Lost In France (Firebird Trilogy)

by Kay, Jani

  Even though he was wearing smart casual clothing, it sat on the duke in that certain way clothes sit on people comfortable with themselves, especially people who were born into a life of privilege. It was the kind of confidence that can’t be bought or taught.

  “I used to be quite a stud in my younger days,” he said matter-of-factly, aware that I was awestruck by his beauty and grace, his virility very much intact even at his age. I could just imagine his sexual magnetism, increasing with aging and experience. I was sure women even younger than me would feel attracted to the magnificent Philippe du Bois.

  I laughed. “I have no doubt about that. Your son is proof that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  Over lunch, he told me stories about Alain and his sister as children. I got a small glimpse into the lives of nobility, the advantages, but also the responsibilities, that came with having such a position in life. I had no idea that people in this modern day and age were still so bound by their ancestors.

  After a long drawn out lunch, Alain and Philippe retreated to the large balcony. Excusing myself to go to the restroom, I was exhausted by the sheer energy it took to keep up with the conversation. I needed alone time to gather my thoughts. No doubt I’d be the topic of discussion in my absence.

  Wish I were a fly on the wall.

  When I returned, angry voices floated toward me. Embroiled in a heated discussion, the men didn’t notice me approaching. Alain’s expression was one of exasperation; he was talking in rapid French, his animated gestures emphatic.

  There was no way I could understand a word they were saying. Not that I really needed to, the tone in their voices told me everything I needed to know.

  If only my French was better. I’d love to stand up for myself and wipe the smirk off the older man’s face. Something about him was just off. My gut instincts were seldom wrong.

  Chapter 62

  Alain grabbed my hand and pulled me down the stairs to the garden without a word. He stormed onward; I practically had to run to keep up with his pace. I was panting, the pretty Gucci heels I wore were not the most practical of footwear, but then I didn’t know I was going to be running when I chose to wear them.

  “Stop.” I pulled at his hand as we reached a bench in front of the lake, under willow trees that had probably been there for centuries. He looked at me as if it was only now that he registered we were running. He shook his head and broke into a sheepish grin when he realized how difficult it was for me to keep up with him, my ankle still hurting.

  “Sorry.” He gestured to the bench and I sat down, out of breath. He lifted my feet onto his lap, and slipping off both my shoes, he massaged my feet.

  “What’s wrong? Tell me.” The frown between his brow had returned, furrowing deep lines on his forehead.

  “The old man doesn’t want to understand. The more I tell him I’m in love with you, the more he tells me that it doesn’t matter.” He unconsciously increased the pressure on my foot till I winced.

  Left speechless, I just nodded. I'd only just met ‘the old man’ and I already understood that he was a force to be reckoned with.

  “The duke insists. I must…marry a well-bred French woman…or, I will lose everything. He understood that I was smitten by you. He agrees that you are gorgeous. He suggests we keep fucking. As long as I marry the woman he has chosen for me…to bare my offspring…his grandchildren…he doesn’t care if we remain lovers.” Alain’s olive skin appeared bleached. He had both his hands in his hair, his shoulders slumped.

  My mouth gaped open. Was I hearing right? Could his father force him to marry someone he didn’t love? How could this be possible?

  “I refused. I will marry the woman I love. I will marry you, ma cherie. To hell with the old man and his wishes.” His voice boomed as I stared at him, speechless.

  “I’d rather be a pauper with you as my wife. Cherie, tell me you don’t care about all this…” he gestured around us, “that you want to marry me because you love me…” His voice choked in his throat. “Would you still want me if I had nothing to offer…other than myself?” His voice was shaky. Doubt had crept into his eyes.

  “Alain, why would you even doubt that it’s you I want to marry? I don’t care about the money, the title…I want you, not the estate.” What had his father planted in Alain’s head about me? Did he imply I was only after his title and money?

  It was insane.

  “What if you stop loving me…because I can’t give you the things you deserve? Will love go out the window when poverty comes through the door? I could make a good living for us, we could build a new life, but will it be enough for you, Cherie?” His eyes were pleading.

  “Alain, you know it’s you I want. But…what do you want? This…this is where you’ve grown up; this is your birthright. The vineyard is your life…your passion. Will you not despise me for taking you away from this?”

  He’d be giving up so much more; I couldn’t imagine him not living here—the place he loved with all his being.

  “Cherie, I want you. I want you to be the mother of my children. I want them to have flaming red hair and cheeky smiles like yours. I want to make love to you, every day of my life. I want to grow old with you. Here…” The last word slipped out so softly, it was nearly inaudible. It twisted like a knife in my heart.

  Alain loved me. I was sure of that. But, could he survive away from this land? I didn’t want to be the one to force him to choose between his birthright and loving me.

  How did our perfect world fall apart so suddenly?

  Warm tears spilled from my eyes. Just when I thought I’d finally found the man I could love for the rest of my life.

  Why is life so cruel?

  Alain wiped my tears with his thumb. He kissed my eyes, yet the tears kept spilling out. He kissed my mouth and I tasted the salt of my tears on his lips.

  “I need you. As much as I need the air I breathe to live.” His hand was on my leg, pushing under my dress, searching for my heat. He groaned when he realized I wasn’t wearing underwear. Parting my legs, he slipped his fingers between my thighs.

  “You are mine, I am yours—forever.” His fingers searched till they found my clit. I moaned as he stroked me, pleasure rolling through me.

  “Suck me,” he panted as he undid his fly. Freeing his cock, he pushed my head down to meet his erection. Thick veins throbbed on the surface and his cock grew harder. He groaned as my mouth closed over the head and I sucked hard, my hand stroking his length.

  “I need you.” He pulled me onto his lap, pushing my dress up over my thighs as I straddled him, his thick cock ready to penetrate me. I placed my hands on his shoulders as I rose to take him inside me, aware of every inch of his length as I lower myself onto him.

  “So tight.” He groaned. “Fuck me.”

  I rode him, slowly, accommodating his full length, even though I was still sore. He bit my lower lip softly before plunging his tongue into my mouth. Passion radiated from every cell of his body. Reaching between us, he circled my swollen clit with his thumb, his eyes never leaving mine.

  Riding him faster, my own pleasure escalating, I rose as high as I could and quickly sank back down, enveloping him inside me.

  “Come with me. I’m going to explode inside you,” he grunted, as his cock pulsed.

  But try as I may, I couldn’t bring myself to orgasm. The heaviness in my heart weighed down on me, tears rolling freely, my lips trembling. Alain pulled me to him, realizing I didn’t reach an orgasm, crushing me against his chest. We sat like this, him still inside me, whispering words of love in my ear. I let the tears flow, my body shaking violently as Alain rubbed my back and arms, soothing and calming me.

  A cough behind me jerked me back to the present. Gaping, my gaze collided with hostile icy-blue eyes. A smirk on his face, Philippe du Bois was glaring at us.

  “She must be a really good fuck, this foreign gold digger. Maybe I will try her one day, see if she is really worth losing an inheritance for. �
�� He licked his lips, his gaze locked on my thighs.

  I looked back at Alain. A vein in his forehead was throbbing so hard, I feared he’d burst a vessel. “Shh,” I said, as I leaned down and covered his mouth with mine in an attempt to calm him down, rubbing the sides of his temples. He breathing slowed a little as he focused on the kiss. Slowly, I took my mouth off Alain’s, staring into his eyes with all the love I could muster.

  “I love her more than anything,” Alain said, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “I will give up everything for her. It all means nothing if she’s not my wife. Rebecca’s the one who will bear my children.”

  “Mon Dieu. You fool.” The duke turned on his heels and stormed back to the chateau.

  I felt Alain grow inside me as he kissed me tenderly. He flipped me over on the bench, crushing me to his chest as he slowly, gently thrust into me till I cried out his name as I climaxed.

  It was all he needed to start his own orgasm. “Rebecca. Je t’aime,” he cried, loud enough that it carried in the silence, defiance in his creed.

  Imagining the duke’s face, a nervous giggle bubbled from my lips.

  Chapter 63

  I woke up, my limbs entangled with Alain’s. I savored his weight on me, his head resting on my chest, fingers intertwined. I was a sweaty mess from passionate lovemaking, and tear-stained sheets and pillows. We’d talked and made love all night long. Sometimes slow and deliberate, taking our time to explore every inch of one another’s bodies, tears streaming down our faces after reaching a climax. Then later, filled with despair, our fucking hard and desperate, as if we could not get enough of each other.

  Every inch of my body ached. Especially my heart.

  Not wanting to wake Alain, I wormed my limbs free and escaped to the bathroom to have a long hot shower. The water cascaded down my battered body, relaxing my muscles.

  Dressed, I tied my hair up and made my way down to the kitchen for a shot of caffeine. It was early Sunday morning, so nobody would be up at this time. Folding my fingers around the huge cup of solace, I rested my forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the sun rise and spread it’s warmth over the landscape.

  How the hell are we going to solve this dilemma?

  I closed my eyes, trying to formulate a solution when I became aware of a presence behind me. The hairs on my skin rose and a chill ran down my spine and settled in the pit my stomach. I whirled around; Philippe du Bois was standing inches away from me, a smirk on his handsome face.

  “Up so early? Something worrying you?” he sneered, not moving an inch away, trapping me against the glass. I ducked, trying to escape his ominous presence, but he grabbed my shoulders firmly, his narrowed eyes boring into me.

  “I understand my son’s fascination with you, especially after what I saw in the garden yesterday. A fiery redhead like you…I wouldn’t mind fucking you, myself. But, you are not Alain’s destiny. The du Bois bloodline is far more important than lust. Alain will come to his senses when he tires of you, when you are all fucked out. But then, it will be too late, his heritage will be lost and he will despise you. And heaven forbid you’ve brought little bastards into the world—”

  “Have you ever loved anyone, really loved them?” I managed to choke the words out.

  A cloud ran over his face for a fleeting second, then, his jaw tightened.

  “Love is for sentimental fools. It’s of no importance. What matters now is Alain’s future—the bloodline he must keep alive. The same bloodline that had been running through the du Bois veins for centuries. It’s bigger than us; it’s bigger than lust and…love. Alain knows this. He’s simply lost his way. Temporarily. He will realize it soon and make the right decision. He has to.”

  “How can you be so cold and calculating about it? Don’t you care about his happiness? What kind of father are you?”

  The duke laughed, a bitter cynical sound. “It’s his happiness I’m thinking about. He will shrivel up and be a lesser man if he were to lose his birthright. It is not possible for him to be happy if he’s not here.” His fingers dug into my flesh as he shook me. “If you really love Alain, you’ll let him go so he can fulfill his destiny.”

  “Do you really think Alain—a man of passion —will be happy in a loveless marriage?” Squirming, I freed myself from his grip, pushing against his chest with all my might to escape his hold.

  “Do you really think you’re the only woman Alain will ever fuck? That’s not how it works. He will marry who he must and fuck who he wants to.” He threw back his head and laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. I swallowed hard. “He will be happy with the woman I’ve chosen for him. The countess has the right blood line. And Alain has known her since childhood. They were lovers and everything was going according to plan. Until he met you.” He snarled, baring his teeth. The contempt on his face couldn’t be clearer. “He saw her only last week, even while you were staying here at the chateau. Did he tell you he spent the night at her villa? Most likely they are lovers, even now.”

  What the fuck? It felt as if the duke had planted a fist in my gut, I staggered backward, recoiling from his words. Was that why we had separate rooms? So he could go to her at night? Was Alain fucking another woman? Maybe he was telling the truth about Adrienne, yet he conveniently didn’t divulge his affair with the countess.

  Was it only because I hadn’t caught him with her? Flashes of sleeping alone on my first night at the chateau brought a chill to my spine. Alain was probably in another woman’s bed. That would explain him not being home in the mornings when I awoke.

  And, since then? Every time we’d been apart? Was he still seeing her? My stomach churned as bile rose in my throat. And he had the guts to be jealous of my boss. Really?

  This was fucking ridiculous. What else didn’t I know about Alain? How many more skeletons in his cupboard?

  Or was this a clever ploy by Philippe to get rid of me?

  “Save face and leave now. Tell Alain you don’t love him. Set him free. I implore you. He will get you out of his system with time. I know; I’ve been there myself.” His guard slipped and for an instant I saw raw pain, pity even, in his eyes. But before I could even blink, aloofness had shifted over his face again.

  Did I imagine it?

  “Nothing good can come from a union with Alain. Trust me, this is best for him, and you.” He narrowed his eyes as he appraised me. His eyes traveled over my face, and down my body. I could just as well have been naked under his piercing eyes.

  “I have a proposition for you. But, only if you promise to break all contact with Alain.” His lips twisted into a laconic smile as he closed the safe distance between us and gripped my upper arms. “I spend nearly two weeks of every month in Paris. I will put you up in an apartment there. I’m a virile lover. Redheads are feisty—I like that. I’ll fuck you senseless. You will want for nothing, I’m a wealthy man.”

  How the fuck dare he?

  The mug I’d been gripping all this time crashed to the floor. With superhuman strength I shrugged his hands off me and lunged forward, slapping him across his face with every fiber in my body.

  “You snake. I wouldn’t touch you if my life depended on it. If Alain knew what you just proposed, it would crush him. You disgust me.”

  Trembling, I turned on my heels and ran back upstairs.

  Alain could never know what just happened. Yet I needed answers. He had a lot of explaining to do. And this time I wanted the naked truth. I would settle for nothing less than brutal honesty.

  Chapter 64

  How would I live under the same roof as Philippe du Bois for the rest of my life? If only he really were an old man, with one foot already in the grave, instead of a fit and energetic man who’d probably see in the next two or three decades.

  I couldn’t tell Alain what happened in the kitchen without hurting him and exposing the lecherous man his father really was. My head hurt.

  Instead of returning to Alain’s bed, I settled in front of the window in my ro
om, staring into the distance as I tried to make sense of this new information. Was there truth to it or was the duke trying to scare me off?

  Is there a solution to this fucking mess?

  Alain would agree to live elsewhere with me, but one thing I did know with certainty, was that he’d miss his home and the vineyard. It was part of who he was. I hated to acknowledge that the duke may be right. Over time Alain could grow to despise losing his heritage, and in the process, hate me for it.

  Could I take that chance?

  The ring of my phone plucked me out of my deep thoughts. I groaned as I saw the caller ID. Maxwell Grant. I hadn’t been in contact with him since Alain carried me out of his hotel room. To be honest, I didn’t really know how to deal with him, it was so awkward.

  I'd pushed any thoughts of that night back into the far recesses my mind, not allowing myself to analyze or dwell on it; the thought of the connection between us, scared me. I’d felt it and I knew he did too.

  My nerves got the better of me, and I let the phone ring out. He could leave a message. It was less intimidating. The phone started ringing again. My God, he was a persistent man. Annoyed, I rolled my eyes as I pressed the green button.

  “Miss Clarke. How is your ankle?” My stomach lurched at the sound of his smooth voice. A fine layer of perspiration broke out on my skin. Did he really just call to ask about my injury?