“I’m sorry, Hallie. The last thing I want to do is offend you. I want to close the door on that chapter of my life forever.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“But will you be able to forgive me?”
She jerked her head around. He saw a blur of blue-green fire. “How can you ask me that? Don’t you realize I’m your friend?”
Friend.
In his gut he recognized he wanted her to be more than that to him….
Rebecca Winters, an American writer and mother of four, is excited to be in this new millennium because it means another new beginning. Having said goodbye to the classroom where she taught French and Spanish, she is now free to spend more time with her family, to travel and to write the Harlequin Romance® novels she loves so dearly.
Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to e-mail her, please visit her Web site at: www.rebeccawinters-author.com.
The Frenchman’s Bride
Rebecca Winters
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
REACHING for a towel, Vincent Rolland stepped from the shower of his London hotel suite having made the decision to fly to Paris after his business lunch later in the day. This weekend he’d be taking his twins home to St. Genes. He couldn’t wait.
The chateau had been like a tomb without them. Though there’d been phone calls and visits, the nine month school year had been too long a separation.
It was Thursday. They weren’t expecting him until Friday, but he wanted to surprise them. Tonight they would celebrate the end of school together before flying home to their chateau tomorrow.
While he was shaving, he heard his cell phone ring. It was probably one of the children calling him now.
He hurried into the other room to answer it. A glance at the caller ID told him someone from St. Genes was ringing.
Hopefully nothing was wrong.
“Oui?”
“Bonjour, Vincent.” It was the housekeeper. She sounded in good spirits.
“Bonjour, Etvige. How’s Pere Maurice?”
“Don’t worry. He and Beauregard just left on their morning walk.”
That was reassuring; with the twins away, his grandfather and the dog were becoming devoted to each other.
“Monsieur Gide at the bank in Paris called you. He’d like you to phone him as soon as you can. Here’s his number.”
Monsieur Gide? Vincent hadn’t talked to him since he’d set up an account for the twins last fall.
He wrote it down. “Merci, Etvige. Tell Pere Maurice I’ll call him from Paris.”
Once they’d hung up, he punched in the number and was put through to the bank manager.
“Thank you for getting back to me so quickly, Monsieur Rolland. You did say to phone if the need arose.”
“Of course. What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to let you know that two days ago your son wrote a check for a large sum of money. Before I put it through, I thought I should call to be certain you approved.”
“How large?”
“Eighty-seven hundred Eurodollars. There’ll be nothing left in the account.”
On hearing the banker’s words, disappointment swept through Vincent that his children hadn’t waited for him before they spent it.
“It’s all right, Monsieur. I promised them a car if they did well in their end of year exams.”
“A car? I’m afraid this check was made out to Rue Vendome Fine Jewelry.”
Jewelry—
A shudder passed through his body.
Just hearing the word was like an echo from the blackest period of his life.
“Hold the check until I’ve made an inquiry.”
“Very good, Monsieur. Here’s the number.”
As soon as Vincent hung up, he called the jewelry store.
Vincent couldn’t imagine what this was all about. On the whole his children had always exercised good judgment and were trustwor—
“Bijoux Vendome.”
“Bonjour, Monsieur. I’d like to talk to the manager please.”
“Speaking.”
“This is Vincent Rolland.”
“Oh yes, Monsieur Rolland. Just the other day your son was in to buy an exquisite ring for the woman he intends to marry. He is very much in love and insisted on the finest aquamarine to match her eyes.”
“Mon Dieu,” Vincent whispered in agony.
He gripped the phone tighter. History was repeating itself. Like father, like son…
“Hallie?”
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