As Andreas drove up the long entrance to the chateau, Sienna drew in a breath of wonder. She had seen pictures of the Chateau de Chalvy in the past, but it was completely different witnessing the exquisite beauty of the centuries-old chateau face to face.
Lavender fields lay in front of the chateau, while rolling green hills and pastures and the mountains beyond were its backdrop. A distant field of bright red poppies danced in the warm summer breeze. The air was fresh and fragrant and the birdsong from the shrubbery in the chateau’s gardens was such a delight to hear after the bustle and busyness of the airport.
The tempting thought of actually owning this piece of paradise came back, but stronger this time. It dangled like an irresistible lure in front of her. If Andreas left her before the six months was up, all of this would be hers. Every hectare of fertile land, every ancient stone of the chateau and its surrounding buildings, every bloom of every fragrant flower and every blade of grass would be legally hers.
It made her heart thump excitedly. Was it mercenary of her to want a place like this? No one would be able to kick her out. No one would be hammering on the door for unpaid rent. She would feel secure for the first time in her life. She would have a roof over her head that no one could take away. It would be hers and hers alone.
But it could only be hers if Andreas called an early end to their marriage.
As Andreas was helping her from the car, the estate manager Jean-Claude Perrault and his wife Simone greeted them. The French couple were obviously keen to show Andreas that they were worthy caretakers of his mother’s beloved estate, although their formality with Sienna was annoying. According to the Perraults, Sienna might be Andreas’s wife, but she was a foreigner, and a British one at that.
After refreshments were served, Jean-Claude suggested he take Andreas on a quick tour of the property while Simone helped Sienna to settle in.
Sienna followed the Frenchwoman upstairs to where a suite had been specially prepared for their stay. Heirloom linen had been taken out of storage and washed and ironed, and the big walnut bed dusted and polished. Sienna didn’t like to tell Simone that she and Andreas weren’t actually sharing a room, so she just smiled and complimented Simone on the lovely décor and the fresh flowers sitting on the antique dressing table and on a chest of drawers.
‘This has always been the bridal suite,’ Simone said. ‘For centuries, Chalvy brides have started their married life here. It has the best view of the lavender fields. It is a pity you can’t stay longer. It is a very short honeymoon, but then Monsieur Ferrante is a very busy man, no?’
‘Very busy,’ Sienna agreed.
‘I’ll leave you to rest,’ Simone said, some of her earlier formality softening slightly. ‘Dinner will be served at eight-thirty. I have organised a chef from the village to prepare a celebratory meal for you both.’
‘That was very kind of you,’ Sienna said.
‘Not at all,’ Simone said. ‘This is the first time in many years that Monsieur Ferrante has been to the Chateau de Chalvy estate. It is a time to celebrate both that and your marriage. Jean-Claude and I are happy he is finally settled. For a time we wondered if he would be like his uncle and never marry.’
‘You mean Andreas’s uncle Jules?’
Simone nodded as she smoothed the perfectly neat bedcover. ‘He was very much a playboy,’ she said. ‘Definitely not a one-woman man, if you know what I mean. His sister Evaline, on the other hand, only ever had eyes for Andreas’s father. She fell in love with him as a teenager. It was a happy marriage until …’ She gave a discomfited smile, two spots of colour pooling high on her cheekbones. ‘I should not be gossiping like one of the village girls. Forgive me. I forgot your connection to the family. I did not mean to offend you.’
‘It’s all right,’ Sienna said. ‘I understand my mother’s involvement with Andreas’s father caused a lot of pain for a lot of people.’
‘I suppose no one really knows what goes on in a marriage other than the two people involved,’ Simone said with a little sigh. ‘Evaline loved Guido to the day she died, but I suspect he might not have loved her at all. Some men are like that, especially rich men. They can have anyone they want and they know it.’
Sienna couldn’t have agreed more. Didn’t her marriage to Andreas prove it?
‘I have a problem,’ Sienna said as soon as she found Andreas in the garden of the chateau. She had spied him from the window of their suite and had immediately come down to speak to him. He was standing on some flagstones next to a fishpond where some frogs were croaking volubly. Water lilies floated on the surface of the pond and every now and again a flash of bright orange came to the top as a goldfish came in search of food.
‘Let me guess,’ Andreas said with a flicker of his signature mocking smile. ‘You forgot your hair straighteners?’
She gave him a speaking glance. ‘I am not sharing a room with you,’ she said, ‘especially the bridal suite. Do you have any idea of the trouble Simone has gone to? It’s like she was expecting royalty to arrive. There are flowers on just about every surface and the linen your great-great-great-grandparents slept in has been brought out of storage and is on the bed, for God’s sake!’
He took her arm and looped it through one of his and led her away from the fishpond to a long avenue of yew trees that led to a magnificent fountain. ‘There are workers about, ma chérie,’ he said. ‘Keep your voice down.’
Sienna felt her breast brush against his arm and suppressed a shiver of forbidden delight. ‘You have to do something, Andreas,’ she insisted.
‘There’s no need to get all het up about it,’ he said. ‘It’s only for a couple of nights. Besides, we can’t break with the Chalvy tradition. Every new bride spends her first night there with her husband. It’s been that way for hundreds of years.’
She stopped in her tracks and glared up at him. ‘You knew about this all along, didn’t you?’ she said. ‘You knew it and didn’t warn me.’
‘To be quite honest, I’d forgotten about the tradition until you mentioned the linen,’ he said. ‘My grandmother was the last Chalvy bride, as my mother married my father in Italy and only came back for occasional visits well into their marriage. And my uncle never married, so you are the first new bride to stay here since.’
‘Aren’t you forgetting a minor detail here?’ Sienna asked. ‘I’m not a Chalvy bride. I’m a Ferrante bride.’
Something moved at the back of his eyes as they held hers, something dark and pulsing. ‘According to the tradition, a bride is a bride no matter who she belongs to,’ he said.
Sienna narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I don’t belong to you, Andreas,’ she said. ‘And you’d better not forget it.’
His lips curved upwards as he captured both of her hands in his and brought her closer. ‘Stop scowling and start smiling like a blushing bride, cara,’ he said. ‘There’s a gardener clipping a hedge about twenty metres away.’
Sienna felt the brush of Andreas’s hard male body against her stomach and a flare of heat rushed through her. Her gaze went to his mouth, that beautiful, sinfully sculpted mouth that had already done so much damage to her equilibrium. It was impossible to ignore the way her body reacted to his. His proximity, his touch, even his hazel gaze sent an electric jolt of awareness through her. Her breasts rose to sensitive peaks against his chest as he brought her a little bit closer, and then her stomach plunged when he lowered his mouth to hers.
His lips were firm but gentle as they played with hers: a soft press, a lift-off, another soft press and then a slightly firmer, more insistent one. Then his tongue stroked over her bottom lip, making it tingle and fizz with sensation. She opened to him on a soft gasp and her stomach plummeted even further when his tongue masterfully took control of hers. He cajoled it into an erotic duel, leaving her in no doubt who was going to win the sensual war in the end. He’d had her at his mercy from the first moment his lips touched hers. She was boneless within seconds, leaning into him, desperate to feel more
of his magical touch … to feel the urgency of his need against hers … to feel the potency of his raw male desire. It made her feel dizzy with longing. The need crept through her like a stealthy opponent on a covert mission. She didn’t want to feel so out of control but her body was hungry for every erotic feeling he was tempting her with.
He drove a splayed hand through her hair, tilting her head so he could kiss her deeper and longer, the rough stubble of his jaw scraping along her softer skin. She lost herself in the frenzied fever of his kiss. It was urgent, it was boldly insistent and, with that captivating edge of taboo about it, it made her forget about the past or the future. She was totally in the moment and the moment was all about him and how he made her feel.
His hand went from her head to slide down to the dip in her spine, pulling her against the jut of his erection. It was shockingly, shamelessly intimate. It made every sensible thought fly out of her head. She was suddenly and totally reduced to raw physical need.
His mouth lifted off hers as his gaze drilled smoulderingly into hers. ‘Still want separate bedrooms?’ he asked.
Sienna drew in a sharp little breath that was connected to something deep in the pit of her belly. ‘I’m starting to see there could be some benefits to airing that musty old linen,’ she conceded wryly.
He gave a spine-tingling chuckle as he cupped her face in his hands. ‘I like how you make me laugh, ma petite,’ he said. ‘You don’t kowtow to me like a lot of women do. I like that you are spirited and feisty. You always stand your ground with me.’
Sienna wished she could find some ground to stand on, but right now she was on the rockiest platform she had ever occupied. She was teetering on the edge of throwing caution to the wind and diving head first into a passionate affair with Andreas, no matter what the cost to her ultimately. She looked into his gaze and felt another layer of her resolve peel away like a slough of old useless skin.
She wanted him.
She had always wanted him.
She could have him for six months.
The thought was more than a temptation. It was a statement of intent. The rationalisations began in her head. It was a finite time. She would be able to walk away when it was over. She knew the rules from the outset and so did he. It was a convenient arrangement, a no-strings affair that had benefits for them both. She wouldn’t fall in love with him and he wouldn’t fall in love with her. It would be an exciting erotic interlude to pass the time while they were shackled together in marriage. God knew she could do with the experience of a red-hot affair. Her body was craving an outlet for the sensuality denied her for so long.
Andreas stroked the broad pad of his thumb over Sienna’s bottom lip, his hazel eyes meshing with hers in simmering heat. ‘You know how much I want you,’ he said. ‘You’ve known it from the start. I think my father must have known it too, otherwise why would he have orchestrated this?’
Sienna salved her tingling lips with a quick darting sweep of her tongue. ‘I meant what I said last night,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I acted the way I did when I was seventeen. I panicked when your father came in. I didn’t want my mother to lose her job. It was the first time I’d seen her really happy. I didn’t want to be the one who wrecked everything for her. I didn’t think things would get so out of hand. I didn’t think you would leave and never come back.’
‘There were lots of reasons I didn’t come back,’ he said, dropping his hands from her face to walk with her back towards the chateau. ‘My father and I always had a difficult relationship. We locked horns on many things. He didn’t want me to pursue my furniture design work. But I wanted to work for my wealth, not simply inherit it from him and his father and grandfather before him. I wanted to make my own way, not stand on anyone’s shoulders. My father took that as a slight. He liked to have control, but I refused to play by his rules.’
Sienna walked alongside him, wondering if he would ever forgive her for her shameless behaviour. She had made his already strained relationship with his father so much worse. No wonder he hated her so much. She had ruined any chance of him making peace before his father had died. How could she expect him to overlook that as just a bit of immaturity on her part? ‘I didn’t realise the reason my mother was so happy was because she was having an affair with your father,’ she said after a little silence. ‘I think I would’ve acted differently if I’d known about that at the time.’
He stopped walking and turned to look down at her, an embittered frown slicing between his dark brows. ‘Your mother wanted a quick leg up in life,’ he said. ‘She ruthlessly set her sights on my father. He was to be her next meal ticket. To this day I don’t understand why he was so foolish to get involved with a shameless slut like her.’
‘My mother loved him,’ Sienna said, glaring at him for painting such a tawdry picture of her mother. ‘He was the only man she had ever loved. She told me a few days before she died. Her life before that had been a litany of meaningless affairs. But once she met your father she fell deeply in love. She was devastated when he refused to acknowledge her publicly. I think she thought after your mother passed away that he would marry her.’
Andreas’s expression was cynical. ‘Are you sure it was him she loved or the lifestyle he could give her?’ he asked.
Sienna gave him another flinty glare. ‘I don’t expect you to understand what love feels like,’ she said. ‘You’re exactly like your father in that sense. You take what you want from people and give nothing back. Emotion doesn’t come into it. Your life is a series of cold, hard business deals conducted one after the other.’
‘Ah, but is that not just like you?’ Andreas asked with a sardonic slant to his mouth. ‘You married Brian Littlemore for money. You have married me for exactly the same reason. Is that not rather cold and businesslike? You want money in exchange for your body, but you will not give your heart.’
‘Do you want my heart, Andreas?’ she asked with a deliberately taunting look.
His gaze ran over her like the scorching stroke of a naked flame. ‘I think you know what I want,’ he said. ‘It’s what we both want. And tonight there is nothing to stop us from having it.’
She lifted her chin at him. ‘I haven’t said I’ll sleep with you.’
He bent his head and pressed a brief but searing kiss to her mouth. ‘Not yet, but you will,’ he said, flashing one of his satirical smiles. ‘You won’t be able to help yourself.’
‘Let’s see about that, shall we?’ she said.
He touched her cheek with a soft brushstroke of one of his fingers, his eyes burning hers with the glinting fire of his. ‘I can hardly wait,’ he said and, with another mocking smile, he left.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SIENNA felt in an edgy mood by the time she joined Andreas for pre-dinner drinks downstairs. She had successfully managed to avoid him since their meeting in the garden but she had been aware of him all the same. She had heard him come upstairs to shower and change for dinner. She had imagined him standing under the showerhead as she had done only minutes before, his body lean and tanned, all rippling muscles and toned naked male flesh. Her stomach had triple somersaulted at the thought of standing there with him, of feeling his hard body dividing the softness of hers to claim her as his. Her body seemed to be intent on having what her mind tried so valiantly to resist. Her traitorous body was clamouring for more of his touch, for more of his kisses, for more flesh on flesh contact—for everything.
And Andreas—damn him—knew it.
Sienna entered the large salon overlooking the chateau’s formal garden with her nerves jangling in irritation. ‘Where are Jean-Claude and Simone?’ she asked. ‘Aren’t they joining us?’
Andreas gave her a crooked smile that made his eyes glint. ‘It’s our honeymoon, ma chérie,’ he said. ‘Four’s a crowd, don’t you think?’
She averted her gaze and reached for the champagne he had poured for her. ‘I can see why you wanted to secure this place,’ she said to change the subject. ‘It’s very beaut
iful.’
‘My mother loved it here,’ he said. ‘She wanted her grandchildren to grow up like Miette and I did, with both French and Italian cultural experiences.’
Sienna looked at the bubbles in her glass, trying not to think of Andreas’s future children running about the chateau and its gardens. It was unsettling to think of him with some other faceless woman on his arm, a woman he had selected as prime wife material. Or maybe he would take Portia Briscoe back once his brief marriage to Sienna was over. But that thought was even more upsetting. The more she knew of Andreas, the less suited Portia seemed to be for him. Couldn’t he see that?
‘Was Miette upset that the chateau was left to you and not to her?’ Sienna asked after a little silence.
‘My sister was more upset it was co-inherited by you,’ he said. ‘She is worried you will do everything in your power to make me default.’
Sienna could see why his sister would feel the way she did about her. Their relationship during the time she had lived with the family had been fraught with tension. Many a petty or bitchy argument had broken out between them, which, to be fair, Sienna knew she was largely responsible for. She had been insanely jealous of Miette as the only daughter of the Ferrante dynasty. To Sienna, Miette was everything she was not. Miette had two parents who adored her, an older brother who was loving and protective towards her, and she had grown up with the sort of wealth that meant she never had to worry about anything other than what designer brand to choose over another. Like Andreas, Miette had been to the best schools and university. Miette had even spent a year at a Swiss finishing school before she’d moved to London, where she had met her now equally well-heeled husband. Miette’s life was the dream life Sienna had always wanted for herself. ‘What did you say to her?’ she asked before taking a sip of her drink.
Enemies at the Altar Page 8
