The Frenchman's Love-Child Read online

  ‘That summer we were first together, I was in love with you. What else could it have been? That kind of madness that means you can’t bear to be apart for even a few hours?’ Christien rested shimmering golden eyes on her. ‘I wouldn’t admit it to myself but I had never felt for anyone what I felt for you-’

  Her nose wrinkled and she made a frantic attempt to fight the tears threatening. ‘Oh Christien…’ she said thickly.

  ‘When Solange left you the cottage, I used it as an excuse to see you again in London. I had no need to make that a personal visit and I could have made more effort to discourage you from moving to Brittany-’

  ‘But I was so determined to make a new life here…I think that you weren’t the only one of us hiding from the truth-’

  Christien spread graceful brown hands in an inconclusive motion. ‘Nothing went to plan then…but then I had no true strategy. Around you, I don’t think straight,’ he confessed with fierce reluctance. ‘I just needed to see you, be with you, make love to you, and that first time I did not even recall that Veronique was a part of my life!’

  Tabby scrambled off the bed, crossed the carpet and closed her arms round him tight. She was satisfied for, to her way of thinking, he had not had a normal engagement with the other woman and she could not judge him for his lack of fidelity to a woman who had told him that he might do as he liked.

  ‘But I ended my engagement to Veronique immediately afterwards. I felt guilty but I didn’t hesitate,’ Christien confirmed.

  ‘Immediately afterwards?’ It was though yet another weight fell from Tabby’s troubled heart, for she needed to know that she could trust him.

  ‘I saw her in Paris and came back to Brittany that evening but you had already left the cottage. Unfortunately something foolish I said out of guilt to Veronique-that I was not thinking of marriage with you-very probably made her even angrier when she learned that I had in fact decided to marry you just as fast as I could.’ Christien volunteered with a grimace.

  ‘That’s right…at that point you were dreaming of refurbishing the cottage into a delightful residence for a convenient mistress…am I right?’

  Beautiful dark golden eyes glinting with wariness, Christien finally nodded.

  ‘You see, I know you…I know how your mind works,’ Tabby warned him with newly learned assurance. ‘The idea of marrying me only came after you found out about Jake and when you realised I wasn’t up for the living-in arrangement-’

  ‘Can’t you tell when a guy’s ready to do anything to get you?’

  ‘Nope…I need it spelt out.’ Tabby was hardly breathing as she said it, for she was beginning to believe her wildest dreams had come true without her even appreciating it. It was the way he was looking at her.

  Christien scooped her up and sat down on the edge of the bed with her cradled in his arms. ‘I love you, ma belle. I love you like crazy.’

  Tabby heaved an ecstatic sigh. She had not even dared to hope and there he had been sneakily hiding his feelings from her. ‘You should have told me that ages ago-’

  ‘It took me a painfully long time to appreciate how I felt-’

  Tabby gazed up at him with a dreamy smile. ‘I thought it was Jake…I thought you were only marrying me for him-’

  ‘No, he’s fantastic, but you are in a class all your own,’ Christien confided thickly. ‘I want to marry you to make you mine-’

  ‘What do you think I am…some trophy?’ Tabby teased.

  ‘My trophy.’ Framing her face with not quite steady hands, he tasted her lush mouth with a hungry fervour that threatened to blow her away.

  Tabby quivered. ‘I love you so much,’ she finally told him.

  ‘You do?’ His charismatic smile flashed out and his beautiful eyes were tender on hers. ‘Even though I’ve screwed up on innumerable occasions?’

  ‘I like it when you screw up-’

  ‘You were supposed to tell me I don’t…feed my ego,’ Christien lamented.

  ‘Your ego is healthy enough-’

  ‘I’m mad for you,’ he breathed raggedly.

  ‘We’ll be married tomorrow-’

  ‘Tomorrow might as well be a hundred years away. I ache with wanting you-’

  ‘It’ll be a very exciting honeymoon,’ Tabby promised shamelessly, nestling close to provoke, really loving his desperation.

  ‘We could go for a drive, mon amour,’ Christien groaned. ‘Book into a hotel-’

  ‘No…your mother has me booked into a beauty salon for half of the day as it is-’

  ‘That’s stupid…you’re gorgeous just the way you are. Don’t let them cut your hair.’

  Tabby glanced up to see Jake peering round the edge of the door at them.

  ‘Kissy stuff.’ Jake pulled a face. ‘It’s yucky!’

  ‘I think we should start as we mean to go on. Lock the door on him and let your nightie fall off again,’ Christien informed her huskily.

  ‘I’m worth waiting for,’ Tabby swore with a cheeky smile. She curved into the wonderful reassuring warmth and strength of his big, muscular body and, when Jake hurtled over to join them, gathered Jake in close as well. She was loved. She was loved by both of them, which just made her feel incredible.

  Her wedding outfit was a two-piece composed of an embroidered and beaded fitted bodice the same rich green as her eyes and a flowing ivory skirt. An emerald and diamond tiara was anchored to her head, her diamond necklace was at her throat and her wedding present from her groom was the superb diamonds that hung from either ear.

  Christien could not take his appreciative gaze from her. He led her up the steps and into the mairie for the civil ceremony as though she were a queen. The church blessing followed in the little chapel down the street. Holding hands, they posed for photographs afterwards, her eyes shining, his eyes resting on her with pride and a love he couldn’t hide.

  The reception was held in the Ritz Hotel in Paris. Alison Davies and her boyfriend looked on in surprise as Tabby took all the luxury and the attention in her stride. Indeed, the bride’s bubbly personality and assurance were much admired and, in her radius, the groom was less cool than his reputation suggested. His less discreet relatives hinted that parental opposition had kept the young couple apart. Their guests began talking of the match as a ‘grande passion’. That Tabby was penniless and neither stick-thin nor a classic beauty had been noted. That Christien looked at his bride as though she were as irresistible as Cleopatra was also noted. That Tabby had succeeded where the much-disliked Veronique had failed was sufficient to ensure that she would become a great social success.

  Before leaving the hotel, the bridal couple entrusted their son, Jake, to the care of his grandmother, Matilde. A limo whisked them to the airport where they boarded Christien’s private jet for their flight to a honeymoon hideaway in the Tuscan hills.

  Only when the jet was airborne did Christien remove a letter from his inside pocket. ‘This was delivered to me just before the reception. It’s from my great-aunt, Solange-’

  ‘Solange?’ Tabby echoed in disconcertion. ‘How could it be?’

  ‘Solange wrote it the same day that she changed her will so that you could inherit the cottage. She instructed the notaire that her letter was only to be given to me in the event of our marriage.’

  Tabby was challenged to translate the letter written in the old lady’s spidery handwriting.

  Christien came to her rescue. ‘In opening, Solange apologises to me for leaving a part of the Duvernay estate outside the family-’

  ‘She does?’ Tabby exclaimed.

  ‘And goes on to congratulate me for marrying you, thereby reuniting the cottage with the estate again-’

  ‘Oh, that’s magic!’ Tabby was tickled pink. ‘Obviously you only married me to get the cottage back.’

  ‘Solange concludes by advancing the hope that we enjoy a long and happy life together and states that she always knew we were made for each other.’ A rueful charismatic smile curved Christien’s handsome mou
th. ‘She must have guessed even then that I loved you.’

  Tabby’s eyes stung. ‘I wish I had,’ she muttered. ‘I’d have stormed past Veronique and confronted you that day. You’d have been too drunk to play it cool and you’d have admitted that you had seen Pete kissing me…and we’d have got it all sorted out there and then.’

  With a sigh, Christien pulled her into his arms and held her close. ‘I was a real smart ass in those days and I was fighting loving you. I’m more mature now-’

  ‘I suppose I was too young to get married then.’

  With incredible tenderness, he kissed the sprinkling of tears off her cheeks. ‘I adore you. I appreciate you so much more now. Think of all the time we have ahead of us, ma belle.’

  Her sunny smile began to blossom again and his own slow-burning smile broke out, stunning golden eyes lingering on her with intense appreciation. She found his mouth, dallied there with deliberate provocation, listened to his breathing fracture.

  ‘Make mad, passionate love to me,’ she whispered.

  ‘Hussy…’ Christien growled adoringly, and he carried her into the sleeping compartment because she was laughing so hard that she could hardly walk.

  Lynne Graham

  ***

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