Relax! When he was looking at her with that sensual gleam in his eyes? It seemed unlikely, Freya thought on a wave of panic. ‘I didn’t bring a swimming costume with me,’ she muttered when he finally released her and led her over to a couple of sun loungers arranged on the deck.
‘Everything you need is below deck,’ Zac assured her. ‘Follow me and I’ll show you where you can change.’
Zac’s taste in swimwear left a lot to be desired, Freya decided later as she cautiously arranged herself on a sun lounger. The minuscule green and gold bikini he’d brought for her was barely decent, just three triangles of material that left a worrying amount of her flesh on display. Not that he had voiced any objections, she mused, a tremor running through her body when he turned his head and she felt his brilliant blue gaze skim over her.
The tension was back, a prickling, tangible force, and all afternoon she had tried to ignore the sexual chemistry that simmered between them, but now, as their eyes clashed, she glimpsed his unconcealed hunger and knew that it mirrored her own.
Damn him, she thought frantically, and damn the dictates of her treacherous body. This was a man who, two years ago, had seduced her into becoming his mistress, but had considered her of so little importance that he hadn’t bothered to reveal he had undergone a surgical procedure to ensure he could never father a child. When she had fallen pregnant he had adamantly refused to believe that the child was his. He had torn her heart to shreds with his vile insults, and even now he only accepted that he’d been wrong because of the results of a DNA test, not because he trusted her.
And yet, despite everything he had done to her, she still wanted him. He was like a fever in her blood and when she was around him nothing else mattered except that he assuage this burning, aching desire that was slowly sending her out of her mind.
Taking a deep breath, she sat up and faced him. All afternoon he had kept their conversation deliberately light, seducing her with his sharp wit so that she had almost kidded herself that they had gone back in time and none of the hurt and pain had ever happened. But she was no longer the impressionable young girl who had hung on his every word. She was a single mother trying to do the best for her child.
‘Zac…’ She paused fractionally and then said in a low voice, ‘It’s time I went home.’
‘There’s no rush,’ he replied lazily. ‘My mother promised to give Aimee her tea and bath.’
‘No. I mean it’s time I went back to England—with Aimee. I’ve had a letter from the yacht club, asking when I’ll be returning to work,’ she continued when he made no comment, ‘and it’s only fair that I give them a firm date. They won’t keep my job open indefinitely.’
Zac stiffened and swung his legs off his sun lounger so that he was sitting facing her. ‘I have never asked about your work before,’ he said quietly, forcing himself to ignore his frustration that she seemed hell bent on fighting him, and trying, for the first time, to understand what was going on inside her head. ‘Tell me exactly what you do at the yacht club.’
‘I’m a receptionist. It’s hardly a glittering career, I know,’ she muttered defensively when his brows arched, ‘but the wages are reasonable and the owners are nice. They’ve always allowed me to take time off if Aimee is ill. The nursery won’t take children if they’re unwell,’ she explained when he said nothing.
‘And this job, it means a lot to you?’
‘No, it’s just a job—a rather vital commodity for a single mother, wouldn’t you say?’ she said, feeling the first prickle of unease when he continued to study her speculatively. ‘I need to work, Zac.’
‘Why?’ he demanded with a shrug. ‘I realise that in the past it was a necessity, but now I know Aimee is my child and naturally I will support her. How can you even think about taking her away when she is clearly so happy here?’ he demanded angrily. ‘There’s no way I will allow you to unsettle her and force her to live in that hovel you euphemistically call home. Apart from anything else, it would break my mother’s heart if she were to be separated from her grandchild.’
The desire to point out that she had been forced to live in a hovel because of his utter lack of faith in her was so strong that Freya had to bite her lip. There was no point in indulging in a slanging match when what was needed was a calm, rational discussion about their daughter’s future. ‘I appreciate how much your mother loves Aimee and, believe me, I wouldn’t want to do anything to spoil their relationship. But my life is in England.’
‘Then go back to England,’ Zac growled angrily, ‘but you’ll go alone. Aimee’s life is here now, among her family who love her.’
‘Are you saying I don’t?’ In her agitation, Freya jumped to her feet and glared at him. ‘I would lay down my life for her and I will never abandon her the way my mother abandoned me.’ She spun away from him, blinded by her tears, and let out a cry when he grabbed her hand and pulled her down onto his sun lounger. ‘Don’t,’ she pleaded when he leaned over her, his eyes glittering with an intensity that made her heart thud in her chest. ‘I understand that you want to be a proper father to Aimee, but I can’t leave her here with you, you must see that. We both love her,’ she whispered sadly, ‘but I don’t know how we can ever find a solution that will allow us to both be full-time parents to her.’
‘Don’t you?’ Zac propped himself up on one elbow and trailed his finger lightly down her cheek. ‘The solution is obvious, chérie. We’ll get married.’
‘Say that again!’ Freya muttered weakly as shock ricocheted through her. For a brief few seconds she was overwhelmed by a sensation of piercingly sweet joy, but already that feeling was fading as common sense kicked in. Zac had asked her to marry him, but she was under no illusion that he was about to profess his undying love for her. And as far as she was concerned, love was the only reason she would contemplate marriage.
‘You asked how we could find a solution to the problem of shared parenting of Aimee and I’m simply suggesting that the most obvious answer is for us to get married,’ Zac replied in a measured tone, as if he were explaining something to a small child.
‘How can a marriage of convenience between two people who actively dislike each other be a solution to anything?’ Freya cried. ‘I agree that the only reason for us to get married is to provide our daughter with a stable family life and it might possibly work at first, but how do you think Aimee would feel as she grew older and realised that we were only together for her sake? It wouldn’t be fair on her, and it wouldn’t be fair on us, either. What if you met someone and fell in love?’ The idea of him loving another woman when he had never loved her was agonising, but it was a reality she had to accept. ‘Or what if I did? We would have to face the agonising decision of whether to put Aimee through a divorce, or whether to sacrifice what could be our one chance of happiness.’
‘If we were married I assure you I would remain faithful,’ Zac bit out, his eyes glinting. He was still lying on his side, leaning over her, but she could feel the angry tension that gripped his muscles and acknowledged that now was not a good time to try and ease away from him. Instead she forced herself to lie passively on the sun lounger even though she was acutely conscious of the effect his near-naked body was having on hers.
‘I cannot speak for you, of course,’ he said stiffly, struggling to disguise his fury that she had obviously contemplated shopping around for another partner. Who was he? Had she already met someone back in England and was hoping that the relationship might become permanent? After the way he had rejected her two years ago, he could hardly blame her, he conceded grimly, but the idea that she could choose to marry another man who would then be Aimee’s stepfather made him feel physically sick.
‘I’m not saying that I have anyone in mind right now,’ Freya muttered crossly, fighting the urge to reach up and stroke back the lock of dark hair that had fallen onto his brow. ‘But who knows what the future holds? I might meet my soul mate tomorrow and I’d like to have the chance to experience love. My life hasn’t b
een overflowing with it so far,’ she added bleakly.
‘The love you speak of is the stuff of childish fairy tales,’ Zac told her impatiently. ‘A successful marriage has its roots in friendship, mutual respect and common goals—in our case the desire to bring our daughter up in a happy family environment.’
‘There’s more to marriage than a…clinical contract,’ Freya argued fiercely.
‘You mean passion? I don’t foresee any problems on that score, do you, chérie?’ He moved over her with lightning speed, crushing her beneath him as he claimed her mouth in a statement of pure possession. He forced his tongue between her lips in a flagrantly erotic gesture, probing, exploring, demanding a response that she was unable to deny. One hand tangled in her hair to hold her fast while the other roamed up and down her body, traced the shape of her hip before sliding up to curve around her breast. ‘The bedroom is the one place I know our marriage will work,’ he growled against her throat, before he moved lower, trailing a line of kisses to the valley between her breasts.
His breath was hot on her skin. She was burning up, Freya thought feverishly, feeling her breasts swell and tighten until they ached for him to caress them. She couldn’t think logically and nothing else seemed to matter except that he should continue touching her and kissing her and she made no attempt to stop him when he unfastened the halter straps of her bikini and peeled the material down to expose her breasts to his hungry gaze.
Perhaps she should stop wishing for the moon and settle for what Zac was offering? He might not love her, but he wanted to marry her and from the sound of it he was prepared to be a faithful husband as well as a devoted father to Aimee. Freya caught her breath when he cupped her breast in his palm and lowered his head to stroke his tongue over her nipple. The sensation was so exquisite that she arched towards him, wanting, needing, more of the same and she whimpered softly when he drew the tight peak fully into his mouth.
She loved him so much. He was the only man she would ever love and for her there would never be anyone else, but what about him? What if, despite his good intentions, his desire for her faded and he met someone else? Would he embark on a discreet affair, while maintaining the façade of a happy marriage for Aimee’s sake? It would be worse than suffering a slow death, she thought despairingly. She had spent her formative years knowing that she was merely tolerated by her grandmother. The prospect of spending the rest of her life trapped in a loveless marriage was unbearable.
Zac lifted his head from her breast and shifted slightly so that he could feather light kisses down over her flat stomach and a quiver of pure longing flooded through her. The urge to surrender to the desperate need for him to possess her was overwhelming, but she couldn’t give in again.
‘Do you honestly believe you could experience this level of passion with anyone else, Freya?’ he demanded rawly, his eyes burning into hers when he lifted his head and stared down at her.
‘Perhaps not, but mind-blowing sex is not a good enough reason for me to want to marry you, any more than marrying for Aimee’s sake,’ she said crisply, finally finding the strength to push him away. ‘There has to be another way, some sort of compromise where we can both share her and also be free to get on with our own lives.’
Having spent his entire adult life avoiding commitment, Zac made the unwelcome discovery that freedom had suddenly lost its appeal and he hated the idea of Freya getting on with life without him. But he recognised the determined set of her chin and grimly conceded that she was the only woman he had ever met whose stubborn streak matched his own. He couldn’t frogmarch her up the aisle, and for now he would have to concede a temporary defeat.
She was fumbling with her bikini, her fingers visibly shaking as she dragged the material over her breasts. The hard peaks of her nipples strained against the clingy Lycra and instinct told him that she was fighting her own internal battle. It was tempting to haul her into his arms and prove beyond doubt that the passion they shared was impossible to recreate with anyone else, but he forced himself to move away from her.
‘So that’s your final answer, is it? You refuse to marry me, but you agree that we need to reach a compromise whereby we can both be involved in Aimee’s upbringing.’ He sounded indifferent, almost bored, and faintly relieved, Freya thought miserably. In turning him down she had quite possibly made the biggest mistake of her life, but at least she had saved him from a similar fate. ‘Just so long as you understand that Aimee will grow up here in Monaco,’ he added coolly, a frown crossing his face when a discreet cough alerted him to the presence of the skipper who had emerged from the lower deck.
‘I thought the meaning of compromise is to come to a mutual agreement, not for one person to lay down the law,’ Freya muttered, but Zac was no longer listening and was already striding along the deck. Her patchy French meant that she had trouble following his conversation with his uniformed crew-member but his body language unsettled her and she quickly stood and thrust her arms into her robe.
‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ she demanded when Zac walked back to her.
He hesitated fractionally and then said, ‘My mother has sent a message via the satellite phone saying that Aimee seems unwell. I’ve instructed Claude to head straight back to port.’
Panic immediately coiled in Freya’s stomach. ‘How do you mean—unwell? Yvette must have given more details than that.’
‘I’m sorry, chérie, that’s all I know,’ Zac said, his voice softening when he saw the flare of anxiety in her eyes. ‘We’ll be back at La Maison des Fleurs within the hour.’ He paused and then murmured, ‘It’s quite possible that my mother is overreacting. Many years ago she lost two babies in quick succession and she is bound to be ultra-protective of Aimee.’
‘How terrible for her.’ Freya momentarily forgot her concern for her own baby as she contemplated Yvette Deverell’s devastating losses. ‘Was that before you were born?’
For a moment it seemed that Zac did not want to answer and his face was shuttered when he glanced at her. ‘Non, I was fourteen—old enough to understand my parents’ grief but sadly unable to comfort them, although I did my best.’
‘I’m sure you were a great comfort to them.’ Freya had a dozen questions she wanted to ask, but it was clear Zac did not want to discuss the tragedy that had blighted his family. He’d said that Yvette had lost her children when they were babies—had they died as a result of cot-death? She had read somewhere that the syndrome could affect more than one sibling and certainly it must have been utterly heartbreaking for Zac and his parents. She could understand now why Yvette adored Aimee, but some maternal sixth sense warned her that Zac’s mother wasn’t overreacting. Something was seriously wrong.
The journey back to the port seemed to take for ever and she busied herself by going below deck to change out of her bikini. Her earlier pleasure in the boat trip had evaporated and she wished she had never allowed Zac to persuade her to leave Aimee. She felt guilt-ridden that she had abandoned her baby even for a couple of hours, especially as it had resulted in her and Zac being at loggerheads once more. Her daughter was the only important person in her life, she reminded herself fiercely, and everyone else, including Zac, took second place.
The moment the car drew up outside La Maison des Fleurs, Freya flew through the front door and skidded to a halt when Yvette hurried forwards to greet them. ‘How is Aimee?’ she asked urgently, fear seizing her when she stared at the Frenchwoman’s worried expression.
‘Not good, I’m afraid,’ Yvette replied shakily, turning her gaze from Freya to Zac. ‘Thank God you’re here. The doctor is with Aimee now and he says she must go straight to the hospital.’
With a muffled cry Freya shot past Zac’s mother, into the sitting room where Aimee was lying, pale and seemingly lifeless on the sofa.
‘Aimee, Aimee! What’s wrong with her?’ she beseeched the doctor who was standing, grave-faced, close to the child. She could hear Zac urgently asking his mother when Aimee had first shown signs
of being ill, and Yvette’s explanation that the toddler had seemed tired after playing on the swing.
‘I was surprised because I know she usually has a nap in the morning, but I made her a bed on the sofa and thought she would sleep for a little while. After two hours I was beginning to feel anxious,’ Yvette said tearfully. ‘I was relieved when she stirred, but almost immediately she was sick and when I drew back the blinds she screamed as if the light hurt her eyes. Since then she has been as you see her now. The doctor has confirmed she is running a high temperature but her symptoms could mean many things…’ Yvette broke off helplessly and Freya swung round to the doctor.
‘What do you think is wrong with her?’
‘I can’t say for sure but she is showing classic symptoms of meningitis,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s best that she goes to the hospital where tests will confirm the diagnosis. I think the ambulance is here now.’ He took one look at Freya’s ashen face and patted her arm. ‘Try not to worry, madame, your daughter will be in good hands.’
Meningitis—the word sounded over and over in Freya’s head as the ambulance hurtled through the traffic. It was every parent’s worst nightmare, renowned for striking without warning and with potentially fatal results. Aimee’s life could not be in danger; she frantically sought to reassure herself, but when she stared at her baby’s limp body her heart stood still. Please don’t let me lose her, she prayed, squeezing her eyes shut to prevent her tears from falling. Crying wouldn’t help, she had to be strong and help Aimee in her fight for survival.
A hand reached out and enfolded her fingers in a strong grasp. Zac was hurting too, she could see it in the tense line of his jaw, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Sympathy briefly flared for what he must be going through, the agony he must be feeling that Aimee could be taken from him so soon after she had come into his life. But when they arrived at the hospital and the ambulance doors were flung open, she forgot everything but the need to focus on her baby. Aimee needed her and there was no room in her heart for anyone else.
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