* * *
Hannah’s heart crumbled at the softness of Laurent’s tone, at the sincerity of his expression. But at the same time her brain stirred in indignation and demanded that she show some pride. ‘For crying out loud, Laurent, I don’t need your pity just because I was adopted.’ She sat forward in her seat, keen to change the subject, keen to bury the past once again, and the vulnerability and emptiness and confusion that arose in her any time she unearthed it all. ‘If Nicolas ups the cost of distribution, what will be the impact on the business?’
Laurent eyed her with bewilderment. ‘That’s not of importance right now.’
She forged on. ‘Will you speak to your father about it?’
He paused for a moment, clearly toying with whether to allow her to change the subject, but then with a sigh admitted, ‘For all I know my father could be behind this price increase.’
Her mouth dropped open. Was he being serious? ‘Why would he do that?’
His expression darkened at her disbelief. Tensely he answered, ‘My father didn’t want me to take over as CEO. It was my mother who insisted upon it. He would love to see me fail.’
Hannah shook her head. ‘Are you sure? Maybe your father knows nothing about it. Why not at least talk to him? Maybe he has some advice he can pass on to you. Surely he doesn’t want to see the business struggle...which I’m guessing it will, based on how anxious you looked all night.’
‘I did?’
She could not help but smile at his annoyance that she’d spotted his tension. ‘Don’t worry, no one else would have noticed. But I know the signs—your right eye twitches.’
He crossed his arms. ‘It does not.’
She laughed. ‘Yes, it does.’
He shook his head but his bright blue eyes gave away his amusement. Then softly he said, ‘We did have some fun times together, didn’t we?’
Her smile faded. She swallowed at the fondness in his eyes. Despite herself she heard herself admit, ‘Yes, we did.’
He gave her one of his wide-mouthed smiles that always reduced her to putty. ‘Do you remember the night we went kayaking on Lake Saimaa?’
Hannah smiled in remembrance of the stunning beauty of the crystal-clear Finnish lake and exploring it under the summer midnight sun. ‘How could I forget? It was magical.’
‘And the time we went snowboarding in Ještěd?’
Hannah grimaced. ‘I reckon the locals are still deaf from my screaming.’ She paused and threw him an accusatory glare. ‘And you were all Mr Cool, zipping around the place, showing off.’ She could see that he was about to object, so she interjected, ‘Never mind the travel, what I miss is having a gorgeous meal cooked for me in the evenings. You’ve ruined me to the pleasure of a ready meal for ever.’ Only when she’d said those words did she cringe and wonder why she did.
She sighed in relief when he laughed and added, ‘And I miss having you there in the mornings to pick out my ties.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m still convinced that you’re colour-blind.’
He stood and held out a hand to her, to help her rise. She took it, every cell in her body responding to its familiar strength. She went to take her hand away, but Laurent tightened his grip and stepped even closer. For long seconds he studied her, his blue gaze quickening her heart, sending fire into her belly. The scent of lavender hung heavily in the air, almost drugging in its density. In a low voice he eventually said, ‘You never answered my question as to whether you’re seeing anyone.’
Heat formed on her cheeks. Her throat grew dry. He always had this effect when he stood this close, when he spoke, when his eyes played games with her heart. She lowered her gaze to his mouth. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to kiss him hard and remind him of everything he walked away from. But instead she whispered, ‘Stella is young—don’t break her heart.’
He let out a low disbelieving sigh and said in a grumble, ‘She’s at least ten years younger than me.’
‘Eight actually, which is nothing.’
He inched forward, forcing her to tilt her head to meet his stare. ‘I’m not interested in Stella.’ Heat and chemistry and emotion whirled and twisted around them.
Hannah blinked, trying to shake off the hot need burning through her veins, the cloud of desire that was fogging her brain to everything but the desire to feel his lips, to touch the hard muscle of his body. Just for one more time. What was the harm?
She leant forwards and then up onto her tippy-toes. His eyes darkened. She angled her head, shifted an inch away from his mouth. Her head swam with his nearness, with his familiar scent and heat. With a whimper of annoyance she placed her mouth on his.
It took a few seconds for her to realise that he wasn’t responding to her kiss.
He didn’t want this.
Shame exploding in her chest, she went to pull away.
But at her movement his arms wrapped around her waist, stopping her, and he kissed her with an urgency that had her instantly on fire. Her breasts, pushed hard against his chest, immediately felt tender and desire trickled through her body like an illicit pleasure. His kiss grew ever more hot and demanding and she met that demand, wanting to punish him. One hand wrapped around his neck, holding him closer, the other ran over the heat of his chest, past the soft leather of his belt and then lightly over his trousers, euphoria spreading through her when he groaned. She wanted to make love with him.
At that thought she broke away.
Panting hard, they stared at one another. What self-destructive part of her would sleep with him? Her ridiculous pride that wanted him to regret ending their relationship?
She flailed for something to say. Eventually she realised she could find a safe harbour in his business concerns. ‘What’s the worst-case scenario if Nicolas increases his fees?’
Laurent gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘You kiss me and then ask a question like that.’
She decided to try to brazen this all out. ‘To answer your earlier question, yes, I’ve been on dates, but none recently. I’m a young woman with desires.’ She stopped as she inwardly cringed, before adding, ‘I guess this wedding is bringing them out more than usual.’
Laurent’s mouth dropped open. ‘Are you propositioning me?’
‘Are you kidding? It was a kiss. Nothing more. A moment of physical weakness from me. Don’t get ahead of yourself.’
Laurent frowned. ‘Hannah, you know—’
‘Yes, yes.’ Hannah interjected. ‘Trust me, you were more than clear about our future in London, just as clear last night and again today at lunchtime.’ She winced at the bitterness in her voice and decided to change tack. ‘Now, putting my professional hat on, can I advise that you speak to your dad? I know how difficult it is to put the past behind you, but surely the future is more important?’
With a look of exasperation he sighed. And then, his expression sobering, he considered her for much too long before asking gently, ‘Are you in contact with your birth parents?’
Hannah eyed the main doorway into the château and the softly lit hallway beyond. She swallowed before she admitted, ‘They both died. Soon after I was taken away my dad overdosed. My mum died ten years ago.’
‘Dieu!’
Her gaze shot back to his, disappointment barrelling through her at the disgust in his voice. ‘Not very pretty, is it?’
Laurent grimaced. ‘I wish you had told me.’
Hannah edged towards the doorway, suddenly feeling beyond exhausted. ‘Just as I wish you had told me about your childhood.’ She gestured inside. ‘I need to go and check over my paperwork for tomorrow.’
She’d stepped onto the marble floor of the hallway when he called out, ‘I thought we had known one another.’
She tried not to wince at the tired bewilderment in his voice. Turning, she nodded in agreement, her heart once again tumbling on seeing him. She forced herse
lf to give him a smile of encouragement. ‘Speak to your dad.’
He shook his head. ‘I’ll find a solution...by myself.’
Her exhaustion washed over her like a fresh wave. ‘Do you let anyone into your life, Laurent?’
A deep frown bisected his forehead. ‘Maybe it’s safer not to let others in.’
She understood why he thought that way. She too carried hurt and pain and ghosts from the past. ‘Perhaps it’s safer, but I’m guessing it’s an unhappier life for doing so.’
CHAPTER FIVE
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, at the entrance to the walled garden, Laurent pulled François to a stop. François eyed him restlessly, keen to keep moving. Placing a hand on François’s shoulder, Laurent looked him straight in the eye. ‘Relax. Everything is going to be okay.’
François let out a frustrated breath. ‘Dieu! I feel sick with nerves.’
Laurent rolled his eyes, deliberately being obtuse. ‘I still don’t understand why you’re insisting on marrying, but if you are going to do it at least try to relax and enjoy it.’
François shook his head and laughed. ‘You’re not fooling me, Laurent. I know how much you love Lara. Deep down I know you’re happy to see us marry.’
Laurent held his hands up in defeat. ‘Okay, I’ll admit you two might actually make it work.’
François smiled triumphantly. ‘I can’t believe you’ve actually admitted that. You’ve made my day!’ Then, looking down, he scuffed his shoe off the brickwork of the garden path before saying, ‘It’s good to have you by my side, you know.’
Laurent swallowed, taken aback by the affection in François’s gaze. As brothers, they weren’t given to displays of emotion. He lifted an eyebrow. ‘I’m going to make you pay for it somehow.’
François laughed. ‘I appreciate the supreme sacrifice you’re making by being my best man.’
Laurent grinned at his brother but then, sobering, he said, ‘Whatever my views on marriage, I do wish you and Lara every happiness.’ Then taking a key from his tux jacket, he handed it to François. ‘My wedding gift to you both: Villa Marchand. I’ve had it renovated for you.’
His eyes wide in surprise, François weighed the key in the palm of his hands and shook his head. It was a considerable time before he managed to say, in a voice choked with emotion, ‘I’m lost for words... I’ve loved that house ever since I was a boy and Lara fell in love with it too when we visited there last summer.’
Laurent shrugged, trying to pretend not to be choked up at François’s delight. ‘I know. That’s why I’m giving it to you. You can stay there tonight if you wish, rather than here in the château.’ He gave François a grin. ‘I thought you might like the privacy. Hannah visited the house with me Thursday night and suggested some items that Lara might enjoy, so the house is honeymoon ready.’
François grimaced. ‘How are things between you two?’
‘Awkward.’
‘I saw you out on the terrace last night when I returned to the château.’ François paused and threw him a questioning look. ‘You seemed very close.’
Dieu! Did François see them kissing? ‘What do you mean “close”?’
François stepped back from his growled question. ‘You were chatting, oblivious to the fact that I’d walked out to say hello—what did you think I meant?’
Guilt and relief washed over Laurent. ‘You should have interrupted us. It would have been nice to chat with you over a drink. And nothing is going to happen between myself and Hannah. Relax.’
‘You were so good together—’ François shook his head ‘—but I’m not going to lecture you again on all of that.’ His expression hardening, François added, ‘Don’t hurt her.’
Memories of their kiss last night slammed into Laurent. Turning in the direction of the garden, he said, ‘I have no intention of doing so.’
He walked away but when François did not follow he turned at the doorway to the garden to find his brother eyeing him sceptically. When François eventually decided to join him, he said, ‘Lara needs Hannah in her life. Promise me that you won’t make things any more awkward than they already are. Stay away from her, Laurent.’
Laurent tried to make an acquiescing noise. François raised an eyebrow.
With a sigh, Laurent relented and said, ‘I promise.’
Seating had been arranged on the lawns either side of the central cobbled pathway. Bows had been tied onto the rose bushes dense with blowsy blooms that were planted at regular intervals along the herbaceous border, their heavy scent filling the air. At the wisteria-covered archway that led out to the lawns of the château, a pedestal and two gilt chairs had been placed for the blessing ceremony to take place.
Laurent’s heart took a sizeable wallop when he spotted Hannah breaking away from a conversation with a friend of Lara’s and walking towards the pedestal. Dressed in a knee-length pale pink dress, the fitted bodice emphasising her curves, the skirt flaring over her hips, her hair tied back into a sleek ponytail, she looked both professional and as sexy as hell.
Dieu! Their kiss last night had been unbelievable. Hot, sultry, beautiful. But it’d been too much of a reminder of how much he missed her. And not just physically. It had brought home how much he missed her warmth, her gentleness, her easy presence.
Moving towards the archway, François and he nodded hello to the already assembled and seated guests. But all the while, an invisible force was pulling him towards Hannah, who was checking through her paperwork.
Her gaze shifted upwards as their footsteps neared. She smiled warmly at François and, walking towards him, hugged him tightly. ‘Gosh, you look incredibly handsome, François.’
Laurent blinked at the affection in Hannah’s voice, at her calm enthusiasm.
François fiddled with the collar of his tux jacket, casting a critical eye down over his suit. ‘Is everything looking okay?’
Hannah adjusted his bow tie a fraction. ‘There, now you’re perfect.’
Then, with an unenthusiastic glance in Laurent’s direction, she returned to her paperwork.
He cursed under his breath. Today was going to be as awkward as he’d feared.
The arrival of his parents kept him busy for the next few minutes as he had to encourage his father along the path as he insisted on stopping and chatting to the guests, despite the fact that the ceremony was about to start at any minute. When he then tried to assist his father to sit, his father pushed his arm away, muttering that he wasn’t an invalid.
Taking his seat beside François, he tried to tune into the chamber orchestra playing to the side, tried to find some reassuring words to say to François, whose legs were jigging like crazy. But time and time again his attention was drawn back to Hannah, who was going through a constant ritual of thumbing through her paperwork and then looking expectantly towards the entranceway before glancing back to her paperwork again.
Circulate. Mingle. Do his best man and host duties. And stay the hell away from Hannah. That was the plan of action for today he’d formulated in the middle of last night when unable to sleep, thanks to the after-effects of their kiss.
But it hadn’t just been their kiss that had kept him awake. It was also the haunted look in Hannah’s eyes when she’d spoken about her adoption. He’d caused her enough hurt as it was. He wasn’t going to add to that tally by spending time with her, which would only be asking for trouble given the chemistry that whipped between them like a live coil.
His plan of action, which had made sense in the middle of last night, had one major flaw, however. It hadn’t taken into account how alone and nervous Hannah would look as she stood waiting for Lara’s arrival. He moved restlessly in his chair. Telling himself to stay put. The last thing they needed were wagging tongues from those who knew of their previous relationship.
Once again Hannah’s gaze shifted down over the crowd, towards the entran
ce. A bumblebee flew close to her. She leapt backwards, flapping her hands wildly. The bee got the message and buzzed away. With a grimace Hannah glanced nervously out towards all the assembled guests before her hands gripped the wooden sides of the pedestal, her skin flushing.
Standing, he approached her, deliberately blocking her from everyone else’s view. ‘I know you are going to do an incredible job...’ He paused, knowing he should step away now but Hannah’s brown wide-eyed expression, and the way her dress gave a faint glimpse of the valley between her breasts, pierced through all his resolve to keep his distance. ‘You’re looking beautiful today.’
Hannah’s hand shot from the side of the pedestal to switch off the microphone.
Dieu!
Hannah glared at him.
For a moment all he could hear was the orchestra’s light playing. Maybe the guests didn’t hear him. That brief glimmer of hope was soon dispelled, however, when sudden whoops and claps of approval thundered behind him.
He grimaced in apology. Hannah gave him one last glare before painting a calm professional smile on her face and looking beyond his shoulder as though waiting for a stage curtain to rise. He turned from her. Shrugged at the assembled guests, many of whom they had socialised with when they had visited François and Lara in Manchester and who had let it be known of their disappointment when their relationship had ended, trying to pretend that what he’d said wasn’t of significance.
He retook his seat.
Leaning in towards him, François hit him with an exasperated stare. ‘So much for promises.’
* * *
Hannah knew that it was a bride’s prerogative to be late. But she wished with every fibre of her being that Lara would hurry up and arrive. She was already ten minutes late. Which under normal circumstances Hannah wouldn’t even notice in the special hum and excited anticipation that came with the waiting for the bride.
Why did Laurent have to come up and speak to her? She’d just about been coping up until then. For a brief few seconds when he’d looked at her with that reassuring smile of his that had her heart turn over, his eyes soft and tender, she’d felt weak with relief that he was there to support her. But then he’d spoken and the dark edge in his voice when he’d said she looked beautiful had unsteadied her. And then the echo of his voice fading out over the sound system had registered. God, she couldn’t bear the thought of people speculating incorrectly that their relationship might be back on. And now, there he was, sitting in front of her, looking all gorgeous and brooding in his tux, his black dress shoes shining brilliantly, his long legs spread out in front of him, his blue gaze continually glancing in her direction, making her already frayed nerves unravel even further.
Second Chance with the Best Man Page 7