The Frenchman's Captive Wife

by Chantelle Shaw

  It was late by the time the last of Luc’s friends drove out of the gates of the château and the dull ache across Emily’s temples had become a shaft of throbbing pain. Robyn was, of course, staying at the château and had joined her and Luc on the front steps to wave goodbye to the guests. Quite a cosy little threesome, Emily brooded darkly as she trailed across the entrance hall after her husband. Robyn had barely spoken to her all evening and that suited her fine. They had nothing to say to each other. She wasn’t blind. She had noted the furtive, almost desperate glances Robyn had given Luc throughout dinner, but curiously he hadn’t responded and had seemed oblivious to his personal assistant’s attempts to gain his attention. Emily was ready to believe he had been telling the truth when he had denied an affair with Robyn, ready to believe that Robyn had lied to her, but it didn’t change anything, she thought sadly. It didn’t mean that Luc loved her.

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ she announced bluntly as she reached the sweeping staircase and viewed it with dismay. There suddenly seemed to be an awful lot of stairs and she was shocked by how tired and drained she felt. It felt like weeks since she had begun the day at San Antonia.

  ‘Emily, are you all right, ma petite? You look so pale.’ Luc murmured his concern and for a brief, mad moment she imagined that they were the happy couple he had been so desperate to portray. In the fantasy, he would sweep her into his arms and carry her up the long staircase to that vast bed where he would make love to her with such tender passion that she would never want him to stop. That wickedly sensual mouth would explore every inch of her body, coax each nerve ending to vibrant, throbbing life until, utterly satiated, they would fall asleep in each other’s arms.

  ‘Let me help you, chérie.’ His voice broke through the sensual haze that enveloped her and for a moment she forgot that they were at war, forgot that the game of happy families had been for his guests’ benefit only. She smiled at him, her heart in her eyes, and heard him inhale sharply before Robyn’s sharp tones shattered the spell.

  ‘If you could just spare me five minutes to run through this report,’ she murmured, ‘it’s urgent. I’m sure Emily understands the importance of heading a multimillion-pound company.’

  ‘Can’t it wait until morning?’ Luc replied tersely, and Robyn edged closer, her hand resting lightly on his sleeve. For the life of her she would not fight with Robyn over her husband like a couple of curs over a bone, Emily thought savagely, and she moved abruptly away from him.

  ‘I promise not to keep him for too long,’ Robyn assured her sweetly, and Emily discovered she possessed acting skills she hadn’t known she had as she flicked them a disdainful glance.

  ‘Have him for as long as you like,’ she murmured in a tone that screamed her bored indifference. ‘I don’t want him.’ With that she marched up the stairs, aware of Luc’s furious gaze burning like a laser between her shoulder blades. Robyn was welcome to him, she told herself sternly. She had already consigned their marriage to the graveyard of broken dreams. She had Jean-Claude and now, it seemed, a chance to build a career that would give her not just financial independence but also a feeling of self-worth.

  As she was about to place her foot on the next step, it disappeared. The walls tilted alarmingly and she found herself lifted and held tight against the uncompromising solidity of Luc’s chest. ‘You are perilously close to having me demonstrate here and now just how little you want me, chérie,’ he breathed against her ear.

  The rigid muscles of his arms around her warned of his simmering anger, but Emily was aware of other, more subtle sensations—the warmth that emanated from him and the musky scent of his aftershave that did strange things to her insides. She fought the longing to press her face against the tanned column of his throat where he had removed his tie and unfastened the top few buttons of his shirt. Being held this close to his chest drugged her senses and dulled her wits when she needed them to be razor sharp.

  ‘An interesting idea, but Robyn might not approve,’ she murmured with a coolness that masked her inner turmoil.

  ‘Damn Robyn!’

  ‘For once I couldn’t agree with you more.’ He was nearing the master bedroom and a wave of panic assailed her so that she wriggled wildly until he was forced to set her down. ‘I want to check on Jean-Claude,’ she whispered, brushing past him into the nursery. She crept over to the cot and as she stared down at her son’s innocent, sleeping form, Emily’s resolve hardened.

  ‘I want to be free to live my own life,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘I can’t stay here as your prisoner, waiting for the day Jean-Claude no longer needs me. There are things I want to do.’

  ‘Such as set up your own business?’ he suggested scathingly, and she rounded on him angrily.

  ‘Yes, damn it. What’s so wrong with that?’ Her voice had risen along with her anger. Jean-Claude stirred, and with an oath Luc caught hold of her arm and steered her through the connecting door to the master bedroom.

  ‘Your role is here, as Jean-Claude’s mother and my wife,’ he told her as he swung her round to face him. ‘Isn’t that enough? Mon Dieu, it’s not as if we need the money.’

  ‘Sometimes I think you’re trapped in a time warp,’ Emily ground out, her frustration tangible. ‘It’s not about money. I’ve finally found something I’m good at after a lifetime spent being the untalented daughter and the unsuitable wife. I want the chance to make my mark on the world—a tiny mark, I know,’ she added self-deprecatingly, ‘but as Jean-Claude grows older I want him to be proud of me.’

  ‘And you think that will happen if you are completely absorbed in your career?’

  ‘Obviously he will always come first,’ Emily muttered, the resoluteness of Luc’s expression warning her that this conversation was going nowhere, ‘but I should have known you wouldn’t approve. You never wanted me to work or have the chance of meeting people my own age, even before I was pregnant. Look what happened when I got a job at Oscar’s.’

  ‘You were waiting tables,’ Luc exploded.

  ‘At one of London’s top restaurants. It was hardly a greasy burger bar.’

  ‘It was still not a suitable occupation for my wife.’

  ‘And didn’t you make your feelings felt?’ she muttered sullenly. ‘I still can’t believe you marched in there while I was on duty and carried me out over your shoulder. You totally humiliated me,’ she added, recalling the furious row that had followed his high-handedness. Their furious argument had ended as they always had, with her absolute capitulation in bed. She groaned inwardly at the shaming memory of her weakness where he was concerned. ‘Laura said you were a control freak,’ she told him bitterly, and his eyebrows rose quizzically.

  ‘The same Laura who persuaded you to hide away in Spain I assume. You must remind me to thank her if I ever see her,’ he drawled sarcastically. ‘Let’s just hope she doesn’t take up a career in marriage guidance.’

  ‘Its all academic now, anyway,’ Emily said wearily. It had been the longest day of her life and she just wanted to go to bed, alone. ‘A few weeks after you forced me to give up my job, I discovered I was pregnant and the rest, as they say, is history.’

  Luc raked a hand through his hair as he paced the bedroom floor. His slightly dishevelled state gave him a raffish charm that Emily found irresistible.

  ‘I accept that I was not there for you as much as I should have been during your pregnancy.’ The admission seemed to have been dragged from him and Emily gave a bitter laugh.

  ‘You weren’t there, full stop. Suddenly your business interests in New York, Rome and every other part of the globe were far more important than spending time with me.’

  ‘There were reasons…’

  ‘Number one being that you were revolted by my body as my pregnancy progressed.’

  ‘Sacré bleu, that is absolutely not true.’ Luc’s voice hissed between his teeth like a geyser letting off steam. ‘I don’t know how you could say such a thing.’

  ‘It is true,’ Emily insisted miser
ably. ‘My mother explained that some men find pregnancy a turn-off. She told me not to worry and assured me things would return to normal after the baby was born, but she was unaware that our marriage wasn’t normal to begin with.’

  ‘Why, because I was busy at work and didn’t give you enough attention?’ Luc suggested angrily. ‘I thought the world had gone mad in those months before you left,’ he told her grimly. ‘There were problems within the company, the suspicion of fraud at a high level, which meant I couldn’t delegate to anyone but a few trusted staff. The timing could not have been worse.’ he said thickly. ‘I was worried about you. You were so young to be facing the rigours of childbirth and the constant sickness left you drained. I used to look at you sometimes and feel overwhelmed with guilt. I should never have married you,’ he finished huskily. ‘I should have let you remain innocent and carefree with your horses.’

  For a moment Emily thought her heart had actually cracked open as pain tore through her. Luc had finally admitted that he believed their marriage had been a mistake and she felt numb with misery. ‘Yes, well, it’s a pity for both of us that you didn’t, but even if our marriage is something we both regret, I could never regret having Jean-Claude, which you patently did. You can’t blame me for believing that you didn’t want him when you rejected him.’

  The faint glow of the candles cast shadows around the room and Luc’s face looked as if it had been carved from marble, his eyes glinting like molten steel as he glared at her. ‘When did you ever give me the choice?’

  ‘The day I brought him to see you.’

  His eyes narrowed, his tension palpable. ‘You’re lying!’

  ‘Why would I?’ she snapped impatiently. ‘It was December, bitterly cold, and Jean-Claude was about six weeks old. It had taken me a while to get over his birth,’ she continued falteringly when he simply stared at her in a silence that spoke volumes. ‘I went to the penthouse. I thought, even if you weren’t there, I could show Jean-Claude off to your housekeeper, Mrs Patterson, but it was Robyn who opened the door.’

  She broke off, recalling the unmistakable triumph in Robyn’s voice as she explained that Luc was too busy to see her now, or any time in the foreseeable future. Robyn had stood in the doorway, tall and impossibly elegant, barring Emily’s entrance to what had once been her home and uncaring that the freezing temperature outside was unsuitable for the baby.

  ‘She told me what you’ve just admitted, that you thought our marriage was a mistake and you had no desire to be saddled with a child.’

  In a flash Luc strode across the room and caught hold of her, bruising the tender flesh of her upper arms. ‘This can’t be true! I thought I was unshockable where you’re concerned, but to stoop so low that you could accuse one of my most trusted aides, my sister-in-law, of deliberately engineering a split between us is too much to forgive, even for me, chérie. You disgust me,’ he said savagely and she winced as his fingers gripped harder. ‘Robyn was as concerned about your disappearance as I was.’

  ‘Of course she was,’ Emily muttered sardonically, wincing as his fingers bit into her skin. ‘Luc, my arms. You’re hurting me.’ To her relief he released her immediately and she sank onto the edge of the bed as her legs buckled beneath the force of his fury.

  ‘Why would she do such a thing?’ he demanded in a low whisper that sounded like the rumble of a volcano about to erupt. ‘She knew how desperate I was to see my child. Why would she try to keep me from him?’

  ‘Because she wanted you for herself,’ Emily said wearily, ‘and still does. Presumably she feared that if you were as anxious to see Jean-Claude as you say you were, you might have been prepared to give our relationship another go. She really needn’t have gone to so much trouble,’ she snapped. ‘It would be easier to raise the Titanic than resurrect our marriage.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Luc said, but this time there was a note of uncertainty in his voice and the hand that he raked through his hair was not quite steady.

  ‘Then ask her.’ Emily threw down the challenge. ‘Because I swear to you, I’m telling the truth.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  HE WAS NOT a control freak!

  Emily’s accusation resounded in Luc’s head as he stormed into his study and poured himself a liberal cognac. It was true he hadn’t wanted her to work in the restaurant, but what husband would be happy to see his wife rushed off her feet until late at night? It had all been the fault of that damned chef whose vicious tongue had been feared among the other staff at Oscar’s Diner. For reasons he could never understand, Emily had struck up a firm friendship with Laura Brent, although it was only now that he appreciated Ms Brent’s role in Emily’s disappearance.

  Had she really been as unhappy in London as she had revealed tonight? His conscience nagged that it had been an incredibly busy and stressful time for him workwise and it was true they hadn’t spent much leisure time together apart from those interminable dinner parties Robyn had organised. Perhaps she had been lonely, a young girl in a big city, but he had tried, he assured himself. How many times had he rejected the comfort of a hotel in favour of driving through the night just so that he could spend a few precious hours with her? And she had always been pleased to see him. Despite his best efforts to slide into bed without waking her, she had stirred and snuggled close, her hand straying a familiar path to wreak havoc on his self-control.

  How the hell had it all gone so wrong? he wondered bleakly as he downed his drink and refilled the glass. He freely admitted he had been irritated by her unreasonable jealousy of Robyn, but he’d hoped the holiday would give them a chance to unwind and rediscover the joy they’d shared in the early days of their marriage. Instead, it had been an unmitigated disaster.

  Even now the sight of her paper-white face haunted him when he recalled the way she had slid to a crumpled heap at his feet. A virus, some unusual tropical disease she had picked up, would have been terrifying enough, but the realisation that it was history of the most tragic kind repeating itself had rendered him almost beside himself with fear. He hadn’t been angry at the news of her pregnancy, he’d been scared witless at the thought of losing her. Even after she had sailed through the first few months safely, he had been unable to relax and as time had moved inexorably closer to her due date he had distanced himself, emotionally and physically, following a defence strategy learned from his childhood.

  The damage he carried from his past was not Emily’s fault, he conceded grimly, especially as he had never confided his fears to her, or the reasons for them. It was his fault he had failed her and now he was behaving no better than his father. He couldn’t realistically hold her prisoner at the château. She was young and vibrant and wanted to live her life to the full, but the knowledge that she didn’t want to live it with him hurt immeasurably, almost as much as her accusation that he had rejected her and his son soon after Jean-Claude’s birth.

  She had to be lying, he decided wearily, because the alternative was that the woman who had been his most trusted confidante for the last few years had deliberately deceived him. But in his heart there was no doubt where his loyalties lay.

  Emily stood watching her sleeping son long after Luc had stormed from the nursery. Poor, innocent Jean-Claude, she thought sadly, caught up in the crossfire between the two people who loved him most. And Luc did love his son. She’d witnessed firsthand the mutual bond of adoration that had sprung between them from the moment he had lifted Jean-Claude into his arms.

  Was it possible that Robyn had lied a year ago when she’d insisted that Luc wanted nothing to do with either his wife or child? Perhaps if Mrs Patterson had been there, Emily would have tried harder to enter the flat that was technically her own home. But there had been no sign of Luc’s friendly housekeeper, no sign of Luc, and Robyn had appeared so self-assured, so stunningly beautiful compared to Emily’s pale, sleep-deprived state, that she had been more than ready to believe her husband had chosen the ex-model over her.

  With a sigh, Emily slid o
ff the bed. The headache that had started during dinner had settled to a nagging sensation above her eyes. Usually she disliked taking painkillers but tonight she needed something to dull the ache around her heart. She’d noticed the medicine cabinet in the bathroom adjoining the master bedroom and quickly searched for a couple of painkillers before Luc found her. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was preparing herself for a night of passion when she was utterly determined she would never share his room or bed again.

  With that thought in mind she swallowed the painkillers, removed her make-up and freed her hair from its chignon so that it fell in a heavy swathe down her back, before making a swift exit. The room across the landing where she had asked Simone to transfer her clothes was smaller than the master bedroom but it was pleasant enough and she was so tired she doubted she would be awake long enough to admire the décor. Wearily she snapped on the light switch but the room remained in darkness, apart from the sliver of moonlight that streamed in between the crack in the curtains. She cursed as she stubbed her toe, but it was too late now to change the bulb, even if she knew where to find one. She closed the door and for good measure dragged the heavy dresser in front of it. Luc no doubt assumed that his biddable wife would be sleeping in his bedroom, but if he thought he could flit between her and his mistress, he was in for a shock.

  ‘It’s all right, chérie, I’m a willing captive. You don’t need to barricade me in!’