by Lynne Graham
In the middle of the night she got up and performed an Internet search of Tia and Navarre’s names together to discover any links that there might be. An hour later she had still not got to the end of the references, but had discovered nothing definitive, nothing that could not be explained by honest friendship. There were several pictures of Tia and Navarre chatting in public places, not a single one of anything more revealing—no holding of hands, no embraces, nothing. And if the paparazzi had failed to establish a more intimate link, the likelihood was that there wasn’t one, for Tia Castelli’s every move was recorded by the paps. But ironically for the first time Tawny was now wondering what had been on Navarre’s laptop that he had so feared having exposed. What had Julie’s high-paying journalist really hoped to find out from that computer? About the buyout of CCC? Her worst fears assuaged by that idea, for she recalled Navarre’s comment about the deal already being in the news, Tawny went back to bed.
It was a wonderful wedding dress, fashioned by a designer to conceal the growing evidence of the bride’s pregnancy. Tawny looked at her reflection in the mirror with her sisters standing anxiously by her side and then hugged Zara, who had located the glorious dress, which bared her shoulders and her newly impressive chest in a style that removed attention from her abdomen.
‘You’ve sure got boobs now, babe,’ Zara pronounced with a giggle.
Tawny grinned, her lovely face lighting up for it was true: for the first time ever she had the bosom bounty that she had always lacked and no padding was required.
‘Are you happy?’ Bee prompted worriedly. ‘You’re sure Navarre is the right man for you?’
Tawny lifted a hand to brush a wondering finger across the magnificent diamond tiara that anchored her veil and added height to her slim figure. ‘Well, it’s either him or the diamonds he’s just given me,’ she teased. ‘But it all feels incredibly right.’
An offer had been made and accepted on a town house with a garden in the same area in which Bee and Sergios lived. In a few weeks’ time it would provide a very comfortable base for her and Navarre when they were in London, ensuring that she need never feel that she was being taken away from absolutely everything she had ever known. She was on a high because everything in her world seemed to be blossoming. After all, she had just sold her first cartoons as well. One of the publications that her agent had sent her work to had shared them with a French sister magazine and the French editor had offered Tawny a contract to create more of her Frenchman drawings. Ecstatic at the news, Tawny had still to share it with Navarre because she wanted to surprise him by putting the magazine in front of him when the first cartoon appeared in print.
‘You should’ve let me twist Dad’s arm to give you away,’ Zara lamented. ‘He would have done it if I’d pushed him.’
‘I don’t know our father, Zara. I wouldn’t have wanted him to do it just to please you and Bee. I much prefer Sergios. At least he genuinely wishes Navarre and I well,’ Tawny pointed out.
Her opinion of Sergios had recently warmed up, for it was thanks to Sergios and his managing ways that her grandmother, Celestine, was being whisked to London in a limousine for the wedding and put up that night in Bee’s home so that the extended celebration was not too much of a strain for the old lady.
At the church, Tawny breathed in deep, her hand resting lightly on Sergios’s arm before she moved down the aisle, her sisters following her clad in black and cream outfits. All her attention locked to Navarre, who had flown back to France within days of his proposal, she moved slowly towards the altar. Devastatingly handsome in a tailored silver-grey suit teamed with a smart waistcoat and cravat, Navarre took her breath away just as he had the very first time she saw him and she hugged the knowledge to herself that he would soon be her husband. As she reached the altar Celestine, a tiny lady with a mop of white curls, turned her head to beam at her granddaughter.
Although Tawny’s head told her that she was entering a shotgun marriage of the utmost practicality, it didn’t feel like one. She loved the ceremony, the sure way Navarre made his responses, the firm hold of the hand on hers as he slid on the wedding ring. In her heart she felt that he was making a proper commitment to her and their child. Before they left the church Navarre took the time to stop and greet her grandmother, whom he had not had time to meet beforehand.
‘Do you like the dress?’ she asked him once they were alone in the limo conveying them back to her sister’s home.
‘I like what’s in it even better, ma petite,’ Navarre confided, his attention ensnared by the luminosity of her beautiful eyes, and momentarily a pang of regret touched him for the parts of his life that he could never share with her. He had always believed that as long as he kept his life simple nothing could go wrong, but from the instant Tawny had walked into his life to try to steal his laptop his every plan had gone awry and things had stopped happening the way he had assumed they would. He didn’t like that, he had learned to prefer the predictable and the safe, but he told himself that now that they were married his daily life would return to its normal routine. Why should anything have to change?
Tawny gazed dizzily into beautiful emerald-green eyes framed by black spiky lashes and her heart hammered. Her breasts swelled beneath her bodice, the pointed tips straining into sudden tingling life. His attention was on her mouth. The tip of her tongue slid out to moisten her lower lip and he tensed, his sleek strong face hard and taut. The silence lay heavy, thick like the sensual spell flooding her treacherous body, and she leant closer, propelled by promptings much stronger than she was.
‘I’ll wreck your make-up,’ Navarre growled, but a hard hand closed into the back of her veil to hold her still while his mouth plundered hers with fierce heat and hunger, the delving of his tongue sending every skin cell she possessed mad with excitement.
Tawny wanted to push him flat on the back seat and have her wicked way with him. That fast her body was aching with need and ready for him. Her fingers flexed on a long powerful masculine thigh and then slid upwards to establish that the response was not one-sided. He was hard and thick and as eager as she was and even as he pushed back from her, surprise at her boldness etched in his intent gaze, she was content to have discovered that the exact same desire powered them both. Her face was flushed as she eased away from him, her body quivering with the will power it took to do so.
‘Mon Dieu, ma belle … you make me ache like a boy again,’ he confessed raggedly.
And the gloss on Tawny’s day was complete. Happy at the response she had received, reassured by his desire, she sailed into her wedding reception in the ballroom of her sister’s magnificent home. Perhaps he had only restrained himself sexually with her out of some outmoded idea of respecting her as his future wife, she thought buoyantly, for she had noticed that Navarre could sometimes be a shade old-fashioned in his outlook. Whatever, her insecurity was gone, her awareness of her pregnancy as a source of embarrassment banished while she held her head high and stood by his side to welcome the wealthy powerful guests whom Navarre counted as friends and business connections. Only recently she would only have got close to such people by waiting on them in some menial capacity, but now she met with them as an equal. Tia Castelli kissed her cheek with cool courtesy, her previous warmth muted, while her husband, Luke, gave Tawny a lazy smile. Tawny perfectly understood and forgave Tia for that dash of coolness in her manner, for the actress had to be aware that a married man would be far less available to her than a single guy.
Later that afternoon, it did her heart good when Bee drew her attention to the fact that Navarre was sitting with her grandmother, Celestine. ‘They’ve been talking for ages,’ her half-sister informed her.
Tawny drifted over to Navarre’s side and he laced long fingers with hers to tug her down into a seat beside him. ‘You’ve been holding out on me, chérie.’
‘And me,’ Celestine added. ‘All these months I had no idea you were paying my rent.’
Tawny froze. ‘What on earth are
you talking about?’
‘One of the other residents spoke to me about his problems meeting the maintenance costs and when certain sums were mentioned I knew that I did not have enough money to meet such enormous bills either,’ the old lady told her quietly. ‘I spoke to my solicitor and although he didn’t break your confidence, I soon worked out for myself that there was only one way that my costs could be being met. I felt very guilty for not realising what was going on sooner.’
‘Don’t be daft, Gran … I’ve managed fine!’ Tawny protested, upset that the older woman had finally registered the level to which her expenses had exceeded her means.
‘By slaving away as a chambermaid and waiting on tables,’ Celestine responded unhappily. ‘That was not right and I would never have agreed to it.’
‘I’ve reassured Celestine that as a member of the family I will be taking care of any problems from now on and that I hope she will be a regular visitor to our home.’
Tawny sat down beside him to soothe the old lady’s worries and with Navarre’s support Celestine’s distress gradually faded away. Soon after that her grandmother admitted that she was tired and Tawny saw her up to the room she was to use until her departure the next morning.
‘Navarre is … très sympathique,’ her grandmother pronounced with approval. ‘He is kind and understanding. You will be very happy with him.’
Having helped her grandmother unpack her overnight bag and locate all the facilities, Tawny hurried back downstairs to find Navarre waiting for her at the foot. ‘Why didn’t you tell me what you needed the money for months ago?’ he demanded in a driven undertone, his incredulity at her silence on that score unhidden.
‘It was nothing to do with you. She’s my granny.’
‘And now she’s mine as well and you will change no more beds on her behalf!’ Navarre asserted fierily.
‘It’s not a problem. I never had a burning desire to be a maid but it was easy work to find and it allowed me to do my illustration projects in the evenings.’
He tilted up her chin. His gaze was stern. ‘Couldn’t you have trusted me enough to tell me the truth for yourself?’ he pressed. ‘I assumed your loyalty could be bought—I thought less of you for being willing to take that money from me in payment.’
‘Only because you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be poor and in need of cash,’ Tawny told him tartly. ‘Poverty has no pride. When I was a child, my grandparents were very good to me. I’d do just about anything to keep Celestine safe, secure and happy.’
‘And I honour you for it and for all your hard work for her benefit, ma petite. You also took on that responsibility without any expectation of ever receiving her gratitude, for you tried to hide your contributions to her income. I’m hugely impressed,’ Navarre admitted, his stunning gaze warm with pride and approval on her blushing face. ‘But why didn’t you approach your sisters for help?’
‘Celestine isn’t related to them in any way. I wouldn’t dream of bothering them for money,’ Tawny argued in consternation.
‘I suspect Bee would have liked to help—’
‘Maybe so, Navarre,’ his bride responded. ‘But I’ve always believed in standing on my own two feet.’
An hour later when Tawny was chatting to her mother and her partner, Susan commented on how effective her daughter’s dress was at concealing her swelling stomach. Amused, Tawny splayed her hand to her abdomen, momentarily moulding the fabric to the definite bulge of her pregnancy. ‘My bump’s still there beneath the fancy trappings!’ she joked.
A few feet away, she glimpsed Tia Castelli staring at her fixedly, big blue eyes wide, her flawless face oddly frozen and expressionless before, just as quickly, the actress spun round and vanished into the crush of guests. As Tawny frowned in incomprehension Bee signalled her by pointing at her watch: it was time for Tawny to change out of her finery, and she followed her sibling upstairs because she and Navarre were leaving for France in little more than an hour. Twenty minutes later, Tawny descended a rear staircase a couple of steps in Bee’s wake. She was wearing a very flattering blue skirt with floral silk tee and a long flirty jacket teamed with impossibly high heels.
Bee stopped dead so suddenly at the foot of the stairs that Tawny almost tripped over her. ‘Let’s go back up … I forgot something!’ she exclaimed in a peculiar whisper.
But Tawny was not that easily distracted and Bee, unfortunately, was not a very good actress when she was surprised and upset by something. Correctly guessing that her sister had seen something she did not want her to see, Tawny ignored Bee’s attempt to catch her arm and prevent her from stepping into the corridor at the bottom of the stairs. Tawny moved past and caught a good view of the scene that Bee had sought to protect her from. Tia Castelli was sobbing on Navarre’s chest as if her heart were breaking and he was looking down at the tiny blonde with that highly revealing mixture of concern and tenderness that only existed in the most intimate of relationships. Certainly one look at the manner in which her bridegroom was comforting Tia was sufficient to freeze Tawny in her tracks and cut through her heart like a knife. It was a little vignette of her worst nightmares for, while she had from the outset accepted that Navarre did not love her, she had never been prepared for the reality that he might love another woman instead.
Abruptly registering that they had acquired an audience, Navarre stepped back and Tia flipped round to make a whirlwind recovery, eyes damp but enquiring, famous face merely anxious. ‘I had a stupid row with Luke, I’m afraid, and Navarre swept me off to save me from making a fool of myself about it in public.’
It was a wry and deft explanation voiced as convincingly as only a skilled actress could make it. It sounded honest and it might even have been true, Tawny reckoned numbly, but she just didn’t believe it. What she had seen was something more, something full of stronger, darker emotions on both sides. Tia’s distress had been genuine even though it was hidden now, the blonde’s perfect face tear-stained but composed in a light apologetic smile.
‘I understand,’ Tawny said flatly, for she had too much pride and common sense to challenge either of them when she had no evidence of wrongdoing. But in the space of a moment fleeting suspicion had turned into very real apprehension and insecurity.
‘You look charming, chèrie,’ Navarre murmured smoothly, scanning her shuttered face with astute cool. He would give nothing away for free. No information, no secrets, no apologies. He would not put himself on the defensive. She knew that. She had married a master tactician, a guy to whom manipulation was a challenging game, which his intelligence and courage ensured he would always excel at playing.
Pale though she was, Tawny smiled as if she had not a worry in the world either. She hoped he would not notice that the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She suspected that he was probably more relieved that she did not speak Italian and therefore was quite unable to translate the flood of words Tia had been sobbing at the moment they were disturbed. But at that instant Tawny also realised that someone had been present who could speak Tia’s native tongue and she glanced at her linguistically talented sister Bee, who was noticeably pale as well, and resolved to question her as to what she had overheard before they parted.
When they returned to the ballroom, there was no sign of Tia or Luke and Tawny was not surprised by that strategic retreat. Promising Navarre she would be back within minutes, Tawny set off to find her sister again. She was even less surprised to find Bee talking to Zara, both their faces tense and troubled.
‘OK … I’m the unlucky woman who just married a guy and caught a famous film star hanging round his neck like an albatross!’ Tawny mocked. ‘Bee, tell me what Tia was saying.’
Her sisters exchanged a conspiratorial glance.
‘No, it’s not fair to keep it from me. I have a right to know what you heard.’
Bee parted her lips with obvious reluctance. ‘Tia was upset about the baby. I don’t think she had realised that you were pregnant.’
‘She was pro
bably jealous. She’s never been able to have a child of her own,’ Zara commented.
‘But the normal person to share that grief with would be her own husband, not mine,’ Tawny completed with gentle emphasis. ‘Don’t worry about me. This isn’t a love match. I’ve always known that. This marriage may not work out … not if that woman owns a slice of Navarre. I couldn’t live with that, I couldn’t share him—’
‘I don’t think that you have anything to worry about. Now if you’d caught them in a clinch that would’ve been a different matter,’ Bee offered quietly. ‘But you didn’t. Don’t let that colourful imagination of yours take over, Tawny. Be sensible about this. I think all you witnessed was a gorgeous drama queen demanding attention from a handsome man. I suspect that Tia is an old hand at that ruse and Navarre looked a little out of his depth. I also think that from now on he will be more careful with his boundaries when he’s around Tia Castelli. He’s no fool.’
Tawny struggled to take Bee’s advice fully on board while she and Navarre were conveyed to the airport. He chatted calmly about their day and she endeavoured to make appropriate responses but she could not deny that the joy of the day had been snuffed out for her the instant she saw Navarre comforting Tia. She felt overwhelmed by the competition. What woman could possibly compete with such a fascinating femme fatale? Tia Castelli was a hugely talented international star with a colossal number of fans, an extraordinary beauty who truly lived a gilded life that belonged only in the glossiest of magazines. And Navarre cared about Tia. Tawny had seen the expression on his face as he looked down at the tiny distressed woman and that glimpse had shaken her and wounded her for she would have given ten years of her life to have her bridegroom look at her like that even once. That, she thought painfully, was what really lay at the heart of her suffering. Seeing him with Tia had only underlined what Tawny did not have with him.