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 bristled defiantly. ‘I have my own local people, thank you.’
‘And now you will also have Alain.’ He grinned at her. ‘So, don’t give him a hard time, cherie. He might wound more easily than I do.’ He paused. ‘One more thing,’ he added casually. ‘The number of your bank account, if you please.’
She gasped. ‘Why should I give you that?’
‘So that I can transfer some money for you.’
She said coldly, ‘I have funds of my own, thanks. I don’t need any charity.’
‘And I am not offering it. But there will be incidental expenses once the work starts that you cannot be expected to meet.’ He smiled at her. ‘Also you have your trousseau to buy. I intend to begin the arrangements for our wedding tomorrow. I suggest a civil ceremony before witnesses at the end of next month.’
Helen’s heart was thudding again. ‘But you said there was no hurry,’ she protested. ‘That—that you’d wait…’
‘I think,’ he told her softly, ‘that I have been patient enough already. And last night has kindled my appetite, ma mie.’ His smile widened as he looked down into her outraged, apprehensive eyes. ‘So, be good enough to write down your account number for me, and I will go and leave you in peace.’
Quivering with anger, she obeyed, handing over the slip of paper with open resentment.
Marc walked to the door, then turned slowly, letting his eyes travel down her body.
‘On the other hand,’ he said softly, ‘I still have the memory of how you felt in my arms last night. And I could even now be persuaded to stay.’
He watched her eyes widen in sudden shock, and went on silkily, ‘But it is a matter entirely for you to decide, mon amour. Although I promise you would find the bed in my room more comfortable than that penance of a sofa.’
The words were thick in her throat. ‘I’ll have to take your word for that, monsieur. Goodbye.’
She turned back to the window, hardly daring to breathe until she heard the door close quietly behind him.
Monteagle is safe, she whispered to herself. And that’s all that matters. All that I can allow to matter, anyway.
The cost to herself—well, that was different, and she would have to find some way to endure it.
God, but he was so sure of her, she thought, digging her nails painfully into the palms of her clenched fists. So convinced he could seduce her into passionate surrender. But he would have to think again.
‘You may own Monteagle, monsieur,’ she whispered under her breath, resolution like a stone in her heart. ‘But you’ll never possess me—and that I swear, by everything I hold dear.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
LOTTIE looked silently at the ruby lying on the table between them.
She said, ‘That’s costume jewellery, and this whole thing is a wind-up—right?’
Helen shook her head. ‘Wrong.’ Her voice was husky. ‘I really am engaged to Marc Delaroche. He—proposed last night. I accepted this morning.’
Lottie stared at her open-mouthed. She said, half to herself, ‘This can’t be happening. Twenty-four hours ago you considered yourself engaged to Nigel.’ Her voice rose. ‘And now you’re going to be married to someone you’ve known a matter of days?’
‘You made me have dinner with him,’ Helen defended. ‘You practically twisted my arm.’
‘Yes,’ said Lottie. ‘Because I thought it would do you good to go out with someone lethally attractive who clearly fancied you. But that was when I thought you were both sane.’
She sat back in her chair, her worried gaze resting on Helen’s pale face. ‘Are we talking serious rebound from Nigel, here? Or are you telling me that love at first sight actually exists?’
‘Love has nothing to do with it.’ Helen drew a deep breath. ‘The truth is that he’s absolutely crazy about Monteagle and is willing to spend whatever it takes to restore the place to its old glory. Only it can’t be completely his—unless, of course, I’m part of the package.’ She shrugged. ‘And that’s it.’
‘Oh, my God,’ Lottie said helplessly, and relapsed into frowning silence. At last she said, ‘Helen—just sell him the place, and save yourself a lot of heartache.’
‘I’ll never sell Monteagle, and he knows it. I made it clear enough at that damned committee meeting. He also knows I’m desperate.’ Helen shrugged again, aiming for insouciance. ‘I—can’t afford to refuse.’ She hesitated. ‘It’s a business arrangement. What they call a marriage of convenience, I suppose.’
‘Ah,’ Lottie said blandly. ‘Then presumably, as you’re still virtual strangers, the deal does not include sex.’ Her gaze drilled into Helen’s. ‘Or does it?’
Helen looked down at the table. ‘We—we haven’t settled the final details yet.’
‘Now I know you’re kidding,’ said Lottie derisively. ‘I saw him look at you, remember? And, while Simon and I may have been apart for a while, I still recognise old-fashioned lust when I see it. And, as you’re not in love with him, how will you deal with that when payback time arrives? Are you really that sophisticated?’
Helen stared at the burn of the ruby lying between them. She said, half to herself, ‘I—I’ll cope somehow. Because I have to.’ She forced a smile. ‘What would you do in my place?’
‘Sell,’ said Lottie. ‘And run.’ She paused. ‘Or you could try closing your eyes and doing exactly what you are told. That could be interesting.’
‘You mean lie back and think of England?’ Helen’s laugh had a hollow ring. ‘Or Monteagle?’
‘I doubt whether Marc Delaroche will let you think about anything but him,’