An orderly rolled Bernard’s wheelchair out of the ER toward the entrance of the hospital and Francois went to bring his car around. She sat in the passenger seat while Charles and Luc helped Bernard into the back. François drove away, commenting on the weather and the clear sky, as if they were heading toward a picnic for the day. Now that he’d assigned her a bodyguard and another to his butler, he seemed to have unloaded a good deal of his worries.
“Are we going to continue the digging as if nothing happened?” she asked for the sake of saying something.
“I see no reason to interrupt the work now that you and Bernard are under the watch of security guards—official or concealed. But you may be too tired after a sleepless night.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
He gave her a sidelong smile, knowing she’d protest against any special treatment and refuse to rest while the students were at the chapel’s site. “We won’t start before eleven today. I’d like to take a nap too.”
When they arrived back, a couple of cars waited in the alley across from the terrace. Charles and Luc exited from one of them and came to help Bernard up the stairs. “Last room, on the right. On the second floor,” François instructed as they entered the Grand Hall. “Bernard will show you.” François exhaled a big sigh and stretched his arms. “Do you want to eat something now?” he asked, always the generous host, even when the thin lines on his face screamed his exhaustion.
“No thank you.” She climbed the stairs two at a time, yearning to be in the calm and the silence of her room. How she wished she could unload some of the stress she’d experienced today. “I need to close my eyes and sleep for a couple of hours.”
Following her at the same pace to the top landing, he politely stifled a yawn behind his hand. “I feel the same. Can’t wait to stretch on my bed. Hopefully, we’ll have a quiet day ahead of us.”
“François, mon amour. I missed you soooo much.” The strident voice resonated in the hallway as a flutter of blonde hair and black see-through lace zapped toward them.
Cheryl cringed, her eyes almost popping out and François’ jaw sagged. He mouthed a curse. “Edith.”
He didn’t have time to say more.
The woman’s arms noosed around his neck and her lips smashed on his mouth.
Chapter 9
François brusquely disentangled himself and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I thought I told you it was over.”
Edith grasped his arm with both hands, hanging on with more strength than he’d expected in such a thin woman. Her perfume assaulted him. Her nearness nauseated him. “Mon cher François , I can’t stop loving you just because you found a girl to amuse yourself with.” Edith pouted, batted her eyelashes but her voice was loud enough to wake a dead body and be heard all along the hallway. Loud enough to cover the bang of Cheryl’s bedroom door as it slammed behind her.
She hadn’t waited around for introductions and he’d have a hell of a time explaining what a consummate actress Edith was.
“Stop it, Edith. You know you are not welcome in my house.” The volume of his voice matched Edith’s.
“Why? Because you found another woman to sleep with?”
He knew she was trying to goad him into losing his temper. Still he had to answer for Cheryl’s sake in case she might be listening. “Take your mind out of the gutter. Mademoiselle Stewart is a business consultant working here and a respected guest.”
Edith burst out laughing. “Who are you kidding, mon cher ? ‘A respected guest’.” She mimicked his voice and laughed louder. “A respected guest conveniently staying in the room next to yours. A room similar to mine, with the same secret door to your bedroom. My dear François, your actions speak louder than your words.”
He held her at arm’s length, almost shaking her. For the first time in his life he felt like slapping a woman. She knew him too well. He had put Cheryl in this room because he wanted her close to him, because he wanted…her. He stiffened, ashamed of his initial intentions. He’d never use the secret door to her room now. Never.
“Quiet, Edith. You were not invited and you are not welcome.” He hoped Cheryl could hear him and be convinced he didn’t give a damn about Edith.
Edith lifted her chin. “Your mother invited me. She’s coming back in a couple of days. And I’ll wait for her here.” Edith turned her back and walked to the room she’d occupied on her previous visits. François followed her along the hall with a venomous look.
At the door, she paused and faced him, her chin tilted up defiantly. “Your mother is my friend, François. She wouldn’t appreciate the way you treat me, now that you have a foreign trollop at your beck and call.” Her voice rose to emphasize the end of her sentence. Then she entered her room and banged the door behind her. François swore under his breath, certain Cheryl couldn’t have missed Edith’s insult.
How could Maman be so blind to the true character of her friend? Of course, Edith had taken advantage of his mother’s poor health and frequent depressions to insert herself into the countess’s entourage and gain her trust. To be honest, he too had initially been taken by Edith’s charm. But his infatuation hadn’t lasted long. Between flatteries and jokes, Edith asked too many questions about his estate, chateau and even the valuable furniture and paintings.
He’d call his mother. Her protégée would have to go. Soon.
Now he had some damage control to do. Would Cheryl be in a receptive mood? He snorted. After hearing the poison dripping from Edith’s tongue how could Cheryl not be upset? He’d leave the explanations for later but first he needed to check on her. He knocked on her door.
She opened, stared at him from the doorway and arched a delicate eyebrow. Yes?”
“I wish you hadn’t witnessed this unpleasant scene.”
She shrugged. “Anything else?”
“Can we resume the digging at noon?”
“Yes.” She started closing the door. He quickly added, “I will notify the others.” The door closed a little bit more. “And please don’t go out without your bodyguard.”
“Fine.” She slammed the damn door in his face.
Cheryl leaned on the door, waiting for François to go away. She listened carefully. There was no sound of footsteps. Was he still standing outside? Would he knock again and tell her…
What did she want him to tell her? He’d allowed Edith to remain at his house because of his mother.
Why would Cheryl care?
She didn’t care but…she couldn’t stand the thought of Edith’s lips on his, or her arms around his neck, or her temptress’s body against his chest—the taut muscled chest Cheryl secretly fantasized about.
His footsteps clicked in the silence and then the sound faded and died. Cheryl lowered her head, fixing her gaze on her bare toes. Loneliness invaded her heart. He’d been such a good friend, caring and gallant. He’d held her when she needed comfort. Warmth invaded her as she remembered his kiss.
She wished she hadn’t been angry with him for trying to protect her. A sigh escaped her. Now that he’d hired a bodyguard to ensure her safety, she supposed she wouldn’t see much of him. No doubt Edith would monopolize him.
Cheryl gathered clean clothes and headed to the bathroom, eager to shed the jeans and shirt that had been sticking to her skin for hours. A hot shower relaxed her stiff muscles but she needed to indulge in a nap to make up for her intermittent dozing at the hospital.
Two hours later, she dressed in clean jeans and t-shirt, pulled her hair up in a ponytail but didn’t bother to brush on any makeup as she had the last few days. What was the use? She couldn’t compete with a woman who wore a black lace negligee in the morning and French-kissed François without giving a hoot about who was watching.
As she collected the folder containing her notepad, Cheryl heard a strange noise emanating from her balcony. She froze and listened. Something had moved and knocked on the wooden shutters. Man or animal?
She scanned her room, searching
for a makeshift weapon. As a last resort, she opened her closet and snatched a wood hanger. Holding it up, she tiptoed toward the balcony, turned the knob and carefully opened the glass door.
Ready to attack, she pushed the shutters open. In the shadows lurked a figure. Cheryl slammed her hanger against the man’s head and swung around to finish him with a karate move. The intruder slid to the floor and pulled her down with him. In a swift move he caught her hands behind her back. Darn, the man knew the defense tactics. She raised her head to head-butt him and gasped. “You?”
“Oh no. Mademoiselle Cheryl.”
“Luc? Are you crazy?”
Her bodyguard immediately released her and helped her up to her feet. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to apologize.” He rubbed his head while grimacing.
“Sorry if I hurt you. What the hell are you doing on my balcony?”
The young man looked so contrite, twisting his hands. “Forgive me, Mademoiselle. I was here to protect you.”
She clasped her fists on her hips. “By frightening me and then attacking me?”
“No, no. It’s not like that. Let me explain please.”
“Well. Go ahead and try.” She frowned although the situation highly amused her. Wait till François hears how her bodyguard muddled up his assignment. On second thought, she wouldn’t tell anyone. There was no need to embarrass Luc. For a well-muscled bodyguard, he had an unusually cute face with baby blue eyes and round cheeks which had a tendency to blush too often.
“I was taking a tour under your balcony to check how secure your room is. Then I realized that it may be easy to climb up that tree. See the big branch?” He pointed outside and she noticed the horizontal branch that extended under her balcony. “I climbed the tree and easily hauled myself up onto your balcony. Since I was here, I just sat on the floor and studied the area from my vantage point.”
“Why didn’t you just stay in the lobby? It’s more comfortable and you wouldn’t miss me when I went out?”
The young man’s cheeks reddened and he averted his gaze. “When I came to the foyer I heard the count arguing with his new guest and I didn’t want to… You understand?”
“Yes. I definitely understand.” Poor Luc. His assignment had started on the wrong foot. “I’m going to grab a sandwich now and go to the ruins of the chapel.”
“I have to accompany you, Mademoiselle. I’ll see you downstairs.”
“You’re not going to climb down your tree? Just come inside. And call me Cheryl.”
Luc blushed furiously. “You want me to come inside your room?”
She laughed. “Yes. Unless you’re afraid your wife may be upset.”
“Oh, I’m not married.”
“Then don’t worry. Being in my room won’t tarnish your reputation.” She burst out laughing. God, it was so good to be able to laugh after the lousy night and early morning.
Luc smiled and stepped in her room. “Cheryl, do you have enemies?” he asked suddenly.
She sobered and looked at him. “An hour ago, I would have said no.” Except for the man who killed Doc. But was he her enemy? “Now I don’t know. Edith doesn’t like me at all.”
“I noticed.”
“She just arrived unexpectedly and wrongly considers me a rival.”
“I will keep an eye on her. Her goal is to keep the count in her clutches. To what extremities would she go?” He strolled back to the balcony and scowled at the offensive branch.
Cheryl shook her head laughing and leaned over the rail beside him. “I don’t think she’d scramble up a tree and mess up her clothes just to hurt me.”
“Luc, what are you doing up there? In Mademoiselle Stewart’s room?” François stood under her window. His thunderous voice hammered the words in her skull.
“I am just doing my job. Watching over the area.”
“In her bedroom?” His fists clenched, François looked ready to climb the tree himself and rescue her… from her bodyguard.
Cheryl struggled to suppress her hilarity at Luc’s embarrassment and François’ misplaced anger.
“No, Monsieur le Comte. Only on the balcony. I showed her the tree branch.” He pointed beneath the balcony. “Anyone can access her room from here.” He tapped his chest. “As I did.”
Momentarily speechless, François flipped his gaze to the thick branch and studied it. “I’ll see what we can do about it. Cheryl, the students will soon be ready to go to the chapel.”
“I’ll be down in a minute.” She grabbed Luc’s hand. “Come on.”
“Maybe I should go down the way I came up.”
“Don’t be silly.” Ignoring François’ deepening scowl, she pulled Luc inside her room. He closed the shutters and secured the glass door.
“Do you have anything valuable?”
She found her fanny-pack and secured it to her belt. “It’s in here. With me all the time.” She preceded him out of the room.
He closed the door behind her, locked it and handed her the key. “Better be safe. The staff is beyond suspicion but you never know how a large sum of money can tempt a needy person.”
By the time they reached the kitchen, François and the five students were clustered at the serving buffet, loading their plates with ham-filled croissants, salads and potatoes. They immediately made room for her but François walked to the door and signaled to Luc to follow him. The policeman scuttled out of the kitchen.
Now what? Was François lecturing him on the consequences of being caught on her balcony? When would he stop lording it over the people who worked with him?
When they returned a few minutes later, François sat beside her and introduced Luc as his friend and former neighbor. Luc filled his plate and settled at the end of the table but didn’t participate in the general conversation—more precisely in the dialogue running between Adriaan, Juan-Pablo and Roberto. As usual Karl and Chuck dwelled in their own world. Not sure about the official reason given by François to explain Bernard’s absence, Cheryl feigned a headache and silently studied her companions. Which one would be capable of hitting an old man?
Adriaan? No way. He was a fun-loving guy, too nice to plan such a debasing action. Juan-Pablo, the nobleman, courteous and generous? I can’t imagine him hitting a weaker person. Roberto who showered her with compliments and surrounded her with attention? He might try to push her into a bush to steal a kiss but would he punch an old man?
As usual her suspicions focused on Karl and Chuck. Always too quiet, they isolated themselves and ignored their colleagues except to peer at them. Not to mention Karl scared the hell out of her when he lingered at the ruins the first day. Would they be capable of punching Bernard? Probably more so than Roberto.
Her gaze flew to the Italian student again and she frowned. What was wrong with him? His jaw slacked. His eyes rounded and his Adam’s apple bounced uncontrollably as if he’d seen an apparition.
“Edith,” François barked.
Cheryl looked in the direction of his gaze and her own jaw dropped. Edith stood in the archway leading from the kitchen to the dining area. Still in black. But with a lot of décolletage to compensate for the dark color of her sleeveless, low scoop neckline and tight short skirt.
“Bonjour, messieurs. Good morning gentlemen.” Could this melodious voice belong to the screaming witch Cheryl had heard earlier that morning? “I’m Edith Blaise, a friend of François.” She gave him a smile that could have melted an iceberg but didn’t erase his scowl. “And a very close friend of his mother too.” Her saccharine look rested on François, daring him to protest.
Cheryl narrowed her eyes. Come on, François. Say something.
He didn’t. Cheryl’s knife clanged against her plate as she speared her croissant into a puree of ham and bread.
The gorgeous blonde glided toward the buffet. “Do you mind if I join you? I don’t want to disturb your lunch.”
Roberto recovered fast enough to jump to his feet and offered her a plate. “Of course. Please have a seat, signor
ina. I am Roberto Cantari.”
Cheryl snorted. She’d just been displaced in Roberto’s heart. What about François’ heart? He kept watching Edith with the same scowl and didn’t bother introducing his new guest to the students. Incredible rudeness on his part. One that soothed Cheryl’s swirling thoughts and lacerated nerves.
Juan-Pablo gave Edith a once-over, his expression that of disapproval rather than admiration. Adriaan glanced in her direction and then ignored her while Chuck and Karl studied her with fascination.
Edith filled her plate with fruit salad and walked toward François. “Roberto, could you please bring the chair here next to the count’s? Thank you.” She turned toward François. “Mon chéri, what’s wrong? You look really tired and confused.”
He remained impassive. In fact, his scowl relaxed. “Here take my seat, Edith. Enjoy your lunch.” He stood and ordered, “Everyone else get ready to go. We have a lot of work today and can’t let a pretty face delay us. Right, gentlemen?”
“I hope you don’t mind if I keep Mademoiselle Blaise company?” Luc said with an appreciative look at Edith who rewarded him with a blazing smile. “I’m done with my lunch.”
Traitor. Cheryl suppressed a gasp. Her own bodyguard defecting to the enemy.
“Suit yourself, Luc.” With that François strode from the kitchen without a backward glance.
They all followed. Even Roberto who grabbed Edith’s hand and bowed to kiss her fingers before rushing behind the others.
In the backyard, Cheryl found François waiting for her. Not in a mood to chat, she ignored him and kept going.
He caught up with her and grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked with the same crisp tone he’d adopted all day.
She assessed her surroundings. The students preceded them, way out of earshot. “Was it Luc’s idea to remain with Edith or did you reassign him to protect her?” she asked, her voice as brittle as his. Had François given special instructions to Luc when he called him out while they were at lunch?
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 86