His Perfect Partner. Laura Martin

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СКАЧАТЬ the days that followed Jean-Luc’s departure Rachel tried hard to keep faith, to hope that he would be missing her as much as she was missing him and that he would come back simply because he loved her.

      The doubts crept in, of course. Once so sure of what they had together, Rachel began to look at aspects of their time together and understood that what had been for her the most important relationship of her life had been for Jean-Luc simply a passionate holiday romance.

      The shock of discovering he was gone, after returning from a weekend visit to a friend, had been profound, to say the least. On that Friday afternoon she had kissed him goodbye without a care in the world, confident that he would be at the Grange, working still and waiting for her on Monday morning. So sure of what they had together—too sure.

      At first she refused to believe he’d gone. His letter had clinched it, of course, propped up on her cluttered dressing-table when she had returned…Rachel inhaled a ragged breath. Even now, she could scarcely bring herself to think of it. The letter had been so kind—too kind almost, stilted and strange. The agonies of having to tell her that he didn’t want to see her again, she supposed. Whatever, it had given out little hope.

      In some ways it was the kindness, the altered, distant tone of Jean-Luc’s missive, that had hurt Rachel the most. She hadn’t wanted to read about how much their romance had meant to him, how intensely he valued the time they had shared together, that he would remember it always, think of her often. Platitudes, that’s all they had been—empty platitudes.

      She wanted him to be there with her—for always.

      She thought hard about trying to contact him and was dismayed when she realised that, apart from the region, she knew little about where he came from and who he really was. She had been so wrapped up in each moment, in the precious time they had shared together. When she thought back, Rachel realised that he had been peculiarly reticent about discussing his family, his life in France. Sure, he had talked about the beauty and his love of his country, but very little of it had been detailed or precise. Only when Jean-Luc had gone did she understand why.

      It was difficult, coping with her heartbreak alone—impossible, in fact. Aunt Clara was surprisingly sympathetic when a sobbing Rachel confessed why she was in such an appalling state.

      ‘My dear, I don’t want to say I told you so, but you know I really wasn’t happy about the amount of time you were spending with each other. Did you really believe,’ she added gently, ‘that there could be a future with a man like that?’

      ‘A man like that?’ Rachel pulled away from her embrace, still keen to defend Jean-Luc, despite everything. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Silly, silly girl! He’s young—only a couple of years older than yourself—virile, full of his own ambitions. You didn’t honestly think that there was a future for the two of you?’

      ‘Yes!’ Rachel’s expression revealed her anguish. ‘Yes!’ she repeated, the word strangled by a sob. ‘I did.’

      Her aunt suggested getting away, and offered to pay for a long-wanted trip to America to visit distant relations. Rachel, although reluctant in the first few days following Jean-Luc’s departure, soon saw the advantages of such a decision. She wouldn’t be reminded at every turn of what she had lost. Every flower, every blade of grass—Jean-Luc, the gardener, her lover, had tended them all.

      She didn’t want to dwell on those weeks and months that had followed. Even now, six years later, she could still remember the twisting pain that had accompanied her every waking moment. And there had been dreams—such dreams! Taunting her with their familiarity so that it had felt as if he were still with her, still loving her…

      Rachel smoothed the finely knitted dress over her hips. She glanced in the hall mirror and wondered if she had overdone the lipstick. Was it too red? Too bright? Too much an indication that she was trying to impress? Rachel opened her clutch bag and pulled out a tissue, wiping the colour from her lips. That was better. She looked paler now, more fragile, more like her usual self.

      Rachel pulled open the door with trembling fingers. Jean-Luc had come himself to fetch her, and had not merely sent his chauffeur, as she’d expected. He stood some distance away with his back to her, surveying the sweeping gravelled front which had looked so pristine in his time here as a gardener but which was now weedy and in need of a massive amount of care and attention.

      ‘The place looks rather sorry for itself now, doesn’t it?’ He turned and cast dark eyes over Rachel’s figure. It took all of his considerable self-possession not to reveal his pleasure at the sight of her. She looked stunning, as different from his earlier meeting with her as night was from day. Here was a glimpse of the sophisticated, astute career woman he had heard about.

      ‘You’re ready?’ His smile was brief, almost curt, a dark brow raised questioningly. ‘We should get going. A table has been booked for eight-thirty.’

      ‘Where are we going?’ Rachel’s voice was faint in comparison to his. She cleared her throat and added in stronger tones, ‘Is it far?’

      ‘Twenty kilometres or so, I believe.’ Jean-Luc’s response was polite but cool. ‘This area does not have a particularly good choice of restaurants.’

      She followed him to his car—a different one from this afternoon, she realised, larger and even more impressive, if that were possible. The chauffeur removed himself from behind the steering-wheel and opened the rear door for Rachel with a brief smile.

      Jean-Luc got in beside her. Rachel shifted her position so that she sat as far away as possible from him, and made a pretence of looking out of the window.

      ‘The windows need repainting, do they not?’ Rachel glanced across at Jean-Luc, sensing the mockery in his tone. ‘You must be sorry to see the place so run-down,’ he added.

      ‘It still has charm,’ Rachel replied stiffly. ‘It’s still my home.’

      ‘But for how much longer?’ He leant forward, indicating to the chauffeur that they should be on their way.

      ‘Isn’t all this…’ Rachel glanced around the plush interior, her gaze taking in the driver ahead ‘…a little…extreme?’

      ‘In what respect?’ Jean-Luc’s gaze was steady upon Rachel’s face.

      ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She shook her blonde head and glanced out of the window again. ‘I just never imagined I’d see you riding around in a chauffeur-driven limousine, that’s all,’ she murmured.

      ‘You never imagined that you would see me again,’ Jean-Luc replied. ‘I can understand why this has come as something of a shock to you.’

      ‘Oh, you can, can you?’ Rachel surveyed his handsome face with narrowed blue eyes. ‘How clever you are!’

      ‘Rachel—’

      ‘Don’t! I’m not interested!’ She swallowed, struggling against a throat that was tight with unshed tears. ‘I’m only here because of the Grange. Nothing else! That’s all I’m interested in. Not how you became a success, or what you’ve been doing in the intervening years. Only the Grange.’ She hardened her expression, turning briefly to look into the face she had once loved so much. ‘Do you understand?’

      He didn’t reply immediately, simply looked deep into her eyes, making her suffer with the intensity of his gaze—so СКАЧАТЬ