Lily winced. Even though she was mad at Jack, it was an appalling image, even more appalling than the image in front of her. “Good grief, what on earth are you wearing?”
He looked down at himself. The red cotton looked spray-painted on, several inches of abdomen showing between his waistline and his T-shirt hem. It looked as if he had borrowed it from a thirteen-year-old. “My scout T-shirt from when I went to the big jamboree.”
She peered at the silk-screened date. “Fifteen years ago?”
He shrugged. “I’ve filled out a bit since then. It was the first shirt I could find upstairs.”
“You had plenty of shirts at the guesthouse.”
His brown eyes darkened. “I couldn’t waste a single minute getting to you.”
Lily’s traitorous heart thawed the tiniest bit but fought it. Stay strong, she told herself. “What do you want, Jack?”
“You.”
She scoffed. “Well, duh. I know you want me. You couldn’t keep your hands off me.”
“Not just that, my Lily. I want you—all of you—forever.”
“Not forever. I’m a summer fling. Nadine said so.”
“You yourself said she was a liar.”
Lily bit her lip. “So are you.”
“Lying to you has been the biggest mistake of my life.”
She narrowed her eyes, trying to judge his sincerity. But what was she thinking? She had to get away, get out of France.
Where was that freaking train?
Jack held out his hand. “Please, Lily. Come back with me. No more secrets. You can meet my mother and she can tell you every embarrassing thing that ever happened to me and every shameful mistake I’ve ever made.”
“I can’t stay until Christmas, you know.” The quip slipped out before she remembered she was still furious with him.
He laughed but quickly turned serious. “You could, you know.”
She shrugged. “And do what?”
“Stay with me. Marry me,” he blurted.
“What?” she shrieked. He had some nerve. Her first marriage proposal was not in a fancy restaurant with a bottle of champagne and a diamond ring in a black velvet box. Instead, she was in a crowded, smelly French train station getting a throwaway desperation proposal from a man she wanted to hate, a man who lied to her, a man who wore a fifteen-year-old scout jamboree T-shirt.
He looked as shocked as she was but rallied. “Yes, yes, I mean it. Marry me, Lily.”
They were drawing a crowd. No doubt thanks to Jack’s local celebrity status.
Lily spotted a wooden bench tucked into an alcove and headed for it. “Get over here.”
He followed, and when she spun to face him, he had a big grin on his face. “What are you smiling about?”
“You and me.”
“There is no ‘you and me,’” she informed him. “There is a Lily Adams and there is a Count Jacques Montford.”
“You could be my countess,” he said enticingly.
“Ack! And be called ‘milady Lily’? It sounds like a brand of bras.”
“You could start one if you wanted.”
“Stop, all right? Stop trying to bribe me with noble titles, lavender farms and bra companies.”
“What, then? What can I bribe you with?”
Himself. But she didn’t say that out loud. Or did she? His grin disappeared.
“Myself?”
Crap.
“Isn’t that what I said?” she decided to bluff.
“Yes. And actually, that is why I portrayed myself as a plain aid worker in a borrowed guesthouse. Because I am not accustomed to people looking beyond the trappings of my life and judging me for myself.”
“Right. Because everyone is so shallow they can’t separate you from your money.”
He shrugged. “Society can be that way. You grew up in it. Didn’t you know people like that?”
“Yes. But you had plenty of chances to come clean with me once you knew me—and you didn’t.” That was the part that upset her the most. “I told you all about my childhood.”
“Not all. Why do you dislike people with property, people with some money? Was she unkind to you, the lady your mother works for?”
“Her? No.” Lily looked away, not wanting to discuss it.
“Who?” he prodded.
She set her jaw. “I survived the prep school, all right? I was almost out of there but got a crush on one of the rich, good-looking guys my senior year. He invited me to prom, I was over the moon, and he saw stars when he tried to convince me forcefully to sleep with him after the dance.”
Jack took a step toward her. A muscle in his cheek twitched.
“Fortunately for me, I grew up working hard and lifting heavy objects. And our gardener had studied in Japan and taught me some self-defense techniques.”
The muscle finally stopped twitching. “Dare I hope he dropped you at home sadder and wiser?”
“Definitely sadder—and sorer. But I don’t know about wiser.” Especially since his brains were obviously in his balls, which had come out on the losing end with her pointy-toed shoes.
“Probably not. His kind rarely learn.” He studied her for a minute.
She twisted her hands together. “And yes, now I know that not all rich guys are like that, but after years of low-level harassment followed up by that one incident, it was too much for me to handle.”
Jack nodded. “I understand. But pretend I am not a rich man. How do you feel about me?”
She stared at him, mute with sudden panic.
“Maybe that is not a fair question until you know how I really feel about myself.”
A train whistle echoed. Jack gave her a stricken look. “Lily, pass me your train ticket.”
“What?”
“Stay to hear me out. Please. Then if you still want to leave, I’ll take you to Avignon myself. Or Paris, or wherever you want to go.”
She nodded, even though she’d spent practically all her cash on hand on the ticket. But something was telling her to stay as he had asked her. Not ordered, and had even said please. She handed him the ticket and to her surprise he ran away.
He was with Nadine and Lily almost got up then and there to leave, but instead he offered Lily’s ticket to the blonde and pointed to the train that was pulling into the station.
Nadine shook her head but Jack jabbed the ticket at her and made several very French, emphatic gestures. She clutched at his T-shirt, but it was so tight she couldn’t get a grip. Lily muffled a snicker. That was the type of woman who wouldn’t see anything but the exterior. If Jack weren’t a doctor, or count or just plain wealthy, Nadine wouldn’t be caught dead with a man who wore the T-shirt equivalent of a tube top.
Lily stared at them for any signs of lingering affection and only saw disgust on his face and desperation on Nadine’s. She tried to reach up to kiss him on each cheek but he backed away, a deliberate rejection in a culture where people regularly kissed casual acquaintances.
Nadine snatched the ticket from his hand and turned her back on him. The train doors opened and she climbed aboard. Jack, gentleman to the last, handed her luggage after her. Then he came back to Lily, not waiting to see the train depart.
He focused straight on her and the noise of the train and all the passengers receded. “Walk with me, Lily.” He took her backpack and pulled her suitcase behind him as they left the station.
“Where are we going?”
“Turn left here.” They were in the village square and he chose a seat underneath the giant plane tree. This one was much older than any New World specimens, its low, wide branches reaching fifty feet across and with gently peeling gray paper bark.
“I know how I feel about you, Lily, and this is how I feel about myself.” He took a deep breath. “When I was sick in Myanmar, I lost my authority, my dignity, everything. I wasn’t Dr. Jacques Montford, Count of Brissard. I was just another body lying on a cot, unable to move to even care for myself.”
“That’s horrible.
” Lily couldn’t imagine the conditions he’d been under.
He made an impatient gesture. “It was, but it humbled me. I was used to striding through the camps, stopping to help almost as if I were a Greek god descending from Mt. Olympus to help the mere mortals below.”
“Hubris.”
“Exactly—overweening arrogance.” He shrugged sadly. “But I didn’t see it in myself until my outer pretensions were stripped away. I had come to Myanmar to help the people there, but they helped me. Several of them took turns nursing me, giving me spoonfuls of clean water and rehydration salts, changing my bedding, bathing me.
“I had had everything, but I only gave crumbs of myself to them. They had nothing, but they gave everything of themselves to me.” He blinked rapidly. “How could I have gone so many years and not seen what a failure I was? What a sham?”
Lily took his hand. “You were not a failure. When you are in a terrible situation trying to help people, you cannot give your whole self away. You’d break down, experience burnout, despair even. You must conserve yourself so you can go on to the next disaster in one piece.”
“But the arrogance,” he protested.
She squeezed his hand. “Stop the presses. Who ever heard of an arrogant doctor? Hey, that reminds me of a great American joke. What’s the difference between God and a doctor?”
“What?” he muttered. She could tell he had a good idea of the punch line.
“God doesn’t think he’s a doctor.” Lily raised her eyebrows. “Add to the fact you’re a hereditary nobleman whose family has ruled over a large chunk of France for the past thousand years and it’s a wonder you haven’t tried parting the Mediterranean off the coast of Nice and walking to Corsica.”
“Lily!” She’d startled a laugh from him.
“It’s true.” She plopped her hands on her hips. “I grew up with a lot of rich people who only thought they were nobility, but there was nothing noble about them. I can spot an arrogant phony ten miles away, and you, milord, are about the farthest from being an arrogant phony that there is.”
“Then you do care for me.”
She still wasn’t ready to say it, but she forced herself to anyway. “I guess you could say that because I love you, Jack.”
His face lit up. “You do?”
“Yes,” she muttered. “That’s what made this whole situation so painful. I thought you were this sweet, save-the-world kind of guy, and then you wound up having all this baggage.”
Instead of being insulted, he threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, Lily, Lily, only you would call it baggage. That’s what I love about you.”
She lifted her eyebrow. “That didn’t count. What do you love about me?”
“I love everything about you,” he clarified. “I love how you want to know everything about everybody. I love how you love Provence—the food, the people, the land. I love your writing.”
“Are you sure? Because Nadine said—”
He said a bad French word that even she knew. “Forget about her. I love your writing, and I love you.”
“Me.”
“Of course, you. I fell in love with you as soon as you bumped into me and asked me about your French accent. Madame Finch knew right away. When we were web chatting with her, she said our meeting was a true coup de foudre. Do you remember that?”
She nodded. “What is that—a lightning bolt, or something sudden?”
“It’s also slang for love at first sight,” he told her, a faint blush staining his cheeks.
She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Oh, Jack, how romantic. I think I fell in love with you when you showed up clean-shaven and promised to act the gentleman with me.”
He groaned. “I failed on that part.”
“And I’m glad.” She tilted her face up and he accepted her invitation, kissing her. Their mouths met as they clung to each other under the shady tree. It was a promise of past, present and future intertwined together.
He finally broke their kiss. “You didn’t give me an answer.”
“About…?” she answered hazily.
“Marrying me, ma petite.” He traced his finger down her cheek.
“That? You were just saying that to get my attention.”
“No.” Jack shook his head. “I meant it then, and now that I am certain you love me, I mean it even more. We can fly back to Philadelphia and marry there so you can have your mother with you. Every bride wants her mother on her wedding day.”
“But, but…” she sputtered. “People like you don’t get married like that. Don’t you have to have a big, fancy wedding with the local bishop and invite every nobleman in Europe?”
“If you met some of those so-called noblemen, you could see why I wouldn’t invite them to a flea market. I will invite my best friends and they will be thrilled to come. And,” he added, “your cousin cannot travel for many months now and even until after her baby is born. You need her as your matron of honor.”
“Sarah.” Lily bit her lip. She had been Sarah’s maid of honor and Sarah had vowed to return the favor. “But wait! I haven’t even agreed to marry you. And you were already engaged to Nadine. What if this doesn’t work out, either?”
“She was the biggest mistake of my life and I thank my lucky stars I found out in time.” He dropped to one knee and took Lily’s hand. “But you, you are perfect for me. You are brave, honest and true, my Golden Lily. Be my bride. My wife.”
She stared down at him, her mind racing. Never in a million years had she expected to find anyone as perfect for her as Jack. “Yes, Jack, I’ll marry you.”
The joy that burst across his face was contagious, and she started to laugh. He jumped to his feet and pulled her into his arms. “Oh, Lily, sweetheart.” He peppered her face with kisses. “I am the happiest man in the world.”
“Me, too. I mean…” She laughed again, and he caught her up and twirled her around on the sidewalk.
He set her down. “Lily, would you consider living here in Provence for the next year or so? Jean-Claude and I have several new projects for the farm but he needs my help.”
“Hmm.” She pretended to think it over. “The south of France year-round? The fabulous food, beautiful views and great weather?”
“It does get chilly in the winter,” he warned her.
“Will you keep me warm?” She kissed his neck.
“Sizzling hot,” he promised.
“I’ll do it.” She stood on tiptoes and captured his mouth. “Oh!” She jerked her head back.
“What?” He looked as if he expected her to change her mind. Silly man. It was too late for him to back out now.
“A cookbook! Marthe-Louise and I can do a cookbook.”
“Wonderful.” Jack smiled down at her. “Cooking with the Comtesse de Brissard.”
“Good grief. I’m going to be a countess? What about your mother?”
“Sorry. It’s automatic when you marry a count. And my mother has been the Dowager Countess de Brissard since my father passed away, so you won’t take her title away from her.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “I’ll introduce you to my friend George’s fiancée. It could be worse—she’s going to be a crown princess.”
“George is a prince? What’s Frank, then? A baron?”
“He’s a duke.”
“Jack!” She elbowed him in the side. “Any more surprises?”
“Only good ones.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll show you the family jewels later.”
“I thought you already did.” She winked at him and he roared in laughter.
“Ah, Lily, Lily. You are so good for me.”
“And you are for me.” She snuggled into him. “Take me home, Jack.”
“Home to our lavender farm.”
“Home to our new life together.”
Epilogue
JACK WAVED TO Lily, who was doing lazy laps in the backyard pool at the manor house, and sat down in a chair with his phone.
She swam to the side and res
ted her elbows on the tile.
“Lily, are we still good for next Saturday?”
“Trying to back out already?” She shook her wet head, darkened to honey by the pool water.
“Never.” He would never back out, never give her up.
“Then call your friends. My mother has the chapel booked, and Mrs. Wyndham is hosting the wedding dinner in her house for us.”
“As long as your mother and stepfather won’t be catering it. They are guests of honor.”
“No, they hired their usual outside caterer.” She shook her head. “Jack, I can’t believe it. Are we crazy for trying to get married in under two weeks?”
He knelt at the edge of the pool and kissed her wet, silky lips. “Crazy in love.”
“Good.” She swam away, her lithe tan body cutting through the aqua-blue water.
He sat back cross-legged on the pool deck to admire her for a few seconds and then dialed George first, then got Frank on the line, as well.
After the usual round of greetings and jokes, he came to the purpose of his conversation. “I want you both and Stevie to come to Philadelphia next Saturday.”
“Philadelphia? Are we visiting the Liberty Bell?” George asked.
“They do have good cheesesteaks there, George. Mmm,” Frank hummed in anticipation.
“Mmm, indeed. Renata, Stevie and I will be in New York, so it would be possible for us, but why should we come to Philadelphia Saturday?”
“Lily and I are getting married,” Jack announced proudly.
The brief silence was broken by both his friends offering their warm congratulations. Jack thanked them. “You don’t sound very surprised.”
Frank laughed. “We knew you were a goner as soon as you told us about her. It was rather entertaining to hear you lose your cool like that.”
“Frank,” George chided him.
Frank began to hum the melody from “Another One Bites the Dust,” and Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m glad my heartache was amusing for you.”
“Ignore him,” George commanded. “I have a feeling he’ll get what’s coming to him soon.”
Jack laughed as Frank abruptly stopped mid-note. “Frank, come to Philly. You can meet my new countess and get a cheesesteak all in one trip.”
Royally Seduced Page 18
