by Maya Blake
Bastien’s gaze slid slowly over her, gleaming, darkening. He uttered something unintelligible in French. His thumb’s pressure increased. Ana’s lips tingled, heat rushing over her as she gave in to her need and sucked his thumb into her mouth.
‘Non!’ The denial was wrenched from his throat and he stepped back. He swallowed again. ‘I will not do this. I will not be like—’
He froze, shoved a hand through his hair before walking stiffly to the door.
‘Bastien...?’ She stopped, unsure of what to say.
With one hand on the handle, he paused. ‘The clothes are yours. Use them. Don’t use them. Your choice. But if you wish to ride with me be downstairs in five minutes.’
Ana clutched the bedpost, barely able to stand.
It was happening again. This blind desire, this unstoppable craving that dogged her every time she came within three feet of Bastien. At least he had a handle on his control—enough to stop himself before things went too far.
Whereas she...
Anxiety bit deep at the thought of putting herself in Bastien’s presence again so soon. But the fighter in her rebelled at hiding away in her room.
She would borrow the clothes and go for a ride with him. What better way to show him she was as unaffected as he was than by spending a few hours with him without making a fool of herself? Proving that she could control her wayward emotions?
She unzipped the case and found familiar labels neatly stacked. Ana lifted a pair of cream jodhpurs and slid them on, topping it with a camisole and sweater set in chocolate-brown. Black riding boots completed the ensemble, and for the first time in days she felt comfortable. Scraping back her hair into a neat ponytail, she picked up the riding jacket and left her room.
Bastien stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Tatiana also brought your new contract. Come into my study. You can sign it there.’
Ana frowned ‘What new contract?’
‘The one that replaces your old one, whose terms you violated. A copy was faxed to your agency yesterday.’
‘What...what does it say?’ Old and familiar shame crawled up her spine as she followed him down the hall.
‘More or less what the old one said. You can read it for yourself. If you’re happy with it Chantal will witness it.’ He opened the study door and waved her in.
In the large, unashamedly male space, dominated by a huge antique desk, the scent of burning cedarwood drifted from a low fire. But Ana didn’t dwell on the charm or the warmth of the room. Her eyes were drawn hypnotically to the document on Bastien’s desk.
Her mother’s scathing words rushed into her mind.
‘You’ve got your looks. You don’t need an education!’
Sliding over the document, Bastien handed her a pen. ‘Sign on the last page after you’ve read it.’
Ana clenched her hand around the pen. ‘I won’t be rushed, Bastien. I’ll sign it once I’m satisfied with it.’
He frowned. ‘Organising a shoot on the scale of what the DBH ad needs doesn’t happen overnight. Relocating it to another country takes even more time.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you having second thoughts?’
‘No,’ she replied hurriedly, her insides churning.
She’d made progress with her disability, but not enough that she could confidently deal with her own paperwork. But the thought of revealing her deficiencies to Bastien made her stomach twist with humiliation.
She glanced down at the paper. Words were jumbled together, morphing into a taunting miasma of black and white that made the document tremble in her hands.
Large, warm hands closed over hers a second before Bastien sank onto his haunches beside her. Startled, she glanced at him. His frown had deepened.
‘What’s wrong?’
She licked her lips. ‘Nothing. I just don’t want to rush it in case I miss anything. I...I just need a few minutes. Do you mind getting Chantal?’
His gaze probed hers for several more seconds. Finally he nodded. His departure brought much needed respite. Desperately she tore through the document, but nothing made sense. Hands shaking, she thrust the contract back onto the desk.
Bastien had faxed a copy to Visual. All she had to do was call and double-check things with Lauren. About to reach for the phone, she stopped when Bastien walked in, followed by Chantal.
‘Did you say my agency had approved this?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Yes, I spoke to Lauren this morning.’
Relief coursed through her. Opening the contract to where Bastien had indicated, she carefully signed her name. She felt Bastien’s intense gaze on her but refused to glance his way for fear he would see right through her to the heart of her disgrace.
Once the document had been witnessed, Bastien locked it in his drawer and held out his hand to her. ‘Now, let’s go and visit my horses.’
Pasting a smile on her face, she fell into step beside him.
The morning air was unexpectedly mild, but fresh. Inhaling deeply, she followed Bastien round the side of the château. Landscaped gardens lay to the east, absorbing most of the morning light. She barely had time to admire the profusion of flowers before they came to a large paddock.
Ana spotted the stables just before she caught the whiff of horseflesh. ‘How many horses do you own?’ she asked.
‘I keep six horses here. I have a bigger stable on my estate in Lucerne.’
A tall woman—Chantal’s daughter-in-law, she guessed—met them inside the stable. Peering into the semi-darkness, she saw a flash of white. ‘Oh, he’s magnificent!’
Bastien reached out and patted the horse’s nose. ‘He is a she. Her name is Storm.’
‘What breed?’
‘Lipizzaner. From Austria. Slightly smaller than Arabians, but just as swift and powerful.’
Ana leaned forward and stroked Storm’s soft nose. ‘You’re gorgeous. Yes, you are,’ she crooned. Her reward was a nudge of approval. She smiled and glanced at Bastien to find his gaze fixed on her.
‘She’s also very high-spirited, stubborn and reckless. She’s thrown more than one rider.’
Something in his voice made her pause. ‘Not you, though, right?’
One corner of his mouth tilted up. ‘Not me,’ he confirmed.
‘And what’s your secret, pray tell?’
‘I’ve learned to be patient with her—to know when to accommodate her tantrums and when to rein her in.’ Stepping forward, he slid a finger between Storm’s eyes. ‘We’ve learned to trust each other, but she knows who her master is.’
She couldn’t be jealous of a horse! And she certainly had no use for all that ‘master’ nonsense. So why, when Bastien continued to caress Storm, did she experience a pang of envy?
‘Come, I’ll introduce you to your horse.’
Ana followed, her sense of disquiet increasing as Bastien paused to greet each horse, his voice calm and soothing. Even the fiercest thoroughbred whickered with pleasure.
At the last stall the most beautiful horse she’d ever seen waited. Unlike the other horses, which had shades of grey, this horse was pure white.
‘His name is Rebelle,’ Bastien said softly. He stroked the animal’s neck, then inspected his hooves before instructing the stable hand to saddle him up. His own horse he saddled himself.
They took a path into the woods behind the château, where the smell of earth and dewed vegetation permeated the air. Grasping the reins, Ana tried not to stare at the powerful figure Bastien cut astride his horse, but the wide breadth of his shoulders beneath his tan riding jacket and the powerful thighs that gripped his horse’s flanks continually drew her eyes.
Realising she was in danger of losing the task she’d set herself, she cast around in her mind for something to say to ease the tight knot burning in her belly.
&nbs
p; Leaning forward, she patted her horse’s long neck. ‘Does his name mean what I think it does?’
‘Rebel? Yes, he arrived prematurely. He was sick and never had a chance to bond with his mother. When she rejected him we thought he wasn’t going to make it, but he defied all the odds.’
Inexplicably, a lump lodged in her throat. Ana gave him another pat. ‘You’d be amazed how many children make it despite a parent’s rejection.’
Too late, she felt Bastien’s keen gaze. She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on her slip. Her hope was dashed.
‘You speak from experience.’ It was more a statement than a question.
‘I’m sure you’ve guessed Lily isn’t exactly the motherly type,’ she said breezily, hoping he’d drop the subject.
‘How close are you?’ he pressed.
‘One phone call every three months and a card at Christmas—that close.’ Pain darted through her chest and she rubbed at the spot.
He frowned. ‘So why does she manage your career?’
‘Believe it or not, she’s an astute businesswoman when the occasion demands it. As a former model herself, her insight into the business has come in handy on occasion.’
Expecting a censorious reply, she glanced at Bastien and saw him nod thoughtfully.
‘Have you been in touch with her lately?’
‘She called yesterday to offer advice on how to manage my predicament, as it happens.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘And what did that entail?’
‘She told me not to get emotionally involved with you.’ And for once Ana intended to take her mother’s advice.
He drew his horse to a halt. ‘And your response was...?’ he rasped.
‘To say there was little risk of that happening.’
A look crossed his face—part displeasure, part relief. Then he blinked his expression back into neutral. ‘Did she offer up any thoughts as who might have planted the drugs?’
Her head snapped up. ‘No—why would she?’
‘As you said, she has more experience in the modelling world than you do. I’d have thought she’d be fighting to prove your innocence, even if only professionally?’
‘Like I said, we don’t have the closest relationship. And, no, it’s not perfect, but as we both know life rarely ever is.’ Digging her heels into Rebelle’s side, she set off at a trot.
He caught up with her easily and they rode until they came to a small stream. Dismounting, he took her reins, tied them around a tree and then turned to her. Reading his intention, Ana tried to dismount quickly, but he beat her to it.
He caught her before she could lower herself to the ground. His hands easily encompassed her waist, and the heat of his touch dangerously whittled away her efforts to remain unaffected by him. His scent suffused her senses, his powerful aura closing over her.
‘The subject of your mother distresses you,’ he said into the still air.
Again that hint of gentleness that threatened to undo her.
She couldn’t look at him, so she concentrated on caressing Rebelle’s flank. ‘Before yesterday I didn’t find it easy to admit that she lacks the most fundamental maternal instincts.’
‘What happened yesterday?’
‘I’m not entirely sure, but she sounded almost...concerned.’
‘A child’s hope is a very tough thing to kill.’
‘Are you speaking of you or me?’
His mouth pursed. ‘Mine died a long time ago.’
A harsh laugh escaped her. ‘Are you sure? Sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants.’
He stilled completely. Ana could almost hear him clinically analysing her words. ‘Then perhaps you should listen to your head and not your heart.’
Unable to stop herself, she turned and looked into his eyes. ‘Is that what you do? Shut off your feelings whenever it suits you?’
His hand tightened, albeit imperceptibly. ‘I feel. I just don’t let blind emotion get in the way of my better judgement.’
‘Then bravo to you.’ She forced a teasing tone. ‘And I totally get the feeling that blind emotion wouldn’t try to get in your way. It would run screaming in the other direction when it saw you coming.’
‘I can live with that.’
She frowned at his bleak tone and glanced up to see a wave of pain wash over his face before his expression blanked again.
A wave of sadness surged out of nowhere. ‘Bastien, are you okay?’
His mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. ‘Of course. Come. There’s a view I want to show you.’
His breath whispered over her ear, his low voice a deep rumble over her sensitive nerve-endings.
She followed him through a tall stand of birches, trying to take pleasure in birdsong and warm sunshine. But all she could think of was Bastien’s expression and his bleak reply.
His long strides carried them along a narrow path to a small clearing where the trees ended on a wide natural ledge cut into the hillside. Moving alongside him, Ana took a stunned breath. The valley was spread out in picture-perfection below her. The view extended all way to the lake, with the château a golden vision amongst the rolling green. Dazzling in the morning light, with nothing around for miles, it resembled something out of a child’s fairytale. Or a woman’s dream come true.
Beside her, Bastien took a deep breath, a look almost of contentment on his face.
‘Why did you bring me here?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘I thought you might want to see it.’ His gaze met hers briefly before he looked away.
‘The château has stunning views at every turn. But this is your favourite view, isn’t it?’ she asked intuitively.
He smiled. ‘Yes,’ he said simply.
Something warm, soft, unfurled in her chest...she was inordinately pleased that he’d shared this moment with her.
She pointed to a summit in the distance. ‘What are those peaks? They look like...’
‘Horns? They’re called Les Diablerets—the devil’s horns.’
Ana grinned. ‘Very apt. Thanks for showing me this view. I think it would make a stunning backdrop for the shoot.’
His face blanked, his smile disappearing. ‘The shoot?’ he repeated coolly.
She gestured to the landscape. ‘Yes, the castle in Scotland was beautiful, but this is absolutely breathtaking. I think it’s perfect, actually.’
‘Of course,’ he intoned, his voice flat.
Ana glanced at him and her smile faltered. ‘It was your idea to relocate the shoot here, Bastien.’
‘I’m aware of that.’
‘Then why do I feel I’ve just stepped on a landmine by referring to it?’
His jaw clenched. ‘C’est rien. It’s nothing.’ He turned and headed back to the horses. He helped her up, handed over her reins, then mounted his horse.
Thick silence cloaked them until she couldn’t stand it any more.
‘Did you grow up here?’
At first she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he nodded. ‘When my grandfather bought the château it was in ruins. He restored it brick by brick and lived here his whole life. My father kept it because it was close to the city.’
‘Not because of its sentimental value?’ Ana joked, secretly wishing back the smile she’d glimpsed on the hilltop.
His face remained impassive. ‘Sentiment has little place in business in the twenty-first century.’
‘So why do you keep it, then?’
Her question seemed to surprise him. ‘It’s a good investment.’
‘Emotionally or financially?’
Cool grey eyes fastened on her. His horse, sensing his altered mood, whickered anxiously. ‘Don’t try to psychoanalyse me, Ana,’ he warned softly.
‘Beca
use you’re such an enigma?’
His eyes glittered. ‘On the contrary, I’m a very simple man. I know what I want. I also know when the price is too high for me to pay. I cannot afford you, Ana Duval.’
With a kick of his horse’s flanks, he surged forward.
She caught up with him at the stables. ‘What did you mean by that?’
They both dismounted and he took her reins and stared down at her. ‘You live your life in unabashed emotion. Unbridled passion is great in the bedroom, but in the real world all it does is let you down. I prefer not to become embroiled in the inevitable messy aftermath. Once was enough.’
‘Since I don’t recall offering myself to you on a silver platter, I’m assuming your ego is once again in full residence? Or are you just too scared to take a chance on feeling anything other than bitterness for the rest of your life because your belief in love and happiness was shattered once?’
He inhaled sharply. ‘Love? Don’t confuse love with sex or duty, Ana. Sex has a limited shelf-life and duty is very easy to shirk when it becomes too burdensome.’
His face contorted into a mask of pain before he exhaled and blinked it away. But that wasn’t before her heart lurched at the stark insight into Bastien’s beliefs.
‘Bastien—’
‘Chantal will have breakfast ready. Go ahead. I’ll meet you in the dining room shortly.’
The content, smiling Bastien from the hilltop had disappeared. Impassive, corporate Bastien was back, his face giving nothing away as he led the horses off.
Ana walked slowly back to the château, Bastien’s words haunting her. Their bleakness lodged a thorn in her heart. Had the events of sixteen years ago affected him so much that he’d shut off his heart completely?
Wrenching the tie from her ponytail, she speared her fingers through her hair. She had no business feeling sorry for Bastien. Feeling sorry for the fact that he wouldn’t let himself feel, or want, or need. And she absolutely had no business wishing he would feel for her, or want or even need her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BASTIEN PUT THE phone down and scrubbed a hand over his face. Three days and his investigators had come up empty. Whoever had framed Ana had covered their tracks very well. The police had reported no fingerprints on the inhaler. Not even Ana’s...