The Right Bride?: Bride of Desire / The English Aristocrat's Bride / Vacancy: Wife of Convenience. Sara Craven
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Georges de Brizat got politely to his feet. ‘Bonjour, Solange. As you see, we have a guest for breakfast.’ He added mildly, ‘I hope you have no objection?’
‘Why, no. I mean—how could I?’ The girl gave a swift trill of laughter. ‘How absurd. It was just—a surprise to see Mademoiselle Colville again—so soon.’ She glanced around. ‘But where is Remy?’
‘Taking a shower,’ his grandfather returned. ‘May I pass on some message?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘You are quite sure? It must have been a matter of some urgency to bring you here at such an hour.’
The pretty mouth was sulky. ‘It is my mother,’ she said. ‘The trouble with her knee. She complains that she hardly slept last night. I hoped that Remy would call at the farm on his way to Ignac.’
‘I regret that will not be possible, as he will be driving Mademoiselle Alys to Les Sables before going to work.’ He added tranquilly, ‘But if you bring your mother to the medical centre later in the morning, he can examine her there.’
‘Since my father’s death, my mother rarely leaves the house.’
Monsieur de Brizat shrugged. ‘Then, instead, I will request my son to pay her a visit once he returns from the Richauds’.’ His tone was dry. ‘He used to attend madame, so he is well acquainted with the case.’
In spite of her embarrassment, Allie had to stifle a giggle. Game, set and match to Dr Georges, she thought.
Solange’s face was like a mask. She said stiffly, ‘That is—kind. I shall tell Maman to expect him.’
‘D’accord.’ He waited for a moment as she stood irresolute. ‘There was something else, perhaps?’
‘No, no.’ It was Solange’s turn to shrug. ‘At least—just a matter of some curtain fabric. But that can wait for another time. When Remy is not quite so—occupied.’ She looked at Allie, a faintly metallic note creeping into her voice. ‘Au revoir, mademoiselle. I am sure we shall meet again—soon.’
‘I look forward to it,’ Allie responded, without an atom of sincerity.
A thoughtful silence followed Solange’s departure.
Allie drew a breath. ‘I seem to be in the middle of some kind of situation here. Please believe I—I didn’t know.’
‘You are sure there is anything to know?’ Dr de Brizat sighed a little. ‘Like all the Gerans, Solange is industrious, ambitious, and single-minded. She has a mother who is a trial, and she does not intend to spend her entire life cleaning cottages for tourists.’ He paused. ‘But any plans she is making for the future are hers alone.’
His sudden smile was mischievous. ‘Let me assure you also, ma petite, that she has never been asked to breakfast.’
But that, thought Allie, reluctantly returning his smile, does not make me feel any better about all this.
Remy came striding in, tucking a grey and white striped shirt into charcoal pants, his dark hair still damp from the shower.
Allie was sharply aware of the scent of soap he brought with him, mixed with the faint fragrance of some musky aftershave, and was ashamed to feel her body clench in sheer longing.
He snatched car keys from a bowl on the huge built-in dresser that filled one wall, then reached for Allie’s hand, pulling her to her feet. ‘Viens, chérie.’
She managed to throw a hasty au revoir over her shoulder to his grandfather, and heard him reply, ‘A bientôt, Mademoiselle Alys.’ Which meant that he expected to see her again, she thought, as Remy whisked her into the Jeep and started the engine.
She said breathlessly, ‘Do you live your entire life at this speed?’
‘No.’ The smile he slanted at her was wicked. ‘There are times, mon ange, when I like to take things very slowly indeed. You would like me to demonstrate?’
‘Not,’ she said, struggling not to laugh, ‘in a moving Jeep, monsieur, je t’en prie.’
He gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Eh, bien, chérie, tu as raison, peut-être.’
There was a brief silence, and when he spoke again his voice was quiet and infinitely serious, ‘But I am beginning to question, Alys, how long I can exist without you, and that is the truth.’
She felt a tide of heat sweep through her body, leaving behind it an ache beyond remedy. ‘Remy—this isn’t easy for me.’
‘And you think it is for me?’ His laugh was almost bitter. ‘That I expected to feel like this—to know how completely my life has changed in so short a time? That I even wished it, when a few days ago I was not even aware of your existence? No, mon amour, and no.’
The passion in his tone almost scared her, and Allie bent her head. She said half to herself, ‘Oh, God, I shouldn’t have come here…’
‘Do not say so.’ His voice hardened. ‘Do not ever say that, mon coeur, because without you I would be only half alive.’
He reached out a hand, resting it on her bare leg, just above the knee, and she covered it with both her own, feeling the reassurance of its warmth as they drove in silence back to Les Sables.
When they reached the house, Remy switched off the engine, then turned to her, drawing her into his arms. He looked down at her for a long moment, before taking her mouth with his, kissing her with a thoroughness and frank expertise that left her dizzied and gasping for breath, her hands clutching the front of his shirt as if it was her last hold on sanity.
‘Remy…’ His name was a croak.
‘I need the taste of you, mon ange.’ His own breathing was ragged. ‘To carry with me through the day.’ He detached one of the clinging hands and carried it to his lips. ‘I will see you tonight? You will have dinner with me?’
She nodded almost numbly, then got out of the Jeep, shading her eyes from the morning sun as she watched him drive away.
Tante was sitting at the kitchen table, reading her letters, as Allie came into the house. Her calm gaze assimilated the dishevelled hair, the wild rose flush and the faintly swollen mouth, but she made no comment.
‘The coffee is fresh, dear child, if you would like some.’
‘I—I had breakfast at Trehel.’
The older woman nodded drily. ‘So Georges de Brizat told me on the telephone.’ She paused. ‘Your little web of untruth is spreading dangerously wide, ma mie. How long before it breaks, I ask myself?’
Allie sat down at the table, staring down at the oilcloth, tracing its pattern with a finger. She said in a low voice, ‘I know I have to tell him, Tante Madelon, and I will—soon. I promise. But…’
‘But you are so happy you cannot bear anything that might spoil your idyll.’ Tante studied her. ‘You do not trust Remy to understand?’
‘I—I’m learning to trust.’
‘Then learn quickly, ma chère.’ Tante got briskly to her feet and fetched the coffee from the stove. ‘Before he guesses you are hiding something—and begins to wonder if he can trust you.’
I should have listened to her, Allie thought wretchedly, sitting up and easing her back, stiff from sitting so long in one position on the sofa. I should have taken the risk and told Remy everything. But I was too scared of losing him. And in the end, because I was stupid and a coward, I lost him anyway…
The music had ended long ago, and she replaced the CD in its case and switched off the player.
The house was totally silent, the blackness of the night pressing against the windows,