This time when Freya eased away from him, he rolled onto his side and stared down at her, his face suddenly serious. ‘You are so small and fragile, but you possess an inner strength that is quite incredible, chérie,’ he said quietly. He stroked a stray tendril of hair from her face and a warm glow filled her when she caught the flare of admiration in his eyes. ‘I don’t doubt that you would have coped with the traumas of the past week without any help from me. You proved during the last two years that you can deal with anything life throws at you, including bringing up our daughter alone and unsupported. But, believe me, I will support you and Aimee now,’ he told her fiercely.
‘I do believe you, Zac,’ Freya whispered softly, ‘and I agree that Aimee belongs here in Monaco with both of us. If it’s still what you want, then…I’ll marry you.’
‘Think about it for a moment,’ he commanded urgently, so intent on persuading her around to his way of thinking that her words were lost on him. ‘As my wife there would be no need for you to work and you could spend all your time with Aimee instead of having to leave her at a nursery. Wouldn’t you like that, chérie? You clearly adore her and you must know from your own childhood that she would benefit from having her mother’s undivided attention.’
‘Absolutely,’ Freya reiterated calmly, love and tenderness welling up inside her as she watched his expression change from frustration to dawning comprehension. ‘The events of the last week have forced me to see that Aimee needs the love and care of both her parents and I agree that it would be best if we were married. It’s the most logical solution,’ she added, proud of the lack of emotion in her voice that disguised her aching heart. All her life she had dreamed of romance and roses, moonlight and the husky avowal of undying love, but she was prosaic enough to realise that fairy tales rarely came true and she was willing to accept Zac’s marriage offer knowing that it was a contract based on convenience and a mutual desire to do their best for their daughter.
‘And who can argue with logic?’ Zac murmured in a dry tone that masked his irrational feeling of pique. Freya had accepted his marriage proposal with as much enthusiasm and excitement as if she were making a dental appointment. There was nothing wrong with assessing the situation they found themselves in logically, he reminded himself. Freya was no longer an impressionable girl, she was an independent woman who had managed quite well without him in the past and if necessary would do so again in the future. Clearly she had weighed up the pros and cons of becoming his wife and had reached a decision based on common sense rather than emotion.
He admired her determination to do the right thing for their daughter, but he couldn’t deny a certain amount of wounded pride that she viewed him as a logical solution to a problem rather than the man she was eager to spend the rest of her life with.
‘So, now that you’ve agreed to marry me, all we have to do is decide on the sort of wedding we want,’ he said smoothly, settling himself comfortably against the headboard and giving her a smile that told her of his satisfaction that he had got his own way in the end.
She was cornered, but she had stepped willingly into the trap, Freya reminded herself when her heart lurched. Their marriage would be based on sexual desire and the love they shared for Aimee, but plenty of successful marriages had been built on less. Surely with a little effort on both sides they could make their relationship work?
‘I assumed you would prefer a small wedding with the minimum of fuss,’ she murmured, tearing her eyes from the sight of his magnificent body sprawled on the pillows like a sultan in the midst of his harem.
‘I only intend to marry once, chérie, and I’d like to make it a day to remember,’ he surprised her by saying. ‘The ceremony doesn’t have to be too lavish—if that’s not what you want—but I have numerous relatives and friends I would like to invite and naturally we will want to include Aimee. She’ll make an adorable bridesmaid, and of course you must have a wedding dress and flowers, and a ring. I want to do this properly, Freya,’ he insisted when she looked stunned by the prospect of a big celebration. ‘We may not be marrying for conventional reasons, but I’m still proud that I’m making you my wife.’
He meant of course that, unlike most couples, they were not marrying for love, Freya realised, feeling her heart contract. It was stupid to feel so hurt and she gave a careless shrug, determined not to reveal that she’d be happy to marry in a barn, dressed in sackcloth, if only he loved her. ‘You’ve obviously given the subject more thought than me so I’ll leave the arrangements to you.’
She flicked back the sheets to slide out of bed, ignoring the temptation of his naked body and the sensual gleam in his eyes. Their marriage might be a convenient arrangement but they were drawn together by a fierce mutual desire. Her one fear was what would happen if Zac’s passion for her died—would he still be proud to have her as his wife when he no longer wanted her in his bed? The question settled like a heavy weight in her chest and she snatched up her robe, suddenly anxious to escape him. ‘Aimee’s probably awake by now,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll go and check on her.’
CHAPTER TEN
THREE weeks later Freya was still questioning her sanity at her decision to marry Zac. Undoubtedly it would be best for Aimee, but could she ever be happy, married to a man who did not love her? The only thing she was certain of was their physical compatibility, she acknowledged ruefully. The long hours of loving in his bed each night proved irrefutably that her body had been exclusively fashioned for the giving and receiving of pleasure with this one man.
When Zac reached for her she went immediately into his arms, her heart pounding with anticipation of the delight to come when he caressed every inch of her. His hands and mouth were instruments of sensual torture that he used without mercy, exploring each sensitive dip and crevasse of her body before gently parting her and stroking her until she hovered on the brink of ecstasy. Only then, when she cast her pride aside and pleaded for him to possess her, did he relent and move over her, thrusting into her with slow, sure strokes that filled her to the hilt and made her arch and writhe beneath him.
Her only consolation was that he appeared to be no less enslaved by desire. If anything, his hunger for her seemed even more fervent now than when she had agreed to marry him and his passion showed no sign of diminishing. But it was only three weeks, she reminded herself fearfully, what would their relationship be like in three months—three years?
She glanced across the crowded room, searching for his tall frame. They were to marry in a week’s time and ever since he had formally announced their engagement their relationship had been the subject of frantic gossip among Monaco’s social élite. Everyone was curious to meet the woman who had finally persuaded one of the principality’s most enigmatic, jet-setting playboys to relinquish his freedom, and during the past weeks they had received numerous invitations to social functions.
Tonight’s party being held in private rooms at Monte Carlo’s famous casino was a glittering occasion—quite literally, Freya thought wryly when she studied the array of fabulous jewellery on display. Despite her designer gown and the diamond and platinum earrings that complemented the exquisite diamond solitaire engagement ring Zac had given her, she felt seriously out of place. This was not her world and she felt like an outsider amidst the other guests who inhabited the rarefied group of the super-rich.
It was a far cry from her damp attic flat in England and her life that had revolved around trying to combine motherhood, work and study while surviving on a limited budget. This was Zac’s world, but it wasn’t hers, and she was aware of the whispered speculation among his peers that she was a gold-digger who had used the fact that she was the mother of his child as leverage to make him marry her.
She caught sight of him standing with a group of his close friends and her heart missed a beat as she studied him, looking relaxed, tanned and toe-curlingly sexy in an impeccably tailored black dinner suit. She would never tire of looking at him, but he possessed a magnetic charm that drew admiring g
lances from around the room and once again she wondered what he saw in her, when other women far more beautiful than her were queuing up for his attention.
With a sigh she moved towards the group and felt a tiny surge of confidence when Zac glanced up and focused his gaze intently on her as if she was the only woman he was interested in.
‘There you are, chérie, I’ve been looking for you,’ he greeted her softly, sliding his arm around her waist and dipping his head to brush his mouth over hers in a brief, tingling kiss. The sensual gleam in his eyes warned her that he was planning to excuse them from the party as soon as possible and she shared his impatience. She wanted to lose herself in the private world of sensory pleasure where their loving was fierce and hard or slow and skilfully erotic, but always seemed to have an underlying tenderness that tore at her heart and let her believe, just for a little while, that she meant something to him.
‘I hope you’re making the most of your last week as a free man, Zac,’ someone from the assembled group joked. Benoit Fournier was one of Zac’s closest friends and he and his wife Camille had greeted Freya with warmth and genuine pleasure that she was soon to be Zac’s wife.
‘For me the next few days cannot pass quickly enough,’ Zac replied with a smile that lingered on his mouth as he stared into Freya’s eyes. He was either a superb actor, or he really was beginning to care for her, she thought as joy bubbled up inside her. Her brain warned her to be cautious but the expression on his face made her pulse rate quicken. Dared she hope that she could ever mean something to him? Her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must hear it, and when he lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers she knew he would feel the tremor of excitement that ran through her.
‘I know how you feel. The next few weeks can’t pass fast enough for us,’ Benoit laughed, patting his wife’s rounded stomach.
‘When is your baby due?’ Freya asked Camille with a sympathetic smile. She remembered how the final weeks of her pregnancy with Aimee had dragged while her nervousness about the impending birth had increased.
‘Three weeks,’ Camille groaned, ‘but our first child was ten days late and I’m not holding out any hope that number two will appear on time. Louis is so excited about the new baby,’ she confided. ‘Are you and Zac planning to have more children some day—a little brother or sister for Aimee?’
It wasn’t something they had ever discussed, Freya realised silently, and, faced with the question, she wasn’t sure how to reply. Aimee’s conception had been an accident that had had shattering consequences. Zac hadn’t wanted children, but now he was devoted to his little daughter. His vasectomy had reversed and there was no medical reason why he should not father another child.
Her eyes were drawn to Camille’s belly, swollen with her unborn baby, and a warm glow filled her as she pictured herself in the same situation. She would love to have a little companion for Aimee, she mused softly, a baby whose conception was planned and the pregnancy shared with Zac. Perhaps she would give him a son, a dark-haired, blue-eyed boy who would be the image of his father.
‘Aimee isn’t two yet and I’d like to give her my undivided attention for a little while longer,’ she murmured. ‘But one day I’d like to have another baby.’ She turned to Zac and froze. His smile had disappeared and the expression in his eyes turned her blood to ice. The conversation around them moved on to other topics but the buzz of words seemed distant and unintelligible. It took all her acting skills to smile and act normally, but inside she felt sick with misery. For those few unguarded seconds Zac had been unable to disguise his look of dismay at the idea of them having another child, and her little flame of hope that their marriage could work flickered and died.
The band struck up a popular tune and people began to drift onto the dance floor. Zac seemed to have regained his composure and glanced down at her. ‘Would you like to dance?’ His eyes gleamed wickedly. ‘I have vivid memories of the last time we danced together.’
She blushed at the shaming recollection of how he had brought her to the peak of sexual pleasure simply by holding her close, and hastily shook her head. ‘I need to go to the cloakroom…perhaps Camille…’ Zac’s eyes narrowed on her flushed face and she turned and hurried away before he could stop her, desperate to be alone for a few minutes while she dealt with the realisation that he clearly did not want another child.
Mercifully the cloakroom was empty and she splashed water on her cheeks and tried to hold back the tears that burned her eyes. Fool, she berated herself angrily. She’d known from the outset that Zac had never wanted a family and, although he adored Aimee, he had not chosen to be a father or husband. The only reason he was marrying her was to provide their daughter with a stable upbringing and, much as she might wish it, their marriage was never going to be a conventional one.
‘Hello, Freya.’
A face appeared beside hers in the mirror and Freya’s heart sank. ‘Annalise, how are you?’ she faltered, frantically trying to sound cool and collected despite the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Monaco was a small place and she had steeled herself to accept that she was likely to run into the stunning glamour model at some point. It was just a pity that it was tonight, when she was already feeling vulnerable and insecure, she thought miserably.
Annalise Dubois looked stunning in a black silk sheath that was split to mid-thigh and clung lovingly to her voluptuous curves while her flame-coloured hair tumbled down her back in a mass of riotous curls. Freya was suddenly glad that Zac had insisted on buying her some new clothes. She had shuddered at the price of the peach-coloured chiffon gown she was wearing tonight, but was aware that Annalise’s assessing gaze had recognised the dress was from an exclusive fashion house.
‘I heard you were back,’ Annalise said without preamble, her eyes narrowing on the sparkling diamond on Freya’s finger. ‘But I admit I was surprised to hear that you’ve actually managed to get Zac to marry you. A baby is such a useful bargaining tool. I almost wish I’d tried the same trick myself. Everyone knows Zac is too much of a gentleman to allow his child to remain illegitimate, although I understand there was some question over the child’s paternity,’ she intoned softly. ‘Presumably Zac insisted on the necessary tests before he agreed to marriage?’
Freya couldn’t prevent a tide of colour from staining her cheeks and the sick feeling was so strong it threatened to choke her. ‘I’m not sure that it’s any of your business,’ she murmured, forcing herself to remain polite even though the knives were clearly out. ‘I’ve never made any demands of Zac, he’s free to do what he wants, and he wants to marry me.’
‘For the sake of his child,’ Annalise stated with an air of confidence that Freya found deeply disturbing. ‘I’m glad you realise he’s a free agent. Zac would never be coerced into doing something unless he could see the benefits to himself. He’s obviously determined to claim his child, and of course he’ll stand a better chance of winning custody of her in the future if he marries you.’
‘I really don’t think we should be having this conversation,’ Freya said sharply. Annalise was a nasty piece of work, but her vile insinuations were pooling in Freya’s head like poison being drip-fed through a pipette.
‘Poor Freya, you always were such an innocent.’ Annalise laughed dismissively. ‘Did you know that Zac and I are lovers, or has he kept that little secret from you?’ She pouted prettily at the unmistakable look of shock on Freya’s face. ‘Don’t let it worry you darling, Zac’s the master of discretion when he comes to my apartment. You don’t really think he works late every night?’ Her brows arched in mock surprise. ‘We’ve had an arrangement for years that suits both of us very well. A word of warning, though,’ she drawled spitefully as she inspected her appearance in the mirror. ‘Zac’s no pussycat and I wouldn’t bank on your life of domestic bliss lasting long. He lives life on the edge and thrives on adventure—he’ll hate feeling tied down and he’ll soon grow bored of babies.’
She swept out of the c
loakroom leaving Freya feeling so shaken that she gripped the edge of the dressing table for support. Annalise was lying, she told her reflection fiercely. Zac had made love to her every night for the past few weeks; he would have to be Superman to be sleeping with the Frenchwoman as well.
Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the cloakroom to rejoin the party and watched Annalise saunter across the dance floor, heading straight towards Zac. Nausea swept over her as she saw the glamorous model kiss him on each cheek and murmur something in his ear that caused him to smile. There was an easy familiarity between them, as if they were entirely comfortable with each other—the familiarity of lovers, Freya thought on a wave of sheer agony.
It wasn’t true. Please God, it wasn’t true, she thought numbly. Common sense told her there was a strong possibility that Annalise had been lying. If their marriage was going to stand any chance of success, she would have to trust Zac, she told herself fiercely. He had told her he would be a faithful husband—but maybe he had just said that to persuade her to marry him.
Was this what their married life would be like? she brooded. Would she be slowly destroyed by jealousy and uncertainty, always looking around at parties and wondering if his current mistress was also present? The thought was unbearable and she choked back a sob as she watched Zac lead Annalise onto the dance floor.
She knew he didn’t love her, but he wanted her in his bed, and she had kidded herself she could be content with that. Now she saw with blinding clarity that it would be a fate worse than death. He was the love of her life, the other half of her soul, and without him she was incomplete. But she was destined to spend the rest of her life with a gaping great wound in her heart, because he had never loved her and he never would.
Sheer willpower enabled Freya to keep a smile on her face for the rest of the evening, but by the time she slid into the car next to Zac for the short drive home her jaw was aching and her heart felt like a lead weight in her chest.
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