‘Why don’t you let me take care of Jean-Claude for a couple of hours?’ Liz asked next morning, her friendly face creased in concern as she watched Emily struggle to force down her breakfast. ‘He’ll be quite happy with me,’ she added, and Emily’s heart lurched.
How could she even contemplate taking Jean-Claude away from the château? This was his home and he loved it here, she acknowledged, watching the way he was giggling with Simone. Every member of Luc’s staff adored him and it wouldn’t be fair to uproot him yet again. She was caught in the middle, unable to leave him and unwilling to go without him, but how could she remain in her soulless marriage?
The rain had cleared to leave grey clouds scudding across the sky and for once she was glad to leave Jean-Claude in Liz’s charge while she took refuge in the place she loved best—the stables.
‘I hate him,’ she told Kasim fiercely, anger her only defence against the ever-present tears that threatened to spill. She refused to cry over Luc any more and a sudden impulse saw her tack up the horse and lead him outside.
‘Wait! Madame, it’s not safe to go out alone.’ As she crossed the yard the groom sped after her and she glanced down at his anxious face impatiently. What he meant was that Luc had forbidden her to take Kasim out alone, but she was tired of following orders and Luc wasn’t there.
‘It’s all right. I won’t be long,’ she shouted as she reached the field and urged the horse into a canter. ‘Stop worrying. I can handle Kasim.’
An hour later Luc strode into the stables, his thunderous expression giving some indication of his mood. ‘What do you mean, she’s gone?’ Fresh from the worst night of his life, his temper exploded with the force of a pyroclastic flow and he had to restrain himself from grabbing the groom by his neck and shaking the information out of him. ‘I gave strict instructions that Madame Vaillon should not take her horse out alone.’
‘I tried to tell her, but Madame, she just went.’ The groom shrugged his shoulders expressively and for a second Luc felt a twinge of sympathy for him. He did not underestimate Emily’s determination to get her own way and apprehension gripped him as the first spots of rain began to fall. ‘You should have gone after her,’ he muttered as he mounted his horse. ‘Which way did she go?’
‘Monsieur!’ Something in the groom’s voice made him glance back and apprehension turned to full-blown fear as Kasim galloped, riderless, into the yard. The rain was falling harder, driving into his face, and with a savage oath Luc kicked his horse into a gallop and headed across the field as if the hounds of hell were pursuing him.
After spending days cooped up because of the rain, Kasim was even more high-spirited than usual and it took all Emily’s strength to hold him back. The ground was waterlogged and several times she felt his feet slip, but that only seemed to increase his frustration. Of all the stupid things she had done in her life, this was the worst, she thought as common sense returned and she carefully dismounted. How could she have put the tiny scrap of humanity she was carrying inside her at risk, even for one second? Whatever Luc’s reaction, she would love this baby with every fibre of her being.
Kasim was snorting and tossing his head and the sound of a motorbike hurtling along the lane increased his panic so that he reared up and the reins were snatched from Emily’s hands.
‘Kasim, whoa, boy,’ she called frantically, but he was already halfway across the field. As she stumbled after him she tripped and fell into a pile of brambles. Crying wasn’t an option right now, she decided as she gingerly pulled herself to her feet. The rain had increased and Kasim had disappeared into the mist. She could only pray he would head back along familiar paths to the stables, but ahead of her lay a long walk across muddy fields on an ankle that hurt like hell when she put weight on it.
It was a good thing Luc was away, she thought dismally when she peered through the rain to find that the edge of the field seemed no nearer. He would be furious with her for disobeying his orders. Maybe he would even sell Kasim, as he had once threatened. The thought spurred her to hobble faster but as she approached the gate a figure appeared out of the mist and her steps slowed.
From a distance he looked as though he had stepped from one of the tapestries that adorned the walls of the château—a medieval knight whose incredible facial bone structure hinted at a family ancestry that had links with ancient kings. As he urged his horse forward, she could see that instead of chain mail it was his thick black sweater that glinted with sparkling beads of rain. His hair was slicked back from his face to reveal the hard planes of his face. It was unfair that despite being soaked to the skin, he still looked devastatingly sexy, and she was painfully aware of her mud-spattered clothes and hair that fell round her shoulders in rats’ tails.
‘What the hell are you playing at?’ he growled when she stopped a safe distance from him. It was sheer bravado that made her fold her arms across her chest and glare up at him.
‘I could ask you the same thing. How was your meeting? It must have been vitally important to keep you from speaking to your wife. But perhaps not,’ she added bleakly. ‘I come a long way down your list of priorities, don’t I, Luc?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’re important to me. Were you hurt when you came off Kasim?’
‘He didn’t throw me,’ she muttered hastily, her spurt of bravery trickling away beneath the glowering fury of his frown.
‘Then what happened? Kasim turned up at the stables over half an hour ago. Are you telling me you chose to walk back through the rain with a sprained ankle for the sheer fun of it?’
‘It’s not sprained. I just tripped and landed heavily on it. Is Kasim all right? You won’t sell him, will you?’ she pleaded, her eyes enormous in her pale face. He muttered a profanity under his breath.
‘The horse is fine, although I’ve yet to decide whether I’ll keep him. I knew he was too strong for you.’
‘He isn’t—’
‘Shut up and give me your hand.’ He cut her off, his grey eyes glinting like molten steel, and Emily felt her own temper rise. Last night he hadn’t been able to fit her into his busy schedule and the concern on his face probably had more to do with the fact that she had placed an expensive horse in danger.
‘I can manage, thanks.’
‘Em-il-y! I could kill you, if you weren’t so intent on doing it yourself.’ He leaned over, gripped her arm and hauled her into the saddle in front of him as easily as if she were a doll. Instantly his arms came round her, clamping her against the wall of his chest so that she could hear his heart thudding beneath her ear. He smelled of the rain, earthy and sensual, and she closed her eyes despairingly as her senses leapt, awareness flooding through her so that tried to hold herself rigid and not give in to the temptation to turn her face into his neck.
He flicked the reins and they walked on, the pace slow and steady through the rain, but all Emily could think of was the hardness of Luc’s thighs pressing on hers as she sat between his legs. The motion of the horse meant that his body pushed against hers in a rhythm that grew ever more erotic and her breathing quickened. Emily tried to calm her wayward thoughts. Luc had made it clear that he only wanted her on his terms, when it suited him, but right now he was fiercely aroused and instead of disgust she was overwhelmed by another, far more elemental emotion, her instincts warning that his hunger for her was close to breaking point. Heat radiated from where his hand lay heavy on her waist and every nerve ending prickled unbearably when it slid lower and came to rest between her legs.
‘Take your hands off me. You can’t pick me up when the mood takes you and you’re not too busy. Last night you couldn’t even be bothered to talk to me,’ she accused, aiming for anger. Instead, her voice sounded broken and full of misery.
‘I spent most of last night driving around Orléans trying to pluck up the courage to face you.’ His soft, seductive accent trickled over her skin, his breath fanning her neck so that she shivered, her senses heightened to an unbearable degree.
‘I don’t bel
ieve you and as soon as we get back to the château I’m leaving you. I refuse to be…humiliated by you any longer.’
‘I won’t let you go, chérie.’ The implacability of his tone made her shiver and she fell silent as they entered the stable-yard and he dismounted before lifting her down. Instantly she swung on her heel, intent on marching back to the château. ‘Wait! I want to talk to you.’ His voice flayed her like a whip and she swung round, indignation bristling from every pore. But he ignored her while he spoke to the groom.
She would not sit panting at his heels like a faithful dog, she thought furiously. He still had his back to her and she slipped into the barn. He might want to talk to her but she wasn’t in the mood to listen. She was still puzzled by his admission that he had needed to pluck up his courage before he returned to the château. Perhaps he was going to announce that he wanted a divorce after all, and she was suddenly glad that she hadn’t told him she was pregnant. It was her secret and she was determined to withhold it until she knew where their relationship was heading.
The minutes ticked by and she lay back in the loose hay, wondering if it was safe to emerge from her hiding place yet. He must have started walking back to the château, believing that she was in front of him, but her heart sank as the barn door creaked open. Damn it! He couldn’t find her here. She huddled deeper into the hay and squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to stifle a sneeze, but it was no good and the sound of his mocking laughter grated on her already raw nerves.
‘I couldn’t have chosen a better place for a private conversation, chérie,’ he murmured as he rounded the hay bale and stood in front of it, barring her escape, ‘I want to talk to you about Robyn.’
‘Then prepare yourself for the shortest conversation on record because of all the subjects I’d like to talk about, Robyn isn’t one of them.’
His smile did strange things to her insides and she dragged her eyes from the way his wet jeans clung lovingly to his thighs. Suddenly her teeth were chattering—reaction to everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, she told herself, and the fact that she was sitting in wet clothes. It had nothing to do with Luc’s close proximity or the way his eyes were skimming her wet shirt, tracing the outline of her breasts with barely concealed hunger. ‘Why do you suppose I would want to talk about her?’ she flung at him, and to her consternation he stretched full length beside her, propped up on his side so that he could lean over her to stroke her cheek with a wisp of hay.
‘I know that she lied,’ he offered quietly, pausing for a heartbeat to assess her reaction before he continued. ‘I know you came back the Chelsea penthouse with Jean-Claude soon after he was born. I met her last night in Orléans. She was the reason I couldn’t talk to you.’
‘My God, you bastard!’ Emily gasped as she forced air into her lungs. ‘You spent the night with her. And to think I actually believed you when you denied having an affair with her. Will I ever learn?’ she whispered despairingly. ‘And will you ever stop breaking my heart?’ She made to roll away from him but he gripped her arm.
‘I did not spend the night with her. I asked her to meet me at the hotel because I couldn’t bear to have her at the château,’ he explained, the nerve jumping in his cheek giving some indication of his tension. ‘After you told me about your visit to the penthouse I decided to check a few things with my housekeeper.’
‘Mrs Patterson wasn’t there,’ Emily pointed out quickly.
‘I know, but she told me she had been puzzled because she was sure someone had stayed in the flat while I was in South Africa. It confirmed your story,’ he said quietly.
He was watching her, waiting for her to speak, but Emily felt curiously numb. ‘So,’ she muttered, ‘you finally believe that I brought Jean-Claude to you. Robyn lied, but where does that leave us? I can’t see happy ever after flashing up in bright lights.’ She blinked fiercely, determined not to cry in front of him, and he sighed.
‘Robyn lied to both of us, ma petite, but if it’s any consolation, she’s bitterly sorry for the harm she caused.’
‘She’s in love with you,’ Emily said quietly, wondering how he could have been so blind to the signs. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine how different things might have turned out if Luc had been at the flat that day rather than Robyn. Despite his coolness towards her during her pregnancy, she no longer doubted that he wanted his son. He loved Jean-Claude, but she still didn’t understand his relationship with Robyn any more than she understood where she featured in his life.
She loved him but he didn’t love her. Nothing had changed and she couldn’t go on living a lie, pretending to be content when she was falling apart. ‘I think I’d like to go back to England for a while, take Jean-Claude to see my family. I’m not taking him away from you but…’She hesitated fractionally. ‘I think we need to spend some time apart.’
‘You’re leaving me!’ Luc said heavily, a nerve jumping in his cheek. ‘I don’t deserve anything less but you have to believe that I am desperately sorry for believing Robyn over you and I swear, chérie, I’ll do anything to make it up to you.’
The urgency in his voice startled her but, of course, she reminded herself, he was afraid that if she took Jean-Claude to England, she would never bring him back.
‘It’s not just Robyn,’ she said miserably. ‘I accept that you never slept with her and I understand how easily she fooled both of us, but that’s the point, isn’t it? If we had trusted each other more, we would have uncovered her lies before any real harm had been done. I need some time to think,’ she admitted slowly, but as she moved to stand up, he pulled her down into the hay and trapped her beneath him.
‘I can’t let you go,’ he muttered hoarsely. ‘You belong here at the château, you and Jean-Claude.’
The subtle change in his tone was enough to alert her defences and she pushed ineffectively against his shoulders, suddenly desperate to escape him before she did something stupid, like beg him to make love to her.
‘You were mine, Emily, from the moment you first gave yourself to me, and I guard my possessions jealously. Maybe it’s time I demonstrated that fact.’
His low taunt fuelled her defiance and she would have twisted her head, but he reacted faster, his mouth finding hers with unerring precision. His kiss stole the breath from her body and took with it the last remnants of her pride as he proved beyond doubt that he was her master. She wanted him with an urgency that was all the more shocking because she no longer cared that he didn’t love her. All she cared about was assuaging this driving need to feel him deep inside her and desire rendered them equal. This had been building from the moment he had dragged her onto his horse. It would be the last time she would ever make love with him, a final goodbye. He would never want her once he knew she was pregnant and she couldn’t stay and allow his indifference to tear her apart again.
When he eventually lifted his head her mouth was swollen and he stared down at her, his eyes glittering, warning her that this time there would be no reprieve.
‘You said you wanted to talk,’ she reminded him thickly, and he gave a harsh laugh as he dragged his sweater over his head before coming down on her once more.
‘We’ve tried talking and it gets us nowhere. This is the only lasting truth between us, chérie, the only form of communication where we don’t argue. You want me as much as I want you,’ he whispered, his breath warm on her skin as he unbuttoned her shirt and tugged the fabric apart. She shivered, unable to deny the truth.
He dispensed with her bra with a deftness that warned of his determination and cupped her breasts in his hands, moulding them before bending to lather first one nipple and then the other with his tongue.
‘Luc.’ She groaned his name and slid her hand behind his head to hold him to his task, but he moved lower to drag her sodden jeans over her thighs with a force that should have frightened her. Her underwear went the same way and she gasped as he shoved her legs apart, exposing her to his gaze as he knelt over her.
‘No!’ Her whimper of denial fell on deaf ears and if she was honest she didn’t want him to stop. His tongue was a wicked instrument of torture and he used it mercilessly, exploring her with intimate precision until she was writhing and trembling, her body poised on the edge of ecstasy. Frantically she tugged his hair, needing him to stop, now, before it was too late. But his lips closed around the ultra-sensitive nub of her clitoris and sensation pierced her as he suckled.
‘Oh, God! Now, Luc, please.’ She couldn’t take much more, could already feel the first spasms of pleasure tighten her muscles.
He stood up, shrugged out of his jeans and stared at her for timeless seconds. She must look like some wild, wanton creature, she thought despairingly, but it didn’t matter when he knelt in front of her, slid his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her hips so that he could enter her with one powerful thrust. Instantly she wrapped her legs around his waist to draw him deeper and he eased back a fraction before pushing again and again, setting a rhythm that she eagerly matched.
She had been so ready for him that it was impossible to control her reactions and she peaked instantly, her body overwhelmed by wave after wave of pleasure. Gasping, she clutched his shoulders as he rode her, each thrust driving her higher still, and incredibly, as her climax subsided she felt another build. It was impossible surely to experience such a glorious, mind-blowing sensation again and she stared into his face, noting the rigid line of his jaw as he fought for control. He lost it spectacularly at the same time as she came again and she felt him shudder as her muscles closed round him, her name emitted as a low groan when he finally slumped on top of her.
For a short while there was nothing but the warmth of his body covering hers, the sound of their breathing gradually slowing and the sweet scent of the hay that cocooned them in their own private nirvana. Eventually he stirred and she paled at the bleakness in his eyes as he rolled off her. His expression shouted louder than words that he regretted giving in to the primitive need that had gripped them both, and she shivered and reached for her shirt. It was damp and cold on her heated skin but she dragged it across her breasts, wanting to punish her body for its bitter betrayal.
The Frenchman's Captive Wife Page 15