Chosen As The Frenchman's Bride. ABBY GREEN

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СКАЧАТЬ Jane. Not sure how she felt about Dominic, who was lovely, if a little dull, Jane was well aware that the campaign would have been taken up with enthusiasm by Lisa had she had the opportunity.

      She got up and wandered over to the railing, shades back on against the glare of the sun, the sea spray catching her every now and then.

      She still couldn’t help a little pang of guilt at enjoying her solitude so much. She really hadn’t expected to embrace it, but for the first time in her twenty-six years she was truly alone, without the crushing responsibility she’d carried for so long.

      And it felt good!

      Looking up from her contemplation of the foaming sea, she saw that they were approaching an island. Something about it, rising majestically from the water, made her shiver—as if someone had just run a finger down her spine. It was a forbidding rock, softened only by the sandy beach and picturesque houses that surrounded the small harbour. The sun glinted off the water as the boat docked and they disembarked. On the jetty, as she waited with the other passengers to be told where to go, her mind wandered back to danger territory, as if it had been waiting patiently in the wings until she’d stopped thinking of other things. She tried to resist, but it was too strong, yet again she re-lived the events of yesterday…that burning moment in the streets near the harbour came flooding back.

      She’d escaped the crowded pedestrian area, feeling somewhat claustrophobic, and stumbled into a charming winding street that had been blessedly quiet, with no sign of any tourists. She had looked for a street name to figure out where she was; she wanted to explore more of this sleepy part of the town.

      With her map open, trying to walk and read at the same time, she’d been unaware of the approaching corner. She had looked up briefly, there had been a flash of something, and she’d crashed into a wall.

      Except it hadn’t been a wall, because a wall wouldn’t have reached out and clamped hard hands on her upper arms. Winded and stunned, the map slipping from her fingers, she’d realised that she’d bumped into a man. Her gaze, on a level with a T-shirt-clad broad chest, had moved up, and up again, before coming face to face with the most beautiful pair of green eyes she’d ever seen—like the green of a distant oasis in the desert—in a dark olive-skinned face, with black brows drawn together forbiddingly. Her jaw had dropped.

      It had been only then that she’d become aware of her own hands, curled around his biceps, where they had gone automatically to steady herself. And with that awareness had come the feel of bunched muscle beneath his warm, silky skin. They had flexed lightly under her fingertips as his arms held her, and out of nowhere came a spiking of pleasure so intense and alien through her entire body that she’d felt her eyes open wide in shock. His gaze had moved down to her mouth, and she’d had a weightless, almost out-of-body feeling, as if they hadn’t been in a side street, as if this hadn’t really been happening.

      The spell had been jarringly broken when a shrill voice had sounded. Jane’s gaze had shifted with effort to take in a stunning blonde woman rounding the corner, her stream of incomprehensible French directed at the man. His hands had tightened momentarily before he’d dipped from view and come back up with her map in his hand. He’d held it out to her wordlessly, a slightly mocking smile on his mouth. She’d taken it, and before she had even been able to say sorry, or thank you, the blonde had grabbed the man’s attention and with a scant glance at Jane had urged him away, looking at her watch with exaggerated motions. And he had disappeared.

      Jane had stood, still stunned, her body energised to a point of awareness just short of pain. She had still been able to feel the imprint of his hands on her arms. She’d lifted fingers to her lips, which had tingled…as if he had actually touched them. It had been just seconds, a mere moment, but she’d felt as though she’d stood there with him for hours. The most bizarre and disturbing feeling. And then she had remembered his enigmatic smile, as if he’d known exactly what effect he was having on her. Arrogant, as if it was expected.

      Jane’s reverie ended abruptly as she found that she was following the other tourists onto a small air-conditioned bus. She vowed that that was the last time she would indulge herself in thinking about that man. The last time she would indulge the fantasy she’d had of sitting across a table from him, sharing an intimate dinner, candlelight flickering, picking up the silverware and sparkling glasses. Those green eyes holding hers, not letting her look away. She quashed the silly flutter in her belly and took in the other people on the bus, leaning over to a young couple about her age across the aisle.

      ‘Excuse me, do you know where we are?’

      The woman leant across her boyfriend, replying with a strong American accent. ‘Honey, this is Lézille Island—but you’d know that, coming from the hotel…aren’t you a guest?

      ‘No!’ Jane clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘I’m not in a hotel…I thought this was just a general trip…’

      Dismayed, she wondered what she should do, she hadn’t paid for this trip…She belatedly remembered asking the man if this was the boat to les îles—the islands, in French, which sounded exactly like the name of this island. Lézille. No wonder he had just ushered her on board.

      The other woman waved a hand. ‘Oh, don’t worry. I won’t say anything, and no one will notice…you just bagged yourself a free trip!’

      Jane smiled weakly. She hated any sort of subterfuge. But maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. She could always follow them back to their hotel afterwards and offer to pay for the trip. She felt a little better with that thought.

      The woman told her that they were due to visit a vineyard for some wine-tasting, and afterwards to take in an aerial display. Jane gave in and relaxed, and started to enjoy the mystery tour nature of the trip…this was exactly what she needed.

      The vineyard was enormous, with beautifully kept rows of vines. They were shown every part of the winemaking process—which Jane had to admit was more interesting than she would have expected. The name on the bottles sounded familiar—as had the name of the island.

      When they emerged at the other end of the buildings, they could see what looked like a medieval castle in the distance. Again she felt that funny sensation…almost like déjà vu.

      ‘You know this island is owned by a billionaire who lives in that castle?’

      Jane looked around the see the friendly woman from the bus. ‘No…no, I don’t know anything about it.’

      Her voice lowered dramatically. ‘Well, apparently he owns half the coast too—his family go back centuries…He’s so private, he only allows people to visit a few times a year. There’s all sorts of stories about—’ She broke off when her boyfriend came and dragged her away to see something.

      Jane looked back to the castle. It certainly looked as if it could have been around in the Middle Ages. On a small island like this, she guessed it could have been some kind of protective fortress.

      After another short trip in the bus, along a picturesque strip of coastline, they were deposited in a big green field, full of wild flowers, with an airstrip at the far end. A dozen planes were lined up in readiness. There was a fiesta-like atmosphere, with families stretched out around the ground with picnics, stalls set up with drinks, food and handicrafts. A small stone building to the side looked like some kind of museum, and on closer inspection Jane discovered that it was. She just gave it a brief look, before wandering over to see the stalls, where she bought some bread and cheese for a light lunch, noticing that everyone else seemed to have brought picnics.

      Suddenly her arm was grabbed. ‘We haven’t introduced СКАЧАТЬ