Having the Frenchman's Baby

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Having the Frenchman's Baby Page 10

by Rebecca Winters


  “I don’t mean this stand-up kind of frenzied kissing.

  “I’m talking about the real kind of loving that’s a total, unhurried sharing.”

  Just hearing him say those words caused her legs to go weak. “You’re not wrong, Luc. There’s never been another man I could be intimate with because—because no man has ever lived up to my ideal except you.”

  “Is that the truth?” His voice throbbed.

  Her eyes blazed into his. “I know I’m an oddity, but I would never lie about something this crucial to my happiness.”

  He crushed her against him. “Then you don’t know what you’re asking.”

  Her heart died a little. “Is my inexperience that distasteful to you?” she cried.

  His head reared back. “How could you ask me such a question when you can see I’m totally out of control where you’re concerned?”

  “Then I don’t understand. But it doesn’t matter because it’s obvious you’re haunted by something you’re not telling me.”

  She tore away from his grasp and ran from the kitchen. But she only made it as far as the hallway when she felt arms of steel pull her back against his chest.

  “Don’t you know I only said that because I’m afraid you’ll have regrets?”

  She spun around to face him. “If I have any regrets, it’s that I didn’t keep on going after you caught up with me yesterday afternoon. But it’s still not too late to rectify the situation. I’ll be leaving as soon as I can get my bags in the car.”

  “No, Rachel.” His voice sounded gravelly. “You’re not going anywhere except to my bed where I plan to love you all weekend long.”

  The light of desire burned in his eyes, changing his countenance. While her mind tried to comprehend what he’d just said, he picked her up in his arms.

  “Give me your luscious mouth,” he begged before carrying her down the hall to his room. “It’s been a temptation since you called me a lunatic from your car window.”

  Was that only a few days ago?

  Rachel needed no urging to meet his mouth with a hunger she didn’t know herself capable of. He’d become her whole world.

  CHAPTER SIX

  PERHAPS it was the cessation of pounding rain that first brought Rachel out of a deep sleep.

  Morning had come to the Vosges. Only a slight drizzle remained to remind her of the storm that had propelled her into Luc’s arms.

  With renewed hunger, she reached for the man who’d made her feel immortal during the night. Now that she was cognizant of her surroundings, she wanted to know his possession again. Over and over, for the rest of their lives.

  After what they’d shared, Rachel was a different woman. She couldn’t imagine taking another breath without him being there to bring them both ecstasy.

  “Luc.” She whispered his name in an aching voice. When she didn’t feel his warm body, her eyes opened to discover he wasn’t there.

  The dim light from outside filled the room. In the place of the indention his head had made on the pillow, she found a note he’d written.

  She smoothed the hair out of her eyes and sat up to read it.

  Ma belle Rachel—Don’t be alarmed. I’ve had to take care of some business, but I won’t be long. Enjoy your beauty sleep while you can.

  You are beautiful. Did I tell you?

  When I return, I’ll come with arms loaded so we can enjoy ourselves without interruption.

  Shall it be in my bed, or in front of the fire? Any place with you will suit me perfectly well because you’ll be in my arms.

  I long to hold you again.

  Luc.

  Rachel kissed the note, then slid back down under the covers with a voluptuous sigh and pressed it to her chest.

  Last night he’d been so tender with her. Intent on giving her pleasure, he’d brought her fulfillment she hadn’t known was possible.

  Judging by his response, she sensed she’d brought him pleasure too. As the night had worn on, he’d turned to her with greater urgency. They’d both been insatiable. Her face went hot just remembering those hours of rapture.

  Finally they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, exhausted from the intensity of their passion.

  She read the note again, euphoric that he was counting the minutes until he could come back to bed where she was waiting for him.

  We can enjoy ourselves without interruption. Rachel’s toes curled with excitement. The whole weekend to love and be loved by this incredible man.

  If anyone could see her now, they’d be shocked by how breathless she was, waiting to experience the miracle of his lovemaking all over again.

  He’d told her to catch up on her beauty sleep, but that would be impossible. She was wide awake, embarrassingly eager for his return.

  She checked her watch. It was eight-twenty. Rachel had no idea when he’d left, but she imagined it would be a while before she heard his car pull in.

  Deciding to fix herself some fruit and coffee, she slid out of the bed with the intention of taking a shower and washing her hair first. The room was cold.

  But the sight of her clothes flung haphazardly on the floor brought another wave of heat to her cheeks, warming her clear through. She paused long enough to gather them up and put them on a chair before going into the bathroom.

  She flicked on the light, but nothing happened. Still no power. Forget hot coffee.

  Her eyes darted to his yellow toweling robe. It hung from a hook on the door. She buried her face in the fabric where she could smell the scent of the soap he used.

  After her shower, she put it on, loving the feel of something he wore all the time wrapped around her body.

  She cinched in the belt at the waist, then reached for a striped towel and dried her hair as best she could.

  Later she would blow-dry it, but right now she was ravenous and left the bathroom for the kitchen. Maybe there was another quiche left to go with one of those delicious pears.

  The first thing she saw sitting on the counter was her bottle of wine, a wineglass and a half quiche lying on a plate. He’d left another note.

  A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and thou…

  Forgive me for stealing half the loaf. As you’ve found out, I’m a man with several appetites. You’re at the top of my list.

  Luc.

  She smiled and trembled at the same time in anticipation of his arrival. How she loved him!

  This was better than breakfast in bed. This was Luc, so wonderful, so unique in every way. No man compared to him.

  Delighted by the love feast he’d placed before her, she poured herself a little wine. It wasn’t just any wine.

  This came from the Tokay grapes grown in his vineyard, nurtured with all the love and concern of a parent for his child.

  Between bites of quiche, she took swallows of the hand-crafted elixir created by a master. As its warmth spread through her body, she could imagine it was Luc’s hands caressing her, making her aware of her womanhood in a way only he could do. There was no heat like it.

  She felt sorry for every woman who’d never been loved by a man like him.

  Just thinking about him made her heart thud wildly. That was his effect on her and always would be.

  Always.

  She had plans for them.

  Dreams…

  In the midst of her reverie, she thought she heard footsteps coming from the foyer. She spun around and called out Luc’s name in a voice of pure joy.

  “Non. It is not Luc,” said the slim older woman who’d entered the kitchen carrying a covered basket. She had to be five feet seven, Rachel’s height.

  She didn’t know who was more surprised as the two appraised each other for what seemed like minutes. The other woman had spoken English in the same heavy French accent as Luc.

  Her brown hair was cut short and stylishly. She wore a small silver crucifix around her neck. The top of her outfit reminded Rachel of an artist’s smock. It was chic and suited her.

  “I’m his mother, Ma
dame Chartier.”

  Rachel reeled.

  His mother?

  With all the confidence of a parent who felt as at home in her son’s house as her own, she put the basket on the counter near the wine bottle and plate.

  Rachel didn’t know if his mother had been able to read the contents of the note before she’d turned to her. “And you are…”

  The more Rachel studied her, the more she could see the resemblance in the arched eyebrows and those dark brown eyes staring at her with that same startling penetration.

  But instead of intense male admiration, Madame Chartier’s eyes gave off a hostility that was barely veiled.

  “I’m Rachel Valentine, madame.” She swallowed hard. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  The tension was palpable.

  “You’re the buyer from the UK.”

  “That’s right.”

  His mother’s attractive features hardened. “You’ve come to the Wine Route of Alsace. There are over a hundred little villages with hotels, yet you couldn’t find a room in one of them while you did business here?”

  Her disapproving gaze examined Rachel from her damp, disheveled hair to her bare feet.

  “I ended up here because of the storm.”

  “I see.”

  “Luc said it was too dangerous to go anywhere.”

  “Was that before or after you sent our office your wine order?”

  The question hung out there like a live wire.

  “After,” she answered honestly. “We were afraid the vines in the vineyard here would be destroyed, so I came with him to help him tie them to some more stakes.”

  His mother’s wrists were crossed over her flat stomach.

  “How clever of you to ingratiate yourself in a way my son couldn’t possibly have refused.”

  “Look, Madame Chartier, I—”

  “No explanation is necessary,” she cut Rachel off. “The situation speaks for itself. How soon do you expect my son?”

  “I—I don’t know.” Her voice faltered. “He said he had business. I would imagine he’s out surveying any damage to his other vineyards.”

  “You would be wrong in that assumption, mademoiselle. His managers would have already phoned him if there’d been anything serious to report. The business he has every morning is at the hospital in St Hippolyte.”

  Rachel frowned. Was he on the board? With his prominence, he was probably involved with several civic institutions.

  His mother put her hands in the pockets of her sage-colored top. “I can see he’s told you nothing.”

  Rachel took a fortifying breath. “We haven’t known each other long.”

  “Long enough apparently.”

  Those shrewd dark eyes wandered over the robe Rachel was wearing.

  “His sister bought that last year for his thirty-fourth birthday. She’d be surprised to see anyone else wearing it.”

  “I’m sorry you had to see me in it,” Rachel apologized. “I realize it has come as a shock to find me here.”

  “A bigger shock than you can imagine.”

  “Naturally you wouldn’t have known about me. I only came to Alsace on Monday,” Rachel explained in the hope of making this easier on both of them.

  “So I understand from Giles.” Her eyes narrowed. “How soon do you intend to return to England?

  “I’m not sure,” she murmured. It was up to Luc. But if his mother had anything to say about it, Rachel would be out the door and gone from the area within five minutes.

  A strange sound came from the other woman. “My son has been his own man for many years. Until now, he has made wise decisions.”

  Rachel took the bait. She couldn’t help it. “Is it me particularly you have a problem with?”

  She had to wait a long time for an answer.

  “I don’t know enough to like or dislike you, mademoiselle. But you are a very beautiful woman. My son would have to be blind not to be attracted.”

  Rachel shook her head in misery and exasperation. “I still don’t understand.”

  “How could you if he didn’t tell you?”

  Her heart hammered in alarm. “Tell me what? Please, I want to know.”

  His mother gazed at her speculatively, as if pondering whether to say anything or not.

  “He has a wife.”

  “Luc told me he was divorced.” Rachel refused to believe he’d lied to her. That wasn’t the Luc she knew.

  “Not in the eyes of the church. Two days after the proceeding became final, the car accident happened because Paulette was beside herself at the time and realized the divorce was a mistake.

  “God willing, one day soon she’ll wake up from her coma. At that moment they’ll remarry because he’s never stopped loving her, nor she him.”

  Rachel groaned.

  His mother looked all around the room. “He built this house for her. It’s a gift to represent a new beginning.”

  The world tilted for a moment.

  “How long has she been in that state?”

  “Three years.”

  Three?

  “He hasn’t missed a day at her bedside. Nor has he stopped willing her to wake up and love him again. Her family is fighting him in court to get the machines turned off. He won’t hear of it, and is using his financial resources to make certain that doesn’t happen.”

  A knot of pain twisted Rachel’s insides.

  “Not even you could keep him away from her this morning. I’m not telling you this to be hateful. You’ve heard the expression, ‘Sometimes we have to be cruel to be kind.’ I’m simply trying to save you future grief.

  “What you decide to do from here on out is your affair. Adieu, mademoiselle.”

  Adieu meant goodbye for ever.

  Numb from shock, Rachel could only stand there helplessly as she watched his mother leave the kitchen and disappear out the front door.

  “If something seems too good to be true, it always is.”

  That was what Rachel’s embittered mother had used to say in those years following the divorce.

  A coldness began to seep into her body. The kind where you didn’t think you could ever be warm again.

  There was no doubt in her mind the older woman had told her the truth. Madame Chartier had no reason to lie.

  It would be easy enough to call the hospital and receive verification that Luc’s ex-wife was a patient.

  Divorce didn’t mean you stopped loving a person. If anyone understood that, Rachel did.

  Though her father had married four times, he’d claimed Rachel’s mother had been the great love of his life.

  Rachel knew it was true. The marriage before he’d met her mother had been a mistake.

  After her parents’ divorce, his other marriages hadn’t been able to fill up the empty spaces in his life.

  Her father was an emotional mess. But she had to admit she saw a look come into his eyes whenever he talked about her mother.

  If she were still alive, Rachel was positive he’d try to get her to marry him again.

  Even though he failed as a husband and father in so many ways, the emotion for her mother would always be there, no matter what.

  The emotion Luc felt for his ex-wife would always be there. No matter what.

  Rachel had known he was a rare man. To hear he’d spent the last three years devoted to her made him exceptional.

  It also made a future with him impossible. He had demons all right, ones she couldn’t fight.

  Rachel wasn’t like her father’s last two wives, wanting any crumbs he threw them. She would have to be the only woman in Luc’s heart, but she wasn’t. She never would be.

  His great love Paulette was lying in a hospital bed, capable of waking up at any time.

  Miracles like that did happen. That was what Luc was praying for.

  By being brutally honest, Madame Chartier had done Rachel the greatest favor of her life.

  She was an intruder and needed to be gone from this house now!

>   Five minutes later she’d dressed and loaded her bags in the car. Ten minutes later her travel agent had arranged a flight to London from Basel, Switzerland.

  En route across the border Rachel phoned Monsieur Bulot in Châlons, and placed a wine order that would satisfy him and her father.

  Everyone would be satisfied…except for one person.

  The woman who’d awakened this morning full of sublime joy…had just died.

  Luc paid for his groceries and went out to the Wagoneer. As he was putting the bags in the back seat his cell phone went off.

  He glanced at the caller ID and clicked on. “Bonjour, Paul.”

  “Bonjour. I’m phoning to tell you I cancelled the court date for Monday per your instructions.”

  “Good. Now that Yves and I have made our peace, I can breathe more easily.”

  “I’m sure it was a difficult decision for you, but, speaking as your friend as well as your attorney, I think you’ve done the right thing.”

  “So do I. Yves insists Paulette wants out of her bondage. Their family has agreed to give me until the end of the summer.”

  “Why then? I’m curious.”

  “I guess it has been the vintner in me. You know—the hope of a successful harvest in the fall.”

  “You’re still so young, Luc. There are many successful fall harvests in your future, new vintages, if you follow my meaning.”

  Luc had aleady found that out during those rapturous hours of the night.

  “So Giselle has continually reminded me. Thank you, Paul.”

  “You’re welcome. Let’s go to lunch next week.”

  “I’ll call you.”

  He hung up and headed for the house. Thanks to Rachel, his plot of experimental vines had survived the storm. After inspecting his vineyard earlier this morning, he’d only counted five plants that were lost.

  His heart did a fierce kick just contemplating being alone with her for the rest of the weekend. The only reason he’d left her this long was to drive to Thann for a certain artifact he needed to carry out a plan he had in mind.

 

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