Kellie would need good luck.
Throughout the rest of the day she alternated between tending to Philippe’s ice bags and preparing some homemade food.
At cooking school she’d developed a special recipe for vichyssoise. She served it warm and followed it with lime escalope de veau and shelled peas seasoned with thyme and steamed slowly over a layer of lettuce to enhance their flavor. The meal had won her first prize during the school’s final week of cooking competitions.
This would be the first time she’d prepared it for Philippe. During their first month of marriage, their only month she moaned inwardly, any free time she’d had left over from her French studies was devoted to her gorgeous husband.
Prior to the their marriage, he’d retained a cook who came in several times a week to order food and prepare meals. All that changed when he brought Kellie back to Neuchâtel as his wife. She insisted on doing the shopping and the cooking herself.
More often than not however, she would pick him up after work and they’d drive into the countryside dotted with chalets in flowering meadows and the occasional castle hugging a steep, verdant hillside.
They’d share a romantic meal at some charming local restaurant famous for its raclette or fondue dishes. After a short walk, they’d return home for a night of rapture in each other’s arms.
Not tonight.
Maybe not ever again.
But that thought was so insupportable, she refused to entertain it any longer.
To think negatively was an exercise in wasted energy. She’d come to Switzerland to save her marriage. The first thing to do was forget herself and concentrate on his needs.
It would mean fighting fire with fire, but there was no other option.
With her mind made up, a plan began to form. Full of determination, she returned the tray to the kitchen. After plucking the cane from the peg, she carried it upstairs along with Philippe’s backpack and the plastic bottle of pills the doctor had left.
Philippe’s eyes were closed, but he could be pretending in order to blot her from his consciousness. After lying on that bed all day, he was probably wide awake and in the kind of pain he would never admit to her.
She walked over to the next bed and emptied his backpack. Once she’d found the kit containing his toiletries, she took it to the bathroom and laid everything out on the counter for him.
A few minutes later she approached him and removed the ice bag. “Philippe? It’s time to help you to the bathroom.”
His dark-lashed eyelids flew open so fast, she realized she’d been right in her assessment about his determination to ignore her existence.
“I’ll help ease your leg to the floor. Here’s your cane. Use it to inch your way to the edge of the bed. When you’re ready to stand, put your other arm around my shoulder.”
Pleased that he didn’t protest, she waited until he was ready, then bent her knees so he could slide his arm around her.
If she’d needed further evidence of his revulsion of her, his taut masculine physique was the proof. His body might as well have been an unyielding block of cement.
The second he reached the bathroom, he removed his arm from her shoulder and disappeared inside, slamming the door in her face. Not to be thwarted, she straightened his bedding and found another pillow to support his head.
When he finally emerged with his cane, the venomous look in his eyes challenged her to take one step toward him. Deciding that he seemed to be managing all right, she stayed where she was. Not until he sat down did she help lift his leg onto the pillows which she arranged once he’d fallen back against the mattress.
She rested his cane against the side of the nightstand so he could reach it if he needed to. Then she pulled one of the chairs near his bed and sat down.
“I know you hate my being here, and wish we were already divorced,” she began before he could order her out of the loft, “but it’s fortunate you haven’t signed those papers yet.”
His emotional withdrawal seemed even more pronounced.
“I say that because you need a wife to help you gain custody of your son. Yvette’s mother may love her grandson, but she’s not the parent and has no right to keep him from you. We’re still married, Philippe,” she declared in a firm voice.
“Together we can convince a judge we have a stable home complete with a mother and father who want nothing more than to raise our child.”
“Mon Dieu!” he lashed out in rage. “You think for one second you could convince a judge of anything after the headlines let the whole world know you disappeared off the face of the earth at the first sign of trouble in the Didier marriage?”
Don’t let his fury get to you now, Kellie.
Raoul had known what he was doing when he’d wanted her to see that newspaper article first.
“Yes. Judges rule for the welfare of the child, nothing else. When he hears that I was willing to give you your freedom so you could marry Yvette to give your son your name and provide a home, it will weigh the case in our favor.
“Especially when I tell him that there was no divorce because the birth mother passed away and now I’ve come back to help raise the baby as if it had been born from my own body.”
He made a noise that sounded of bitterness and so many other violent emotions she couldn’t decipher them all.
“All he’d need to see is the letter I left in the study for you as proof of my intentions.”
Philippe jackknifed into a sitting position on the bed, mindless of the pain it must be causing him. “You think that letter still exists?” The words came out sounding like a hiss.
She wasn’t going to let him get to her. “It doesn’t matter. I told Claudine everything I wrote to you.”
“There’s been no DNA test done yet. It may turn out I’m not the father.”
“No matter what, Yvette believed it was yours. If you still want the baby, we’ll raise it with all the love we have to give.”
A grimace transformed his features. “Aside from the fact that her mother would never allow it, are you trying to tell me you’d bring up an infant that wasn’t either of ours?” he demanded with such mocking incredulity, she was heartbroken all over again.
“Of course. What if none of this had happened and we’d found out we had to adopt? A baby is a baby, Philippe. They’re so innocent. All they want is love. Did you ever see him?”
There was a long silence. “Once, from the nursery window, but he was too far away for me to form any impression.”
“All the same, can you deny your heart didn’t melt?”
“It’s a moot point if the baby isn’t mine.”
“Not necessarily. If you’ll obey the doctor, the sooner you’ll be ready to fly back to Neuchâtel and see what can be done about the situation.”
Though Kellie felt it would be better for him to wait a week before he tried to get around again, she knew her husband. He would never be able to stand that much inactivity.
Afraid she’d said too much, she decided to leave before he hurt her with another soul-destroying gibe. She got up from the chair and placed it against the wall.
On the hope that he might phone Raoul to talk things over with him first, she put the cell phone from his backpack on the nightstand next to him.
“I’ll be up in a little while with another ice bag.”
Afraid her emotions were showing, she hurried down the stairs to finish cooking dinner. But when she entered the kitchen, fatigue seemed to overtake her body.
Since leaving Washington, her headaches had mysteriously stopped. In their place she was aware of an increase in her appetite. Right now she found she was starving to the point that she had the shakes.
Without conscious thought she ate some soup from the serving spoon. It tasted so good she ended up eating two helpings of everything she’d prepared. As she speared the last few peas and put them into her mouth, she remembered the old adage about “eating for two.”
Though it had been two weeks since th
e doctor had informed her she was going to have a baby, it hadn’t seemed real. Not when she’d been expending all her thoughts and energy on her husband who lived across the Atlantic.
Now suddenly she was vitally aware of her condition and would give anything in the world to run upstairs and share the news with him. But she didn’t dare do anything to exacerbate an already impossible situation.
Soon she had his plate ready. She prepared sweet hot tea with lemon and put it on the tray with his dinner. Tucking another ice bag under her arm, she carried his meal upstairs.
To her satisfaction he’d managed to prop his back against the headboard and still keep his leg elevated at the same time. He was talking to someone on the phone in a low voice, possibly Marcel. She couldn’t make out words. Then again it might be Raoul or his friends, even someone in his family.
She didn’t care. His body language let her know he wasn’t holding himself as rigidly as before. The pain pills had to be partially responsible for his more relaxed position. But the fact that he was breaking his long silence with the outside world told its own tale.
Taking full advantage of the moment, she put the tray on his lap and laid the ice bag over his knee. Then she hurried downstairs so he couldn’t accuse her of eavesdropping.
If he didn’t want his dinner, he’d have to try to put the tray on the nightstand. She was counting on it being too difficult for him to attempt. In twenty minutes she’d go back to remove the ice bag and discover if her efforts had been wasted.
Kellie had seen the anguish in his eyes when she’d brought up the subject of Yvette’s mother keeping his son from him. More than ever she was determined to help him. Getting him to eat was a start in the right direction.
Thirty minutes later she reentered the loft and immediately felt her husband’s dark, penetrating gaze. The cell phone lay at his side.
She walked over to the bed. As she removed the ice bag, her eyes couldn’t help but wander to the empty dishes on the tray.
“You don’t need to look surprised,” his voice grated. “I am still married to a French chef. There’s no point in pretending that it wasn’t one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, relieved that his appetite seemed to have returned, at least for today. She picked up the tray. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No. You’ve done quite enough. Don’t come up here again.”
His cold edict shriveled her heart. Philippe didn’t want her anywhere around.
Lee had made Kellie promise to phone if she needed to talk. Now was one of those times, but when she tried the number it was busy.
An hour later, after cleaning up the kitchen, she went to the bedroom and pressed the buttons again.
“Put the receiver back on the hook.”
Kellie spun around in shock. Philippe had entered the room in his bare feet. He leaned on his cane.
“What possessed you to attempt those stairs?” she cried out. “Don’t you want your knee to get better?”
“Thanks to your expert nursing care, it feels fine. Hang up the phone, Kellie.”
Her fingers obeyed his command.
“Once before you did a disappearing act on me.”
Heat swept into her face, scorching her cheeks.
“Guilty as sin, aren’t you. It seems you have no shame.”
Though his bitter mockery stung her to the quick, all she could think about was his leg and how much it must be hurting.
“Philippe—you need to lie down.”
His eyes narrowed. “If you’re suggesting I go to bed in here, I have no complaint. It’s either this room or the master bedroom.”
Ignoring his taunt she said, “Please rest your leg and let me make you comfortable.”
“Is that an invitation?” He sneered at her.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I want to wait on you.”
“Today you gave me help when I needed it most. Tonight’s a different story.”
Kellie willed herself not to rise to the bait. “If you’re feeling that much better, I’ll phone for a taxi and leave.”
“Fine. I’ll call Honore and cancel our appointment with him for tomorrow.”
He’d already talked to him?
Honore Dufort, the Didier family solicitor had been like another member of their household. Kellie had grown very fond of him during her month’s stay in Paris. After her marriage to Philippe, they’d entertained him at the apartment when he’d come on business.
“But you don’t want me here,” her voice shook.
“Let’s just say I no longer have the desire to sleep with my wife.”
Kellie knew that, but to hear it put so bluntly shot excruciating pain through her body.
“Tell me now if you’re planning another vanishing act so I can cancel it.”
“But the doctor said you shouldn’t go anywhere for a couple of days.”
His jaw hardened. “Every day I don’t take action puts me at a further distance from my child, provided of course that it’s mine. The taxi will be here for us at eighty-thirty in the morning to drive us to the helicopter pad. If you’re not here when I get up, I’ll know you left by some other means.”
Philippe wanted Yvette’s son. Though he despised Kellie, he wanted the baby enough to use her.
Kellie loved her husband enough to be used.
“I’m so thankful Honore believes you have a chance to win custody of the baby,” she said before turning toward the bathroom.
“Kellie?”
She paused midstride. “Yes?”
“If this is some elaborate ploy to try to fix what’s wrong between us, then you’re wasting your time. Should it turn out this baby is mine and I get custody, you can plan on a divorce as soon as I’ve found the right live-in nanny.
“In case it isn’t mine, I’ll sign those divorce papers and put you on a plane back to Washington so fast, you won’t have time to blink.”
Though he’d meant every word just now, he’d listened to her proposition and wasn’t throwing her out of Raoul’s chalet tonight. It was something to be thankful for.
From here on she would bide her time until she could find a crack in that frozen wall of ice surrounding his heart. No matter how impossible it looked, she would never stop trying to win back his love.
“Please know that I’ll do everything in my power to help you gain custody of your son before you divorce me.
“If, as you said, it’s proven he’s not your child and you choose not to pursue things further, you have my promise I’ll leave you alone.”
But I won’t promise to leave Switzerland. I can’t. Not when I’m carrying your child.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE limousine driver who had picked up Kellie and Philippe at the prince’s private heliport in Neuchâtel put their baggage in the apartment lift before he disappeared from the lobby.
Philippe was so fiercely independent, he leaned on his cane and refused any help from her. Nursing him throughout the night with ice bags was one thing. But they were no longer at the chalet.
As they rode to the penthouse, she realized it was better that they didn’t touch. Otherwise he’d feel her pulse racing out of control because she was coming back to a place where she’d known ecstasy with her husband.
The second he let them in the door, her eyes darted everywhere while she drank in the familiar ambiance with its attendant memories of living and loving.
As she walked through the rooms, all signs of the intimate dinner for two had been cleared away. Had he instructed the maids to throw everything in the trash? The cuff links and the accompanying note where she’d poured out her love?
Before he could banish her from their bedroom, she headed for the guest room with her overnight bag. He’d made it clear she was here for one reason only. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate him further by attempting to sleep in the same bedroom with him.
Afraid he would accuse her of hovering, she took a shower an
d slipped on a skirt and sweater. When she’d emptied her overnight bag and put everything away, she walked through the apartment to the kitchen.
A quick inventory revealed an empty refrigerator. Raoul hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said Philippe had stopped eating. How could he when there was no food in the place!
Her first order of business was to make a hot pot of tea for husband, then go to the market. Glad for something constructive to do, she opened a tin of biscuits to serve with it, then fashioned another ice bag. When everything was ready, she went in search of him.
“Oh— I’m sorry—”
She’d almost collided with his tall, rock solid physique in the hallway where he’d just come out of their bedroom using his cane. He’d showered and changed into trousers and a pullover in a dark red color she particularly loved against his olive complexion.
“Shouldn’t you be resting your leg?”
He stared at the tray, then at her. His lids veiled his eyes so she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“I’d prefer talking to Patrick in the living room,” he muttered before walking around her.
Surprised that his brother was coming here, she followed him to the living room sofa and set the tray down on the coffee table in front of him.
“How soon will he be arriving?” she asked as she propped a cushion under his left leg.
“Any minute now.”
“Then I’ll hurry with the grocery shopping and make lunch for both of you.”
“Don’t bother. I’m still full from the breakfast you fixed at the chalet, and Patrick is only making a quick stop on his way to the airport.”
“Where’s he going?”
“Back to Paris.”
“Is there an emergency of some kind at home?” she asked in alarm.
His malignant stare crushed her. “He covered for me while I was incapacitated. Now that I’m able to get back to work, I no longer need his help.”
“I see,” her voice trailed.
Though she was thrilled by the news, she had ambivalent feelings about his returning to his job while his leg was still bad. But she held back from speaking her mind. The situation was so precarious, it was like walking through a minefield. One false step and all her dreams could explode in her face.
The Baby Dilemma Page 5
