The Frenchman's Marriage Demand

by Chantelle Shaw

  CHAPTER FOUR

  FREYA was running down the hall of the penthouse with Aimee in her arms, searching for Zac. She could hear his voice ahead of her but the passageway seemed to go on for ever and he remained a distant figure who taunted her desperate attempts to catch up with him. Tears filled her eyes as she struggled on. Aimee was heavy and her wrist was agony, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her heart as she faced the knowledge that she would never reach Zac and she would always be alone…

  ‘Freya—wake up.’

  A familiar, terse voice sounded loud in her ear and when she opened her eyes she discovered that she was not in the hall, but her bedroom, and Zac was standing close to her bed regarding her with undisguised impatience.

  ‘You were dreaming,’ he told her when she stared up at him warily, her eyes huge and shadowed, unwittingly revealing a degree of vulnerability that caused Zac’s frown to deepen. ‘I suppose you’re bound to suffer flashbacks from the accident.’ He glanced at his watch and his mouth tightened. He had waited for Freya to wake up and was already behind schedule, but she looked achingly fragile this morning and he was irritated by his concern. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he queried, stifling his impatience when she simply stared at him in bemusement.

  The strap of her nightdress had slipped off her shoulder and he recalled with stark clarity the way he had pushed it even lower last night, to leave her pale breast exposed. The sight of her dusky pink nipple had filled him with an uncontrollable longing to bend his head and take the hard peak in his mouth, suckle her until she whimpered with pleasure, and it had taken every vestige of his will-power to stop himself from pushing her back onto the sofa and covering her body with his own. The memory was enough to make him harden until he was sure she must see the embarrassing proof of his arousal, and, inhaling sharply, he took a jerky step back from the bed.

  ‘Talk about what?’ Freya asked him in genuine confusion. Her brain seemed to be made of cotton wool this morning and her thought process wasn’t aided by the sight of Zac in a superbly tailored grey suit that emphasised the width of his broad shoulders. He looked urbane and sophisticated, every inch the billionaire businessman, and she was horribly aware of her dishevelled appearance. She adjusted the strap of her nightdress, her cheeks flaming when she caught the amused gleam in his eyes. She’d hoped that last night had all been part of her nightmare, but the tenderness of her swollen lips was proof that he had kissed her and she had responded with an enthusiasm that now made her shudder.

  ‘The accident,’ he snapped, forcing her to concentrate on him. ‘You were crying in your sleep and it was obviously a terrifying experience. I’ve heard that it helps to talk,’ he added stiffly, shrugging his shoulders in a gesture that indicated he had never been afraid in his life, let alone felt the need to confide his private emotions. Zac didn’t suffer from the same human frailties as normal people, Freya thought bleakly. He spent most of his waking hours at work and regarded sex as a recreational activity that occupied his nights until he could return to his office the following day.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she murmured as she dragged her gaze from him and stared down at the bedcovers. She wondered what he would say if she revealed that she had been dreaming about him, not the accident, and that he had been the cause of her tears. He would be out of her room like a rabbit out of a trap, she thought grimly. Two years ago he had made it plain that he only wanted a physical relationship with her and, if she was ever insane enough to respond to the unspoken invitation in his eyes, she would have to remember that the rules hadn’t changed.

  But she would not respond to him ever again, she told herself firmly, tensing when he moved closer to the bed. His eyes glittered with the flames of desire and for one terrifying moment she thought he was going to reach out and touch her, but instead he dropped a piece of paper into her lap.

  ‘The nurse is here to perform the mouth swabs, but I require your signature before she can take a sample from Aimee,’ he said bluntly. He moved away from the bed and stood with his back to her, staring out of the window while she quickly scanned the document. It seemed straightforward, but her heart was pounding as she added her signature. Now there was no going back. In ten days’ time Zac would learn the truth, but how would he react when he was forced to accept that Aimee was his child?

  She glanced at Zac’s stern profile and bit her lip as she felt herself softening a little. He was a proud man and he was going to hate learning that he had been wrong about her.

  He must have felt her silent scrutiny and swung round to face her, his eyes narrowing. ‘Having second thoughts, Freya? I thought you might when you were faced with the reality of the paternity test,’ he said coolly. ‘But I want this test and if you refuse to give your permission, I’ll go through the courts to get it. At the moment you’re a loose cannon from my past, but once I have incontrovertible proof that you are a liar I’ll take out a legal injunction if necessary to prevent you from ever approaching me or repeating your fantastic claims.’

  Freya waved her signature at him furiously as the soft feeling vanished and was instantly replaced by a strong desire to commit murder—his. ‘Far from having second thoughts, I was wishing I’d demanded a test as soon as Aimee was born,’ she retorted. ‘You’ve vilified and insulted me once too often, Zac, and the only thing that prevents me from slapping that smug expression from your face is the knowledge that the day will soon come when you’ll fall from your lofty pedestal and have to acknowledge that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us—not the superior being you think you are.’

  The glinting fury in his eyes warned her that she had pushed him too far, and she shrank back against the pillows when he snatched the consent form from her fingers and leaned over her, his hands on either side of her head. ‘It appears that my meek little English mouse has developed a sharp tongue. Be careful it doesn’t get you into trouble, chérie,’ he warned dangerously as he lowered his head and captured her mouth in a stinging kiss that forced her head back. He took without mercy, dominating her with insulting ease and demanding that she part her lips for him so that he could slide his tongue deep into her mouth to continue his sensual punishment.

  Freya’s muscles locked and her mind screamed at her to reject him, but her body had a will of its own and she could feel its traitorous response as molten heat surged through her veins. Torn between hunger and humiliation, she groaned and he captured her despairing cry, grinding his lips on hers to prevent its escape. When he finally lifted his head she was beyond words and closed her eyes against the contempt she was sure she would see in his. She heard him swear savagely beneath his breath and tensed, waiting for the taunts that would surely follow, but there was nothing and at the slam of the bedroom door she lifted her lashes to find that he had gone.

  Zac’s visit had left Freya physically and emotionally drained and she lay back on the pillows, telling herself that she would get up in five minutes and go and check on Aimee. When she next woke up, sunshine was streaming into her room and she stared at the clock, horrified to see that it was midmorning. How could she have slept for so long and not paid a single thought to her daughter? she berated herself angrily, but as she was about to get up she heard the sound of Aimee’s high-pitched laughter and a moment later the nanny Zac had employed put her head round the door.

  ‘Oh, you’re awake. I’ve someone here who wants to see you,’ Jean Lewis announced cheerfully as she opened the door wider and Aimee trotted into the room.

  ‘Mrs Lewis, I’m so sorry, I never meant to sleep for so long,’ Freya said quickly. She couldn’t imagine what the nanny must think of her, but the older woman smiled reassuringly.

  ‘It’s Jean,’ she said firmly, ‘and of course you must sleep. Mr Deverell explained about your accident—it must have been a dreadful experience and, apart from your injuries, you’re probably still in shock. Aimee’s such a happy little girl and luckily she took to me straight away. I promise you, I’ll take care of her as if she
were my own,’ she assured Freya with a friendly smile. ‘If I were you, I’d spend the rest of the day in bed and I’ll arrange for your meals to be brought to you.’

  Freya didn’t have the strength to argue. It felt strange to be mothered after the years of indifference from her grandmother, she mused after she had played with Aimee for a while before Jean Lewis had taken the little girl off to explore the roof-garden. She had warmed to Jean’s kindness instantly and for the first time since Aimee’s birth she felt she could relax and trust that her baby would be well cared for.

  Over the next two days she began to appreciate Jean’s advice. The accident had taken its toll and she was shocked at how tired and emotional she felt. The sound of laughter from the nursery indicated that Aimee was perfectly happy with the nanny, and it made a welcome change to have a temporary reprieve from her responsibilities.

  To her relief she saw little of Zac. He had left for his office before she woke in the mornings and did not return until late in the evening. Some things hadn’t changed, she mused wryly as she recalled the long, lonely days she had spent when she had lived with him, waiting for him to return from his office or one of his frequent business trips.

  A few times he had taken her abroad with him. Deverell’s owned stores in several European cities as well as New York, Rio de Janeiro and Dubai, but although the scenery was different her life had followed a similar pattern that had revolved around Zac and his hectic schedule.

  She had been nothing more than a sex slave, she thought dismally, but innate honesty forced her to admit that she had taken on the role willingly. Zac had been like an addiction and at the time she had believed that she loved him. But had she confused love with lust? He had let her down so badly she could not possibly still be in love with him now, she reassured herself. The feelings he stirred in her were purely sexual. Although she hated herself, she wanted him with the same urgency that had consumed her when she had been his mistress. But she no longer believed in fairy tales, she would not mistake her physical awareness of him for a deeper emotion, and she certainly would not give in to this feverish need to allow him to make love to her.

  Buoyed up by her newfound confidence that she could deal with Zac Deverell and his magnetic charm, Freya wandered through the lounge and out onto the wide balcony. Monaco was truly a billionaire’s paradise, she mused as she stared down at the rows of luxury yachts and motor cruisers moored in the harbour. Zac enjoyed a glamorous lifestyle exclusive to the super-rich, but she had never felt comfortable with his wealth or fitted in with his friends.

  In her heart she had always known that he was not the kind of man who would settle for a life of domestic bliss. Zac was an adventurer who lived life close to the edge with his love of extreme sports like sky-diving or power-boat racing. He got a buzz from pushing himself to the limits and playing happy families wasn’t part of his game plan, as his rejection of her and their baby had demonstrated. In a few days he would learn that Aimee was his daughter, but she doubted he would sacrifice any part of his life for a child he didn’t want.

  With a heavy sigh she lifted her face to the sky and closed her eyes as the late-afternoon sunshine warmed her skin. After weeks of rain back in England, it felt wonderful, but her relaxed mood was shattered by a familiar voice from behind her.

  ‘There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,’ Zac said, unable to disguise his impatience that she hadn’t been instantly at his beck and call. ‘I see you’re keeping busy.’

  Freya’s eyes flew open and she glared at him indignantly. ‘Aimee’s having a nap and I had nothing to do for five minutes. You insisted that I should stay here,’ she continued crossly when he said nothing. ‘It’s not my fault that there’s nothing for me to do.’ Her words were an eerie echo of the rows they used to have in the past, brought on by her loneliness and boredom and his refusal to cut down on his work schedule to spend time with her. Back then their arguments had ended with him sweeping her off to the bedroom to make love to her—and her capitulating at the first touch of his hands on her body, Freya thought grimly. But then she had given in too easily and now things were very different.

  ‘Laurent informs me that you seem better today,’ Zac murmured as his eyes skimmed over her in blatant appreciation of her tight-fitting jeans and tee shirt. ‘You certainly look good, chérie, although I can see that your injured wrist still prevents you from putting on your underwear,’ he added silkily.

  Blushing furiously, Freya followed his gaze to the firm line of her breasts revealed beneath her thin cotton shirt and felt a tingling sensation as her nipples peaked provocatively beneath his stare. Electricity zinged between them and, despite the warmth of the sun, she shivered as each of her nerve endings flared into urgent life. With an angry murmur she swung away from him and stared out at the endless expanse of cobalt-blue sea.

  ‘I am feeling better, and my wrist is already less painful—so much so that there’s really no reason for me to stay here any longer. I’ve decided to take Aimee back to England while we wait for the test results,’ she said.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t allow that,’ Zac said pleasantly, but she caught the underlying note of steel in his voice and her temper flared.

  ‘Can’t allow it? Who do you think you are, Zac? I’m not your prisoner.’

  ‘Certainly not.’ He sounded insulted at the idea. ‘You are my guest, although I admit that I took the liberty of locking your and Aimee’s passports in my desk—in case you should lose them,’ he added when she looked as though she were going to explode.

  The breeze lifted her hair and blew the soft strands across his face, leaving behind the faint scent of lemons. Desire coiled low in his gut, but he resisted the urge to slide his fingers into her hair and carefully moved away from her. ‘It suits me to keep you here until I have the results of the test,’ he continued harshly, ‘and then I shall personally escort you out of Monaco and out of my life, chérie. Until then I have a job for you, which should keep you occupied for a few hours at least.’

  ‘You know what you can do with your damn job,’ Freya choked, desperate to hide her devastation that he still had the ability to hurt her. Angry tears stung her eyes and she dashed them away with the back of her hand before swinging round to face him. ‘You may have forced me to stay here, but you can’t make me spend my time with you, let alone work for you.’

  His mocking smile sent a frisson of alarm down her spine and she stepped back until she was jammed up against the balcony railings when he walked purposefully towards her. ‘You should know by now that I can do whatever I like,’ he said with breathtaking arrogance. ‘And I’m not setting you to work down a salt mine. I’m having dinner tonight with an American businessman, Chester Warren, and his wife, followed by an evening at the Opera House to watch a performance by the Monte Carlo Ballet Company. My PA was supposed to be accompanying me but she’s unwell. Francine is pregnant,’ he told her with a grimace, ‘and it seems that she suffers from morning sickness in the evenings.’

  ‘Poor thing.’ Freya nodded, forgetting her anger for a moment as she sympathised with Zac’s PA. ‘I was sick morning, noon and night for weeks when I was pregnant with Aimee.’ She tailed to a halt beneath Zac’s hard stare and a surge of bitterness flooded through her. Those first weeks after she had returned to England, pregnant, penniless and alone, had been the worst of her life as she had struggled with constant nausea and faced up to her future as a single mother. She had missed Zac desperately and begun every day hoping that he would realise he had made a mistake, and every night crying herself to sleep because he hadn’t come for her. How dared he look at her with that faintly bored expression that told her he was completely disinterested in reminiscences about her pregnancy, when she had been carrying his child! ‘I still don’t understand what your PA’s problems have to do with me,’ she muttered stiffly.

  ‘I need someone to take Francine’s place tonight—you,’ he confirmed, when she glared at him suspiciously. ‘It will actuall
y work out very well. Chester’s wife Carolyn is English and I’m sure you’ll be able to keep her entertained while Chester and I discuss business.’

  ‘But…what do you expect me to talk to her about?’ Freya asked, unable to hide the faint panic in her voice. She had never been good at small talk and trying to make conversation with people she’d never met before had been one of the things she’d hated when she had lived with Zac.

  He shrugged his shoulders impatiently. ‘I don’t know. I’m sure you can swap stories about shopping in Bond Street or something.’

  ‘Oh, yes—because I do that all the time.’ She shook her head in exasperation. ‘Zac, I honestly think that you and I come from different planets. I struggle to pay my bills and buy basic necessities while you live here in your gilded tower and have no idea of the real world.’

  He didn’t appear to be listening and had already swung away from her. Bristling with anger, she followed him into the lounge and stopped just inside the doorway, blinking as she stepped out of the bright sunlight on the balcony. ‘I’m not coming with you. Find someone else to entertain your businessman and his wife.’ She folded her arms across her chest and stared at him belligerently, frowning when he handed her a large flat box with the name of a well-known couture house on the front. ‘What is this?’

  ‘Something for you to wear tonight,’ he replied blandly, seemingly unconcerned by her simmering temper or her refusal to accompany him to dinner.

  Freya stared down at the box, her heart suddenly beating at twice its normal rate. ‘You bought me a dress?’ she said slowly, hating herself for the little thrill of pleasure she gained from the idea that he had taken time out of his busy schedule to go shopping for her.