The Frenchman's Captive Wife
Page 17
‘Non. I should have realised then the danger I was in,’ he told her ruefully. ‘I found that I couldn’t leave you any more than I could cut out my own heart. Marriage seemed the only sensible option but even then I kidded myself that I was in control. I arrogantly thought I could have you on my terms, taking everything you gave so sweetly and offering nothing in return except a certain amount of expertise in bed.’
‘You certainly gave me that,’ Emily muttered, unable to hide her embarrassment as she recalled her wanton response to his passion. ‘The only time I ever felt close to you was when we made love, and I clung to the fact that you desired me because I had nothing else of you. When I fell pregnant I took your coldness towards me as rejection and I couldn’t bear it. I loved you so much,’ she whispered thickly, ‘but I never knew how you felt about me and I was so unhappy.’
‘Em-il-y, don’t cry, ma petite,’ he pleaded as he fell onto the bed and hauled her into his arms. ‘I have spent a lifetime hiding what is in my heart, but no more. I would rather die than hurt you. Je t’aime, mon coeur. Tu es ma vie. Je t’adore.’ He found her mouth in a kiss of such tender passion, such love, that words were not necessary and she clung to him as if her life depended on it. ‘Forgive me?’ he begged, a wealth of emotion in his eyes that were as soft as velvet. She wondered how she could ever have thought him cold. He was burning up for her, his glorious pride abandoned in his need to show the feelings he found so hard to put into words.
‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ she said softly. ‘All I ever wanted was your love. Nothing else matters.’ She ran the tip of her tongue over her swollen lips, noting the way his eyes darkened as he followed her deliberately provocative gesture. ‘I have a feeling I’ll no longer be needing this,’ she teased, as she lifted the bolster from the middle of the bed and threw it across the room. His mouth curved into a sensual smile that promised heaven.
‘You have no idea how close I came to ripping that thing apart, along with the collection of unflattering T-shirts you insisted on wearing to bed,’ he confided, as he drew the straps of her nightgown down her arms until her breasts were exposed to his hungry gaze. ‘Sleep became an unknown quantity as I fantasised about your body that was only inches from mine but separated by a chasm of misunderstanding. From now on there will be no more secrets between us, mon amour,’ he insisted, his breath warm on her skin as his mouth followed the path of his hands, and she obligingly lifted her hips so that he could remove her nightgown.
‘I love you, Luc,’ she told him urgently as he struggled out of his own clothes with a complete lack of finesse that moved her more than anything else had done.
‘And I love you, mon ange, more than I can ever say,’ he assured her huskily, his eyes darkening as he hesitated and eased away from her a fraction. ‘I’m not sure we should be doing this,’ he muttered, his hand moving to stroke her stomach. ‘The baby…’
‘Will be fine,’ she whispered gently, understanding at last his innermost fears. ‘You’re not going to make me beg, are you?’ she teased, and trembled at the adoration in his eyes as he entered her with exquisite care and began to move in a rhythm that was as old as time.
‘I am the one who should beg,’ he breathed against her skin, ‘for your love.’
‘You have it unreservedly,’ she murmured, and there was no more time for words as he took them to that place where time ceased to exist and sensation overwhelmed them.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind about the baby?’ Emily asked when they lay replete in each other’s arms and he caught the faint hesitancy in her voice. He would spend the rest of his life assuring her of his love, he vowed fiercely. Never again would he give her reason to doubt his adoration for her, Jean-Claude and all their future children.
‘My heart is full,’ he said simply. ‘I never knew I could feel such joy. You, Jean-Claude and this little one—you are my world and I will always be there for you. Especially when you’re running a global babywear business,’ he added with a smile. ‘I love you, chérie.’ Emily wrapped her arms around his neck.
‘I’ve a feeling I’m going to be fully occupied for quite some while,’ she said happily, and his murmur of approval was lost as his lips claimed her in a kiss that spoke louder than words of his love.
ISBN: 978-1-408-93989-5
THE FRENCHMAN’S CAPTIVE WIFE
© Chantelle Shaw 2006
First Published in Great Britain in 2006
Harlequin (UK) Limited
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