The Frenchman's Captive Wife

At twenty she had been shy and severely lacking in confidence, unable to disguise her massive crush on the handsome, enigmatic Frenchman who had turned all their lives upside down, but to him she must have seemed a pushover. She had been a pawn in a far more serious game.

‘You always did seriously undervalue yourself,’ Luc murmured dryly, as his eyes skimmed her flushed face and huge navy blue eyes. ‘I admit there were a number of reasons why you were suitable…’

‘All to do with money and prestige, and none to do with love,’ Emily finished for him. She didn’t want to hear every cold, calculated detail of why he had decided to marry her. She already knew it was because her parents had offered him Heston Grange at a massively reduced price if he married one of the Dyer daughters, thereby retaining the family’s link with their heritage. It was archaic, she thought bitterly. She felt like a brood mare, sold off with a suitable dowry, but Luc hadn’t even wanted her for her childbearing ability. He hadn’t wanted children at all, which made his sudden determination to gain custody of their son all the more shocking.

‘Jean-Claude is a Vaillon,’ Luc repeated stubbornly, ‘and from now on the Château Montiard will be his home, not some filthy dump in the middle of nowhere.’

‘San Antonia is not filthy. The farmhouse is beautiful and Jean-Claude loved it there.’

‘Really.’ Luc’s brows rose as he murmured sardonically. ‘He must be a child prodigy to express his opinion when he’s not even a year old. Tell me, chérie, what would you have done if he’d been taken ill? The nearest hospital is miles away. For someone who expresses such maternal devotion, you seem to have little regard for his well-being.’

‘While you, of course, are an expert on child care,’ Emily snapped furiously. ‘Jean-Claude was perfectly well cared for, but it’s not easy being a single mother and I was grateful for the help of the other members of the commune.’

‘You were a single mother by choice,’ he pointed out hardily, ‘but you never gave Jean-Claude a choice. You forced him to live his life with only one parent and you denied me a relationship with my own son. Now it’s your turn to suffer,’ he told her darkly, and she shivered at the contempt in his gaze.

‘For heaven’s sake, can’t we be adult about this?’ she cried despairingly and he gave a harsh laugh.

‘It would be a first for you, chérie, that’s for sure, but I’m afraid you’ve pushed me way beyond the boundaries of wanting to be reasonable. Now that I have my son I have no intention of ever letting him go, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.’

The car was slowing and Emily glanced out of the window, frantically searching for the signs to the airport, but there were none. Instead they drove through the gates of what appeared to be a private airfield and sick fear gripped her. How could she have forgotten that Luc owned his own private jet? There was no bustling airport, no queues at the check-in desk where there might have been an opportunity to grab Jean-Claude and run. Luc’s plane was ready and waiting on the runway. He had stated that he was prepared to take her to his château for their son’s sake but he couldn’t force her to resume the role of his wife, could he?

Suddenly her pride was an expendable commodity she would gladly sacrifice in return for her baby and she stared beseechingly at Luc as the car drew to a halt. ‘Please, don’t do this,’ she begged huskily. ‘I can’t live without Jean-Claude but neither can I live with you. You must see that.’

‘Surely, if you have any sense of fairness you must see that it is my turn to have him now,’ Luc replied coldly. ‘Jean-Claude is coming home with me, with or without you.’

‘But you didn’t want him!’ she cried, her voice rising with frustration. ‘From the moment you knew I was pregnant you made it clear that you had no interest in either of us. You slept in another room,’ she reminded him huskily, ‘when you bothered to come back to the flat at all. And you were completely uninvolved in my pregnancy. You didn’t even show up at the hospital for my ultrasound scan.

‘Do you have any idea how I felt that morning?’ she demanded bitterly as a wave of memories hit her. ‘The fact that you’d spent the night with Robyn was unforgivable but I still thought…hoped you cared enough about our child to want to see the first pictures of him. I sat in that waiting room alone surrounded by excited, happy couples, and I prayed you would come,’ she whispered brokenly. Every time they called my name I allowed someone else to go in my place until there was no one left, just me on my own with a very sympathetic nurse who tried to make a joke about men being useless timekeepers.’ She scrubbed her eyes furiously with the back of her hand, desperate that he didn’t see her cry. ‘But you hadn’t mistaken the time, had you, Luc? You just didn’t care about the baby or me, and that’s why I left. I knew I’d outstayed my welcome.’

‘That’s not true,’ he began, his face twisting with emotions she refused to try and decipher any more.

‘It is true,’ she cried angrily. ‘I didn’t need any more proof of your indifference. How can you blame me for questioning your motives now?’ she finished brokenly.

Luc paused as he opened the door. She looked as young and innocent as on that first day when she had stared up at him and an arrow had pierced his heart. He wanted to hate her—indeed, there had been many times during the past year when he’d convinced himself that he despised her—but she was watching him with those expressive blue eyes. He glimpsed her vulnerability and something tugged at his heart.

He had never been any good at saying how he felt, he conceded, and his conscience prickled as he remembered how his unspoken fears had caused him to appear tense and uncommunicative. His childhood had left scars, a wariness of revealing his emotions. He hadn’t forgotten her scan. Dieu, he would have given anything to be with her but Robyn had been distraught, he had been torn and by the time he had managed to phone and explain the situation, Emily had already left for the hospital. He had been too late but at that point he hadn’t realised the extent of the damage his decision had cost him, and he had never been given the chance to make amends.

‘Wait there while I see if they’re ready for us,’ he growled as he climbed out of the car. ‘I have employed a nanny to take care of Jean-Claude. It might be better if he meets her before we get on the plane.’

‘He doesn’t need a nanny,’ Emily pointed out sharply. ‘I can look after him perfectly well on my own.’

‘Mon Dieu! Do you have to argue about everything?’ He was already striding across the tarmac and she watched him go, adrenalin coursing through her as she tapped on the car’s glass partition to gain the attention of the chauffer. This was probably a hired car, she reasoned feverishly, and it was likely that the driver was Spanish.

‘Drive on, please,’ she requested in a confident tone that did not match the sick fear in the pit of her stomach. The months she’d spent in Spain meant that she was fairly fluent in the language and she smiled reassuringly at the driver. ‘There’s been a change of plan and Señor Vaillon wishes you to take me to the international airport.’

The chauffer was young and his dark eyes flashed with a boldness he made no effort to hide as he responded to her smile.

‘Sí, señora.’

The car rolled forward and she took a sharp breath. ‘As quickly as you can, por favor.’ But it was too late. Luc must have moved faster than the speed of light and already he was wrenching the door open.

‘You little bitch,’ he swore at her savagely, his face contorted with fury. He yelled at the driver to cut the engine and swiftly released Jean-Claude’s safety harness before lifting him into his arms. ‘I was prepared to be fair, to treat you with a respect that you clearly don’t deserve. But not any more,’ he snarled as his fingers curled around her arm.

‘Is everything all right, Monsieur Vaillon?’ The woman at the bottom of the plane’s steps looked calm and professional in her grey uniform. Presumable she was the nanny Luc had hired, Emily thought desperately as she struggled to break free of his bruising grip.

‘Shall I take the baby?’

‘Merci.’ Luc transferred Jean-Claude into the woman’s arms and immediately turned his attention back to Emily, his eyes dark and dispassionate as he watched a single tear roll down her face.

‘You can’t do this,’ she whispered as he jerked her into his arms.

‘Watch me,’ he taunted, and before she realised his intentions his head obliterated the sunlight. It was not so much a kiss as a public branding, his lips hot and hard, forcing hers apart and uncaring if he evoked a response. Emily was so shocked that she simply leaned against his chest fearing that her legs would buckle beneath her. Her humiliation was complete when she was forced to cling to him for support. It was as quick as it was brutal and he released her with a savage imprecation while she stared up at him, her trembling fingers covering her mouth. For a few brief seconds she had been on fire for him, her body reacting instantaneously to his raw sexuality, and her cheeks burned with shame at the speculative gleam in his eyes. He knew the effect he had on her, knew that for those few seconds he had made her forget everything, even her son, and with that knowledge came power.

‘Take your hands off me,’ she demanded, her voice shaking with outrage, and he threw back his head and laughed.

‘You’re a good actress, I’ll give you that. But you don’t fool me, ma chérie. I know you too well and I have forgotten nothing. I remember vividly what pleases you,’ he breathed in her ear and the warmth of his breath on her skin caused a trembling within her that had nothing to do with fear. ‘Welcome back, my sweet wife,’ he goaded softly as he put his hand in the small of her back and pushed her up the steps into the waiting jet.

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