The Price of Honour

“This is your favorite time of day. Why aren’t you riding?”

Xavier.

She startled at the sound of his deep, slightly accented voice, and her boot slipped on the rail, nearly dumping her on her bottom. She quickly regained her balance and spun to face him. Joy, hope and apprehension swirled like a dust devil inside her. He’d come. Finally. The urge to throw herself in his arms bunched inside her like a compacted spring. But she couldn’t. Not until she knew his intentions.

The evening breeze tossed his dark hair. His observant green eyes pinned her in place. The shadow of stubble cloaking his jaw, combined with a white silk long-sleeve shirt and black jeans gave him the look of a modern-day pirate. A pirate who had stolen her heart and tossed it overboard like flotsam, she reminded herself.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have come to take you home.” His autocratic bearing and commanding tone were so familiar, so dear. She loved his confidence, his swagger. And those were the words she’d been waiting to hear. But …

“You’ve canceled your wedding?”

His brow creased. “No.”

Her balloon of hope deflated. “Are you going to?”

“I cannot.”

She’d thought her heart couldn’t break any more. Wrong. A fresh stab of pain gouged her. “Then we have nothing more to discuss, Xavier. You’re committed to another woman. You’ve wasted a trip. Climb back in your jet and have a nice flight home. I’ll arrange for someone to pack up the rest of my things and get them out of your cottage.”

“If you want your belongings come for them yourself.”

How like him to be stubborn. “I can’t. I have a job here now.”

“Teaching riding lessons,” he scoffed as if her occupation was no more prestigious than shoveling manure from stalls.

“I like mentoring others.” Or she would once she got the hang of it.

“You like teaching. But you love riding. Your possessions will be waiting for you when you return. I will not allow anyone else to enter your home.”

“Your home. Your name’s on the deed.”

“That can easily be changed.”

“What happens when you marry, Xavier? Do you think your wife will like having your ex-mistress nearby? Or were you expecting us to carry on as lovers after the ceremony?”

“Unlike my mother, I will honor my vows. You may keep the cottage. We are adults. Cecille need not know of our past.”

“Everyone knows about us. We were inseparable for months. Ship my stuff here or give it away. I don’t care. I’m not coming to get it.”

Good thing she’d brought the most important items with her when she’d packed in such a rush to get out before he’d returned from work that day. She wouldn’t need the fancy designer dresses he’d bought her since she wouldn’t be attending parties with him. Besides, pretty soon they wouldn’t fit. She was already noticing her tops fit more snugly.

She wanted to howl in pain and frustration. Couldn’t he see he was making a huge mistake? But unless he relented on his marriage plans she couldn’t risk returning to the house where she’d been so happy with him—the cottage where she’d finally allowed herself to trust in forever. The memories would undermine her resolve to do the right thing for herself and her baby. Besides, she couldn’t afford to have him guess her secret and possibly claim her child.

He moved closer. The fence blocked her retreat. As the distance between them decreased, a slight quiver overtook her body. He lifted a hand and cupped her face in the warmth of his palm. “How can you walk away from what we shared, Megan?”

As tempted as she was to lean into his touch, she resisted. It wasn’t easy. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“But I am not.”

She forced herself to twist out of reach. “Yes, you are. You’re engaged to marry someone else. You know I won’t settle for second place. I always fight for first—in the ring and out of it. You once told me my zeal was one of the things you liked best about me.”

“I admire many things about you, including your ambition and independence. But there is no need to throw a tantrum because you cannot have your way in this.”

She gaped at him as anger boiled inside her. “A tantrum! You think I’m throwing a tantrum?”

“What else could it be? I have showered you with gifts. I have even given you a home. I will make sure you lack for nothing even after we end our association. If you return to Grasse.”

“I’ve never cared about your money, your estate, your fancy cars or airplanes. You’re not offering what I want most, Xavier. You. Exclusively.”

“You have me exclusively now.”

“But only until your wedding. One of these days I’m going to want a husband … and children. I want someone to grow old with. A friend and a lover. You want that with someone else. Do us both a favor and move on.”

Her stiff muscles protested as she turned and ordered them to carry her away from the best—and the worst—thing that had ever happened to her.

She didn’t need to hear gravel crunching under his heels to know Xavier followed. Her body sensed his like a divining rod does water. His purposeful stride quickly brought him up alongside her, and though her eyes hungered for another look at him, she denied herself the pleasure and the pain.

“I have nothing more to say. Goodbye.”

“If we are going to quote past conversations, then you will recall that my determination is one of the traits you claimed we shared and you admired. Do not expect me to give up so easily when what we have is so good. I fight for what I want, and I want you, mon amante.”

“What we had. Past tense.” Apprehension tightened in her middle. She should have listened to her intuition and refused to ride his horses when he’d first approached her. But she hadn’t. She’d been swept away by a man who bought treats for her horses instead of gifts for her, and she’d ignored the warning prickles and signed the contract promising to become his trainer and rider.

After the first competition he’d asked her out while she was still high on the euphoria of winning. She’d somehow found the strength to refuse but then he’d pursued her, unrelentingly bulldozing right over her vow to never become involved with a client.

She couldn’t let him overpower her again. She had to get rid of him. But how?

She glared up at him. “Stop following me. I won’t play cat and mouse with you. And I won’t entertain you until your bride-to-be is willing to warm your sheets. Find another lover, Xavier. I intend to.”

A lie. But he didn’t need to know that.

The nostrils of his aristocratic nose flared and jealousy ignited in his eyes like twin torches. She only had a moment to enjoy her successful score before he hooked a hand behind her nape, holding her captive as his mouth claimed hers.

Shock stalled her heart before passion spurred it into a galloping beat. It shamed her to admit that even his angry kiss turned her on. But then their sexual compatibility had never been in question.

His lips crushed hers, then softened. He plied her tender flesh with the skill that had slayed her resistance from their first kiss. His tongue traced the seam of her lips. Teasing her. Tempting her. Coaxing a response from her that she didn’t want to give.

Oh, yes, she wanted him. Badly. It disgusted her that she could be so easily manipulated. But even her disgust didn’t kill the hunger.

One last kiss. And then you say goodbye. And mean it.

She opened her mouth and let him in. His familiar taste overwhelmed her, and she couldn’t resist moving closer for a final delicious press of his body against hers. His arms surrounded her, banding her against his muscled length, and his heat seeped into her, warming her for the first time since she’d left him.

She clutched his waist, caressed his strong back. Being with him felt so good, so right. Saying goodbye shouldn’t be this hard.

Desire shuddered through her, filling her with a need that only Xavier could satisfy and reminding her how many weeks it had been since she’d shared his body. Love blossomed inside her. How could he not feel it, not want more?

His fingers tightened in her hair. His other hand cupped her bottom, pulling her against the hot, thick column of his erection. He slowly lifted his head. His gaze burned into hers and his breath fanned her skin.

“You are delicious, like the finest wine, the most decadent crème brûlée. I have missed having you in my bed and in my arms, mon amante. Come home with me, Megan.”

The huskiness of his voice proved he wanted her. Maybe if she reminded him just how good they were together he’d reconsider his disastrous choice and ditch the fiancée.

Risky.

But their passion was the strongest weapon she possessed, and if she could change his mind she’d have everything she never knew she wanted before Xavier—a home of her own, a man who loved her and a family. And her new cottage was conveniently only a few hundred yards away.

“You come home with me.” She laced her fingers through his and led him down the driveway. The quarter-mile walk gave the voice in her head plenty of time to insist that this was a foolhardy strategy. But she ignored it.

If she wanted Xavier back, then she had to fight fire with fire.

Two

Xavier knew he’d won from the moment Megan’s lips turned soft and pliable beneath his. He allowed her to take his hand and lead him to her lair. He could afford to be magnanimous in victory.

Seeing the interior of the small stone cottage only confirmed his belief that she had left him to make a point. As charming as her temporary accommodations might be, she had not bothered to make them hers the way she had the house he had provided for her.

If she had intended to stay in the States she would have stamped some trace of her personality in the living area or the bedroom, but the only hint of Megan’s occupancy lingered in the air. The bedroom smelled of her and the rose-scented lotion she—or he—smoothed over her skin each night in the ritual he enjoyed watching or sharing. A scent made by one of his low-budget competitors, he recalled with no small amount of distaste.

As good as she smelled, she could smell better if she allowed Parfums Alexandre to blend a personalized fragrance for her. But she had refused his offer.

He surveyed the steep-ceilinged bedroom, taking in the queen-size cherry bed and the traditional, elegant burgundy-and-gold decor. A ceiling fan hanging from one of the exposed crossbeams lazily stirred the air.

The room contained none of the feminine, lacy frills he knew Megan preferred in her linens and in her lingerie. To the world, she was an aggressive competitor and a dedicated horsewoman with a savvy mind for business and an enviable work ethic. He liked knowing that only he saw the soft femininity she concealed beneath her utilitarian riding clothes and no-nonsense attitude.

His heart pounded faster in anticipation of removing her shirt and jeans and uncovering the delicate French undergarments she always wore. He enjoyed buying her sexy lingerie almost as much as he relished removing it and sampling her supple skin.

She stopped beside the bed and tipped her head back to look at him. Her blue eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, her pupils dilated. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips parted. Her hand trembled in his, revealing her eagerness for his caress—an eagerness he shared.

It had been a long, frustrating three weeks waiting for her tantrum to end. It angered him that she had wasted some of the dwindling time they had left. Now that she had come to her senses, they could get on with the pleasure. But he would make her pay for making him come to her. Soon he would have her begging for what she had left behind and their affair would resume. On his terms.

She reached for the buttons of his shirt, releasing them with an enthusiasm that pleased him. Then she unfastened his belt and pants and tugged his shirttail free. A carnal hunger invaded him, making it difficult to force air into his lungs. He reined in the undisciplined feeling.

She parted the fabric of his shirt and cool air swept his chest a split second before her warm hands brushed over him. The need to toss her onto the burgundy-and-gold bedding and sate himself nearly overwhelmed him, but he would let her set the pace. For now. Later, when he had her panting and weak with need he would call the shots.

She bent and touched her lips to his nipple, then flicked the hardened tip with her hot tongue. Desire carved through him like a sharp knife, making him shudder. Only Megan had this incendiary effect on him. He would not give her up. Not yet. Thank God she had moved past her jealous nonsense, and although he did not know what had changed her mind, it did not matter. He had won. As he always did.

Her short nails rasped gently down his sides and then beneath his waistband and around to his fly. She lowered his zipper in slow motion, and he hardened almost to the point of pain. And then she cupped him in her palm. Her touch burned him through his silk boxers and his hips flexed of their own volition as she encircled and stroked him. He clamped his teeth on a moan.

He hooked a hand around her waist, yanked her forward and covered her mouth. She tasted divine, like heady champagne or her favorite Moscato d’Asti. Sweet. Flavorful. Her lips were soft, her tongue slick and hungry as it intertwined with his. His pulse drummed in his ears.

Merde. He could not wait. He hastily unbuttoned and removed her shirt, ripping it down her arms and tossing it aside to reveal a white cotton bra. Surprised, he paused to trace a finger along the plain edge. Her breath caught. “What is this?”

“Um … a sports bra.”

He didn’t like it. He preferred sheer lace that allowed a glimpse of her nipples. But on the other hand, this bra made her breasts seem fuller, so perhaps the ugly piece did have some merit. He bent and licked the top of one soft swell and then the other. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close.

Megan had extremely sensitive breasts, and he would use that to his advantage to make her promise to see this affair through until the last possible moment.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her between his legs. Her scent filled his nostrils and her taste tantalized his tongue, urging him to delve into the shadowy cleft. Cupping the pale mounds, he stroked her nipples through the fabric, relishing in the way her flesh sprung to attention beneath his thumbs.

She whimpered. “I’ve missed this. Missed you, Xavier.”

“And I you.” He unhooked the unattractive garment and dropped it, eager for more of her skin and a lungful of the headier perfume always lurking between and beneath her breasts, which were definitely rounder, heavier. She must be nearing her monthly cycle. While he feasted on the puckered tips, he used his free hand to flick open her jeans, then pushed them down her legs. He needed to feel her wetness.

He combed his fingers through her tight curls, finding her center. She jerked and gasped. And then he located the prize he sought. She was ready for him. Her hips moved against his hand, encouraging his caress.

His groin pulsed harder, demanding attention. He ached with the need to drive inside her and race toward the release she had denied him for too long. The temptation to do so and take care of her afterward flitted across his mind. But non. That was not his way.

Instead he drew a sobering breath and slicked his finger upward, using her womanly lubricant to tease her while he gently scraped a nipple with his teeth then sucked.

She whimpered his name, clenched her fingers in his hair and bowed her back, offering him a pale feast. A tremor shook her body as he divided his attention between the puckered tips begging for attention. The aroma of her arousal filled the air. He wanted to taste her, but he was precariously close to the edge, and he wanted to make her wait until she was incoherent with need.

Rising, he ripped back the covers, then lifted her into his arms and set her onto the bed. He made quick work of her boots and remaining clothing then his own, pausing only long enough to toss the condom from his pocket on the nightstand.

The sight of her ivory curves spread across the burgundy sheets mesmerized him. Megan possessed an athlete’s body, leanly muscled, but softened by her feminine attributes. Her strength was quite a turn-on.

“You are beautiful.”

“You make me feel beautiful. Come here.” She raised a hand and bent her knee, inviting him into her bed, into her body.

One frayed fiber of self-control remained. He settled on the mattress at her feet and captured a slender arch in his palm. Her eyes widened and her lips parted. She squirmed, knowing what was coming.

Megan’s feet, legs and hands were her primary methods of communication with her horses. Over the years, they had become hypersensitive to any nuance. He lifted her foot to his mouth, kissing her big toe, her instep. He rasped his bristly chin on her skin then flicked his tongue over the arch. She shuddered, as he had known she would.

He hid his smile against the tender skin behind her ankle then worked his way up the inside of her calf, pressing her legs apart as he ascended. Megan’s fingers fisted in the sheets and her breathing quickened. He savored the satiny skin cloaking firm, tensed muscles and nipped at the soft pad of flesh inside her thighs that she hated. She twisted impatiently. The aroma of her arousal made him dizzy with hunger. He flicked his tongue along the crease of her leg.

She flexed her hips, silently begging him to pleasure her, but he ignored her request—for now—and focused on planting teasing kisses, licks and nips along her bikini line and over her tummy. He swirled his tongue in her navel, and watched goose bumps rise on her skin. Her curls tickled his cheek.

To hell with it. He had hungered for her taste for weeks. He would not deny himself any longer. He cupped her buttocks and flicked her swollen bud with his tongue, slowly at first, then more rapidly. He groaned at the delicious taste of her.

She bucked her hips off the bed. “Oh, Xavier. That feels … so good.”

He stroked her in the way he knew would drive her to the edge until her legs quivered. He waited until she hovered on the brink before lifting his head and kissing her thigh. She squeaked a disappointed protest.

“Are you in a hurry, chérie?”

“Yes. Yes. It’s been so long. I haven’t … since you … Please.”

That she had not had a release since leaving his bed pleased him inordinately.

“Please what, Megan?” He licked her once, twice, enjoying each flinch and gasp of delight, then stopped again.

She pulled the pillow from beneath her head and whacked him with it. Her playfulness between the sheets was yet another reason he could not let her go. Not yet. Megan was both his lover and his playmate, and on days when work drove him to the precipice of insanity, she never failed to pull him back and make him smile.

But the desire on her face now, the white teeth digging into her bottom lip, and her passion-filled eyes told the truth. She ached as badly as he and the time for play was over.

“I need you. Now,” she pleaded. He liked to hear her beg for him. The growling demand of the last word turned him on.

“Need me how? Like this?” He slid his fingers inside her, drawing out a low, sexy whimper.

“Oh, yes.”

“Or this?” He bent to suck her into his mouth while pumping his fingers.

“Yes,” she hissed as her orgasm undulated through her.

He rode each jerk of her climax with his hand and mouth, drawing out as much pleasure as he possibly could. The rhythmic clench of her body around his fingers drove him precariously close to losing control. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself release. Doing so without Megan had been less than satisfying and therefore pointless.

The moment her spasms ended, he dove for the condom, rolled it on and hooked his hands behind her knees. “Look at me as I take you, Megan.”

Her heavy lids lifted and her dazed eyes met his. “I want you inside me, Xavier. Hurry.”

Gritting his teeth against the searing need urging him to race hard and fast to satisfaction, he eased into her slick channel and sank deep into her. The blaze intensified as he withdrew and returned again and again, setting a steady, controlled pace that he hoped would prolong his ecstasy.

But Megan had other ideas. Her hands grasped his shoulders, pulling his torso closer to hers. Her nails lightly scored trails down his chest, bumping over his nipples and fanning his hunger like bellows. She arched off the bed and planted a wet kiss on his neck, then her tongue outlined the shape of his ear and dipped inside with hot, wet plunges that mirrored his thrusts.

Hunger blasted through him like a furnace. He countered it by focusing on continuing to torment her, but then the pressure swelled inside him and he knew he could not delay any longer.

“Come for me,” he ordered, his voice more growl than words as he swiveled his hips against the tender spot that would set her off. Almost instantly her breath caught and her fingers dug into his back. Climax burst through her. The first contraction of her body hit him like a Molotov cocktail. Wave after wave of release reverberated through him until he had nothing left.

No strength in his arms. No air in his lungs. He collapsed to his elbows, momentarily savoring her damp torso against his, then he slowly rolled to her side. The ceiling fan stirred the air, cooling and drying his skin.

No. He would not give up Megan until his vows required they part.

She grabbed his hand, pulled it across her body and rested it on her smooth stomach. He forced his weighted eyelids open and found her eyes on him. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, but she said nothing.

He understood her speechlessness. His climax had been as stupefying as hers apparently had been. “Come home with me, Megan.”

“I’ll come as soon as you end your engagement.”

His muscles went rigid, his contentment shattered. “I have told you I cannot.”

Her face blanched. She threw his hand aside and bolted upright in the bed. Her eyes turned from soft and sated to wounded and betrayed.

“It will never be this good with her.”

“I know that, mon amante.”

Her lips quivered and she nipped the bottom one between her teeth. But she didn’t cry. No, his Megan had too much pride for tears—yet another quality he admired about her. She did not indulge in the emotional drama most women employed to get their way.

“Do you really believe you can turn off what we have like a tap? That the feelings will stop just because you order them to?”

He expelled a frustrated breath. Apparently they had not made as much progress as he’d believed. “I assure you it will not be easy. But it must be this way.”

She climbed from the bed, stalked across the room and through an open door out of sight. When she returned she had her silk robe wrapped tightly around her. The fire blazing from her eyes had little to do with the passion they had just shared.

“That’s where you’re wrong. It doesn’t have to be this way. I don’t have to settle for second. I want more than a temporary affair, Xavier. I deserve more. And if that’s all you have to offer then I don’t need you in my life. Get out and go home.”

Another tantrum. How unlike her. Why was she acting so out of character? “As you have said, you will never find passion like ours with anyone else.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Watch me.”

Jealousy discharged inside him. She pivoted on her heel and wisely retreated through that same door. The lock clicked, echoing through the silent room.

He heard the shower turn on and cursed. She asked the impossible. He could not break his engagement no matter what games Megan played. Even without the Alexandre estate as incentive, he would not shame his family name the way his father had when he had cast honor aside for “love.” The subsequent marriage had failed, and it had cost the Alexandre family everything.