Blackmail. PENNY JORDAN
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place is in your bed, not at your side, is that what you’re trying to say?’ Lee seethed. Really, he was quite impossible! ‘She was good enough to sleep with, but …’
‘You are talking of matters about which you know nothing,’ Gilles cut in coldly. ‘In France marriage is an important business, not to be undertaken without due consideration. Louise’s first husband was a racing driver, who was killed during a Grand Prix; for many years she has enjoyed the … er … privileges of her widowhood, but a woman of thirty must look to the future,’ he said cruelly, ‘and Louise mistakenly thought she would find that future with me. A Chauvigny does not take for a bride soiled goods.’
Lee made a small sound of disgust in her throat and instantly Gilles’ eyes fastened on her face.
‘You think it a matter for amusement?’ he demanded. ‘That a woman such as that, who will give herself willingly to any man who glances her way, is fit to be the mistress of this château?’
‘She was fit to be yours,’ Lee pointed out coolly.
Hard grey eyes swept her.
‘My mistress, but not my wife; not the mother of my children. And before you say anything, Louise was well aware of the position. Do you think she would want me if it were not for the title, for this château?’
‘Possibly not.’ Now what on earth had made her say that? Lee wondered, watching the anger leap to life in Gilles’ eyes. What woman in her senses would not want Gilles if he owned nothing but the clothes he stood up in? The thought jerked her into an awareness of where such thoughts could lead. What woman would? she demanded of herself crossly. Certainly not her, who knew exactly how cruel and hateful he could be!
‘I am not interested in your emotional problems, Gilles,’ she told him firmly. ‘What I want to know is why you dared to drag me into all this, or do you still enjoy inflicting pain just for the thrill of it?’
There was a small silence when it would have been possible to hear a pin drop, had such an elegant room contained so homely an object; a time when Lee was acutely conscious of Gilles’ cold regard, and then, as the silence stretched on unnervingly, she held her breath, frightened, in spite of her determination not to be, by the hard implacability in Gilles’ face.
‘I will forget that you made that last remark. As to the other—’ he shrugged in a way that was totally Gallic, ‘because you were there, because we are known to one another; because you were already wearing a betrothal ring which made things so much easier.’
‘Well, as of now,’ Lee told him through gritted teeth, as she listened in appalled disbelief to his arrogant speech, ‘our betrothal is at an end!’
‘It will end tomorrow,’ Gilles told her arrogantly, as though she had no say in the matter. ‘When we marry.’
‘Marry?’ Lee stared at him. ‘Have you gone mad? I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth! Have you forgotten that I’m engaged to another man? A man whom I love, and who loves me …’
‘But who does not trust you,’ Gilles drawled succinctly. ‘Otherwise he would not have telephoned here this morning to ask if you had arrived, and if you were to share a room with Michael Roberts. I confess I was intrigued to meet you again; you must have changed considerably, I told myself, to arouse such jealousy.’
Lee ignored the subtle insult. He had known she was coming, then. Had that scene with Louise all been planned? She didn’t want to think so, but knowing Gilles, it was just the sort of Machiavellian action he would delight in.
‘Sit down,’ he instructed her coolly, grasping her shoulders with cool hands, tanned, with clean, well cared for nails. Hands which held a strength that bruised as he forced her into a brocade-covered chair, which alone was probably worth more than the entire contents of her small flat. ‘Before you lay any more hysterical charges at my feet, allow me to explain a few facts to you.
‘Louise’s father is a close friend of mine, and a neighbour, whom I greatly respect. Louise has completely blinded him as to her true personality, and out of charity his friends keep silent as to her real nature. He owns lands which borders mine, fine, vine-growing land, which will eventually form Louise’s dot should she remarry, but Bernard is growing frail and can no longer tend this land himself. I should like to buy it from him …’
‘Why don’t you simply marry Louise?’ Lee butted in, too furious to stay silent any longer. ‘Then you’ll get it for free.’
‘On the contrary,’ Gilles said smoothly, ‘I shall have to pay a very heavy price indeed. The price of knowing that my wife is known intimately to every other man in the neighbourhood who has glanced her way; the price of not knowing whether I have fathered any children she may bear. However, I now discover that our names have been linked by local gossip—gossip deliberately fed by Louise, I am sure, for she would stop at nothing to become my wife.’
Again his arrogance took Lee’s breath away, but before she could protest, Gilles was continuing emotionlessly.
‘I had two choices open to me. Either I must give in to Louise’s blackmail, or cause great pain to an old friend.’
‘And thereby lose his rich land,’ Lee commented sotto voce, but Gilles ignored her.
‘However, on this occasion I was presented with a third, and infinitely preferable choice—marriage to someone else, a marriage which will calm Bernard’s suspicions, silence Louise’s malicious tongue, and far more important, a marriage which can be set aside when its purpose has been achieved. In short, my dear Lee, a temporary marriage to you.’
Lee was lost for words. She stared at him, her green eyes wide with disbelief.
‘I won’t do it,’ she said positively, when she had found her voice. ‘You can’t make me, Gilles.’
‘Oh, but I can,’ he said silkily.
He walked across the room, removing a small key from several on a key ring which he returned to his pocket, then unlocked a beautifully carved eighteenth-century desk.
‘Remember this, Lee?’ His voice was light, almost devoid of all emotion, but Lee’s sensitive ears caught the faint note of triumph, her eyes fastening despairingly on the giveaway rose pink notepaper. It had been a present from her godmother on her sixteenth birthday. She had been thrilled with it at the time, but less than six weeks later the entire box had been consigned to the fire.—All but for two single sheets of the paper and one envelope.
‘I wonder what that jealous fiancé of yours would have to say about this?’ Gilles taunted. ‘Even in today’s more lax atmosphere, it still has a certain … something, would you not agree? Or perhaps you would care to refresh your memory?’
Lee shuddered deeply, averting her face, unable to even contemplate looking at the letter, never mind touching it.
‘Alas, your modesty comes too late. Indeed, after reading this I doubt anyone would believe you ever possessed any. I read it again myself this morning, and while the vocabulary and style might leave a certain something to be desired, no one could fault the clarity of the sentiments. I believe I would be right in thinking that not even your beloved fiancé has a letter such as this to treasure from you …’
‘Do you think I’d ever …’ Lee burst out, goaded into answering. But Gilles stopped her.
‘Perhaps not. Indeed I find it hard to equate the cool front you present to the world with the undeniable passion of this letter. Perhaps you would care for me to read you a passage or two, to refresh your mind …’
‘No!’ The word was a low moan, Lee’s hands going up to cover her ears. She was shaking as though held deep in the grip of some fever, her eyes as dark as jade, and empty of everything but the agony she was experiencing.
‘So,’ Gilles murmured, apparently not in the slightest affected by her bowed shoulders and white face. ‘It is agreed. Either you will marry me—temporarily—or I shall