The French Aristocrat's Baby. Christina Hollis
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you.’ Gwen fell silent. For once, she was wishing her own family weren’t so far away.
‘And?’ He prompted, when she had been lost in thought for some time.
Puzzled by the questioning note in his voice, she looked at him. He pierced the shadowy interior of the car with a sly grin. In reply she frowned and shook her head in a silent appeal for more details.
‘This is where you ask me what he left.’
‘Do I? Why?’ Genuinely confused, Gwen picked up her handbag as Etienne turned his car into the narrow driveway leading to her home.
‘Because that’s what single women always do when they meet me.’
Gwen paused as the cold, hard meaning of his words sank in. They were weighed down by the resignation in his voice. Here was a man who had everything—looks, style, a title, the money to back it all up—and no doubt all the hangers-on that came with such privileges.
‘Oh, dear. You’re almost making me feel sorry for you a second time!’ She chuckled self-consciously. ‘And there was me about to invite you in for coffee, to thank you for running me home. I’ll bet your fan club all do that, too!’ She tried to laugh off the confession. To her surprise, he joined in.
‘Yes. Until tonight, I’ve always refused—but for one night only, I might allow myself to be tempted by a chefprepared café noisette—and perhaps a little something to go with it?’ he added in a wicked whisper.
The intimacy in his voice stroked a finger of desire all the way down Gwen’s spine. Accepting a lift from a strange man was right out of character for her. Inviting him into her home was something else again.
It must be the season for taking risks.
She drew in a long, slow breath. The sophisticated tang of his aftershave bolstered her courage until she was able to speak with hardly a tremble in her voice.
‘If you’re sure an invitation wouldn’t be too predictable?’
‘You’re doing the inviting. It’s your call, Gwen.’
Her mouth went dry. He was putting her in the driving seat, but she had never felt so close to losing control. When she spoke, she could only manage a faint whisper.
‘I wanted to thank you for saving me tonight, not only from that…’ she had to choose her words carefully, in case the drunk was one of Etienne’s friends or relatives ‘…guest, but from a long walk home, as well. That’s two rescue missions in one evening. It seems only fair to offer you coffee.’
‘Then the least I can do is to accept.’ He smiled, and the starlight seemed to dance in his eyes. Gwen was overwhelmed. It took a lot of concentration to get out of the car, find her house key and open the door. She was trembling with sheer amazement at what was happening. Etienne Moreau could stop her heart simply by looking at her. She had thought she would never see him again after the party—but here he was, coming into her house to drink coffee!
She groped for the light switch and pressed. Nothing happened. Etienne was following her closely. Although the thought of him so close behind her was wickedly tempting, she kept moving. The bulb in the hall must have blown, and she had to reach the wall lights before either of them stumbled in the dark. She clicked the second set of switches. There was still nothing. A little breeze followed them into the house and sent a sheet of paper flickering off the telephone table. Gwen clapped a hand to her face in horror as she remembered what it was. The electricity bill. How long had she been promising herself she would get around to paying it? Too long, as far as the electricity company was concerned.
Etienne bent down and picked it up.
‘Is this important?’ It was too dark for him to read inside the house, so he stepped back outside. Gwen darted after him, but she was too slow.
Glancing at the bill, he made sympathetic noises. ‘So this means we’ll be drinking chilled champagne rather than hot coffee!’ He shrugged. ‘I can live with that.’
‘No—I’m sorry, I can’t possibly invite you in when I’ve got no power!’ Gwen peered around helplessly in the gloom for inspiration. ‘But if you were desperate for a drink, I could light a fire in the old range and boil a pan of water on that—’
She stumbled to a halt in the face of his devastating smile. This had been the perfect chance to spend a little while longer basking in it. She had blown it. He wouldn’t want to sit in a dark house. Every second in his company was worth losing a whole night’s sleep, but it was slipping away through her fingers. Gwen cursed herself silently.
‘I’m such a fool—first the car, and now this!’ she announced, already moving towards the front door again. ‘I’m so sorry I can’t offer you anything, Etienne.’
She was getting ready to close the door behind him when he left, but he stayed where he was.
‘Let me be the judge of that, Gwen. Why don’t we talk about it over champagne at my place instead?’
His voice was as soft as a breeze moving through the pine trees outside.
Gwen had been busily covering her disappointment by fussing with the door. At his words she stopped. Maybe there was a God in heaven after all! She was getting a second chance. For a heartbeat she allowed herself to experience the fierce thrill of anticipation. Then reality supplied a quick cold shower.
‘You don’t know how much I’d really love to, Etienne, but I shouldn’t…’
‘I know,’ he crooned, his voice warm with understanding. ‘So let’s go.’
Reaching out, he caught hold of her hand. His palm was as smooth and warm as his seduction technique. Gwen’s body tried to follow him, but her mind was weighed down with responsibilities.
‘Oh, Etienne, I can’t…maybe we should just say goodnight and leave it at that…’ She managed to hang back, but disappointment trailed from her every word. ‘I’m so sorry, but I need to be up early. It’s another really busy day tomorrow and I have to be on top form…’
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