Last of the Great French Lovers

by Sarah Holland

Alicia murmured polite thanks, flushing as her eyes met Jean-Marc Brissac's, and she felt her heart stop with fear and excitement as she met the grey intensity of his eyes.

  He had won.

  But only for the moment, she told herself, lifting her dark head with cool hauteur and matching his gaze with equal determination.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Next morning, Alicia woke early. Her dream clung to her skin like love, and she closed her eyes as she remembered the way she had felt in her dream as Jean-Marc made slow, sensual love to her. Angrily, she pushed back the covers and got out of bed, padding to the bathroom in her white lace nightdress to shower his imagined touch from her skin.

  When she came out, wrapped in a white towel, she found Jean-Marc lounging on her bed, leafing through her copy of French Vogue. He looked up as she appeared, and his face changed, stark sexual appraisal making her blood throb in hot response.

  She took a step back, instinctively clutching the white bath-towel closer. 'What do you think you're doing in here?' Her voice was hoarse and shaking.

  His lashes flickered, and he produced a casual smile. 'I came to wake you. Is there anything wrong with that?'

  'Yes! This is my bedroom and you didn't come to wake me!' Alicia was deeply conscious of her defenceless nudity and his potent sexuality. 'You came to break your promise and --'

  'I can assure you I didn't,' he said calmly, watching her.

  Alicia tightened her lips, heart racing. Her eyes raced over him, suddenly noticing he wore black jodhpurs, long black riding boots, and a black sweater, his body more powerfully outlined than ever before, and quite intolerably sexy.

  'As you see,' Jean-Marc drawled, 'I came to ask you to ride with me before breakfast.'

  'I don't have any riding clothes,' she said stiffly.

  'I brought you some,' he said, gesturing to the pile of dark clothes on the bed beside him. 'They're Dominique's. She's the same size as you—isn't she?'

  Her lashes flickered. 'Possibly. What about the boots?'

  'What size are your feet?' he asked coolly, adding, 'They look about average to me. But you're tall, aren't you? Although you have such fine bones...'

  'Jean-Marc,' she said suddenly, her mouth dry, 'you must leave! I'm not wearing anything except a bath-towel, and you're making me very conscious of it!'

  His eyes darkened, and he slowly got to his feet, walking towards her with a grim look of uncontrolled desire evident in the way he moved and the way he looked at her.

  'Don't...!' she said fiercely, taking a step backwards, one hand up to defend herself. 'Please...!'

  'It's OK,' he said softly, stopping in front of her with regret. 'I won't do anything. Well—I hope I won't!'

  'You'll try to kiss me!' she accused, hot colour burning her face.

  His smile was grim. 'I want to kiss you, Alicia. But I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it.'

  For a full five seconds, they looked at each other in silence, and her heartbeat was so audible to her that she felt sure he must hear it because he stood so close and yet did not touch her.

  'I'm glad you accepted the job,' Jean-Marc said suddenly, deeply. 'And I will try to keep my word.'

  'Try?' she queried huskily, lifting her brows.

  He smiled wryly. 'I'm only human, Alicia. I can't stop myself wanting you. And after all—a kiss is just a kiss. Even if it does send us both up in flames.'

  He had switched back into French, and Alicia was beginning to get used to it, speaking and thinking half in each language as though born to it, her ear quick and her grasp of French strong.

  'So...' he flicked that stark gaze of desire down to her bare shoulders, damp throat, the half-swell of her breasts '... will you ride with me?'

  'I must leave today, Jean-Marc,' she said unsteadily, feeling her pulses race wildly as he looked at her. 'If I don't, you'll break your word, and then I must break mine.'

  His gaze slid to her clean, fresh face, her wet hair. 'You'll refuse the job?'

  'I'll have no choice,' she pointed out.

  'Then I must keep my word,' he said softly, and moved away towards the door, taking her by surprise as he wrenched it open, looked at her over one broad shoulder and said, 'I'll be in the drawing-room, waiting for you. Don't be longer than ten minutes, will you?'

  He went out, leaving her alone to marvel at his decision. Her pulses were still racing unsteadily. She had been so sure he was going to kiss her.

  Dressing quickly in silk lingerie, she slid into the black jodhpurs and was pleased with the fit. They emphasised her long slim legs, and the narrow curve of waist to hip. The black sweater was warm, and the long black leather riding boots rather erotic.

  Jean-Marc's grey eyes told her he thought the outfit very erotic when she entered the drawing-room, but he said nothing, and now that she was getting to know him she knew he didn't have to.

  They went out through the kitchens. A hive of activity, they were a vast cavernous echo of days gone by, with a fireplace big enough to roast a whole deer on a spit, copper pans gleaming along the ancient stone walls, and a long oak table dominating the centre of the enormous stone floor.

  'Bonjour, Monsieur Jean-Marc!'

  'Ca va, Monsieur Jean-Marc?'

  Various members of staff called greetings to him, their faces filled with warmth and their eyes with respect as he strode through with Alicia beside him.

  Jean-Marc smiled back and stopped to inspect the croissants and brioche being freshly baked in the vast stone ovens by a plump woman with salt and pepper hair.

  He introduced Alicia to them, then led her out through the large back door to a vast cobbled courtyard littered with straw, the early morning air fresh and sunlit, a faint mist on the rolling French fields around them.

  'Quite the lord of the manor! ' Alicia commented drily, but she was impressed, and slid a shy little glance at him.

  'Look at me like that again,' he drawled softly, 'and I might exercise my droit de seigneur!'

  She flushed, lowering her lashes. 'Did you inherit all of this?'

  'I inherited the estate two years ago when my parents died,' he told her as they walked towards the stables. 'It was quite a shock for me. They were killed in a car crash.'

  'I'm sorry,' she said, studying his tough profile.

  'Life goes on,' he said deeply in French, and then, 'But I was brought up here, and I love the place. The only problem is that I have no children to inherit it, and I am the last in the Brissac line.'

  Alicia looked at him sharply, aware of the deep contents of that statement, but he didn't seem to be aware of it, his face coolly unreadable as he strolled with his customary arrogance beside her.

  'And you, Alicia.' He stopped at the stable gate, one strong hand resting on the latch as he looked at it. 'You say your sister is your only relative. Your parents died... ?'

  'When I was seventeen.'

  His dark lashes flickered. 'A tender age.' He pushed the gate open, let her walk through first, then followed her, saying casually, 'Were you lucky enough to have someone to turn to?'

  Alicia stiffened, her face growing cold. 'My sister. Who else?'

  'So you met this man later?' he asked, running a hand through his black hair.

  'What man?' she said at once, stopping, suddenly breathless.

  Jean-Marc stopped too, and looked down into her face. 'The man who broke your heart.'

  White, appalled, she looked away from him and found herself unable to do anything other than stare at the cobbled stones, the straw.

  'Did he break your heart?' he asked deeply, frowning. 'Or did he just hurt you badly enough to make you unable to trust anyone else?'

  She stared at the cobbled stones, quite still.

  'There has to be a man somewhere, Alicia.' He touched her dark hair, pushing an unruly strand away from her face. 'You're so beautiful. You have so much drive, so much energy. And so much passion. Why would any woman as tempestuous as you channel all that passion into her work?'

  She b
linked, stared at the stones, said stiffly, 'I take it you like solving puzzles.'

  'It wasn't hard to figure out. The day I met you, you gave me a look filled with such rage and hatred that I practically stopped breathing.'

  'Lindy had just told me what you'd done to her!' she said fiercely, raising her head. 'Of course I was angry!'

  'Not that angry.' He studied her face with thoughtful eyes. 'You were breathing fire, Alicia. I could feel it like a physical force. I've never sensed such rage before in my adult life.'

  Hot colour swept her face. 'It was justifiable, considering what you'd done to Lindy.'

  'I did nothing to Lindy,' he said gently, watching her face. 'Nothing except pay her a little too much attention when she was lonely and at a loose end.'

  She gave an angry laugh. 'If you expect me to believe that after --'

  'She was alone here with me,' he cut in, 'and miles away from home. I was alone too. What was I supposed to do—ignore her? I took her out for dinner once or twice and --'

  'And kissed her!'

  His mouth twisted and he said flatly, 'Alicia, I'm going to have to disillusion you. I'm sorry. Lindy kissed me. Once. On the mouth when I was barely aware of her as more than a child. I was so shocked, I just stared at her. Then I thought—I must handle this properly. I must not give her a sense of guilt. So I tried to defuse the situation by kissing her on the cheek as though her kiss had not been fired by more passionate motives.' His dark brows rose. 'She misinterpreted it, slid on to my lap, and I was stupid enough to throw her off and tell her very sharply to go to bed.'

  Alicia believed him, however much she didn't want to, because the ring of sincerity was matched by the regret in his grey eyes as he told her the truth.

  'I over-reacted,' he said with a broad shrug. 'Then I felt guilty and tried to make it up to her the following day, by taking her to dinner. She misinterpreted that, too, but she didn't show it. By the time she did show how dangerously she had misinterpreted it—it was too late.'

  'So you were never actually—involved with her?' Alicia watched his face intently.

  'Never,' he said deeply, and there was a brief silence between them. The birds were singing, and the faint mist on the fields around the estate had risen, allowing warm sunlight to flood in.

  Alicia accepted what he said about Lindy. What else could she do? He had obviously been sincere. It hurt to think of Lindy's pain—but it was now sadly obvious that it had just been a schoolgirl crush on an older man.

  'Now it's your turn,' Jean-Marc said softly, watching her.

  She looked up, frowning. 'My turn?'

  'To confess,' he said with a wry smile, and touched her cheek. 'You realised it was something of an exchange, didn't you?'

  Alicia stiffened, tried to move away. 'I don't know what you're talking about!'

  'Alicia,' he said, catching her arm, his face grim, 'you must tell me about him.'

  Angry, she looked away, staring at a horse as it poked its head out of a stable door. 'It's none of your business, Jean-Marc!'

  'Isn't it?' His dark brows rose. 'As far as I can see, he's partly responsible for making you the woman you are. Or rather—he's responsible for the gloss of cold hauteur, the aristocratic reserve. You use that as a defence, don't you, Alicia? To keep men away, shut out all advances.'

  'Why should I bother to do that?' she said scathingly.

  'Because you're so stunning,' he said coolly. 'And if you were obviously passionate too, you'd have to spend all your time fighting men off.'

  She caught her breath. 'You should be a psychologist!'

  'It follows,' he said, eyes narrowing, 'that you must have been very openly passionate at seventeen. And if that is what you turned against in yourself—that's the very thing that must have hurt you. Your passionate nature.'

  She stared, her face draining of all colour.

  'That's it, isn't it?' he said suddenly, frowning. 'You were seduced --'

  Her eyes blazed with sudden long-buried rage. 'Yes, that's it, Jean-Marc! I was seduced! I was seventeen and passionate—and he was just like you! Arrogant, conceited and with more sex appeal than he knew what to do with!' She breathed erratically, her pulses thudding. 'He spent three months treating me like a princess until I gave in, and when I did—he left me!' She was shaking suddenly, almost unable to stand as the rage flooded her veins. 'He walked out on me the day after I gave in, and I vowed then that no man would ever do that to me again!' With a hoarse cry, she turned and ran from him, hot tears stinging her eyes as she fled, breathing hoarsely.

  He caught her, of course, his arms around her waist as he pulled her close to his powerful chest, keeping her there even though she fought with hoarse cries of uncontrollable emotion.

  'Cherie... /' He fought to keep her close, saying urgently, 'You must forgive yourself. You were young, innocent --'

  'And now I'm not innocent any more!' she choked out, struggling against his strong arms.

  'Yes, you are,' he said bitingly. 'Yes, you are, because he never made love to you! He only seduced you and walked away, and that makes you innocent, cherie! That makes you an innocent victim of a ruthless man's selfishness and spite!'

  Wincing, she whispered fiercely, 'I won't be a victim! I refuse to be a victim!'

  'We all make mistakes, cherie,'' he said deeply. 'We're all human enough to do that.'

  Tears burned in her eyes and throat. 'Not me! I won't make mistakes like that! Never again, never --'

  'You can't make yourself perfect, Alicia,' he said, taking her face in his strong hands. 'You deny yourself everything that is wonderful in life if you do. You deny yourself love, affection, spontaneity, children—you deny life, cherie, because nothing in life is perfect.'

  Her mouth quivered. She felt helpless. 'But.. .what am I supposed to do?'

  'Forgive yourself,' he said gently, 'for being imperfect.'

  Alicia swallowed, and lowered her wet lashes, staring at his hard chest and, as her hands rested on it, she felt the strong steady heartbeat beneath the black sweater he wore.

  'Can we...' she struggled to recover her self-control '... can we ride now? I—I'd like to end this conversation, if you don't mind.'

  He was silent for a moment, studying her bent head. Then he said, 'So long as you think about what I've said, Alicia. Will you think about it?'

  Alicia nodded, wiped a tear from her high cheek. Jean-Marc watched her with a slow smile touching his hard mouth, and his grey eyes flickered over her.

  'You have great dignity, Alicia,' he said softly.

  She shot him a startled look, her face colouring. For some reason the way he had spoken left her feeling breathless, and as she stared into his eyes she saw them darken.

  His strong hands tightened on her waist. 'When you look at me like that,' he said roughly, 'I want to be very imperfect with you, Alicia.'

  Her heart skipped a beat. 'Don't...'

  'I gave my word that I would not kiss you,' he said under his breath. 'But you did not give your word that you would not kiss me.'

  She gave a soft laugh against her will. 'I hardly needed to...'

  'Then will you kiss me?' he asked, his charm devastating. 'Just once. One kiss.'

  Alicia felt a tremor go through her, and, looking at his hard mouth through her lashes, she slowly stood on tiptoe and pressed her mouth against it.

  He made a rough sound and parted her lips with his, and she submitted with a sudden wave of desire that caught her off guard, her mouth opening and her arms going blindly around Ms neck.

  With a sudden gasp, she stepped back, face flushed and dark eyes glittering with passion, her mouth softly bruised and her legs trembling beneath her.

  'That's enough!' she said huskily.

  He gave a slow smile. He was darkly flushed. 'Comme tu veux,' he drawled, and took her hand, pressing it to his hard, passionate mouth. 'But there may come a day, Alicia, when I lose my head and break my promise. Will you forgive me, then? For making you see how completely you
are mine, and how very much I want all that passion you've kept locked away for so long.'

  Alicia's heart skipped beats, her mouth quivering as he stared.

  'Will you forgive yourself,' he asked softly, 'for wanting me in return?'

  Her face flamed and she did not answer him, staring at the strong column of his throat, her heart thudding and her pulses racing, and knew she could not answer that question herself.

  His jet flew her back to London that afternoon. Of course, she had to return the following Friday. He had extracted that promise from her without any argument. She had accepted the job, and it was too late to back out now.

  If I back out, he'll only find some other reason to see me, she realised with a faint ironic smile.

  When she returned, she busied herself with her usual work, and also with plans for the wedding. Dominique had given her her clippings, and Alicia sat at home every night, leafing through them for design ideas.

  The dress slowly began to come together in her head. After dozens of preliminary sketches, she finally hit on the right style, and began to work on that exclusively, drawing ideas from the top fashions of the last year to make sure it had the stamp of the era.

  Once she had the nucleus of the bridal gown, Alicia was able to begin preparatory sketches for the bridesmaids' dresses. The ballroom would be more difficult. But as it was still two months till the wedding, Alicia felt she had plenty of time to work on that later.

  Alicia had lunch with her sister Susannah on Thursday. They ate at a pretty restaurant on the river at Richmond.

  'I'll tell Lindy you're working for Brissac,' Susannah assured her. 'She'll come to terms with it. Don't worry.'

  'I wish I could tell her myself,' Alicia sighed. 'But I can't help feeling it would only make it worse.'

  'Quite right,' Susannah agreed. 'And speaking of passing on news personally—have you heard from David?'

  Alicia shook her dark head.

  'He's gone back to Eileen,' Susannah told her. 'Remember the girl he dropped when he met you? Blonde girl, works in the High Street. Lives just round the corner from here.'

  'I remember her,' Alicia said, nodding slowly. 'And I think he's probably right to go back to her. She's much more suitable for David than I ever was.'