The Right Bride?: Bride of Desire / The English Aristocrat's Bride / Vacancy: Wife of Convenience. Sara Craven

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      Oh, God, she thought, shamed to the bone. I’m pleading with him for sex when he’s already turned me down. Please—this can’t be happening to me.

      Words slunk from the past to haunt her. Useless—stupid—frigid… All the taunts, the accusations, coming home to roost. Branding her for ever with their terrible truth.

      Shocked blood rushed to her face as she realised, too, what she must look like, dazed with desire, her hardened nipples thrusting against the cling of her dishevelled blouse. Stunned, she scrambled away from him, clumsy in her haste. ‘Yes—yes, of course. I—I’m sorry. We should go. Tante will wonder…’

      And then the words ran out on a little gasp, and she could only put her hands over her face, unable to bear the renewed humiliation of seeing the pity in his eyes when he looked at her.

      Remy said something half under his breath, and his hands clamped firmly round her wrists, tugging them away.

      ‘You think, maybe, that I do not want you?’ The question was almost harsh. ‘But you are so wrong, Alys. I hesitate only because I do not wish you to think I am like that other man. That I ask only for the pleasure of the moment. For us, that can never be the choice, and we both know it. There must be more between us than just a meeting of bodies.’

      ‘Then—what?’ Somehow, Allie forced the question from trembling lips.

      He sighed. ‘I think that I need you to trust me, mon ange.’

      ‘I do.’ Her protest was swift.

      ‘But not enough. Believe me.’ His tone was quiet but forceful. He cupped her face between his hands, the blue eyes intense. ‘How can you, when you hardly know me? When we hardly know each other?’ He shrugged, his smile crooked. ‘So—that must change. And I—I will have to learn patience.’

      ‘So will I.’ Her admission was shy. She turned her head, pressing a kiss into the warmth of his palm.

      ‘Ah, mon coeur.’ He took her back into his arms, holding her close for a few heart-stopping moments, releasing her with open reluctance. ‘We had better go now,’ he muttered roughly. ‘Before I am tempted beyond endurance.’

      Allie’s glance through her lashes was mischievous as he helped her to her feet. ‘Isn’t that why you brought me here in the first place?’

      ‘Of course.’ His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘But I am only human, Alys, and therefore allowed to hope—being no saint.’

      ‘I’m glad.’ She glanced round at the standing stones. ‘The local variety took a tough line with straying girls. Maybe he could have used a little humanity too.’

      ‘Perhaps we were right not to risk his anger?’ Remy suggested. Then, as she turned away, he halted her. ‘Wait, ma mie, I need to tidy you a little.’ She obeyed, standing demurely while Remy carefully rebuttoned her gaping shirt and brushed tell-tale fronds of dried grass from her clothes and hair.

      ‘But I can do nothing about your eyes, chérie, or your beautiful mouth,’ he added huskily. ‘You look entirely like a girl who has been in the arms of her lover. I only hope your great-aunt does not bar me from her house.’

      She won’t do that. The words remained on her lips, unsaid, as she suddenly realised, with a kind of shock, that she could guarantee no such thing. Tante Madelon was a woman of another generation entirely, with strict views on marriage and its obligations, even when it was clearly as ill-advised and wretched as Allie’s was.

      And as it would remain.

      Because, all too soon, this brief respite would be over, and she would have to go back. Back to the misery of emptiness and blame.

      She glanced sideways at him as they drove away, thinking of the strength of the arms that had held her, the grace of his mouth. Feeling her starving body clench in a swift, primitive craving that screamed out for the ultimate fulfilment.

      She’d denied herself a normal life, she thought desperately, trying to appease her conscience. Surely she was entitled to some happiness—just for a while—wasn’t she? A little sweetness to comfort her in the barren time ahead? Was it really so much to ask?

      She saw, in the wing mirror, the image of the stone circle, pointing grimly, like so many warning fingers, towards the sky. And realised, as her heart skipped a beat, that her question had been answered.

      To hell with it, she told the unseen forces of retribution. I won’t give him up. Not yet. Because I can’t. And if there’s a price to pay, then I’ll just have to face that when it happens.

      They said little on the way back to Les Sables. The road ahead was empty, and Remy took one hand from the wheel, clasping her fingers lightly as they drove.

      So this is first love, she thought, turning to feast her eyes on him. Come to me at last.

      And she saw his mouth slant in a swift smile, as if he’d read her thoughts.

      As they drove up to the house, Tante emerged, and stood waiting for them. Her face was tranquil as she watched Remy go round to the passenger door and help her great-niece, very circumspectly, to alight, but Allie was not deceived.

      She’s probably been pacing the rug since we left, she thought with a sigh.

      Remy must have sensed the same thing, because he said, with a touch of dryness, ‘As you see, I have returned her safely, madame.’

      She picked up his tone. ‘Mon cher Remy, I never doubted you for an instant.’ She paused. ‘May I offer you some coffee before you depart?’

      ‘Merci, madame, but I think I must get back to Trehel. I have some matters to discuss with the builders.’ He made her a small polite bow, then turned to Allie, his face smooth, but little devils glinting in his eyes. ‘Au revoir, Alys. I hope you will permit me to call on you again?’

      She looked down at her feet. ‘Why, yes. Thank you. If you wish. That would be—very nice,’ she added wildly.

      ‘Then I too shall look forward to it.’ There was only the slightest tremor in his voice, but the wickedly prim face he pulled at her as he walked towards the Jeep was almost her undoing.

      As he reached it, another vehicle—a blue pick-up—suddenly pulled in behind him with a crackling swirl of gravel. The driver’s door was flung wide, and a girl jumped down.

      She was small, with silver-blonde hair and a pretty heartshaped face, all huge brown eyes, and a sexy mouth painted bright pink, with her finger and toenails enamelled to match.

      She possessed a shapely figure bordering on the frankly voluptuous, set off by tight white trousers and a scoop-necked top in a stinging shade of violet. And she was smiling widely as she ran across to Remy and kissed him on both cheeks, standing charmingly on tiptoe in order to do so.

      ‘Chéri.’ She had a soft, throaty voice. ‘I thought I recognised your Jeep. But why are you here?’ She turned to Madelon. ‘Please tell me you are not ill, ma chère madame.’

      ‘Not in the least,’ said Tante briskly. ‘Dr de Brizat СКАЧАТЬ