Last of the Great French Lovers

by Sarah Holland

  'You should hear what she says to me!' Susannah laughed. 'My God, that girl is the absolute epitome of the rebellious teenager!'

  Alicia stared, dark brows rising. 'You mean she might forgive me?'

  'Of course she'll forgive you!' Susannah said, astonished. 'She adores you! And what she felt for that gorgeous Frenchman was just infatuation.'

  'She said he made a pass at her!'

  'Oh, don't be ridiculous, Alicia. You ought to have more sense. You're talking about Jean-Marc Brissac, the Last of the Great French Lovers. Not some third-rate Casanova from Clapham. He's a rich, powerful, very sexy man,' Susannah said flatly. 'If he wants you, Alicia, I can see exactly why. But Lindy was just his goddaughter's teenage schoolfriend. Why on earth would he bother to make a pass at her?'

  'For the same reason he made a pass at me,' she said icily, hauteur seeping into her face. 'He was bored!'

  Susannah laughed. 'Are you really Alicia Holt?'

  Her eyes darted uncertainly over her sister's face.

  'Go and look in the mirror,' Susannah said coolly. 'You'll see why he wants you.'

  'My looks?' Alicia said scornfully. 'Really! I don't want a --'

  'I didn't mean a real mirror, Alicia.' Her sister arched her dark brows with irony, and Alicia just stared at her in silence.

  When she got home that night, she studied David's unpleasant letter, and wondered what she should do. If she contacted him to try and explain he might turn even nastier than he had done already.

  But her sense of honour demanded that she speak to him, explain, and return the engagement ring personally.

  The doorbell rang as she was making herself low-calorie soup, and she tensed, staring from her small, neat kitchen to the front door. If it was David, she might have an unpleasant scene on her hands. Making a face, she turned off the heat below the soup, and walked to the door.

  'Miss Holt?' A man in black motorbike helmet and leathers stood before her.

  'Yes?'

  'Courier delivery from Paris for you,' he said, holding out a large package, and then a slip of paper. 'Sign here.'

  Alicia opened the package in the kitchen a minute later. A stunning black silk nightdress nestling in folds of tissue paper made her catch her breath. Picking up the envelope that was also there, she tore it open with shaking hands.

  'You might need this,' Jean-Marc Brissac had written in bold black strokes, 'when you arrive at my chateau.'

  Furious, she tore the nightdress from the box, tempted to stamp on it in her rage. Then she saw the air ticket flutter to the floor along with a detailed timetable specifying when she should arrive in Paris, how she would be taken to the chateau in a chauffeur-driven limousine, and how long she would have to stay.

  He can go to hell! she thought, seething inside.

  The doorbell rang again, and she strode over to it, eyes blazing with temper, pulled it open and caught her breath with a shock as she saw David standing there.

  'Hi, beautiful!' he drawled with an unpleasant smile. 'I've come for a chat.'

  She paled, and stepped back with a cold nod, allowing him to step over the threshold. As she closed the door, she knew he hated her, and that it was probably what he had really felt all along.

  'Thought we might have --' he began, and broke off. 'What's this?' Suddenly, he was walking to the kitchen door, picking up the black nightdress from the floor and the note Jean-Marc Brissac had sent.

  'Put that down!' Alicia rushed to stop him.

  'My God!' David screwed up the note, blue eyes incredulous as he turned on her. 'You really have dropped me for him, haven't you?'

  'David, that note is --'

  'All too revealing!' he said tightly. 'I knew you'd never marry me! I knew it! I thought I'd fallen in a pot of jam when you accepted a date with me! My friends said if I ended up marrying you I'd be set up for life, and I would have been, wouldn't I? If it hadn't been for that bastard Brissac!'

  Alicia reeled under the impact of his blunt confession. 'You're not saying --'

  'That I only wanted you for your money?' His mouth twisted and his blue eyes flicked over her slender curves with angry desire. 'No, love! I wanted a lot more than that! But Brissac got it instead of me, didn't he?'

  'David,' she said shakily, 'you mustn't say these things. Not in anger. You're making me think you never even liked me, and I --'

  'Can't bear to face it?' He nodded. 'I knew that, too. Just as I knew you would never go to bed with me outside marriage. That's why I was so patient with you. Didn't you ever ask yourself why?'

  Alicia closed her eyes momentarily, the enormity of what he was saying hitting her like a tidal wave of truths she had always suspected and was now being forced to face.

  There was a sudden acute silence.

  'Oh, God,' David's voice said roughly, 'I've hurt you.'

  She looked up into his face, her eyes bleak, dark coals.

  He winced. 'I didn't mean to do that.'

  Alicia drew a deep breath. 'You should have thought about that before you went around hacking me up into tiny pieces, David. Not only to my face—but to my family, as well.' Her brows lifted. 'You didn't just hurt me. You hurt Lindy, too, and you definitely didn't need to do that.'

  He had the good grace to redden, shame evident in his lowered eyes.

  Alicia slowly removed the engagement ring from her finger. 'I can see that you've acted out of hurt and anger, David. I can see that you're ashamed of what you've done.' Holding out the ring, she said in a low voice, 'But more than anything, I can see that you do not love me and never did.'

  He took the ring, turning it over with a grimace. 'I went too far, didn't I?'

  'Yes, David,' she said tightly. 'You went much too far. And now, I really think you've come to the end of the line.'

  He flicked a look of grim acceptance at her, nodded, and left the house without another word. Alicia stood listening to the silence for a long time.

  Tears welled up in her eyes. What a horrible mess.

  The telephone rang.

  Wiping tears away with quick fingers, she walked to it arid picked up the elegant receiver, trying to sound cool and collected, but aware that her voice was husky and vulnerable.

  'Alicia?' The powerful male voice picked up her mood instantly. 'What's wrong?'

  Her pulses raced with a blend of anger and excitement at the sound of his voice. 'What do you want?'

  'I called to find out if you had received my gift,' Jean-Marc Brissac said flatly. 'But I can see something else has got to you instead. Or should I say someone? David Balhaffi has --'

  'I don't know what you're talking about!' she snapped, her voice hoarse, reacting like a scalded cat to his astute guess and the concern behind it.

  'He's been there!' Jean-Marc bit out thickly. 'My God—what did he do?'

  'Nothing!' she said bitterly, hating him. 'But you'll be pleased to hear my engagement is in ruins, and it's all thanks to you!'

  'You're right,' he said deeply. 'I am pleased. But I want you to promise me never to see him again, Alicia.'

  'Go to hell!' she said thickly, and slammed down the telephone.

  It rang again almost instantly.

  'Want me to fly over and extract that promise from you by force?' his voice sniped at her.

  She drew a ragged breath. 'What business is it of yours? Why won't you leave me alone?'

  'Because I want you, Alicia,' his hard voice said. 'And I will have you.'

  Her mouth went dry and she clutched the receiver in silence, breathing erratically, picturing those steel-grey eyes and the hard mouth and what he would do if she argued.

  'We understand each other,' he said under his breath when she remained silent. 'I will come and get you if you aren't on that plane. Now stop arguing with me. I'll see you on Friday.'

  The line went dead in her hands and she drew a ragged breath, replaced the receiver and cursed him as she shook with rage. He meant it. If she didn't arrive at his chateau on Friday night, he would fl
y over and cause even more chaos in her life than he had already.

  He had caused the ruin of her engagement and the appalling aftermath. He had caused all of it, from start to finish. All right, so she should never have agreed to marry a man like David. But it had not had to end so bitterly, and Jean-Marc Brissac was directly responsible for it.

  Alicia thought of her sweet, vulnerable niece. Jean-Marc had broken Lindy's heart without compunction. Everyone appeared to believe Lindy was making it up, but Alicia had been under attack from the man herself, and she knew to her cost exactly how powerful his sexual impact could be. If she was reduced to a shaking, helpless wreck by the touch of those hard hands and that demanding mouth, how had poor little Lindy felt?

  I'll go to France, she thought angrily, and when I get there I'll give Jean-Marc Brissac a taste of his own medicine. He wants me, he says. Well, he will find out that he can't have me! Not with all the stark insistence of his lovemaking! I'll resist him if I have to fight him to the death!

  I'm going to teach that arrogant swine a lesson he'll never forget!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Alicia left her offices early on Friday and went home to change and pack a small overnight bag. She would not be staying long in France. Just long enough to slap Jean-Marc Brissac's insolent face and prove to him that here was one woman who found him resistible.

  She dressed with care in her favourite red wool dress, sleek-fitting and sexy, her hair pulled back and her dark eyes smouldering with temper. As she left the house, she felt a surge of adrenalin, stopped a taxi and sank back, enjoying the rage as it built in her veins. The private jet waited on the tarmac, glittering red and powerful. But she refused to feel affected by the symbols of his power, and settled back to be waited on hand and foot by the team of stewardesses who had no other passengers but her.

  Touchdown in Paris brought back memories. She smiled savagely. Jean-Marc Brissac had a comeuppance due him, and she would deliver it, even if it killed her. The limousine that met her was another symbol of power and wealth. Alicia rode in the luxurious rear, flicking coolly through French Vogue, barely seeing the clothes, her mind revolving continually on how he would look when his seduction technique failed and Alicia slapped his hard, handsome face with a mocking laugh.

  When the limousine reached Chateau Brissac, however, Alicia felt her courage fade at this, the last and most breathtaking of all the symbols of power. Those endless bleached-stone walls, lead turrets, archways—the sheer size of the medieval chateau and grounds were awe-inspiring.

  But she had come this far, and she refused to back down now. Stepping coolly from the limousine, she walked up to the towering arched front doors, which were open, and walked into the fifty-foot-high hallway.

  A silver-haired butler in black uniform approached her. 'Bonsoir, Mademoiselle. Holt. Monsieur Brissac has instructed that you be shown to your bedroom straight away. Please follow me. The chauffeur will bring your bags.'

  Surprised, Alicia followed him up the sweeping stone staircase. She had expected to see Jean-Marc Brissac immediately. A quiver of disappointment ran through her. Angrily, she suppressed it.

  Refusing to be impressed by the stately grandeur of the chateau, she gave the butler a cool nod of polite thanks when he showed her into her bedroom.

  'I hope you will find everything to your satisfaction,' he said with a smile, and withdrew.

  Alicia raged inwardly at the way she was being treated. This bedroom was fit for Catherine de Medici, with a four-poster bed, antique furniture and deep pile rugs on the polished floor, but she knew she was being treated as a conquered trophy by Jean-Marc Brissac.

  Unpacking her small overnight case, she saw the black nightdress he had sent her and smiled savagely. She would most certainly not be wearing this: she would return it with cold indifference.

  The knock at her door made her stiffen, turning. 'Entrez!' she called sharply, and watched it open to admit Jean-Marc Brissac himself.

  He was devastating in a black business suit, his silk tie loosened, his shirt unbuttoned at the throat, making his sex appeal even more heart-stopping.

  Just the sight of him made fierce rage flood her veins.

  'You came, then,' he said with a gleam of triumph in his grey eyes.

  Inflamed, she said, 'I have a business to run! I don't want to make an enemy of you, Monsieur Brissac! You left me little choice!'

  He laughed softly. 'That's not why you came,' he said deeply, and walked with lazy arrogance towards her.

  She lifted her head, haughty anger in her eyes. 'You're right. I came because I was angry enough to want to see you personally and --'

  'Not indifferent, then?' He was towering over her, the nearness of him sending prickles of awareness all over her skin. 'I'm glad to hear it. And you look well, Alicia. Even more beautiful than I remembered.'

  'Thank you,' she said insultingly. 'I can't reply in kind. You're not my type.'

  'And you hate it when I kiss you.'

  'Yes!' she flamed. 'I hate it!'

  His gaze slid to the four-poster bed beside them. 'You brought the nightdress, though?'

  Hot colour flooded her face. 'Only to tell you what you can do with it!'

  'I know exactly what to do with it!' he drawled, insolence in his grey eyes. 'That's why I --'

  Alicia snatched up the black scrap of silk and lace suddenly, and tore it straight down the middle, her dark eyes blazing. The material ripped easily. With a burst of rage, she threw it at his feet, her face filled with fierce challenge.

  He looked down at it. 'Yes. That was more or less what I had in mind.'

  'Very funny!' Alicia was trembling.

  'Even funnier,' he said softly, flicking his grey gaze back to hers, 'if you now have to sleep without it.'

  'I brought my own,' she said with a great deal of satisfaction. 'And I only intend to stay in this wretched place for one night, so it won't hurt me an inch!'

  'One night?' He frowned. 'My arrangements specified two.'

  'Those are formal business arrangements that go with the job,' she said icily. 'And as I don't intend to take the job, they are irrelevant.'

  His smile mocked her. 'You came all this way just to tell me you don't want the job? Shame on you, Alicia. That's time-wasting and unworthy of you.'

  'As I said—I can't offend you, Monsieur Brissac.' She folded her arms, her face icily haughty. 'I therefore came in person to refuse.'

  'You don't want to offend me, and yet you came here to insult me?' He was laughing at her, secret mockery in his eyes. 'Alicia! You'll go out of business!'

  'Oh, don't twist my words!' she said huskily, looking away, aware that he was going to be able to make a fool of her if she didn't change tactics pretty fast.

  'Is that really what you came to refuse, Alicia?' he asked with a cool shrewdness that infuriated her. 'The job?'

  'What else?' she challenged at once.

  'What else indeed?' he murmured, and one strong hand took hers, lifting it to inspect the ringless finger, satisfaction in his grey eyes. 'Free, then?'

  'I told you.' Angrily, she pulled her hand from his. 'My engagement is in ruins. I'm sure you're delighted.'

  He studied her face. 'Was it very unpleasant, Alicia?'

  'No, just mildly devastating!' she said bitterly.

  'Are you talking about the reactions of your friends? Or was it David who devastated you?'

  'Do you really care?' she asked, eyes scornful. 'It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't engineered it. Thanks to you, I was almost hacked to pieces and turned into pate where my family are concerned.'

  His eyes narrowed. 'What do you mean—hacked to pieces?'

  She met his gaze with bitterness. 'David went to see my sister. She's the only surviving member of my family. Her daughter is --' She broke off, not wanting to discuss Lindy with him, because it could cause far more damage than had already been done to her niece.

  'Yes? Her daughter is?'

  'Nothing.' Alicia lowered her
gaze angrily, staring at the dark silk tie at eye level, his broad, hard-muscled chest disturbingly attractive, particularly as that tie was loose and she could see the beginnings of dark hairs where the shirt collar was unbuttoned twice.

  There was a contemplative silence.

  Jean-Marc Brissac drawled softly, 'Do you know, Alicia... sometimes I think you keep things from me?'

  Her gaze shot to his face.

  'I know who your sister's daughter must be,' he said deeply. 'Lindy Sullivan. And I know what you must be thinking about --'

  'I don't wish to discuss it,' she cut in icily, protective towards Lindy, knowing it would be horribly unfair if she discussed her with Jean-Marc Brissac when she wasn't here to defend herself.

  'She told you about her stay here at the chateau,' Jean-Marc said. 'And you told David.'

  Alicia remained utterly silent, hating him.

  'That's what he used when he got home,' Jean-Marc said. 'He wanted revenge on you because he found you in my arms.' He studied her, his hard mouth angry. 'The best revenge was to turn your niece against you. David knew exactly where to stick the knife, didn't he?'

  'Does that satisfy you, Jean-Marc?' she asked thickly. 'Does that make you feel good?'

  'I'm right, then.' His eyes narrowed. 'How great was the damage, Alicia? Is it serious? Can I do anything to help?'

  She looked at him, her dark eyes bitter, and said under her breath, 'I think you've done quite enough, Monsieur Brissac. Don't you?'

  'Tell me, Alicia.' He wasn't going to let it go until he knew what had happened, and his strong hands pressed hers as he scrutinised her face. 'What happened? Lindy came to see you?' He caught the involuntary gasp she gave as he said that, and his eyes narrowed as he went on. 'At work, I take it, where it would shock you, catch you off guard and cause the maximum impact?'

  She was shocked by his accuracy. That mind missed nothing. 'Lindy burst in while I was in the middle of a design discussion,' she heard herself say huskily. 'She was hysterical. She said some terrible things...'

  He nodded, mouth grim. 'And that hurt more than the break-up with David.'

  The astuteness of his remark took her breath away, made her stare at him with ill-concealed shock, and then the tide of colour rose in her cheeks.