Last of the Great French Lovers

by Sarah Holland

  LAST OF THE GREAT FRENCH LOVERS

  Sarah Holland

  'You're too beautiful to touch, too cold to marry and you spend your life looking after a career instead of love, marriage and children.' Alicia was devastated at this pronouncement. After all, she had found that loving let to heartbreak, whereas a career was safe. David was also safe -- and Alicia liked that. But Jean-Marc Brissac's vocabulary didn't include the word. He made her feel out of control, and she didn't like that one little bit.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The steel-blue limousine glided along the drive in the sunlight. Heads were turning. A cluster of reporters moved quietly towards the car—polite, but determined to get a photograph. Conversation at the garden party reached an excited buzz, and as the limousine came to a halt everyone held their breath, champagne glasses clutched in still hands, staring across the landscaped garden to watch.

  Jean-Marc Brissac, Last of the Great French Lovers, had arrived.

  He stepped out of the limousine. His black hair lifted slightly in the warm breeze, his steel-grey eyes heavy-lidded and his sensual mouth a hard, uncompromising line as reporters moved towards him. He strode past them with a cool nod as the flashbulbs exploded.

  Alicia watched, lifting her glossy black head. She couldn't stand his breed of man. Multi-millionaire, tycoon, playboy—he walked with all the arrogance of French money, his blue-grey suit fitting his powerful muscular body to perfection.

  As though he sensed her stare, he looked at her, and a second later ran a strong hand through his black hair as his gaze flashed with quick sexual appraisal over her.

  Alicia turned away, her face cool. She was aware of her looks. The red silk dress she wore skimmed her slender curves with sensual emphasis, and her high-cheekboned Latin beauty was as dark as it was smouldering. But, inside, Alicia felt contempt for those who dwelt on physical beauty. Achievement was the only thing in life worth living for.

  'I can't face him,' Lindy whispered beside her, stumbling away.

  Alicia frowned, concern for her young niece filling her large dark eyes. Putting down her drink, Alicia followed her through the open french windows, and into the spacious drawing-room with its pale lemon walls and elegant chandelier.

  'Lindy?' Alicia hovered behind her, studying the girl's bent head. 'Is something wrong?'

  Lindy caught her breath, turning to stare at Alicia in surprise, tears brimming in her dark eyes. She looked so young, her pale pink dress emphasising her vulnerability. Alicia's heart ached with love.

  'Lindy,' she said gently, 'tell me what's wrong.'

  Lindy's mouth trembled. 'What's the point? You'd never understand!'

  'Wouldn't I?' Alicia said gently. 'I may be ten years older than you, but I can remember only too clearly what it's like to be a teenager.'

  'I... I shouldn't tell you about it!' Lindy wiped a tear away with a trembling hand, pushed her soft dark hair from her eyes. 'I feel disloyal to him!'

  'Who?' Alicia asked at once, concern in her dark eyes.

  Lindy bit her lip. Her dark eyes darted to the door. Then they flicked back to Alicia. There was a pause. Then she said huskily, 'Jean-Marc Brissac.'

  Alicia's dark eyes widened with surprise. Involuntarily, she looked over her shoulder to see if Brissac was within earshot. How on earth had Lindy become mixed up with a man as wealthy and powerful as that? This was a very exclusive party. A high-powered fashion event, littered with famous names and fabulously wealthy people. But this was Alicia's world, not Lindy's. Lindy was only here at Alicia's invitation, and she knew her young niece simply did not mix with people like this. Certainly not with French multi-millionaires like Brissac.

  'But I wasn't aware you even knew him, Lindy,' she said.

  Lindy gave a shaky sigh. 'Well, you remember I went to Paris in May?'

  'On an Italian language course, yes.' Alicia nodded, frowning.

  'Well, I made friends with Dominique Dusort,' lindy said in a rush. 'His goddaughter. At the end of the language course, we were both invited to Chateau Brissac.'

  'And Brissac himself was there?' Alicia asked carefully.

  'Not at first.' Lindy continued, 'It was just being looked after by the staff. Dominique and I had the place pretty much to ourselves. Then Jean-Marc came..She said his name with a sigh of adoration, her lips trembling. 'And he had his girlfriend with him.'

  His mistress, you mean, Alicia thought grimly.

  'Isabelle Janvier,' Lindy said, jealousy clouding her dark eyes at the mention of the famous French film star. 'She was terribly beautiful, and so sophisticated. But they had an argument, and then Isabelle just walked out. The next morning, Dominique fell off her horse. She fractured her skull and had to be kept in hospital for a few days.'

  'Leaving you alone with Jean-Marc Brissac,' Alicia said, her mouth tight.

  'Yes...' Lindy began to flush a delicate shade of pink. 'Oh, Alicia, he said I could stay on at the chateau for as long as I liked, and I went to bed thinking how lucky I was. But I couldn't sleep, and when I came downstairs at two a.m. I found him still up, too.'

  'He made a pass at you,' Alicia said tightly.

  'Oh, no, not at first,' Lindy said quickly. 'He'd been drinking, you see. He was sitting alone, listening to Wagner at full volume, and he looked so gorgeous!' Lindy went on, 'His eyes full of pain, and his tie loosened, and a whisky glass in his hand... And I knew I could ease that pain, you see. I knew I could help. So I went over to him and perched on the arm of the chair --'

  'How were you dressed?' Alicia asked sharply.

  'I—well, I was wearing my nightdress.'

  Alicia's dark eyes blazed with fury and she struggled not to show it as she said gently, 'Go on.'

  'So I perched on the arm of the chair, and he just stared up at me in silence with those hellish eyes. I told him not to feel so awful about Isabelle. I said that I thought he was the most attractive man I'd ever seen, and that if I'd been Isabelle I would have married him on the spot.' She flushed, adding huskily, 'Then I started to stroke his hair, and he started to kiss me...'

  Did he? Alicia thought, white with rage.

  'I slid down on to his lap,' said Lindy in a hushed voice, 'and he suddenly took me by the shoulders and said, "Get back to bed at once!" I was hurt, so I tried to protest, but he snapped suddenly and pushed me off his lap, shouting at me to get out of the room.'

  Alicia breathed a little easier. 'And that was all that --'

  'No.' Lindy shook her pretty head. 'The next morning he must have felt awful about it. He told me if it happened again he would have to send me away. I burst into tears, and he obviously felt sorry for me, because he put his arms around me and comforted me, then asked me to have dinner with him that night.'

  'And you said yes,' Alicia muttered with a tight smile.

  'Well, of course I said yes!' Lindy broke out hotly. 'I was madly in love With him by then! Alicia, you don't know what he's like! Just to watch him, day after day, see him in so many moods --'

  'What happened after you'd had dinner with him?' Alicia broke in.

  'Well, that's when it all started.' Lindy's brows rose in surprise. 'We spent a lot of time together over the next few days. We had dinner every night at an expensive restaurant, we rode together after breakfast, we went for long walks across the Brissac land, we held hands, we talked, we kissed...' Pain shone in her eyes. 'We were like lovers, except that in reality, I suppose, we weren't.'

  'You suppose?' Alicia asked sharply.

  'I know,' Lindy amended quickly. 'I know we weren't lovers. But Alicia, I was so deeply in love with him!'

  'And he took advantage of that!'

  'No...! He wouldn't do that! I still believe he caned som
ething for me! It's just that... he didn't care enough!'

  'How did it all end, Lindy?' Alicia asked gently, feeling wounded for her niece, seeing the pain of rejection in her eyes and in every breath she took.

  'Badly. You see, Isabelle Janvier came back to try and make amends with him. Jean-Marc just dropped me and went off with her. I was so hurt and angry that I caused a big scene with him, accusing him of all sorts of things...'

  'Which he denied, no doubt!' Alicia said with cold contempt.

  'Yes.' Lindy nodded miserably. 'He also told me I must leave at once. He even telephoned my parents to tell them I was coming home. I just flew home like a corpse, thinking, How could he do this to me?'

  Ruthless, then, thought Alicia, and knew the type. She had been involved with someone very similar when she was Lindy's age, and she remembered the pain she herself had suffered.

  Falling in love with a sophisticated, powerful and sexy older man at the age of seventeen was rather like running towards a long steel spike and impaling yourself on it.

  The phrase, 'How could he do this to me?' was only too familiar, and was exactly how Alicia had reacted to the brutal treatment she had received at the hands of a similar man. Tony Ratchet, she thought with remembered anger, and her eyes blazed at the memory of his dark, attractive face.

  Pushing strands of dark hair from her niece's face, Alicia said, 'Don't dwell on it too much, baby.

  Men like Brissac are all the same. They take what they want, and they're terribly charming while they're doing it, but once you've served your purpose...' her eyes darkened with cold anger '... they always turn ruthless.'

  'Yes...' Lindy stared up at her, mouth quivering. 'That's how it felt! As though he'd just stabbed me and thrown me out of the house. He was ruthless. And so brutal...'

  Alicia's heart twisted in compassion and anger: she felt fiercely protective towards her young niece. Lindy was Susannah's daughter—and Susannah was all the family Alicia had left.

  Alicia had not had an easy life. Her parents had been killed in a car crash when she was seventeen, and at the same time she had received her own taste of Jean-Marc Brissac's type of medicine, from Tony.

  Of course, her sister Susannah had offered emotional support, but Alicia had always been independent and proud. In recovering from the double shock she received at seventeen she had added another quality to her character: ambition.

  Love was for fools, and Alicia was determined never to be a fool again.

  'Poor baby,' she said softly, smoothing Lindy's hair.

  'Please don't call me that!' Lindy said, prickling and stepping away from her.

  Alicia's hand fell to her side, eyes surprised. 'I'm sorry ...'

  Lindy looked guilty, bending her head. 'It's just that I don't feel like a baby any more, Aunt Alicia. I'm almost eighteen, and I'm in love with the Last of the Great French Lovers!' She lifted her head with a pride that made Alicia wince. 'He may not be in love with me, but I feel the love of a woman towards him, and that makes me a woman. Even if he was brutal to me—he still gave me my first taste of love, and I'm proud that it was him.'

  Alicia was appalled, and said, 'Lindy, don't make it worse for yourself! You should be filled with contempt for him, not love!'

  'Well, if I reacted like that,' Lindy said on a wave of passion, 'I'd end up like you, wouldn't I? Too beautiful to touch, and too cold to marry, because you look after a career instead of love, marriage and children!'

  There was a stunned silence. Alicia stared at her niece, hurt beyond belief by her words. Not that she denied the truth in them: she had quite deliberately planned her life to be like that, and wasn't remotely apologetic for it.

  'Lindy,' Alicia said slowly, struggling not to feel hurt, 'don't forget I'm engaged to David Balham. I intend to marry him.'

  'You're not in love with him, though!' Lindy said fiercely. 'That's obvious to everyone!'

  'I love David,' Alicia said, reeling under the impact of Lindy's attack. 'He's kind, sensitive, and lets me live my life the way I need to. We'll be very happy when we marry. We don't need any grand passion to hold us together—we have friendship.'

  'But don't you long to fall in love?' Lindy asked hoarsely. 'To lose your head? To feel so much for someone that you can't sleep at night? To feel sick with love, your heart beating too fast all the time, and --'

  'No,' Alicia said, horrified at the very idea. 'I'd rather die than lose control of myself like that.'

  Lindy's eyes shot past her. She caught her breath, staring over her shoulder at the open french windows.

  Frowning, Alicia turned to see who was there, and saw the detestable Jean-Marc Brissac watching her through heavy-lidded steel-grey eyes as he stood in the doorway, very sure of himself, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his blue-grey Savile Row suit.

  A sardonic smile on his hard mouth, he slid his eyes with that arrogant sexual appraisal over her body, making her pulse-rate soar with sudden inexplicable rage.

  'Hello, Lindy.' His voice was a dark, smoky drawl of throaty French power. 'Would you introduce me to your friend? I don't believe we have met.' He stepped forward, brows raised. 'Mademoiselle...?'

  Alicia deliberately snubbed him, turning to her niece and saying, 'Would you come with me to find David? I think it's time I left.'

  'I...' Lindy floundered, staring at the French multi-millionaire. 'I think I should introduce you to Monsieur Brissac.' She stepped forward, blushing furiously, in an agony of calf-love. 'Jean-Marc, this is my aunt—Alicia Holt.'

  'Enchante, Mademoiselle Holt,' Jean-Marc drawled, grey eyes narrowed and frowning. 'Forgive me—but have we met before?'

  'No,' Alicia said icily. 'Come along, Lindy.' She took Lindy's arm in a firm grip, determined not to leave her to the mercy of this ruthless bastard.

  Lindy shook her off. 'I must speak to Jean-Marc alone!' she said in a burst of adolescent emotion.

  Jean-Marc Brissac frowned, eyes hardening as he studied her, but he did not attempt to stop her, even though he must have known she would only make a fool of herself if she stayed.

  Alicia looked at him, hatred flashing from her dark eyes. 'Very well,' she said, moving away from her niece. 'I'll wait for you outside.'

  As she walked towards him, Jean-Marc Brissac's grey eyes ran over her with narrowed appraisal, and Alicia felt that inexplicable rage flare deep inside her, looking at him through her dark lashes, her red mouth tight with dislike.

  The hot summer sunshine warmed her bare shoulders as she stepped into the gardens. Men slid admiring glances at her as she passed, but she was indifferent to them, her only concern to get Lindy away from the wolf.

  She saw David, drinking champagne and eating a salmon sandwich while perched on a wall in his grey suit, enjoying the sunshine and the look of all these expensive, beautiful guests, staring around with a smile, obviously amused by his exclusive surroundings.

  'Darling!' His blue eyes brightened when he saw her. 'How's it going? Made any deals? Signed any million-dollar contracts?'

  Alicia reached him, took his hand. 'David, I must ask a favour of you. I want to get Lindy away from Jean-Marc Brissac. He's in the drawing-room alone with her, and I think --'

  'Do you have a business proposition for him?' David bit into his sandwich.

  'No,' Alicia said grimly. 'This is personal. Lindy's hopelessly infatuated with him, and I'm afraid to leave her alone with him.'

  'You mollycoddle that girl,' David said with a tone of great interest. 'I've noticed it before. You kiss her and call her baby—which is more than you do for me, God knows!' He smiled, blue eyes amused. 'Is that what you see in her, Alicia? A surrogate child?'

  Alicia blanched, and said huskily, 'Well, if you won't help me get her away from him, I'll do it myself!' Turning, she walked away.

  David leapt off the wall and ran after her. 'There's no need to go rampaging in on them like a defensive lioness protecting her cub!'

  'Oh, you think I should let him seduce her again?' />
  'Again!' David's eyes widened, his hand shot out and caught her shoulder. 'Darling, you're not saying he's already --?'

  'No.' Alicia's eyes blazed protectively. 'But...' Quickly, she outlined the few details Lindy had already told her.

  'Oh, come on, Alicia!' David frowned. 'It's obvious what happened there! He was friendly to her, and she blew it up into a great big love-affair! It happens all the time.'

  'Not to my niece!' she said thickly. 'Certainly not with the Last of the Great French Lovers!'

  David shook his head, mouth compressing. 'Look—the guy's got more women than he knows what to do with. He owns half the banking world, invites heads of state back to his chateau for dinner parties, and almost married an Arabian princess last year. What in God's name do you think he'd see in a little doe-eyed kid like Lindy?'

  'He was bored,' Alicia said anxiously. 'And she was around. That's what he saw in her, David, and that's what I want to prevent happening again.' There wasn't time to explain more, so she just walked from him into the drawing-room, her heart drumming with concern.

  However, she found Lindy alone, in tears. Pausing in the doorway, her dark eyes flashed round the room, seeking Jean-Marc Brissac's ruthless face. He had gone.

  'Is everything --?' David rushed up beside her, stopped, staring round the room, then clucked his tongue. 'Oh... poor little Lindy!' He went over to her, putting his arms around tier and hugging her to his chest.

  Alicia turned, and her eyes were as black and fiery as burning coals as they flashed around the elegant garden, searching for him. She did not have to look hard.

  Jean-Marc Brissac stood out from the pack, head and shoulders above every other man, his self-assurance and arrogant stance indicating a masculine authority that went beyond conceit and into the realms of formidable power.

  His power over women was legendary. His power in the financial world was formidable. His power as a man was evident in every line of that hard handsome face and the steely grey eyes.

  Alicia suddenly felt an urge so violent to break that power, to dent his colossal ego, and to knock some of that absolute self-assurance out of him, that she trembled visibly with it.