laid out that morning.

  Maxim was due back in less than an hour. He’d stayed away for a whole week in the end, supposedly to repair the deal with Donati. But in a way she was glad, because now she was sure she had been right to think he was running scared too. And right to know she couldn’t let him do that any more.

  Cara swallowed around the ball of anticipation—and fear—lodged in her throat. His absence had given her a chance to muster her courage but, more than that, it had also, completely by chance, gifted her with the perfect way to show him how much she felt for him.

  ‘Is everything okay, madame?’ Antoinette asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Cara smiled at the maid, determined to believe it as she tied off the ribbon on the balloons and climbed the ladder.

  Maxim was a workaholic, who had an almost preternatural ability to focus on the now. She also knew, from what she knew of his past, that the reason he worked so hard was to overcome the deprivations of his childhood. She also suspected he was nervous about becoming a father. She understood that, because she was nervous about becoming a mother too. But shouldn’t that give them an even better reason to forge a bond that went beyond sex?

  ‘Be careful, madame,’ Antoinette said as she steadied the ladder.

  ‘I will be,’ Cara said as she stretched to pin the balloons to the cornicing, her baby bump pressing against the metal.

  She wanted this small celebration to be ready for Maxim’s arrival. She knew he was unlikely to want a big fuss—he hadn’t even mentioned to her that today was his birthday. But, as someone who had rarely had the chance to celebrate her own birthday, she suspected he had also missed out during his childhood. She knew his mother and he had been left living in abject poverty after Pierre had thrown them out when he was young. And she also knew he had left Burgundy at only fifteen to make his way in the wine trade. While her childhood had been blighted by the care system, she suspected Maxim’s had been non-existent—ever since he was a young child and he had witnessed the way his mother had been neglected by his father. What better way to show him she loved him—without scaring him off—than to mark this special occasion? To show him he mattered to her.

  Of course it had taken every ounce of her newfound confidence as the mistress of Château Durand to suggest it to Antoinette and the other staff but they had happily agreed to the idea.

  This marriage didn’t have to be an end, it could be a beginning. They still had two and a half months before the baby was due and she already felt as if she belonged here.

  ‘What do you think?’ Cara asked, admiring her handiwork.

  Antoinette leaned to one side to look and loosened her grip on the ladder. The slight wobble had Cara’s body shifting.

  ‘Cara, descends tout de suite!’ The shout in French from behind her, demanding she get down immediately, startled Cara so much she swung round too fast.

  The ladder tilted sharply to one side. Antoinette gasped.

  Cara felt herself falling in slow motion, as she watched Maxim run towards her, his face a mask of panic. And pain.

  Strong arms banded around her, breaking the fall. She inhaled a shuddering breath of pure relief. And caught the joyous scent of sandalwood soap and salty sweat.

  Maxim. Maxim had saved her.

  Her husband swore as she grasped his neck and clung on, pressing her face into the warmth of his pectoral muscles, feeling them tense and quiver under her nose.

  Love rushed towards her, the threat forgotten.

  ‘Cara, what were you doing? Are you mad?’ He was shouting, his voice trembling.

  But as she looked into his face, saw the dark eyes wild with concern, love flowed through her on a wave of hope. Why had she waited so long to show him how she felt about him?

  ‘I’m sorry, Maxim. I was...’ The surprise was ruined, but she let it go. ‘It’s your birthday, and we wanted to surprise you.’

  ‘You... What?’ He glanced around the room, taking in the bunches of balloons pinned to the cornicing, the banner she and Antoinette had made yesterday afternoon, the delicious croquembouche the chef had prepared on her instructions and the present she’d knitted herself over the last week, wrapped in paper and ribbon and arranged on a small side table with a bunch of early summer blooms she’d picked from the estate gardens that morning.

  He placed her on her feet and stood back, his eyes widening as he studied the celebration she’d worked so hard on in complete silence. The muscle in his jaw tensed. He looked stunned, she realised.

  And not happy.

  She str
uggled to ignore the tightness in her chest at his reaction. He’d had a shock. They both had.

  ‘Are you okay, madame?’ Antoinette asked, still holding the ladder. ‘I am so sorry I lost my grip.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Antoinette, it’s—’ Cara began, but Maxim interrupted.

  ‘Sortez,’ he said, the barked command for Antoinette to leave making both Cara and the maid jump. ‘You are fired. I never want to see you on these premises again.’

  The maid nodded and rushed out of the room in tears.

  ‘Maxim, stop...’ Cara touched his forearm. ‘You can’t fire Antoin—’

  He swung round to grip her upper arms.

  ‘Why? Why did you do this?’ His voice broke on the words. This wasn’t unhappiness, she realised, he looked undone, broken.

  ‘Maxim, what’s wrong?’ she asked, the tightness like a vice now around her ribs.

  Had she made a terrible mistake, confused her feelings with his? Projected emotions onto him that weren’t there—had never been there?

  He brushed a frustrated hand through his hair. ‘You had no right.’

  ‘I just wanted to do something for you, after all you’ve done for me,’ she said, her voice shaking now at the sight of his distress.

  ‘Any man would do it, to protect their child,’ he said, the words clipped.

  But when his eyes locked on hers, his gaze tortured, wild with pain, she knew she had to come clean about her real reasons for organising the celebration.

  ‘No, they wouldn’t, Maxim,’ she answered, trying to remain calm, trying to quell the riot of emotions pressing against her ribs, thundering in her heart.

  Fear, panic, but most of all love.

  ‘But you’re right. That’s not the real reason I did this,’ she said, the truth pushing against her larynx and making her throat close. The moment had arrived when she couldn’t hide behind that frightened, lonely child any longer.

  ‘Then why?’ he demanded.

  ‘I wanted to celebrate your birthday, because I’ve fallen in love with you,’ she said. ‘And I want this to be a real marriage, for this house to be our home.’