Latin Lovers: Seductive Frenchman: Chosen as the Frenchman's Bride / The Frenchman's Captive Wife / The French Doctor's Midwife Bride
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What seemed like only moments later she felt someone shaking her gently. It was Xavier. His face was very close to hers. She could see the darker flecks of green in his eyes. It brought back a vivid image of his pupils dilating as his head descended to hers before he took her mouth with his. She hunched back in the seat to escape the potent memory.
He frowned at her movement. ‘What … what is it?’ she asked, her voice strained.
‘We’re here … in Paris.’
She looked out of the window. Sure enough they were on the Tarmac; she could see a waiting limo just at the bottom of the steps. None of the usual Customs or red tape for Xavier and his wife.
Once in the limo, it wasn’t long before they were in the thick of traffic in the city. Jane looked out with undisguised awe.
‘Have you never been here before?’ Xavier asked incredulously.
She shook her head. ‘Never had time … or the money. When I left school I worked straight away through college. I wanted to start paying Mum back for all the years that she’d worked her fingers to the bone.’
‘If I didn’t already know you I’d say that was a line …’
Jane looked at him, shaking her head. ‘So cynical … how can you bear it?’
‘Not everyone sees the world through rose-tinted glasses.’
‘Well, mine are rapidly turning more opaque.’
She could feel his sharp look of enquiry, but didn’t elaborate.
She picked out the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame … and before long she could see that they were going over an ornate bridge on to what looked like an island in the middle of the river.
‘Wow …’ she breathed.
‘This is the Île St-Louis—one of a few islands on the Seine … it’s mainly residential.’
I’ll say, Jane thought to herself. Chic, immaculately made-up women walked their beautifully coiffed dogs. And she had thought that image of Paris was such a cliché!
They drew to a smooth halt outside one of the buildings and were effusively greeted by the doorman. Jane was fast becoming accustomed again to the bowing and scraping people did in Xavier’s vicinity. In the lift she wasn’t surprised to see that they went all the way to the top floor. Nothing but the best.
The doors opened straight into a hall with one door, which Xavier opened.
‘This is where I come and stay when in Paris on business or for stopovers on long haul journeys—have a look around.’
Jane tore her eyes away from his and did as he asked. It was the quintessential bachelor pad. The age of the building meant that the shell and windows were still of a certain period, but the whole of the inside had been remodelled. The colours were dark, and it was full of sharp corners, with abstract art on the walls, state-of-the-art sound and TV systems. The kitchen was worse, all gleaming steel and not a hint of homeliness in sight. She hated it.
He stood back, arms folded, and watched her face with amusement. She couldn’t hide a thing. He felt a sharp, uncustomary burst of pleasure, remembering her refreshing honesty, and became aware of just how much he had missed it …
‘You hate it, don’t you?’
‘I’m sorry …’ She blushed. ‘It’s just so cold and characterless.’
And he became aware of how he’d missed her blushes.
‘I suppose I’d be offended if I’d actually had a hand in the decoration, but thankfully for my ego I didn’t. I allowed a friend who was trying to build up his interior design portfolio the run of the place. I’m here so infrequently that it doesn’t really bother me.’
He thought of the women that he had brought here. He couldn’t remember one who hadn’t oohed and ahed delightedly over every room. Either they had all loved it or, more realistically, said what they thought he wanted to hear. Now he could see it through Jane’s eyes he hated it too, and vowed to rip it all out and do it up again.
Her heart hammered when he suddenly took her hand. He led her to a bedroom, where he faced her again.
‘What … what are you doing?’ she asked desperately, hating the effect just holding his hand was having on her, but determined not to pull away and reveal the extent of her discomfiture.
He indicated with his head round the room, starkly decorated in creams and browns. ‘This is your room.’
The relief on her face was comic. ‘Thank … thank you.’
He rested heavy hands on her shoulders. ‘Your hands-off signals are loud and clear. Rest assured, Jane, I’ve never forced myself on a woman and I’m not about to now … but you know you’re fighting a losing battle, don’t you? This scared virginal act is wasted on me. We both know you’re no virgin.’
He brought his face down to hers, his mouth close to her ear, and she closed her eyes weakly. His breath tickled the sensitive part of her neck just below her ear. The fine hairs standing up.
‘But if you think for a second that you can hold out for ever … then you’re very, very mistaken. It’s only going to be a matter of time. It’s there, vibrating between us like an electric current, and it’s not going to go away. Do you know what happens when you suppress something? It just gets stronger and stronger.’
He straightened up, his eyes taking in her flushed face, the bead of sweat on her brow, the pulse hammering against the base of her neck, and he had to use every ounce of his will-power not to pull her into him, mould her body to his and make her acquiesce—which he knew he could do.
He would wait until she was shaking with longing, weak with desire. Until she could barely look at him because of it. He wanted her. Badly. But that was all it was. Sheer, unadulterated lust. Nothing else. This was why he’d been unable to get her out of his head the past few months.
‘Settle in, and I’ll get lunch ready.’
He walked out of the room. Jane pressed her hands up against flaming cheeks. That was her reaction after mere words! What would she do if he kissed her? Or if she lost control and grabbed him? Which seemed more likely right at that moment. She’d go up like tumbleweed to a lit match on a dry day.
All the more reason to be strong.
And what then …?
One day at a time. That was the only way she was going to handle this.
Chapter Ten
THE next morning Xavier insisted on a day of sightseeing.
In the early evening they emerged from the Louvre. Jane was bone weary, even though the ever-present limo had whisked them from place to place.
Bone weary because at every opportunity during the day he had touched her—usually just the slightest glance of physical contact, a brush of a hand here, a light touch on her waist or shoulder … pressing close against her in the crowds. But it had been enough to set her nerve-ends jangling, almost as though he knew exactly what he was doing. His face each time she’d sneaked a look had shown pure innocence.
By the time he took her hand outside the great museum she was worn down from trying to escape him, and just left it in his without a word. That contact, chaste as it was, was torture in itself.
‘I let Pascal go home … There’s a restaurant near here I thought might be nice for dinner. We can get a cab later.’
‘I’m not dressed properly …’ She indicated her jeans and sneakers.
‘Don’t worry, it’s a low-key place.’
She shrugged and allowed him to lead her through the streets. They came to a charming little bistro, tucked into a small side street, with only a few tables that were already full.
Xavier was greeted like a long-lost son by the proprietor,, and when he introduced Jane as his wife there were shouts and a woman came running out. Jane was enveloped in hugs and warm kisses, and couldn’t help but be charmed. The older woman at one point looked at Jane’s ring finger and unleashed a stream of French at Xavier that Jane couldn’t follow. He looked shamefaced after it.
Once they were seated at a free table that had appeared as if by magic, Jane had to ask, ‘What on earth did she say to you?’
‘Madame Feron pointed out that you don’t have an engagement ring.’
Jane lifted her hand stupidly. ‘Oh … I hadn’t even thought about it myself.’ She looked back to him. ‘I don’t need one, you know … it’d be silly just for the sake of it. Plenty of people nowadays just wear a wedding band.’
‘Nevertheless, she’s right. We will do this properly. I’ll buy you one tomorrow.’
His tone brooked no argument. His businesslike attitude reinforced her will to resist him at all costs. This was nothing more than a mutual agreement, each having their own reasons: him to secure his heir and its future, her for the baby’s sake and to secure her mother’s future in South Africa.
But maybe down the road when the baby was born they could negotiate a separation? Surely by then any inheritance would be safe? Jane knew in her heart of hearts that sooner or later her will would break, or Xavier would succumb to another woman, and either scenario would be untenable for long. She knew that now, as she looked at him across the table.
Her appetite still wasn’t back to normal, but she forced the food down, not wanting to insult the couple who couldn’t stop beaming at them.
That night when they got back to the apartment Jane fled into her room as soon as she could. She rested against the door, breathing heavily with eyes closed. She heard Xavier’s step pausing outside her door and her mouth went dry, her pulse tripping.
‘Goodnight …’ he called softly through the door.
But he may as well have said coward. It was what he meant.
She got under the covers a short while later and pulled them over her head, as if that would block out the images, the vivid memories that played like a home movie every night in her dreams. Her body felt as though it had a fever. What was wrong with her? She was pregnant … how could she be feeling so … so … sexually aware of herself and him?
She slept fitfully. Again.
The following morning Xavier informed her that they would spend the day shopping and return to the island that evening. When he saw the less than enthusiastic expression on her face he frowned.
‘What is it? Are you feeling ill?’
‘No … it’s nothing … just that I’ve always hated shopping. The crowds … trying things on. It bores me to tears. But as you say, I have to keep up appearances now.’
He shook his head, once again struck dumb. Reminded of how different she was from the women he was used to.
An hour or so later, when they approached the door of a designer shop, Jane caught his hand and dragged him back. The memory of years of scrimping and saving rushed back in lurid humiliating detail, her mother’s face lined with worry and strain as she struggled to let down another hem, trying to get another year out of a school skirt.
‘We can’t go in there … those clothes cost a fortune. Look, why don’t you just let me go off for a few hours? I’ll find some high street stores and kit myself out. Honestly, you can trust me …’
‘Woman!’ he exploded, stunning her into silence. ‘I’m normally dragged on these expeditions, reduced to nothing more than a walking credit card, but you—’ He shook his head. ‘You have to have morals. Jane, without insulting your intelligence too much, will you please trust me when I say that if I let you go off and kit yourself out, as you put it, within weeks we will be at some function where it will be horrendously obvious to everyone that I can’t afford to dress my own wife. This isn’t just for you. As much as I agree with your sensibilities, unfortunately society hasn’t caught up with us, and I have a certain standard to maintain.’
Her mouth opened and closed ineffectually, a red-hot poker of pain striking her at his reference to what must have been many other trips like this … with other women he had indulged. She walked into the shop without another word, hoping to distract him from her hurt.
By that afternoon she’d lost count of the shops … Dresses, casual clothes, shoes, underwear—which thankfully he had absented himself for—and last but not least maternity wear. She had worked very hard at putting images of other women out of her head, and berated herself for not expecting as much in the first place.
Xavier had arranged for everything to be sent straight to the plane and loaded up. Once they were on it themselves, later that day, Jane felt a pang of guilt mixed with fear. Xavier saw the look on her face.
‘What is it?’
She shook her head rapidly. ‘Nothing … nothing at all.’
Everything!
She averted her head and looked out of the window. When she thought about the afternoon she had to admit that she had enjoyed it on some level. Who wouldn’t have? Assistants fawning all over her. Well, over Xavier’s credit card, to be accurate. And what on the surface must have looked like a doting husband indulging his new bride. The covetous looks of the other women hadn’t gone unnoticed. At one point she had even felt the old warmth creep up, when one of the women had been particularly sycophantic. Jane had looked to Xavier and caught his identical look, and a bubble of delighted communication had almost transformed her face, made her forget why she was there. But that would be far too dangerous. What they had shared in the summer was not who he really was. She had to remember that.
Once the small plane was cruising, and the seat belt signs were off, she saw Xavier turn towards her from the corner of her eye.
‘Jane, I have something for you.’
She turned to look.
‘More? What could you possibly—?’
She went silent when she saw him reach into the inside pocket of his jacket and pull out a small box, which he offered her across the aisle. She looked at him and her hands shook slightly as took it. When she opened it she gasped. Nestled in a bed of cream velvet was the most stunning sapphire ring in an antique square setting of tiny diamonds and white-gold. It was beautiful. How could he have picked exactly what she would have gone for herself?
‘How did you know …?’
‘I remembered something you told me once about sapphires being your favourite stone …’
She couldn’t help but be touched that he had remembered.
‘We can change it if you don’t like it,’ he said stiffly.
She looked up quickly. ‘I lo—’ She stopped herself and amended her words. ‘It’s beautiful.’
She put it on her finger with a tremor in her hand. A perfect fit.
He went back to his papers; she went back to looking out of the window, with the sting of tears in her eyes at the sterility of the exchange.
They landed at the private air strip on Lézille in the early evening.
Xavier’s four-wheel drive was parked nearby, and he expertly negotiated his way out of the tiny airstrip and towards the castle, silhouetted on the horizon against a darkening sky.
This time it wasn’t empty. A retinue of people were lined up to welcome them home. Most of the names and faces were a blur as Jane struggled to hang onto them. A gardener, cook, maid … and at the head of the queue Xavier introduced her with obvious affection to Jean-Paul and Yvette who, he told her, had run the castle since he was a baby. They had the same dark distinctively Spanish features of the rest of the islanders.
Before she knew what was happening, Xavier had lifted her up to carry her over the threshold. When he put her down again she stood back, trembling and breathing hard … disconcerted. Another tear threatened… .for about the third time that day. She told herself it must be her hormones, emotions too close to the surface. She couldn’t read his face, searching desperately for some indication that his motivation wasn’t ironic. Or an act purely for the staff, who were looking on delightedly. She had to admit that was more likely. But his face was shuttered, expressionless. She controlled her wayward reactions.
Yvette shyly led Jane upstairs to the master bedroom. It all looked familiar, and exactly how she remembered it. Little had she known that she’d ever be back … married and pregnant. She sank onto the side of the bed and looked around, feeling a little removed from everything. Her life had changed so completely within just a few months, a total one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. Goosebumps prickled across her skin and she wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a sudden chill.
She went to look out of the window. The scenery was as vividly breathtaking as she remembered, just slightly less lush than it had been in the summer.
A movement out of the corner of her eye made her look round. Xavier had appeared in the door, holding one of her bags.
With sudden panic and clarity she realised something. ‘Xavier … this is your room.’
‘Yes. And now it’s your room too.’
He walked in, closing the door behind him, coming uncomfortably close. Jane wrapped her arms tighter around herself, forcing herself to remain calm. But it was difficult. The bed in the corner of her eye loomed large and threatening; the memories were rushing back.
‘We are not sleeping together.’
‘Yes, we are.’ He enunciated each word with chilling softness.
‘No.’
He ran an angry hand through his hair and Jane could feel the energy crackle around them. ‘Jane, we are going to share this room if I have to lock us both in here every night. If the staff see us sleeping separately, word of a fractured marriage will spread before morning. And I will not have that. We may as well not have bothered getting married.’
Jane threw her hands in the air and moved away jerkily, pacing back and forth. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. If I sleep in the other room I can make sure the sheets are pristine every morning … I’ll—’
‘Now you’re being ridiculous. Tell me, Jane … why the great resistance? Don’t you remember how it was between us?’
Didn’t she remember?
Her stomach dropped with sudden panic under his narrowed gaze. Resisting him … and this overwhelming desire … was the only way she knew how to protect herself. He couldn’t ever know … and if he started to look at her motives …
She wouldn’t even contemplate that scenario. She placed a protective hand on her belly. It might as well have been over her heart. She mustered up a look that would have frozen boiling water, her blue eyes chips of ice,
‘This baby is the only thing I care about. I’m pregnant, Xavier, I don’t feel those … urges.’
She hated using the baby like this, but she needed all the armour she could get. Anything that would keep him at a distance. She knew that he would not step over the line …
unless she gave the word. Which she was determined not to—until she knew she could stay detached, if such a time existed.
A savage intensity flashed over his face. The hell she didn’t feel those urges. Every part of her quivered lightly before him; she was taut as a bow, just waiting for his touch. His eyes dropped to the hand over her belly, before they took in the rise and fall of her chest. He wanted to walk over and shake her, and call her a liar to her face. He caught her darting a glance to the bed, the slight flush under her skin. He moved closer.
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