I hope you haven’t spent too much on preliminaries,’ Helen returned, with total insincerity. ‘Because Monteagle is still not for sale.’
‘I’m a tolerant man, Miss Frayne. Anyone will tell you that. But you’re beginning to try my patience. Get it into your head, my dear. You’ve fought well, but you’ve lost. I hold all the cards, and I’m about to collect.’
Except, Helen thought, she held a final ace—if she chose to play it. And what real choice did she have—if Monteagle was to be saved?
She heard the creak of a floorboard behind her. Knew without turning who had entered the room—and what he was waiting to hear. Her fight was over at last, and her choice made for her—whatever the consequences.
She took a deep breath, aware that she was shivering, her stomach churning as she faced Trevor Newson.
She said huskily, ‘I’m afraid not. You see, I’m going to be married—very soon—and my future husband plans to restore the house completely—as our family home.’ She paused. ‘Isn’t that right—darling?’
Marc’s hands descended on her shoulders. His skin smelled cool and damp, but the lips that touched the side of her throat in a lingering kiss were warmer than the blaze of the sun.
He said softly into her ear, ‘It will be one of my many pleasures, mon amour.’
He came to stand beside her, his arm circling her body, his hand on her hip in a gesture of possession as casual as it was disturbing. He was barefoot, bare-chested, a pair of shabby jeans his only covering.
‘When I woke you were gone, cherie.’ He clicked his tongue in a kind of amused reproach. ‘And here you are, entertaining another man.’
‘I don’t think Mr Newson is particularly entertained,’ Helen said coolly. ‘Besides, he’s just leaving.’
The older man’s face was unpleasantly flushed. ‘So this is your saviour?’ He nearly spat the word. ‘He doesn’t look to me as if he’s got two pennies to rub together, but I’m sure you’ve had him checked out.’ He glared at Marc. ‘She’s a fast worker. I’ll give her that. Up to yesterday she was supposed to be engaged to someone else, only he’s dumped her. Now here she is with you.’ Trevor Newson gave Helen a smile that made her skin crawl. ‘So, where did you find this one, love?’
‘She did not,’ Marc said curtly. ‘I found her. And you are offending my fiancée, monsieur. Perhaps you would like to go, before I throw you out.’
‘You and whose army?’ Trevor Newson blustered. He was more heavily built than his opponent, but he was flabby and out of condition when compared with Marc’s toned muscularity. ‘But I’m leaving anyway.’ At the door, he turned. ‘This is going to cost you a fortune, my friend. I just hope you find she’s worth the expense. Not many women are.’
As soon as he had gone Helen eased herself from Marc’s arm and walked over to the window.
She said, ‘Do you usually come downstairs half-dressed?’
‘I had just finished shaving. You have some objection?’ He sounded amused again.
She shrugged. ‘It’s—not very dignified.’ She paused. ‘And it made that awful man think…’
‘That we had slept together?’ Marc supplied cordially, as she hesitated again. ‘But you can hardly deny that you spent most of the night in my arms, ma mie.’
‘No,’ Helen said between gritted teeth. ‘I—can’t.’
‘But you wish so much that it were otherwise, hein?’ He walked over to her. Turned her to face him, a hand under her chin, so he could look down into her eyes. ‘So,’ he said softly, ‘you have agreed, after all, to make the ultimate sacrifice to save this house. For a while I thought your aversion to me might prove too strong.’
She bit her lip and stared down at the floor. ‘So did I.’ Her voice was bitter.
‘I think I owe Monsieur Newson some thanks,’ he said reflectively. ‘If he had not come here this morning, your answer to me might have been different.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It would.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Don’t you have any compunction about what you’re doing—what you’re forcing me to do? And all for a whim.’ She shook her head. ‘If you really want a house, there are so many others you could buy. So many women probably falling over each other to marry you.’
‘But you are unique, cherie,’ he said lightly. ‘You do not profess undying love. You make it clear that you want only my money. I find that—refreshing.’
‘And I,’ she said in a low voice, ‘find it degrading.’
He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Nevertheless, Hélène,’ he said quietly, ‘the bargain is made between us, and it will not be broken.’ He dug a hand into the pocket of his jeans and produced the little velvet box. ‘Now, give me your hand.’
She watched numbly as the ruby slid over her knuckle into its symbolic resting place. So beautiful, she thought, watching the slow fire that burned in its depths, and yet so totally meaningless.
He said, ‘Will you give me a kiss, or do I have to take it from you?’
Swallowing nervously, she raised her mouth to his with reluctant obedience. But instead of the passionate onslaught she’d expected—and feared—Marc was gentle with her, his lips moving on hers with a strange, almost mesmerising sweetness, the tip of his tongue probing her defences softly and sensuously. Coaxing her, she thought, her mind reeling, to a response that she dared not risk—even if she wished…
She stood rigid in the circle of his arms, shakily aware of the heat of his naked skin through her clothes. Willing the kiss to end. Praying that she would escape unscathed.
At last, with a rueful sigh, he lifted his head, watching her through half-closed eyes.
‘You lack warmth, cherie,’ he told her wryly. ‘But that will change once you have learned a little about pleasure.’
She stepped back from him, wrapping defensive arms round her body. ‘Is that really what you think?’ She invested her tone with scorn.
He laughed then, running the back of his hand teasingly down the curve of her stormy face. ‘Yes, petite innocente, I do.’ He paused, glancing at his watch. ‘And now, hélas, I must dress and tear myself away from you back to London.’
‘You’re leaving?’ She was genuinely astonished. ‘Now?’
‘Pourquoi pas?’ He shrugged. ‘After all, I have what I came for—and I have to prepare for an early meeting tomorrow.’ He took the hand that wore his ring and kissed it. ‘But I shall return next week. In the meantime my architect will be here, with his team, to begin restoration work on the house.’
His tone was brisk and businesslike, making her see the dynamism that drove him. See it, and resent it.
Monteagle, she thought, doesn’t belong to you yet, monsieur.
She
