by Julia James
Ever since she had come back to London, with the destruction of everything she had thought true about Xavier lying in twisted, ugly shards at her feet, she had had to tread on eggshells when it came to Armand. She had known, above all, that she must not tell him what his brother had done—had only, instead, resorted to putting all her focus, all her emotion, into rejoicing at the miracle that had happened to her sister.
The miracle that she had prayed for. That the pioneering operation on her spine at the clinic in America where Armand had taken her would work, would undo the damage done in the car crash that had crippled Lila and killed her parents. Lila was all she had left, and her devotion to her was absolute.
As Armand’s had proved.
It had been so hard to let him take Lila to America without her. She had longed to go with them, to give Lila the support and encouragement she had always given her these last, terrible two years since she’d been crippled. But she had let them go without her. Because she had seen the love she had so fervently hoped for spring between them. For hadn’t Armand’s eyes the very first time he’d seen Lila in her wheelchair by the hospital lift, lit with a light that had surely only meant he was instantly smitten? Lissa had known, when he’d taken her to America, that love was surely blossoming between them, and that because of that they needed no third person present. And Lila herself had been adamant, determined that she did not want Lissa with her during the treatment.
‘Armand will tell you if the operation has worked—and it will work. I know it will. The next time you see me, Lissy,’ she’d said, as they’d bade farewell at the airport, ‘I want to be standing up—walking. I promise you I shall be walking. It will give me added resolve, knowing I’ve promised you.’
She had kept her promise. Lissa could feel tears start in the back of her eyes—familiar tears. Lila had indeed been standing when Lissa had arrived at the villa to be the bridesmaid she had promised she would be—leaning on Armand’s arm. And the tender, loving light in his eyes, the glow in Lila’s, had told Lissa so much more than the brief phone calls and text messages from Armand, which had been all that had kept her going during the weeks gone by.
And now Lila would be happy—Armand, too—and nothing could spoil that.
Lissa emerged from the cloakroom, outwardly calm at least, and made her way into the dining room to join the wedding party seated around the large linen-covered table, covered in crystal, silver and napery, and decorated with exquisite floral arrangements. Her eyes avoided going to Xavier, who had already taken his place. Her place, she thanked heaven, was between Armand and his father. Xavier was between her sister and his mother.
She smiled around the table, murmuring about ‘freshening up’. If her face was still flushed, she could not help it. Out of habit, her eyes went to her sister. But there was no need for the concern that had always been in her regard—and her heart glowed. Since she had joined her sister and Armand, here at his parents’ house, Lissa had seen for herself the miraculous transformation in Lila.
Her throat tightened with emotion again.
Her sister had suffered so much—so much pain—held captive in her wheelchair, in the loss of hope that she would ever walk again.
The click of a knife on the edge of a glass interrupted her and quietened the general conversation around the table in which everyone was participating apart from herself and Xavier. She would not look in his direction, but she could tell he was not taking part—his distinctive tones were absent.
Out of nowhere, memory cut through her. She heard his voice as she had replayed it so often in the hellish weeks that had followed her return to London—his voice throwing at her all the foul accusations that had shattered her like a hammer taken to a precious vase.
Her fingers tightened around the stem of the champagne flute that had been placed in front of her by one of the household staff as she’d taken her place at the table.
Now Armand was getting to his feet, holding his own champagne flute. He waited a moment, then glanced lovingly down at Lila, who was gazing up at him as though he were the sun itself.
‘I want,’ he said, speaking in English, ‘to give a toast. To my adored bride—’ the loving glance came again ‘—for making me the happiest of men. And to my parents, for welcoming her as their daughter. But I also want to toast a very special person.’
He shifted suddenly, and Lissa realised that he was addressing her.
‘To my wonderful new belle-soeur. And she is, indeed, a “beautiful sister,” not just in her own outward beauty—’ he tilted his glass slightly in tribute ‘—but, and so much more importantly, in her inner beauty.’
Armand’s eyes went to his parents, his brother.
‘You know of the terrible tragedy that befell my bride’s family—and my bride.’ His voice had changed, was sombre. ‘I will not dwell on it now, here in the brightness of today, but I will give a toast in spirit to the parents-in-law that I was destined so tragically never to know—and thank them from the bottom of my heart for their daughter, Lila, who was spared for me from the carnage that took her parents’ lives. And thank them, too, for Lissa.’ His voice changed again, sounding resolute now. ‘Whose strength and fortitude and courage and determination did so much to support her sister in her terrible affliction and the injuries she suffered in that fateful car crash. Lissa—’ he nodded at her, tilting his glass again as she sat there, a flush forming on her cheeks ‘—who worked day and night, never sparing herself, to put aside the money that was needed to pay for the specialist operation in America that was her sister’s only chance of escaping from the prison of her wheelchair.’
Armand’s voice changed yet again, taking on a sombre note once more. ‘It has been my immense privilege to have had the good fortune to be able to lift that crushing burden from her—to take Lila to America and make the operation possible and in so doing find my reward …’ His eyes now went to Lila, sitting gazing up at him, lovelight in her thin, pain-etched face, and his voice warmed like the sun as he finished his speech. ‘The dearest love of my life.’ His free hand slid to his bride who took it in hers.
Holding Lila’s hand, Armand raised his glass.
‘To Lissa—’
She sat, head almost bowed, colour flaring along her cheekbones, as the others’s voices echoed Armand’s.
All but one.
She did not hear Xavier’s voice.
She waited as Armand sat down again. Lila was reaching past Armand, her hand freed from his, and was squeezing Lissa’s hand as it lay inert upon the damask tablecloth.
‘The best of sisters.’ Lila’s low voice came, fervent with emotion, and Lissa felt her throat tighten again.
Then both Armand and his father were pressing their palms on her shoulders. Lucien was murmuring something reassuring in French, which she did not catch, and Armand’s mother was beaming at her across the table. Then, with a little gesture to the staff, Madame Becaud signalled that the serving of the meal should begin.
For Lissa, the meal passed in a haze. She ate and drank mechanically, recognising that the food was exquisite, but unable to relish it. Memory intruded painfully—the memory of the last time she had eaten like this in France. Xavier’s rustic villa on the Île Ste Marie might be simple in design and decor, a world away from this beautiful, gracious belle époque villa, with its lovingly manicured gardens dropping in artful terraces down to the sea, but every meal there had been cooked and presented with the care and attention that was the pride of France.
She could not look towards Xavier. Yet as the meal progressed she heard his voice, speaking in conversation. Did it sound strained, tense? She didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to listen. Didn’t want to know.
She only knew she would not let his malign presence spoil, for an instant, a second, her sister’s happiness. A happiness that had come like a miracle—a miracle made possible by the incredible kindness and generosity of Armand. By his love and devotion to her. Armand had fallen in love with Lila, as Li
ssa had prayed he would do.
She felt again her heart squeeze.
Lila was happy and that was all that mattered. She would have given anything, everything, twice over for that happiness. Nothing else mattered.
She repeated it to herself until it ran like a constant refrain in the dark recesses of her mind.
Nothing else mattered. Only her sister’s happiness.
Not hers.
Because hers, she knew, had been blighted for ever that day when Xavier Lauran had hurled his poison at her and shown himself to be a man for whom only one overwhelming emotion was possible.
Hatred.
Xavier ate, he drank, he made polite small talk with his mother, with the priest, with his stepfather, even with his brother and his bride. But about what he had no notion. For him, the wedding breakfast was a season in hell. He was inhabiting a parallel universe, a malign, unendurable universe, one in which everything he knew was wrong. And everything he did not know—had not known—was like acid burning through his skin, etching into his flesh, his consciousness, a truth that was eating him alive.
His brother’s bride was Lissa’s sister. Not Lissa. Her sister. Who had been crippled in a car crash—a car crash that had killed their parents. Lissa had worked to support her—to earn money for the operation that would make her walk again.
Cold ran down his spine. Fingers of ice.
Words burned into his consciousness—words that were acid on his soul. The words he had thrown at Lissa that hideous morning.
He had to talk to her. Had to tell her.
The ice splintered in his spine. Tell her what? Tell her what she already knew—had known all the time?
Why hadn’t she told him? Why hadn’t she explained?
His expression tightened. He had to talk to her. Somehow. But how? When?
The endless meal was finally over. The priest got to his feet, taking his leave of the family. His mother and stepfather escorted him to a waiting car. Xavier was alone with his brother, and Lissa, and his new sister-in-law. Tension slammed through Xavier. Somehow he had to find a way to get Lissa away and in private. To his intense frustration, she was sticking like glue to her sister, hovering over her as she remained seated in the bridal chair. Then Armand was there.
‘Lila must rest a little,’ he said, coming protectively to stand behind her, placing his hands on her frail shoulders. She turned and smiled up at him.
‘No—please. I’m not too tired,’ she told her brand-new husband.
But Armand shook his head. ‘You know what the clinic said—a little exertion every day, no more. After being immobile so long, you must build your strength again little by little. And besides—’ he dropped a kiss on her head ‘—I want you rested this afternoon so that you will look as beautiful as an angel for the party tonight.’
He threw a glance at Xavier. ‘Maman contented herself with this private ceremony, Xav, but nothing on earth could prevent her pulling out all the stops for a grand party this evening. Even with such short notice as we gave her she has found a remarkable number of people to attend. So I want Lila fully rested in good time.’
He came around and with a fluid movement scooped Lila up into his arms. Lissa hovered at his side.
‘I’ll help you to your room,’ she said.
But Lila shook her head. ‘Darling Lissy—you don’t have to do that anymore. I’ve got Armand now.’ A glance was exchanged between her and her bridegroom, familiar and intimate, enclosing themselves in the privacy of the newly wed.
Then Armand spoke. ‘Xav, why don’t you show Lissa around? Maman will be plaguing the staff in preparation for this evening, and Papa will have hidden himself away in the library for a nap while she fusses. So make good your escape and show Lissa the gardens. They’re beautiful, and the views from the gazebo are wonderful.’
‘Thank you.’ Lissa’s voice was stiff. As stiff as frozen metal. ‘But I think I might rest in my room, actually.’
Her hand was caught, and Lila was tugging her gently but inexorably closer.
‘No, Lissy, do go with Xavier. Armand thinks he needs to relax. He had a punishing journey to get here in time, because we gave his family so little notice of our wedding plans, and he’s a terrible workaholic, Armand says. If he doesn’t take you around the gardens he’ll just go and get sucked into his laptop. So do go off with him. Besides …’ Her voice dropped with conspiratorial humour. ‘He’s so absolutely, gorgeously good-looking, isn’t he? And you’ve never looked lovelier, Lissy.’ Lila’s pressure on her fingers squeezed tight suddenly. ‘Oh, Lissy, I can’t believe how happy I am. I just can’t believe it.’ Then she dropped her sister’s hand. ‘Now, off you go.’ Her eyes were sparkling.
‘Yes—go, go,’ echoed Armand. ‘And, no, you do not need to check your e-mails, Xav. XeL will survive an hour longer without your attention. Go on, take Lissa round the gardens.’
Xavier was beside Lissa in an instant. He could feel her stiffen. Feel her revulsion coming at him. He didn’t care. He had to talk to her. Had to.
‘Mademoiselle?’ he said formally, indicating the French windows opening onto the gardens. Perforce, Lissa stepped through onto the terrace beyond.
Lila giggled. ‘Lissa—not mademoiselle. We’re all family now.’ She laughed as she was borne away by Armand.
The moment they were gone, Lissa rounded on him.
‘I’m going nowhere with you.’
Xavier’s face hardened. ‘Do you want your sister upset, today of all days? Have consideration for her feelings instead of indulging yours.’
The sheer effrontery of his admonishment took Lissa’s breath away. But his hand was closing around her elbow. It might look as if he were merely guiding her along the path, but the iron grip burned on her skin.
He walked her down the cascade of steps that led through the terraced gardens. So brief a while ago he had raced up here, with no thought in his mind other than preventing the marriage of his brother.
Now the universe he had been living in had become a completely different one. Urgency impelled his steps.
I have to talk to her.
It was all he could focus on.
He got them down to the gazebo, a pretty little stone-built folly that afforded privacy, as well as views and shade and a sea breeze. The moment she could, Lissa broke away from his grip and went and sat at the far side of the gazebo, on the stone bench that ran around the interior. He rounded on her instantly.
‘Why didn’t you tell me? That’s all you had to do. Tell me the truth.’ It was all he could think about. It blotted out everything else. ‘Why did you let me say those things to you? Why didn’t you hurl them back in my face?’ His voice was vehement, eyes dark and stormy.
In return, baleful eyes glared at him, her face stark and stretched.
‘Why should I have? Like I said, your twisted mind had it all worked out. Worked out so well you wouldn’t have believed an alternative explanation if it had landed on your head with a twelve-ton weight. And in case you’ve forgotten I did try to explain to you. But you just sneered and said that of course I’d have an explanation—a very touching one, you said. And then, when you demanded to know if I’d already succeeding in parting Armand from his money, I knew—’ She gave a harsh, bitter choke of laughter, cut off immediately. ‘I knew that it would be impossible for me to justify myself. Because Armand had already spent his money on Lila—she was already in America and he’d already paid for the operation and all the care she had to have at the clinic afterwards. So there was no chance at all of clearing my name.’
He was staring at her.
‘I don’t believe this. I don’t believe you are saying this. Good God, how can you possibly think that I would have continued to think badly of you if you’d told me what Armand’s money was being spent on?’ He shook his head heavily. ‘Do you really think me so low?’
She said nothing, and Xavier felt a knife slide into him. Then another one as she spoke again.
‘Yo
u said I would come up with some fairy tale—”a sick relative in need of care” was one suggestion.’ She quoted the words that had writhed in her memory ever since.
He blanched. ‘But your sister did need care. She existed. She was real.’
‘And you really would have allowed your brother to spend that kind of money on her? To actually marry her? You told me I was a gold-digger—why not Lila? Go on—why not? And she was worse than a gold-digger—she was a cripple, as well. Hardly an ideal bride.’
In Xavier’s mind he saw the words of Armand’s e-mail to him—the one that had announced he had found the woman of his dreams.
I know there will be problems, but I don’t care if she isn’t the ideal bride you think I should have …
His blood ran cold as he realised, now, why Armand had said what he had. In a harsh, bleak voice, he said again, ‘Do you really think me so low that I would object to your sister because of her injuries?’
‘It was what they were both worried about—and not just you, but Armand’s parents, as well.’
‘And did my mother and stepfather react with hostility?’ Xavier demanded. His eyes bored into Lissa’s.
‘No,’ she said, her chin lifting. ‘They have been …’ her voice worked ‘… wonderful. They have welcomed her like a daughter.’
‘As I welcome her as a sister—my brother’s bride.’ He spelt out each word. ‘God Almighty, how monstrous would I be not to do so?’
His eyes lasered hers, and she felt their force drilling through her. ‘Do you know how I felt when your sister came into the room? When everything I held to be true, knew to be true, turned upside down? When I realised just how devastatingly wrong I had been?’
‘I hope it hurt. I hope it damn well crucified you.’ Lissa’s voice lashed like a whip.