His Perfect Partner. Laura Martin
good cry. I don’t think I’ve seen you shed a tear since your poor Aunt Clara’s funeral. It’s not good for you to keep all that emotion locked away inside. I know you miss her.’ Naomi paused to administer comfort in the form of a plump arm around Rachel’s shoulders. ‘Where’s your visitor?’
‘He’s left.’
‘Wasn’t here long.’ She handed Rachel a wad of clean tissues. ‘These tears aren’t anything to do with him, are they?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘You should have called me. I would have given him a piece of my mind, and him looking so nice and respectable, too. Hounding you for money, was he?’
‘Not exactly.’ Rachel wiped her eyes, struggling for composure. ‘He’s got a…a business proposition he wants to put to me,’ she croaked. ‘I’m meeting him again this evening…He’s picking me up at eight.’
‘You’re going out with him?’ Naomi sounded horrified . ‘But you can’t do that—you don’t know him from Adam!’
Rachel glanced at Naomi and saw from her expression that she really didn’t have a clue as to the identity of the suave and sophisticated gentleman she had shown into the drawing room. If only she knew! Rachel didn’t want to tell her, not at this moment, anyway, not while she herself was feeling so shell-shocked. ‘He comes from a reputable company,’ she murmured. ‘It will be…all right.’
‘Well, I hope so. A business proposition, you say?’ Naomi’s voice brightened. ‘Might there be chance of saving the Grange, then?’ she added hopefully.
‘I’m not sure.’ Rachel struggled to bring her tears under control, but a sob caught in her throat. ‘But if there’s a chance, I suppose I must try…’
She couldn’t decide what to wear—not that it mattered one iota, of course. It was a toss-up between making every effort and making no effort at all. In the end Rachel decided that pride had to show its more attractive face, and she chose a simple, yet elegant long-sleeved dress in fine black wool from her wardrobe.
His car was on time. Rachel, pacing nervously in the hallway, almost jumped out of her skin when the doorbell clanged. She was nervous—more than that, petrified. Jean-Luc’s unexpected appearance earlier that afternoon had had a debilitating effect. She hadn’t been able to do a thing in the intervening hours since his visit. She’d just sat and thought and remembered how it had been during those last glorious few days…
‘Wake up, sleepyhead!’
Rachel stirred faintly as the sensuous voice penetrated her dreams. She moved in the bed, hugging the crisp, white linen sheets close around her slender body, and smiled dreamily.
‘Do you always look this gorgeous in the morning?’ Jean-Luc’s deep voice, heavy with the seductive French accent was soft and enticing against her lips. ‘Baby, come on,’ he whispered, ‘open those beautiful blue eyes.’
She raised dark lashes and looked up in sleepy astonishment at the rugged, handsome face, lifting a hand in something approaching wonderment to touch the angled cheekbone. ‘Jean-Luc?’ Rachel smiled lovingly, hardly able to believe he was here with her. ‘What are you doing?’
He didn’t allow her to finish the sentence, not that she cared. His lips moved with possessive intent over her mouth, and Rachel found herself responding, despite the early hour and the fact that she was still half-asleep, despite the awful possibility that he could be found here in her bedroom by one of the servants or, worse still, her Aunt Clara at any moment.
She entwined her hands around his strong, suntanned neck and accepted his kiss, revelling in the strength and the warmth of his body—wondering once again how she had ever survived without it, ever survived without him.
Jean-Luc was so brave, so bold, so totally alien, like a wonderful being from another planet, entering her cocooned world, changing her perspective on life.
‘Hurry, ma chérie! It’s a beautiful day and I don’t want us to waste a second of it!’ He kissed her mouth lovingly once again, then disentangled her arms and pulled back the bedclothes, a smile curving his mouth at the sight of Rachel’s extremely functional cotton pyjamas.
‘Well, it’s cold in the country!’ She glanced down at her attire, wishing she looked more seductive for him, and pulled a comical face to hide her embarrassment. ‘My bedroom doesn’t have central heating.’
‘Don’t worry, you look beautiful.’ Jean-Luc ran a fingertip along the line of pearl buttons, tormenting her with the lightness of his touch. His dark eyes sparkled. ‘Fresh and sweet as the daisy.’
Rachel pouted. ‘Not even a little sophisticated and alluring?’
He pulled her to him and kissed her mouth. ‘Sophisticated—no. Alluring—definitely. ‘You are the sweetest of temptations.’ He looked at her as she had never seen him look at her before—naked desire in his eyes, the hunger of wanting her, pure rugged masculinity in every taut line, every fleeting expression. ‘Mon Dieu!’ The words were a groan beneath his breath. ‘How to resist you?’
‘Don’t try.’ Rachel’s eyes were wide and bold. She had never felt this way about any man before, knew with a deeply felt certainty that she never would again. ‘You know how I feel about you.’
‘For me it is the same.’ He tugged her into the circle of his arms to kiss her again with a passion that took all her breath away. ‘Always,’ he asserted huskily, drawing back a little to look deep into her eyes. ‘For ever.’
‘You mean that?’ Rachel’s voice was barely a whisper.
‘Of course.’ He kissed her again. Rachel loved the wonderful fact that she seemed to be irresistible to him. It was quiet in the bedroom for several minutes. Rachel knew she would never forget this moment. Jean-Luc’s gaze, his tender hands, told her all she needed to know. He loved her, just as she loved him.
Never mind what Aunt Clara thought, it wasn’t her fault. She was just…old, out of touch, unaware of the depth of feeling between them. Once she understood the seriousness of their relationship, Rachel told herself, everything would be better. She would be happy for her niece, happy that she had found love.
‘You’re frowning.’ Jean-Luc’s dark brows drew together in comical imitation of hers, his smile gently teasing. ‘Have I woken you too early? Would you prefer to be a lazybones and sleep in?’ He lifted her into his arms suddenly and laid her back down on the bed. ‘Would you like to stay here?’ he murmured huskily, kissing her neck. ‘Shall we both stay here?’
‘You know we can’t.’ Rachel linked her arms around Jean-Luc’s neck. ‘If Aunt Clara or Naomi finds you here…’ She glanced towards the closed door of her bedroom, conscious of the sounds of the house below. ‘How on earth did you get up here, anyway?’ she asked, smiling. ‘And don’t tell me you knocked on the front door, informed Hayes that you wished to see me and simply marched straight upstairs to my bedroom because I won’t believe you!’
‘Do I look that mad?’ Jean-Luc replied, with a curl of a smile. ‘No, I did the correct thing and took the tradesman’s entrance.’
‘But surely Naomi was busy in the kitchen?’
‘She was. But I have a very good line in distraction.’ Jean-Luc’s eyes sparkled mischievously. ‘I knocked at the kitchen door, hid around the side of the house, Naomi came out, followed my trail and…’ He gestured with his hands. ‘Voilà! I simply slipped inside.’
‘Trail?’ Rachel’s expression was a mixture of perplexity and excitement. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The milkman had been. There were eggs, a lot of them. I simply placed them in a line which led away from the house. Naomi followed like un canard…a duck, waddling after a trail of bread!’
‘You are incorrigible!’ Rachel smiled happily, kissing his mouth. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’
‘Incorrigible?’