“Luc is planning to talk with each of my guests. This was a good opportunity for him to approach Edith.”
Cheryl shrugged. “So he’s not my bodyguard anymore?”
“You don’t need a bodyguard now. You have me.”
“Oh.” Wow. She raised her eyebrows. Good God. She had him? The look he gave her warmed her all over.
“Cheryl, I didn’t have a chance to thank you for helping Bernard. I really appreciate your kindness toward him.”
The fire in his eyes intensified and muddled her brain. How could he do this to her without even touching her? When they were not even alone?
“It’s the least I could do. Is he better now?”
François nodded and accelerated his pace to join the others.
“Wait,” she called. “What about Edith? Is she staying?”
He stopped but didn’t answer right away while studying Cheryl’s face.
“Well?”
“Apparently my mother invited her to come. Until I can reach my mother and insist she withdraw her invitation, Edith will be staying. Unfortunately.”
“I see.” She also saw that she’d better put a tight rein on her attraction to François.
One on the right and one on the left. No way.
Edith could monopolize all the male residents of Valroux if she wanted, Cheryl would concentrate on finding the statue and forget about its rightful owner. It was her turn to accelerate her pace. She was too eager to reach the ruins and even more eager to put some distance between her and François.
“Cheryl, don’t leave my side. Remember I’m your bodyguard for the rest of the day.”
“Of all the… How do you expect me to work this way?”
His lips twitched as if he’d found her question highly amusing. “I mean don’t isolate yourself.”
She didn’t bother to answer.
At the ruins, she organized the digging. The students worked for several hours and gathered enough stones and relics to fill three carts. She sorted them, separating what she believed belonged to the same statue as the arm they had already found. She now had two big pieces for the trunk and the bottom part of the robe and a multitude of smaller fragments. It would take a lot of patience to piece together the broken statue and then repair the holes. But she knew she could do it.
“It looks like we did a great job of finding the wrong statue.” Karl expressed the general feeling of disappointment that prevailed at the site.
“Tomorrow we should extend the digging to a larger area.”
“If the bombardment pulverized that big statue and the walls of the chapel, I doubt a smaller statue would have survived.” Juan-Pablo shook his head with discouragement.
“What do you think, Cheryl? Are we wasting our time?” Adriaan asked.
Cheryl shrugged but François leveled an annoyed gaze at each of the men. “Messieurs, you all seem to forget that you came here to draw the plans for the restoration of the chapel. It’s our first goal. Finding the missing statue will come as a bonus.”
“But you haven’t lost hope. Right?” Adriaan turned his inquisitive eyes on her. “Maybe we aren’t finding the statue here, simply because it’s not here, because it was removed and hidden before the bombardment.”
He’d just voiced her own opinion but she couldn’t admit so publicly. She shook her head. “I don’t know. We still have to measure the broken columns and draw the plans for the new chapel. It’s a lot of work.”
François crossed his arms. “Those of you who are too disheartened to continue to work on the chapel restoration can quit at any time.”
They looked at each other. “Of course we’ll continue,” Karl said as if he voiced everyone’s opinion and they all nodded.
“In that case, stop daydreaming about a statue and remember we need measurements and drawings.”
Cheryl suppressed a snort. They would give him the measurements and drawing but they—she included—would continue their plotting to find the statue. A statue that had caused her mentor’s death. A statue that represented a glorious past to François, and fifty million dollars to someone else—maybe a killer.
~*~
Should he stop the work at the chapel ruins, pay off the students and cancel the project? The thought crossed François’ mind as he watched Bernard’s painful effort to rise from his bed two days after his assault. Bernard could have lost his life or received permanent injuries if François and Cheryl hadn’t reached him in time.
Could François risk exposing more people to harm because of the statue? Bernard might face a repeat attack and Cheryl could be next. Had François surrounded them with enough protection?
He rubbed his forehead to ease the headache thrumming against his temples. Stopping the work wouldn’t offer a guarantee of security. His estate was wide open with no wall enclosing it and no gate. Any marauder could penetrate his lands and hide in the fields. But Cheryl had made it clear she was not going to stop her search. She’d asked him to unbolt his laptop and move it to her room.
“How are you doing, Bernard?”
“Great. I can’t stay in bed another minute. I’m going downstairs for supper.” Bernard gathered his clothes and walked toward the bathroom, almost as straight as before his so-called accident.
“The doctor said you need a week of rest.”
“Forget the doctor. I feel much better. It’s time to check on the staff. I heard Mademoiselle Edith is here. We haven’t received her properly,” Bernard added with a wink. François knew Bernard had consulted with the countess and both had decided that Edith was the answer to their prayers to see François settled as a respectable husband and even father.
“We’re not doing anything special for her. I want her out as soon as I can reach my mother.”
“Tsstsss.… Mademoiselle Edith is pretty, funny, well-educated, and your mother loves her.”
François stiffened. “My mother can’t even remember how she met her or who introduced them.”
“Oh dear.” Bernard waved his hand in a you-are-a-hopeless-case gesture. “We’ll see.”
“If you’re going downstairs, make sure you don’t lose your bodyguard,” François warned as he walked toward the door.
Bernard sobered and nodded. “Yes, of course. I value my old carcass,” he said as François left to go downstairs.
From the upper landing François saw Cheryl talking to Luc. She’d been as reasonable as Bernard in the last two days, seeking Luc’s company as soon as François was out of sight. A little bit too reasonable maybe.
“Good evening,” he called as he came down the stairs.
Cheryl raised her head and spotted him. “Hi.”
“Bonsoir. I’m accompanying Cheryl to a restaurant in town.” Luc shook hands with François.
An inexplicable sense of distrust pinched François. “Why dine in town? We have plenty of food here.”
She shrugged. “I’m not complaining about the meals at the chateau but…” She twitched her lips in disgust. “I feel claustrophobic and need a change. We’re going to a dinner and dance in town with Adriaan and Roberto.”
“Oh.” Adriaan and his colleagues had taken her out once already while he’d never seemed to find the time or the opportunity. François too could use a break from the pressure of work and endless problems.
Luc’s fingers closed on her elbow as he led her to the door. And tonight Adriaan and Roberto would dance with her, hold her in their arms, maybe even flirt with her. François’ blood boiled. He knew these two guys well enough. They’d most probably flirt with her.
“Have… have a good dinner.” He wanted to say, “Have fun” but the words lumped in his throat. Selfish on his part but true. He didn’t want her to have fun with Luc, or Adriaan or Roberto, or any other man.
Was he jealous? What a ridiculous idea. He’d never been jealous in his entire life. Jealousy was for people who believed in love and commitment. Certainly not him. He just worried about her because…because she was his guest. Really, why else?
>
On the subject of guests, there was an unwelcome one who’d etched a permanent frown on his forehead.
“François, mon cher.” A strident voice resonated in the Grand Hall. François stilled. Had he conjured Edith just by giving her a thought? A nasty one at that. Cheryl and Luc had heard her too and paused at the door.
François raised his eyes toward the upper landing. Edith leaned over the banisters and offered him her brightest smile and deepest décolletage. Cheryl tilted her head, stole a look at the upper floor and lost her smile. Disbelief and frustration mixed in her eyes.
“I’m waiting for you, mon cher.”
And he couldn’t wait to get rid of her.
“Have fun,” Cheryl said to him in a scathing tone, then turned to Luc. “Let’s go. Adriaan and Roberto are waiting for us.” The front door banged behind them. Cheryl had left to spend the evening with three men who couldn’t wait to entertain her. While Francois was stuck with Edith.
“Bernard has ordered a candlelight dinner for us on the terrace,” Edith chirped from upstairs.
“I have work to do.” He shrugged and walked to his office, cursing Bernard’s meddling in his private life. But the faithful butler was probably following the countess’s orders to soothe the path to a happy courtship between François and Edith.
“You can have a whole hour of productive loneliness in your office while I finish applying my makeup.” Edith chuckled and blew him a kiss off her fingers. “I’ll see you at eight, on the terrace.”
François exhaled in exasperation as he entered his office and let the door bang.
She did it again. She’d upset Cheryl on purpose to push her into leaving. Edith wanted him all to herself. He had to get her out of his chateau. Even if it annoyed his mother.
He paced the width of his office and his eyes drifted to the telephone. Should he call Maman again? No he couldn’t upset her anymore. She already held a long list of sins against him and her health had weakened recently. Why was his mother so blind when it came to Edith?
Yet he had to make her realize that Edith used her to get to him or more precisely to his money. If only his mother could be more reasonable and come back to live at the chateau. But Maman hated the countryside and had refused to listen to him when he’d talked to her. She’d asked him not to cast aspersions on the dear friend who distracted her and made her laugh when her own son forgot to call.
François blamed himself for not getting closer to his mother, especially after his father’s death and her moving to an apartment in Paris. But she had a way of suffocating him with affection and advice, and he’d done his best to avoid her. She’d never listen to him now.
Dealing with his mother, Edith and Cheryl was a pure waste of time when he had more important matters to consider. He rubbed the swollen little vein on his forehead. It hammered painfully, compliments of the stress due to his mother and her protégée. Yet there should be a solution to make Maman hear him, get rid of Edith and soothe Cheryl enough for her to smile and come willingly into his arms.
Suddenly, his scowl relaxed as he thought of the one person who disapproved of Edith and could influence his mother. “I’ll call Marilène right away.” He hoped his sister would cooperate and help. What other choice did he have to get rid of Edith and not upset his mother?
Chapter 10
The chair was not in its usual position.
Cheryl stood rooted in the middle of the room, staring at her desk and then slowly backed up to the door. Unease prickled across her back.
Someone had been in her room. What if he was still there?
Her pulse raced. Her eyes flew to the various corners of the room
Calm down. Remember your karate moves. She wasn’t going to panic and wake the whole household.
Where could an intruder hide? Behind the curtains? They were too flat and smooth to conceal a person. Under the bed? With a swift motion, she flipped up the bed ruffle and bent to peek under the bed. Nothing. Her gaze flitting from right to left and back, she padded to the bathroom, switched the light on and surveyed the area. Empty. She started breathing better.
Wait, the closet. She opened the two doors wide. Sweeping the hanging clothes aside, she lost her balance and tumbled forward against the inner wall. A grinding noise froze her heart. She bounced up, held her breath and stiffened her hands, ready to wield a karate chop.
No attack came. Nobody was in the closet.
She’d hardly exhaled her relief when her jaw sagged at the sight of the hole in the inner wall of her closet. A hidden panel had slid aside.
Good God. A secret door. Leading to where?
“Don’t take another step.” François’ voice reached her before she recovered from her shock. “Raise your arms.” The light from her room filtered through to reflect off the dull gray of a gun in his hand.
Pointed toward her.
Her heart somersaulted. “François,” she squeaked.
“Cheryl? When did you come back?” He lowered his arm. She heard him walk away. The light from his night-table lamp suddenly lit the room.
Cheryl remained in her closet, staring at his naked torso, the black and white silk boxers, his naked thighs. She swallowed hard. “A few minutes ago,” she mumbled. “Maybe more.” As if she’d been able to keep track of the time under the current circumstances.
“What’s going on?” He walked toward her, muscles rippling. Dark hair curled on his chest and tapered to his navel just above the waistband of his boxers.
Cheryl’s eyes widened. He was such a handsome man. A man any woman would want.
Especially Edith. She had ensconced herself in the chateau as the reigning lady and didn’t miss an opportunity to remind Cheryl of her presence and her power.
Darn, was Edith sleeping with him? The bile rose in Cheryl’s throat and she almost choked as she refused to answer the question she’d been asking herself since the haughty lawyer had set foot in the chateau.
“Cheryl, are you okay?”
His frown shook her out of her contemplation. “Someone was in my room.”
“What?” he came closer and grabbed her shoulders, holding her gaze. “Wait here. Let me check your room.”
“I already did.”
Of course, he wouldn’t listen to her. He squeezed through her closet, his thighs grazing against her, his chest brushing her breasts. A scent of spice and lime invaded her nostrils. Masculine, strong, arousing. She jerked back. He groaned and stepped in her room, pointing his gun ahead.
She stood rooted in place. Her eyes squinted at the flex of muscles beneath his skin. He carefully toured the room, exploring every corner and potential hiding spot. He peeked into the bathroom, then strode to the balcony. Reaching through the curtains, he slid open the glass doors to the balcony and stepped outside for a moment.
“Strange,” he said after he returned and locked the doors.
“What?” She avoided focusing on his thighs and blinked several times, overwhelmed by his mind-numbing mass of raw masculinity.
“The balcony doors were unlocked.” He arched an eyebrow.
“No way.” She abandoned her vantage position in the closet and came back into her room. “I know I locked them before leaving.”
“Well, the intruder came from outside. He must have used the tree and the big branch under your balcony.”
“François, I’m positive I locked up. I even pulled on the door to check the lock.”
He shrugged. “You don’t have to be defensive. We all forget sometimes.”
Exasperated, she shook her head.
His gaze scanned the room again. “I don’t see any mess. How can you tell someone was here?”
“The chair in front of my computer.” She walked toward the desk.
François shifted a bewildered gaze from the desk’s area to her face.
“I usually swivel the chair and leave it with its back against the desk. Now, it’s facing the desk as if someone sat there and just pushed it back when done.”<
br />
“Could it be the maid who cleaned around?” he asked with a frown.
“She knows she should never come close to the laptop and my papers.” Cheryl approached the desk, studied the stack of folders and gasped. “And my stone is set aside.”
“Your stone?”
“I brought a broken piece from the chapel’s ruins to research its texture and age on the internet. I used it as a weight to keep my papers in place. I left it on top, here. And now it’s aside on the desk.”
François’ frown deepened. “I don’t like that.”
“Let me check my files and see if anything is missing.” Cheryl checked the one-foot pile on the left side of the laptop. To an outsider the stack might look disorganized but it was arranged in a specific order according to her research progress.
“You write your to-do list on paper?” He bent to examine a paper from the desk.
In the evening, she’d dressed in a hurry and had lapsed into something totally out of line for a compulsive organizer. She’d scribbled her to-do list for the next day on a sheet of paper and left it on top of her keyboard. “No, I usually type it and save it on the flash drive but I was in a rush.” She raised the sheet of paper and examined it. It was wrinkled on the side as if thrown in an awkward position over an uneven surface. Cheryl would never use a wrinkled paper. She had too much respect for her work.
More investigation revealed a missing blank sheet from her notepad, page twenty-four to be precise. She’d learned in the research world at Harvard to number all her notebooks or pads before using them.
“A page is missing from my notepad. He must have copied something.”
“How about the laptop? Do you think they went through it?” Francois perched on her desk, next to the laptop.
She shrugged. “Even if they did, I haven’t saved any files on your laptop. It’s all on my jump drive.” She patted her purse, still strapped diagonally around her neck and waist. “I haven’t taken it off. Even when I danced.”
Silence drifted over them and he considered her for a moment. “Did you have a good time at least?”
“Yeah.”
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 87