The Frenchman's Bride. Rebecca Winters

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      Hallie Linn had just left Tati’s department store in Paris where she worked when she heard a familiar voice. She glanced to her left. A taxi had pulled up alongside her and the rear door was flung open.

      In the back sat Monique Rolland, the vivacious French girl who’d attached herself to Hallie over the last school year.

      “What are you doing here?”

      “Waiting for you. It’s your birthday! We’re going to celebrate!”

      Birthday? She’d completely forgotten about it.

      Furthermore, Hallie had already said a final goodbye to Monique and her brother Paul two days ago. Hallie was sure that this was just another excuse to get the three of them together before the twins went home to the Dordogne region of France for the summer.

      Monique’s unexpected presence outside Hallie’s work meant the motherless teen still couldn’t let go and was feeling the wrench of separation.

      In truth, so was Hallie.

      While she’d been in Paris doing service as a lay nun for the Dominican’s international outreach program, she’d learned to love the precocious twins like family. To spend any more time with them would make it that much harder for Hallie to leave. But she had to; Hallie would be entering a convent in San Diego, California, in two weeks.

      “How did you know it was my birthday? I didn’t even remember it.”

      “When we crossed the Channel to spend the day in England Paul sneaked a peek at your passport. Now get in the taxi!” she cried. “We’re blocking the traffic!”

      Hallie didn’t budge. “You’re supposed to be at school right now. You know very well they’re having a farewell dinner for everyone.”

      “I’d rather be with you. Don’t worry. I obtained special permission to stay out until eight o’clock. Come on. We’re wasting time.”

      At this point the impatient taxi driver muttered a curse, prompting Hallie into action. Against her better judgment she climbed in the back seat. Once she’d shut the door, the driver darted into the crush of traffic. It was a miracle they didn’t have an accident.

      “Where are we going exactly?”

      Monique flashed her a mischievous smile. “That’s my surprise.”

      “Another one?”

      There’d been so many throughout the last nine months, but Monique had never shown up in a taxi before. They normally walked or took the subway and trains.

      “Is it far?”

      There was a hint of mystery in Monique’s expression. “Wait and see.”

      “Look me in the eye and swear that your headmistress said you could stay out late.”

      With a toss of her head, Monique dismissed Hallie’s concerns as utter nonsense.

      “I thought so,” Hallie murmured. “Not only are you breaking the rules, if we travel much further, this taxi ride is going to cost too much money for your budget. I’m getting out at the next intersection.”

      “No!” Monique cried out. “You can’t do that or you’ll spoil everything!”

      A certain nuance in Monique’s voice told her that not only had the twins organized something elaborate, they’d been planning it for a long time.

      “You know I don’t want to ruin your surprise, but I’d hate to see either of you get into trouble on your last school night.”

      “I passed my finals with highest marks. Besides, the headmistress wouldn’t dare get me into trouble with Papa.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because he never forgets to bring her a supply of the best wine from our vineyards when he comes to Paris.” Her dark brows arched. “She wouldn’t want that to end, or the visits. So far he has resisted her attempts to seduce him, but she hasn’t given up yet.”

      The cynical comment coming from the mouth of such a wonderful young woman wounded Hallie.

      “Don’t look so shocked, I’ve told you before that all women find my father irresistible, money or not.”

      While Hallie was digesting this latest confidence about the headmistress, she noticed they had arrived in the sixteenth arrondissement, an area noted for being one of the most prestigious residential neighborhoods in Paris.

      The taxi drove along the Rue de Passy with its many shops, then turned down another road and eventually pulled up in front of an apartment building. It was a beautiful example of Fin de Siècle architecture. Only the extremely wealthy, like Monique’s father, could afford to live here.

      Hallie followed Monique out of the taxi. Once she’d paid the driver, they entered the elegant lobby where she punched in a code so they could ride the elevator.

      It took them to the third floor where the doors opened to an exquisite apartment with expansive rooms. Much of the furniture and fixtures were fine antiques, yet the sumptuous appointments created a welcoming feel.

      Monique walked over to the French doors which led to a terrace. “Wow!” She darted Hallie a gamin smile. “Your own private view of the Bois de Boulogne.”

      Paris in the spring. It was a glorious sight, but Hallie couldn’t concentrate on the view when she had serious reservations about spending more time with the twins.

      “Does your father know about this?”

      “Oh la la! For your information he’s in London on business and won’t come for us until tomorrow afternoon. Paul and I have been given permission to use the apartment for special occasions. Your twenty-fifth birthday is just such an event.”

      Though Hallie had never met Vincent Rolland, she secretly admired him. For a single parent he seemed to have done an excellent job of raising his children. They didn’t smoke, take drugs or abuse alcohol. Both were exceptional students, bright and charming. In Hallie’s opinion they were quite outstanding. He deserved a great deal of credit for being a terrific father.

      What she couldn’t understand was why he’d sent them away to boarding school. How had he stood to be parted from them? As for the twins, they adored him. Hallie knew they lived for his visits and telephone calls.

      “I’d hate to think you were taking advantage of your father’s generosity because of me.”

      “Of course we’re not! As I’ve told you before, you worry about us too much. We’ll only be here for an hour. S’il te plait, don’t be a, how do you say it? Wet rug?” She stamped her well shod foot, impatient for Hallie to relax.

      “You mean, blanket, and that’s a dated expression. If you want to sound modern, try saying ‘don’t be such a big fat pain.”’

      They both ended up chuckling.

      Such an unlikely pair they were. Hallie’s well endowed figure was four СКАЧАТЬ