by Lynne Graham
‘So I was too demanding at seventeen, now I give more points for effort and imagination like that lovely meal—’
When he spun her round and looked down at her, a tremor of almost painful awareness ran through her slight figure for she was weak with wanting. ‘Do you, chérie?’ he asked in a roughened undertone. ‘Or when you hear what I have to say, will you accuse me of trying to manipulate you?’
‘Perhaps I had better hear what you have to say first,’ Tabby said breathlessly.
‘I brought you here to suggest a very simple arrangement which would answer both our needs. I offer you this house in place of Solange’s property…’
Her lips parted company. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’
‘No, you would be doing me a favour. A straight swop. Nothing as tasteless as money need change hands. I would prefer not to cut a business deal with you.’ His brilliant dark golden eyes urged her to smile at that teasing assurance.
But Tabby had never felt less like smiling. She was also far too busy schooling her features not to betray how much he had wounded her and how bitter was the sting as her own foolish, extravagant hopes crashed and burned. His great-aunt’s cottage in exchange for a luxury home five times its size and possessed of every opulent expensive extra? He wanted her off the Duvernay estate very, very badly. After the night she had spent in his arms, that continuing determination felt like a hard, humiliating slap in the face.
‘I’d like to leave now.’ Her green eyes shiny as polished glass in her determination to show no weakness or emotion, Tabby walked out of the bedroom into the hall. ‘I still have so much to do back at the cottage. I have to return to England for a week tomorrow.’
Christien frowned, for she could not hide her sudden pallor. ‘Tabby—’
‘No, don’t say any more or I’ll lose my temper,’ she warned not quite steadily. ‘After all, you brought me here on false pretences and I’m not under any obligation to discuss ridiculous swops or business deals if I don’t want to.’
‘I did not say you were, but a fair and generous proposition rarely causes offence and usually deserves consideration. I hoped you’d be sensible.’
‘And if I’m not, what then? Threats?’
‘I don’t threaten women,’ Christien contradicted with icy disdain. ‘You’re being irrational. I want to keep the family estate intact and there is no shame in that objective. Nothing that happens between us will change that reality and I won’t pretend otherwise.’
Rigid-backed, Tabby stepped out into the hot, still air and headed for the limousine, for she was desperate to be gone. Irrational? Was it irrational to feel unbearably hurt? Was her very presence within miles of the fancy château where he had been born such an offence? She felt sick at her own stupidity. Like a moth to a candle flame she had been drawn to him again. He had burned her before and after that warning it had been very naive of her to invite such pain a second time. But she was angry with him, so angry that she could barely bring herself to look at him and certainly not to speak.
Two hours later, he brought the Ferrari to a halt beside the cottage. As Tabby leapt out he followed suit at a slower pace. ‘We have to talk this out,’ he drawled with cool determination.
Two high spots of colour burning over her cheekbones, Tabby shot him a splintering glance. ‘No, I don’t want to talk to a guy who thinks of me as being something less than he is!’
‘You have no grounds to accuse me of that.’
‘Oh, haven’t I?’ A rather shrill laugh fell from her lips. ‘You just tried to bribe me…you just tried to buy me!’
‘It wasn’t a bribe. In no way is that house I showed you intended as a bribe. But if I’m asking you to rethink your plans and relocate purely for my benefit, I must offer some form of compensation to make the inconvenience seem worth your while,’ Christien proclaimed without hesitation.
‘You are so smooth! How is it that you manage to make even the unacceptable sound acceptable?’ Tabby demanded with furious resentment.
‘I doubt that you would be reacting like this if I had not shared your bed last night. That has clouded the real issue at stake here.’ Wide, sensual mouth compressing, Christien dealt her a brooding masculine scrutiny.
‘You’re right…that was a very big mistake.’ Tabby slammed the front door loudly shut in his startled face and leant back against it in a tempest of angry, hurting tears.
‘Tabby!’
As he rapped on the door she sucked in a steadying breath, but silent, stinging tears trekked down her quivering cheeks. In letting him stay the night she had regressed to the impulsive, reckless teenage years. She had forgotten all caution and common sense and flung her heart back at his feet. Did she never learn? Why was she so downright stupid around him?
Sean called her on her mobile phone at seven. The day before he had mentioned knowing the Englishwoman who owned the local art gallery and her daughter, who was a potter.
‘Alice has asked us over for drinks. There’ll be a crowd, there always is. You’re sure to meet a few other creative types,’ Sean told her cheerfully.
Tabby felt that company would distract her troubled thoughts from Christien and, although she went out with no expectation of enjoyment, she had an interesting evening. She met several artists living in the area, exchanged phone numbers and garnered useful information about where to buy art supplies. It was two in the morning when Sean brought her home. Only when she saw the lights flick on did she realise that Christien’s Ferrari was parked at the side of the cottage. He climbed out, his long, powerful stride carrying him towards her at speed.
Tabby was very tense but determined to save what face she could and she moved forward with as easy and meaningless a smile as she could contrive. ‘Christien…sorry I’m so late back—’
‘Zut alors…I’m not!’ he bit out, lean, dark handsome features taut with a scorching fury that took her aback. ‘You almost had me convinced that I had misjudged you, but I’ve caught you in the act again. Where have you been all evening? In his bed? First one man, then another. You sleep with me and—’
‘Regret it,’ Tabby slotted in between angrily clenched teeth. ‘Oh, boy, do I regret sleeping with you!’
Appreciating that he had been totally overlooked in the excitement, Sean peered out of his car, which was still parked by the roadside. ‘Do you want me to stay, Tabby?’ he called anxiously.
‘See how you embarrass me!’ Tabby snapped at Christien before she stalked back down the path to urge Sean to go on home and not worry about her.
Christien spread lean hands and swore in fast, furious French, demonstrating all the lack of tolerance typical of a male who had never in his whole charmed life been accused of causing anyone embarrassment.
Tabby unlocked the front door with a trembling hand. ‘I don’t ever want to see you again—’
‘Why did you refuse to let me in when I brought you back from viewing the house earlier? You must have known that I would return here.’ Christien stepped past her and then swung round to treat her to a fierce look of condemnation. ‘Were you scared you might want to spend two nights with the same guy?’
In the moonlight, Tabby shivered with outrage. ‘How can you talk to me as if I’m some slapper who goes with a load of different men?’
‘When I’m around there’s always another guy panting at your heels!’
‘Just to think that your friend, Veronique, once told me that you liked competition!’ Tabby recalled with bitter amusement. ‘I guess that piece of misinformation was advanced with the same self-serving venom as all the other helpful advice she offered me.’
Christien had fallen very still. ‘Ça alors! Veronique would never have said such a nonsensical thing—’
‘Oh, wouldn’t she? Your childhood playmate probably dug out her calculator in that cradle beside yours, worked out what a catch you were and decided right there and then that only she was going to profit. Who knows…who cares?’ Tabby was mortified that she had let that
petty bitterness out and paraded it for him to see. ‘Obviously she knew you had a jealous streak a mile wide and guessed that nothing would kill our relationship faster—’
Febrile colour lying along his superb cheekbones, Christien threw back his broad shoulders and studied her with grim disfavour. ‘It shames me to lose my temper as I just have and throw allegations that I cannot substantiate but I don’t trust you—’
Tabby tilted her chin. ‘And I won’t stand for you accusing me of carrying on with other blokes.’
Eyes glittering gold with anger, Christien vented a harsh laugh. ‘What do you expect me to think when you stay out this late and show up with another man in tow?’
‘It amazes me that you can even ask me that when I’m the one who has never, ever had the luxury of knowing where I stand with you…yet you are so good at criticising my behaviour,’ Tabby condemned with a slow, wondering shake of her head. ‘Four years ago, you had another woman in your life called Eloise and you never once mentioned her existence to me. You got away with it too, because I was too scared to ask awkward questions—’
His lean, strong face was rigid. ‘The minute I saw you it was over with Eloise and it was only a casual thing with her. I ended it soon after I met you. I don’t know how you found out about her, but you only had to ask me. Unlike you, I would have been honest—’
Savaged by that reminder of her past dishonesty, Tabby twisted away from him and switched on the light. ‘So I lied about my age and you know why, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be trusted—’
‘No?’
‘No…any more than it excuses you for implying that I’m a tart,’ Tabby told him with spirit.
‘Where were you until this hour?’
‘I’m not telling you, I’m not answering your questions—’
‘Zut alors…’ Christien growled, raking long, lean, impatient fingers through the black silk luxuriance of his hair. ‘What do you expect from me?’
Tabby was amazed that in spite of all she had already said he still had no idea whatsoever. ‘Respect.’
Christien threw up his expressive hands, studied her with fulminating dark golden eyes, but, while he looked as though he could hardly wait to exercise his sardonic tongue on that ambitious request of hers, he stayed silent.
‘Respect,’ Tabby repeated doggedly. ‘You made a mistake when you decided that I was cheating on you with that boy, Pete, that summer and you owe me an apology.’
‘I…do?’ Burnished dark eyes flared down into hers and she could literally feel the hum of his fierce pride threatening to blow the lid back off his temper again.
‘Particularly for the way you treated me at the accident enquiry…I deserved better. You think about that—’
‘Tu parles…the hell I will!’ Christien raked at her and then, as though as disconcerted by that raw outburst as she was, he swung away.
‘So that’s respect and an apology,’ Tabby listed in reminder, deciding to go for gold in the demand stakes. ‘But if you want houseroom in my life, I want other stuff too…and I’m not sure if you could make the grade.’
Involuntarily, Christien almost grinned, wondering if she thought she could train him with her version of ‘the carrot and the stick’ routine. ‘I score very high between the sheets, ma belle,’ he breathed with husky insolence.
‘But unfortunately an awful lot of life takes place outside the bedroom door and offering me a millionaire’s residence in place of a tiny cottage was the last straw. Even though I’ve told you how I feel, you can’t respect your great-aunt’s wishes or my right to live where I choose,’ Tabby spelt out, a great weariness enfolding her, for the stress of the past forty-eight hours and the lack of rest had drained her of her usual high-wire energy.
‘But—’
‘All I want to do right now is jump off my soapbox, fall into bed and sleep like a log,’ Tabby cut in heavily.
Christien bent down and swept her up into his arms to carry her upstairs. ‘As I wouldn’t like you to risk jumping, your wish is my command.’
‘Put me down…’ Tabby protested in weary frustration, so tired that she was very close to tears.
Christien settled her down on the bed and switched on the lamp. ‘Possibly I was more at home in the millionaire’s residence,’ he remarked in a thoughtful concession. ‘But you liked it too…don’t lie.’
Tabby groaned and let her shoes slide off and drop to the floor. She could not be bothered arguing with him and she let her heavy eyes drift shut. Just to refresh herself for a moment, she promised herself.
Christien gazed down at Tabby while she slept, and sighed. He unbuttoned her shirt and eased it off and removed her skirt. He studied the creamy swell of her breasts above her bra and the incredible peach bloom of her skin and suppressed a groan at his own lack of self-discipline. He wanted to get into bed with her. In fact the intensity of his own desire to be with her even when sex was out of the question unnerved him. He tugged the sheet up over her, put out the light and frowned at the uncurtained window and the front door that lacked any form of proper security. A grim look of disapproval crossed his lean, strong face. He knew that he had decisions to make.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘LET me understand this…’ Nine hours later, Veronique Giraud studied Christien across the depth of her opulent riverside apartment in Paris. ‘You want to break off our engagement for unspecified reasons?’
‘Not unspecified. I’ve come to recognise that I’m not yet ready to commit to a marriage.’ Christien’s level dark gaze was filled with sincere regret as he surveyed his fiancée in her tailored business suit. ‘I only wish that for your sake I had seen that reality sooner.’
‘We haven’t set a wedding date and I wasn’t expecting to set one in the near future,’ Veronique pointed out with admirable calm. ‘You can take all the time you require to think this decision over.’
Relieved by her unemotional response, Christien expelled his breath. ‘I appreciate that but I’ve had all the time I need to consider this and I must still ask you to release me from our engagement. I’m sorry that it has to be like this.’
After a moment of thought, Veronique gave a gracious nod of acceptance. ‘There’s no need for you to apologise. I wouldn’t want to hold you to our agreement against your will.’
A warm smile of appreciation lightened Christien’s grave aspect. ‘I know you would never do that. We might have become engaged on a business and social basis but we have a strong friendship as well. I would hate to lose a friendship which I have always valued. But I will understand if you prefer to let that connection wane now.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of behaving that way. I won’t pretend that I agree with the decision that you’ve reached, but neither will I make a fuss about it,’ the self-contained brunette said briskly. ‘However, I hope you won’t be annoyed by my frank speech when I say that you will soon discover once again that that little madam is much more trouble than she is worth!’
Almost imperceptibly, Christien tensed. ‘You can always be frank with me.’
‘Even though I am saying things you cannot possibly want to hear?’ Veronique’s pale blue eyes had a hard sparkle new to his experience and his keen gaze narrowed.
‘Even then.’
‘Of course, I know it’s the English girl again and I don’t want to be crude, but why can’t you just scratch the sexual itch and leave it at that level?’ Veronique demanded in cold exasperation. ‘I assure you that I require no confessions.’
Christien had to make an effort to conceal his distaste. ‘Nothing is that simple.’
‘But it is. It is you who are making it complex by being too conventional and expecting too much of yourself. What has come over you?’ the brunette prompted with an air of concerned incomprehension. ‘You yourself believe that your parents’ relationship was unhealthily obsessive and your mother is still unable to function without your father. I understood that you wanted to guard against the risk of making such a destructive
marriage—’
‘I am not thinking of marriage,’ Christien interposed in flat denial.
Veronique looked mollified by that assurance. ‘Then why end our engagement over something as trivial as an affair? Fidelity means nothing to me. I don’t mind if you keep the Burnside woman as a mistress, for there are far more important matters in life!’ she proclaimed with unhidden impatience. ‘This situation is exactly why I offered to deal with that calculating little creature on your behalf.’
‘Forgive me, but I will not discuss Tabby with you, nor listen to abuse of her.’ His brooding dark eyes were veiled, his well-modulated speaking tone discouraging.
Veronique removed the huge solitaire on her engagement finger and set it down on the table with just the suspicion of a snap.
‘It is yours…it was a gift,’ Christien asserted. ‘If you no longer want it, give it to charity.’
Veronique’s thin lips stretched into an unexpectedly warm and reassuring smile. Rising, she tucked a slender hand into his elbow. ‘At least I can now talk to you as a friend and perhaps you will listen with more patience. I do hope that we’re still going out to meet our friends for lunch…’
‘So,’ Pippa Stevenson recapped, rolling her very blue eyes, ‘although we’ve moved on nearly four years in our lives you’re still happily falling for the Christien Laroche solid gold seduction routine.’
Tabby winced. ‘It wasn’t like that, Pip—’
‘Lean, mean and magnificent, the guy most likely to succeed in business, in bed and every other place because conscience will never keep him awake,’ her friend quipped with a cynically curled lip. ‘You moving into Christien’s neighbourhood is like a goldfish opting to go swimming with sharks!’
Tabby stiffened for, having let herself down very badly, as she felt, with Christien, she was less laid-back about the prospect of taking up permanent residence in the same locality. It was ironic that their renewed intimacy was likely to bring about the sale that he had wanted from the outset, she reflected unhappily. ‘I may have to reconsider where Jake and I should live—’
