Beloved Intruder

by Patricia Wilson

  'You have a viral infection,' he announced quietly. 'The blood tests will tell us more and until then, you are to stay in bed, probably for a couple of days.'

  'There is no need, monsieur,' she said heatedly, irritated by his actions and by the level way he looked at her as if she were a piece of furniture to be moved around at his whim. 'I admit to being tired, but after a small sleep I shall be quite all right and able to get up!'

  'After a small sleep, mademoiselle, you will take a light meal in bed and then you will take another sleep that will last until tomorrow! Even I obey the doctor's orders, and you have no alternative! When we arrived here you almost fainted again and I had to catch you. On the ferry you slept in my arms looking a small ghost. You will do exactly as you are told! I cannot do with a sick girl on my hands! I am very busy!'

  Beth blushed at the reminder that she had slept in his arms, but her temper was greatly to the fore.

  'I will not be on your hands, monsieur!' she snapped angrily. 'I will try very hard to remain unseen in your house. I realise that I am an intruder and that I shall upset the smooth running of your life to some extent, but I refuse to spend my days in bed!'

  'Ma foi!' he bit out in exasperation. 'You are a small lunatic, I think! Do you imagine that I intend to keep you drugged and tied to your bed for two years?' He advanced angrily to the bed and glared down at her but once again she felt the need to answer back.

  'A year and a half, monsieur. I am almost twenty!'

  'Very well, Mademoiselle Nineteen—almost Twenty!' he rasped. 'Be your age! You know perfectly well that you are ill and that now there is absolutely no need to struggle gallantly on. You need to recover and recover you will!' He paused and hovered over her with barely controlled rage. 'As to being an intruder and remaining unseen in my house, you insult me, mademoiselle, and you insult too my friendship with your Uncle John!'

  He was so angry that she knew that his words were all true. Somehow he got under her skin, and she felt very reliant on him when she had sworn never to be reliant on anyone again. His anger upset her even though she knew that she had brought it on almost deliberately, and tears flooded her eyes as she looked away.

  'Mon Dieu! You think that you can insult me and snap at me like a wildcat and then hide behind floods of tears? You are more of a woman than it seems from your appearance!' He towered over her for a second and then sighed heavily, sitting on the bed beside her. 'Obey a few orders that are merely for your own good. In the morning you will feel much better and in two days, with a little luck, you will be well and exploring the house and grounds.'

  She still kept her head lowered to hide her tears, very upset by the weary frustration in his voice, and he reached for her, drawing her into his arms.

  'Come here, my prickly girl, come to me,' he said with a rueful laugh. 'If I am not careful, you are going to get round me with little effort.' He tilted her chin and wiped her tears with his handkerchief. 'Please do not make a habit of this,' he said with laughter in his voice, 'or you will upset the laundry arrangements of the house.'

  'I—I'm sorry,' she said softly, afraid to look at him, and he drew her back to him, his hand once again soothing on her nape.

  'We will forget all about it,' he promised quietly. 'You are ill. All I wish to do at the moment is to get you well. One step at a time, eh?'

  She nodded against his chest, wanting to go to sleep there, yawning drowsily, her fingers unknowingly plucking at his woollen sweater as if it comforted her, and he put her back on the pillows, standing with one fluid movement, his eyes a little startled on her face when she glanced up at him.

  'When we deal with your new clothes,' he remarked slowly, 'we will also deal with your night attire.' His eyes roamed over her very serviceable nightdress that covered her in almost every place. 'No doubt Paul imagines that I abducted you from an orphanage. You do not look like the heiress to thousands.'

  'It was cold in my bedsit,' she said quickly, blushing under his intent gaze.

  'It is warm here,' he murmured. 'We will have that nightdress framed!' His eyes lingered over her beautiful face and her heavy, golden hair and then he turned abruptly to the door. 'For now, go to sleep. I shall take a few hours' rest myself and then I am dining out. Please obey my orders and then we can get on with your future.'

  He walked out and she allowed her eyes to follow his tall, athletic figure. She was a little downcast that he was going out to leave her alone so soon, but she knew that she could not expect him to interrupt his normal life for her. She was only here for a short while, to move on the very perimeter of his life, and when she had gone, he would be out of her life for ever, she out of his.

  His parting shot too had made her uneasy—'we can get on with your future'; it denoted a great deal of interference, and she would not tolerate that. It was as well that he intended to get on with his own affairs and leave her to hers. All the same, she still felt the warmth where he had held her and comforted her, she still felt the touch of his hand on her nape. It was nice to have someone caring what became of her, she decided, even if that someone was a very determined and arrogant Frenchman.

  She slid down in the comfortable bed and closed her eyes, and when Madame Benoir stole in a little later, she was able to report to monsieur that Mademoiselle Beth was sleeping peacefully and that there was a slight glow of colour in her too pale cheeks.

  Apart from the fact that he popped his head inside the door to wish her good morning and goodnight, Beth saw absolutely nothing of Gaetan for the next two days, and by the morning of the third day she was feeling quite well and very fretful. She obeyed his orders, though, and stayed where she was, re-reading some of her books and chatting to Madame Benoir when she was not too busy.

  She was brushing her long hair, sitting beside the bed feeling rather wistful, when Gaetan paid her a visit. He stood in the doorway, coming no farther in than he had ever done since her first day at the house, and she suddenly felt at a loss for words. During their stormy meeting and afterwards on the long journey to Paris, a kind of grudging relationship had grown between them. Now, after two days when she had hardly seen him, he was a stranger, and his virile presence, his aggressive good looks left her tongue-tied.

  'Today you may get up and wander around the house,' he said abruptly after staring at her for a few disconcerting seconds. He glanced around the room, his eyes on her books. 'You need a bookcase in here. I am sorry. The thought had not occurred to me. There are also books in my library which will interest you as your French is so good. You may get them whenever you wish.'

  'Thank you. I'll read after breakfast.' She could not think of anything to say and his eyes stayed on her for a long time, simply staring.

  'No, there is something else that you must do first,' he said with no inflection in his voice that would lead her to believe that he could be sidetracked from his purpose. 'When you have had your breakfast, come down to the library. I will meet you there. Be pre-pared to go into the city. It is not too warm either, so wear something appropriate. I do not wish to see you so ill again.'

  'Yes.' Beth nodded and looked away. Already her mind was sorting through her few clothes. She couldn't think of a thing that she had that would be appropriate for Paris on a cool day. Her few good clothes were summer clothes, bought when she had gone on the Continent with her uncle. Many of those too were not now suitable, her figure had changed.

  She looked up to find him still watching her and she realised that she had gone on absent-mindedly brushing her hair. She had retreated very often into her thoughts while she was at school and the habit had stuck, shutting people out. He probably thought her very rude. She put her brush down in her lap guiltily.

  'Hmm!' Gaetan watched her for a few moments more, his eyes going from her slender, graceful hands to the shining fall of hair that flowed in a cascade of gold down her back. 'You look at this moment like a mermaid sitting there, brushing your flowing locks, your eyes as grey and shimmering as the sea. What a strange creatur
e you are, ma fille. One wonders what is to become of you.'

  He left as silently and abruptly as he had arrived, and Beth sat dejectedly for a moment trying to make some sense out of his softly spoken words. That she was a strange and unlooked-for oddity in his no doubt glamorous life she had not the slightest doubt, and it must have taken all his considerable determination to follow his code of honour and bring her back here. Well, she was here now and she would have to make the best of it, and so would Gaetan.

  Unfortunately, things did not now seem to be so clear in her mind, and her resolve to have her own way was not now so strong. It was probably the virus, she thought hopefully, and began to re-braid her hair, her mind once again on her clothing situation. She sighed and looked around the lovely room. She would not be happy to give up all this. It was not only the comfort. It was beginning to feel like home, a real home.

  Finally, her mind returned to the vexing problem of clothes, and she decided that it would have to be the jeans and red sweater again. With a resigned shrug, she picked up her jacket and walked down the stairs, facing the household of Gaetan Vernais for the first time since she had come tiredly in by the back door on her arrival. She felt a great deal better, and she was ready for anything that he could throw at her. She would not give in readily as she had done before. He was absolutely nothing to her, and she would cling to any freedom that she had.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Beth didn't know where the library was, but the sound of voices directed her and she went forward, leaving her jacket on a chair in the hall. Her hand was almost on the door-handle when she realised that Gaetan was speaking, not to Madame Benoir but to another woman whose voice she did not know. It was not this that stopped her in her tracks though, Gaetan's words did that.

  'Well, you will see her in a few minutes and you can judge for yourself.'

  'But, chéri, cannot you give me a little clue? What does she look like? Is she clever, stupid, what?'

  There was a pause and Beth realised that she was waiting with as much anxiety as the unseen woman to hear Gaetan's assessment of her. When it came, she was stunned into immobility.

  'She is young, very young, tall, slender, and I suppose, to be fair, she is beautiful. She appears, however, to be filled with resentment and all of it aimed at me. I suppose that I could not have expected her to be anything but difficult, considering the life she has led, but I had hoped… I shall need all the help I can get.'

  'She is not a child, Gaetan, she is almost twenty. I have never known, chéri, when you treated a twenty-year-old girl as a child.'

  'Beth is different! She has been buried in some school for most of her life, she had never really lived! She does not have the subtleties of a woman. You will see exactly what I mean and you know what you are to do today, Madeleine? Take charge fully, she is not capable, she appears to have gone from the strictures of school uniform to the bizarre apparel of a hippie!'

  'She is stupid then, would you say?' the voice enquired mockingly, and received a growl of annoyance from Gaetan.

  'Far from it! She is highly intelligent, with enough brilliant examination results to paper this room, apparently! What do the English call a woman like that? A blue-stocking? Obscure people, the English! Whatever, she is refusing to continue her education, and what I will do with her I do not know. Today though, my dear, you will help me out and it is up to you to… Well try your best with her, I cannot. I really think that she hates me.'

  'One could almost feel sorry for you, chéri,' the voice mocked. 'For the first time in your handsome life, a woman hates you. Already I am on her side.'

  'No doubt you will get along very well with her, Madeleine. Madame Benoir has apparently raised her status to that of saint, and although that rogue Louis has seen Beth only once, he requires a daily bulletin on her progress towards complete recovery.'

  'She is going to upset your smooth and luxurious life, Gaetan. Already I can see that. How are you going to treat her, as a younger sister, as a child, as a prisoner?'

  'How the hell do I know?' he snapped. 'I suppose that I should not have been surprised at her, but I am!'

  'You could have left her. She is not penniless.'

  'She is John's niece and I made a promise. Neither he nor I realised at that time that it would have to be kept but she is here, my responsibility, and there the matter ends.'

  Beth heard nothing more. She was utterly crushed by what she had heard already, and though her mind told her that it was exactly as she had expected, she felt doubly vulnerable to have heard him confirm it. She had been difficult, too, and had planned to be even more difficult. Suddenly her sympathies were all with Gaetan, and she had no idea how to undo what had already happened.

  He was discussing her with one of his lady-friends and normally that would have been enough to annoy her beyond words, but somehow she felt that she deserved this humiliation and she swallowed her pride, opening the door after a brief knock.

  He was leaning against a long, dark desk, his face still moody, and the woman was sitting in a chair at the side of the room, her movement as she got to her feet attracting Beth's attention.

  'Ah, you are here,' Gaetan murmured. His eyes skimmed over her clothes, a sudden leaping amusement in them as he noted that she had not worn a long skirt or garish blouse. 'This is Madame St Just. Madeleine, Mademoiselle Elizabeth Craig.'

  'I am pleased to meet you, madame,' Beth said, her face still and pale as she looked at the beautiful woman opposite. Her own inadequacies were suddenly all too glaringly obvious at the side of the chic Frenchwoman. She was almost as slim as Beth herself and her eyes were as dark as Gaetan's, her hair a pale, shining blonde, skilfully arranged, and her clothes were perfect. This was what Gaetan was accustomed to. No wonder he found her odd.

  'And I, mademoiselle, am intrigued to meet you!' She came forward and grasped Beth, kissing her on both cheeks in the French manner, and Beth was as stunned by her warmth as she was overwhelmed by her appearance.

  'Such magnificent hair!' Madame St Just sighed, turning to Gaetan. 'Chéri, I would give everything that you own to have hair like this!'

  'You are blonde yourself, Madeleine,' Gaetan reminded her with a wide grin at her witticism, but she frowned and turned away with a laugh.

  'Thanks to the best salon in Paris, Gaetan, as you know perfectly well. This hair is absolutely real! It is like gold-dust!'

  'You embarrass Beth,' Gaetan warned as Beth's cheeks took on a rosy hue. 'You must forgive my sister, Beth,' he added with a look of amusement at Madeleine. 'She is used to being spoiled and to saying whatever comes into her mind. Maybe, after all, you will have much in common,' he added with a wry look at her. 'You will go with Madeleine today. I have too much to do to accompany you—but then I think that you will probably be better served by being with my sister than with me.'

  His sister! Beth could hardly stop the sigh of relief that sprang to her lips. He had not been discussing her with an outsider. How her mind made that more reasonable she did not know but she was looking for excuses for him and it was for some reason a source of joy that this beautiful woman was not his girlfriend.

  'Well, we may as well go off on our travels,' Madeleine announced crisply, pulling on her gloves and making for the door. 'We shall have lunch out, but then, I do not suppose that you will be sitting here waiting, Gaetan?'

  'No. I shall be out all day. I will check your achievements later.'

  'If that is a threat, mon ami, then you know that I do not frighten easily,' Madeleine retorted, sailing through the door and motioning a bewildered Beth to follow.

  Beth turned after one startled look at Gaetan but his voice stopped her.

  'Beth, one moment.' She looked at him enquiringly and he gave her a rueful smile. 'No questions? No demands for explanations?'

  'No, monsieur. I know that I am going to the city with Madame St Just.'

  'You are going to buy clothes and everything else that you need.' He walked forward quietly. 'I must tel
l you this myself. I do not know how Madeleine would take a shot across the bows from you. If you are going to rage, then please do it now. I have told her to spend as much as she wishes and I can well afford it. You may be extravagant.'

  She stood still and he waited for her temper to surface, puzzled when she simply nodded.

  'No arguments, Beth?'

  'No, monsieur.' She felt very protective towards him suddenly, not wanting to send him off for the day with an argument in his mind.

  The idea of protecting someone so powerful and strong suddenly struck her as being ludicrous and brought a quirk of amusement to her lips that grew into an enchanting smile.

  Gaetan seemed to stiffen, and an odd feeling ran through Beth that she had felt only once before, when he had fastened her seat-belt. It brought a rush of colour to her face and as dark eyes met grey, he threw his head back, his eyes veiled, watching her confusion.

  'So, you can smile then?' he said softly. 'Perhaps it is a good omen. I want you to enjoy this day. I want it to make up to you some of the things you have missed. With a bit of luck and a lot of perseverance we will soon have that huge wardrobe in your room filled with beautiful clothes.' He stepped close and took her slender shoulders in his hands. 'It will bring you closer to being…'

  'Normal?' she finished helpfully, and his long lips twisted into a smile of his own, a wry smile that seemed to be self-mocking.

  'Perhaps,' he agreed softly. 'We shall have to wait and see. It is up to you, mademoiselle.'

  'I shall try then, monsieur,' she countered, smiling up into his face. He stared at her for a moment as if puzzled and then, as Madeleine called impatiently from the hall, he bent quickly, his lips touching her cheek.