‘I’m curious to understand why you’re so anxious to leave,’ he murmured, ‘unless it has something to do with this mad idea of setting up your own business.’
His words stung and Emily felt her temper flare. He didn’t think she could do it. Perhaps he didn’t think she was clever enough to embark on a business venture but she was determined to prove otherwise.
‘I’d certainly like to start looking for a workshop or some sort of premises where I can work. It doesn’t need to be anywhere special,’ she continued as he frowned, ‘but big enough for a couple of cutting tables and sewing machines.’
‘You’re definitely going ahead, then?’ he said shortly. ‘Let’s hope Jean-Claude is not unsettled when you abandon him.’
‘I have no intention of abandoning him!’ Emily jumped up furiously and scooted round to his side of the table. ‘Anything I take on will fit around his routine. I’ve told you, he’ll always come first.’
‘In that case, shouldn’t you concentrate you efforts on settling into the château so that the three of us can spend time together as a family?’ he asked, his voice suddenly as soft as velvet. She swallowed at the lambent warmth in his eyes. In his faded jeans and a fine knit black sweater he looked deliciously sexy and she fought to restrain a shiver of pure pleasure that the sight of him induced.
‘Aren’t you going to work? I’m sure there must be something urgent on the other side of the world that needs your attention.’
‘I told you, I’m learning to delegate,’ he replied lazily. ‘Having just been united with my son, I’m hardly likely to want to leave him—or his mother,’ he added softly, and her stomach lurched.
‘You’re just saying that to…to get round me,’ she muttered awkwardly, but could put up no resistance when he caught her hand and tugged her onto his knee.
‘You’re quite right. I intend to do my best to make you happy here.’ His mouth hovered above hers and she closed her eyes to ward off temptation while her brain tried to assimilate his astounding statement. She couldn’t let him kiss her, not when she needed to be on her guard against him, but somehow he had crept past her defences and she gave a little gasp when his lips brushed gently over hers. It was the lightest caress but it immediately made her want more and she lifted her lashes to find him staring down at her a curiously intent expression in his grey eyes.
‘Why…why do you want to make me happy?’ she asked huskily. ‘We despise and mistrust each other. Why sentence us to remain in a loveless marriage?’
‘I wouldn’t describe our marriage as loveless, chérie,’ he said quietly and for a brief, awesome moment her heart soared. What was he saying—that he loved her? ‘We both adore Jean-Claude. For the sake of our son, I think we should try to put the past behind us and repair the cracks in our marriage. He deserves a stable and happy childhood, loved and cared for by both his parents.’
‘For cracks read Grand Canyon,’ Emily replied thickly when she could trust herself to speak. Of course he didn’t love her. He’d only gone to the trouble of tracking her down because he had wanted to find his son. ‘Naturally the only reason for us to stay together is for Jean-Claude’s sake, but I’m not convinced it’ll work. There’s too much bitterness, on both sides,’ she finished sadly.
‘But we could try? Please, chérie.’ He had lowered his head again and she knew she should turn her head to evade his mouth. Instead, she could not help but lean forward to close the gap between them, a soft moan escaping her when he captured her lips.
He took it slowly, as if he wanted to savour the moment and by the time his tongue dipped between her lips she was helpless to resist, curving her arms around his neck to draw him closer. She felt his hand slide beneath her hair, angling her head to his satisfaction as he deepened the kiss, the slide of his tongue sweetly erotic and deliciously intimate.
‘You see, ma petite,’ he whispered against her throat when at last he lifted his head, ‘it’s not over between us, it never could be. We owe it to ourselves, not just Jean-Claude, to call a truce.’
Wordlessly Emily nodded, her heart too full to speak. He didn’t just want her at the château for Jean-Claude; it seemed that he really wanted their marriage to work, and hope filled her. She was prepared to meet him halfway.
‘So, no more talk about setting up a business, hmm?’ His words sent alarm bells ringing in her head. ‘We need to devote all our time to each other and, of course, our son.’
‘Luc…’ She bit back her frustration as Liz carried Jean-Claude in from the garden and the baby’s face lit up as he spied his father.
‘Papa,’ he shouted, justifiably proud of the second word he had mastered, and Emily turned her head away in despair. Luc had said he wanted to give their marriage another chance, and not just for the sake of their son. The news should have filled her with joy, it was more than she had ever hoped for, but it seemed that Luc didn’t want an equal relationship—he wanted to own her body and soul. Could she do it? she wondered fearfully. Could she forget her dreams of combining a career with motherhood and make her role as Luc’s wife the most important thing in her life?
‘It’s not over between us,’ he had murmured, and she could not deny the truth. He was more important to her than a career and she would gladly sacrifice everything if only he would care for her. She would make him love her, she vowed fiercely as she slipped from the room. He wasn’t immune to her, his passion the previous night was proof of that. She would win his trust and with it his heart, and she could not suppress a surge of joyful anticipation as she ran up the stairs to remove the bolster from their bed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘SABINE REALLY WAS extraordinarily beautiful, wasn’t she?’ Robyn’s cool voice echoed through the hall and Emily’s heart sank as she dragged her eyes from the portrait that hung over the stairs. Robyn was poised on the landing above, looking effortlessly chic and understated in white blouse and matching linen trousers whose superb cut screamed their exorbitant price tag. With her blond hair curling about her shoulders, she looked as though she was about to star in a soap-powder commercial, Emily thought sourly, but Robyn wasn’t whiter than white, she was a liar and it was agonising to think that Luc trusted her.
‘She is—was,’ she amended hesitantly, ‘incredibly lovely, but who was she?’
Robyn’s finely plucked brows arched in surprise. ‘You mean you don’t know? Sabine was Luc’s wife, the first Madame Vaillon. I assumed he’d told you,’ she added when Emily continued to stare at her in stunned silence, unable to disguise her acute shock.
‘He’s never mentioned that he was married before,’ she admitted thickly, disbelief giving way to humiliation that Robyn was privy to secrets that she knew nothing about. She felt as though her heart had been ripped from her chest. Why had Luc never told her? His first wife had been breathtakingly beautiful, her haughty demeanour emphasising her suitability for the role of lady of the château, and Emily was aware that any comparison would find her seriously lacking. ‘How did she die?’ she whispered, fighting the wave of nausea that swept over her.
‘Sabine Bressan was a model—the muse of a famous designer at one of the top French couture houses—who went on to have a successful career as an actress,’ Robyn told her. ‘Luc fell in love with her at first sight. He adored her and they were France’s golden couple, which made her death all the more tragic.’
‘What happened…?’ Surely Sabine hadn’t taken her own life like two other Vaillon wives before her?
‘She suffered an ectopic pregnancy. I’m not sure if she even knew she was pregnant until she collapsed in agony while they were holidaying on a remote island off Thailand. By the time medical help arrived, it was too late. Sabine was dead and Luc was utterly distraught. I don’t think he ever really got over it,’ Robyn confided. ‘He loved her so much and he swore he would never marry again.’
‘But he married me,’ Emily pointed out huskily and Robyn threw her a scornful look.
‘Yes, but that was differ
ent. He had his reasons…’ She paused fractionally before murmuring sympathetically, ‘Oh, dear, I’m afraid I’ve said more than I should. I admit I was surprised when you turned up again. I would have thought you’d got the message by now.’
‘What message? Luc brought me here, I didn’t ask to come, and he wants us to give our marriage another chance.’
‘Well he would say that, wouldn’t he?’ Robyn intoned softly. ‘He has his son to consider. He’d do anything for Jean-Claude including keeping you around until he’s gathered proof of your unsuitability as a mother that will swing a custody hearing in his favour.’
‘I wonder what sort of proof he was gathering last night?’ Emily snapped, her simmering temper disguising the sickness she felt inside. The knives were well and truly out and she was beyond trying to maintain even basic civility with Robyn.
‘I wouldn’t bank on using sex to hang onto him. You tried it once before and it didn’t work. Luc is a man of superlative tastes but I suppose even a connoisseur needs a bit of rough now and again.’
‘Which is presumably when he turns to you.’ She might be dying inside but she refused to go down without a fight, Emily vowed fiercely, pride her only defence against Robyn’s poison. ‘You deliberately kept quiet about my visit to the Chelsea penthouse, didn’t you? What do you think Luc’s reaction would be if he discovered that his ultra-efficient assistant had actively prevented him from meeting his son?’
‘I think you’ll have one hell of a job proving it,’ Robyn replied coolly, a slight smile playing on her lips. ‘Luc and I go back a long way. He trusts me. Can you say the same, Emily?’
There was no simple answer to that, except for the humiliating confession that, no, he did not, and Robyn’s smile widened.
‘I’m on my way to find Luc now. You’ll have to excuse us but we’ve hours of work to get through. Where are you off to?’ she queried, her gaze slithering over Emily’s funky T-shirt. ‘Kindergarten, by the look of it!’
Emily had to move before she gave in to the temptation to push the bitchy blonde down the stairs. She hurried upstairs, desperate to lock herself away while her mind assimilated this latest blow.
Of all the secrets Luc had kept from her, the fact that he had been married before was the most shattering, she acknowledged as she curled up into a ball in the middle of the bed. Was it the reason he had decided they should live in London after their marriage rather that at the château, which had been his home with the stunning Sabine? Surely every time he looked at her he compared her with his beautiful first wife. Did he wish that Sabine was here now or, God forbid, did he close his eyes when he made love to her and pretend she was his first wife?
The idea made her feel physically ill and she pushed her knuckle against her mouth to hold back her sobs. Suddenly his aloof attitude and the fact that he had never intimated in any way that he loved her made sense. How could he love her when he was still mourning the woman he had adored? Sabine was an impossible act to follow Emily recognised despairingly, and it seemed even more likely that Luc only tolerated her because she had provided him with his son.
With her face buried in her arms she was unaware that Luc had followed her into the bedroom until she felt the mattress dip and she jerked her head round to find him sitting next to her.
‘Mon Dieu, Emily! What is it, ma petite, are you ill?’
‘Yes, I’m ill, I’m sick to my stomach,’ she flung at him as she scrubbed her eyes with her hand and noted the traces of mascara on her fingers. She had never learned to cry prettily. No wonder he was staring at her with such dismay when she must look even more of a mess than usual and the knowledge increased her anger. ‘Get away from me,’ she snarled, recoiling from him as he reached out to stroke her hair from her damp face. His frown deepened.
‘What happened to the smiling woman who half an hour ago agreed to give our marriage another go?’ he queried, patently bemused by her transformation into a screaming harridan. Her hurt exploded in temper.
‘Sabine! Sabine happened. Robyn took great delight in explaining about your first wife,’ she yelled at him. ‘Do you have any idea what a fool I felt? I’m your wife, damn it, but even members of your staff know you better than I do.’
Luc had visibly paled at the mention of his first wife’s name and now he stood and raked a hand through his hair. ‘So I was married before. It’s no big deal,’ he said coolly, and she stared at him wildly, unable to stop the tears that streamed down her cheeks.
‘No big deal! It changes everything,’ she sobbed. ‘I thought I was special, I thought that the fact you’d married me meant I was important to you.’ All the memories she’d clung to of their wedding day and brief, glorious honeymoon in Paris were worthless. He’d done it all before. ‘The only ray of hope I had for our relationship was that you had chosen me for your wife, but once again I’m second best. I feel like the last prize in the raffle,’ she whispered brokenly, ‘the useless item that nobody wants.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ Luc snapped, his grey eyes cold and so unemotional that she felt her heart splinter. ‘Of course I want you.’
‘Yes, for convenient sex when you happen to be around and haven’t got anything better to do.’
‘That’s a lie.’
‘Then why didn’t you tell me about her? And don’t tell me she slipped your mind,’ she added bitterly. ‘I’ve seen the painting of her. Hell, I could hardly miss it when it hangs in pride of place in the château. Robyn told me how much you loved her. Is that the reason you kept quiet? You thought I’d be jealous of her?’
‘If it was, then I was right wasn’t I?’ he taunted, his eyes glittering as he stared at her tear-stained face. He was responsible for causing such devastation and the knowledge didn’t make him feel good. He’d never meant to hurt her, he had wanted to protect her, but as usual she had completely misread his good intentions. ‘Sabine died in terrible circumstances,’ he said more quietly. ‘It’s not something I find easy to discuss and I could hardly reveal that it was her pregnancy that killed her when you’d just discovered you were carrying a child.’
‘You should have told me,’ Emily said stubbornly. His explanation made sense of sorts but she refused to be appeased. ‘Why don’t you just be honest and admit that you don’t consider me important enough to share things with me? We’ve been married for two years but I hardly know you at all.’
‘We’ve spent half that time apart, and whose fault was that?’
‘Yours. It was your attitude that drove me away and nothing’s changed, has it, Luc? You still don’t regard our marriage as a partnership. As far as you’re concerned, the only place I’m useful is in the bedroom.’
‘If that’s what you think then you’d better start earning your keep,’ he growled savagely, the furious gleam in his eyes warning her she had pushed him too far.
‘Luc, no.’ He thwarted her attempt to scramble off the bed. ‘Don’t you dare touch me,’ she yelled, her anger already turning to a fierce, unwanted excitement as he grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and yanked it up over her breasts. She tried to buck against him but his mouth came down on hers, his lips hard, hungry, demanding her response. She couldn’t deny him, even now when she felt sick with betrayal that she had been the last to know about Sabine. When he kissed her, touched her she could forgive him anything, but the cost to her self-respect was too much to bear and tears slid from the corners of her eyes.
He must have felt them against his skin and lifted his head at last, his expression unfathomable as he stared down at her.
‘Sabine was in the past. You are my wife now,’ he told her as he rolled off her and pulled her T-shirt into place. ‘For Jean-Claude’s sake, if nothing else, I suggest you start acting the part.’
Pale rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains heralded another new dawn and Emily opened her eyes. Autumn was fast approaching. It was hard to believe she had been at the château for almost a month. Sometimes if felt as if she had been there for ever
and she could barely remember a time without Luc.
It had not been an easy month, she acknowledged. In the days after she had learned about Sabine the atmosphere in the château had been fraught with tension. Luc had treated her with haughty disdain and she had refused to back down. He was in the wrong, she had reminded herself each night when she had hidden her face in the pillows and cried herself to sleep. He was the one who kept so much of his past a secret from her but until she felt that he trusted her there was no hope for their marriage.
The only glimmer of brightness was the fact that Robyn had left the château immediately after the upset over Sabine. Had Luc been angry that his PA had revealed Sabine’s identity? she wondered. He had made no reference to either his first wife or Robyn, but in the last week she had noticed a distinct thaw in his attitude towards her. Perhaps the small birthday party they’d held for Jean-Claude had helped. It had been a joyous day as they’d celebrated his first year and Luc had been unable to disguise his pride as he’d showed off his son to his friends. Watching them together, father and son, Emily had felt a sharp stab of guilt that she had kept them apart. Luc loved Jean-Claude more than she had ever believed possible and his anger with her was understandable, but she had honestly never known he would care about their child so deeply and she had been unable to stifle a little pang of envy that Jean-Claude’s place in Luc’s heart was so secure.
With a heavy sigh she stared up at the billowing drapes that surrounded the bed, her breath catching when a familiar, indecently sexy voice sounded from the other side of the bolster.
‘Why the sad sigh, chérie? Are you unhappy at the château?’
‘No,’ she admitted honestly, after a long pause during which she came to grips with the fact that Luc had not gone for his usual early morning ride but was lying only inches from her. ‘Just confused.’
‘Oui.’
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