The Right Bride?: Bride of Desire / The English Aristocrat's Bride / Vacancy: Wife of Convenience. Sara Craven
staring into the darkness a few miles away at Trehel. He’s not torturing himself with bad memories. He’s put the past where it belongs and set his life back in order, the way it should always have been.
So, he’ll be asleep in that enormous bed, with Solange in his arms, her bright sunflower hair across his pillow and that little victorious smile on her lips.
Solange…
Jerkily, she brought her clenched fist to her mouth. Bit savagely at the knuckle as pain ravaged her.
Solange, she thought, wincing. The girl she’d seen as an irritant, perhaps, but never a danger. Someone she’d underestimated from Day One—that she’d even allowed herself to pity a little. But perhaps her happiness with Remy had made her blind—even arrogant.
She opened the back door and stood leaning against the frame, drawing in deep lungfuls of cool air as she fought for calm.
Because she had been happy in a way that was totally outside her experience, measuring her life only in the hours they spent together. Beginning with the dinner he’d promised her that evening…
‘Richaud has a son at last,’ he’d told her with amusement, as they’d sat eating lobster in a candlelit restaurant overlooking the sea. ‘Papa says he will be drunk for a week in celebration.’
Allie dealt carefully with a claw. ‘Is it really so important to men—this need for a male heir?’
He shrugged. ‘The inheritance laws are different here, but a son at least carries on the family name, and for Richaud it also means a strong arm to help him on his land.’ He looked at her, brows lifted. ‘You think that is a chauvinist point of view, ma belle?’
‘I suppose not,’ she said. ‘As long as it doesn’t become an obsession.’
‘Your father would have preferred a son?’ He smiled at her. ‘That I do not believe.’ He paused. ‘For myself, a healthy child born safely to the woman I love is all I would ever want.’ Now, whispered the voice in her head. Be honest with him. Tell him about Hugo—the nightmare of your marriage. Tell him everything—now—and ask for his understanding—his help…
But as she nerved herself the waiter appeared beside them, pouring more wine, whisking away the discarded pieces of shell, and the moment was lost.
And when they arrived back at Les Sables, Tante was waiting up, hiding her private concerns behind polite welcome, but clearly determined not to leave them alone together.
Remy’s goodnight kiss was frankly rueful. ‘Tomorrow,’ he whispered. ‘I am free in the afternoon. Will you come swimming with me?’
‘Yes.’ Allie’s eyes shone as she detached herself reluctantly from his arms. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘We have a pool at Trehel, but I think madame would feel that is too secluded.’ He paused. ‘So, to assure her of my good intentions, I shall take you to St Calot, where there will be many other people.’
She bit her lip. ‘Remy—she really likes you…’
His tone was wry. ‘Yet she still looks at me, mon ange, as if I were a wolf, threatening her only lamb.’ He sighed. ‘However, she is right to care about you. And I have only to persuade her that I care too.’ He kissed her again. ‘A demain.’
Except it’s not you, but me that she doesn’t trust, Allie thought with sudden bleakness as she turned back into the house. And I can’t blame her for that.
The weather continued to be glorious, with each sunlit tomorrow blending seamlessly into the next, and Remy making time to be with her on each of them, in spite of his workload.
But as the days passed Allie found the idea of sharing the truth with him was becoming ever more difficult. She felt totally detached from her previous life, as if Marchington Hall existed on some other planet, and the sole reality was here and now, with the man she loved and wanted so passionately.
‘I am going to Vannes tomorrow, to visit some old friends,’ Tante announced one evening. She added drily, ‘I take it that you will not wish to go with me?’
Allie flushed. ‘I’d rather stay here—if you don’t mind.’
‘Au contraire, chérie. I suspect you would not have an enlivening day with Emil and Annette. And I am also sure you will not be lonely.’ She paused. ‘I do not condone, but I understand, ma chère,’ she added quietly, ‘and I simply—bow to the inevitable.’
There was a silence, then Allie said huskily, ‘Tante, I—I didn’t mean to fall in love with him. And I can’t go on deceiving him. I know that.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Tomorrow. I’ll try and tell him then.’
‘After, one presumes, you have at last rewarded his admirable restraint?’ Madame’s tone of voice conveyed a hint of true Gallic cynicism. ‘You are wise, Alys. A well-satisfied man is likely to be more—indulgent.’
Allie’s face burned. ‘You make me sound so calculating.’
‘I think you should be,’ her great-aunt said frankly. ‘It is time, ma chère, that you began to consider, very carefully, your future, and what part in it, if any, is destined for your young doctor. Because,’ she added, ‘he will undoubtedly wish to know.’
The weather began to change not long after Tante’s departure the following morning. Clouds were massing in the west, and the wind had freshened sharply. When Allie, suddenly restless in the confines of Les Sables, went out for a walk, she could hear the roar of the waves, thrashing at the cliffs, and found she was struggling to keep her balance against some of the gusts.
By the time Remy arrived it had begun to rain, and Allie was outside struggling to deal with a recalcitrant shutter.
‘Let me do it.’ He pushed the stiff bolt into place. ‘Madame is not here?’
‘She’s spending the day with some people in Vannes.’ Allie stood back, dusting her hands. She looked up at the sullen sky, with its scudding dark clouds, and sighed. ‘It’s hardly a day for the beach.’
‘But good, perhaps, for sightseeing.’ He kissed her, his mouth warm and lingering on hers, and she felt the pleasure of it lance like wildfire through her body.
She said breathlessly, ‘Under cover, I hope?’
‘Naturellement.’
She collected her bag, and threw a cotton jacket over her black vest top and cream denim skirt.
They had been travelling for several minutes before she realised they were heading towards Trehel.
‘But I don’t understand,’ she began. ‘You said—’
‘That I had somewhere you would want to see.’ He sent her a swift smile. ‘And so I have. I hope you will not be disappointed.’
She gasped. ‘Your house!’ she exclaimed. ‘You mean it’s actually—finished?’
‘All except the work I plan to do myself.’ Remy nodded. He added softly, ‘And you, ma belle, will be my first visitor.’
‘Oh.’ She felt her face warm. ‘Well, I’m—honoured.’
‘No.’ His voice was gentle. ‘The honour, mon amour, will be all mine, believe me.’
He was telling her that the waiting was over, and her throat tightened at the promise in his words—just as her body began to tingle in excitement, mingled, at the same time, with a kind of trepidation.
Because Remy might be the one to be disappointed, she thought with a pang of unease. After all, what did she know about pleasing a man? Less than nothing, as she’d been told so many times in the past. And, however much she might love Remy, she was still the same person at heart, and even his patience could not last for