Accidental Heiress (3 page)

The sexy black dress made Margeaux's skin
look a little paler than she would've liked, but she'd been working so much lately that she hadn't had time to build the deep bronze glow that had been her trademark.

Even so, seeing her reflection made her check her posture and hold her head a little higher. She was still pushing against the inner struggle of whether going down to the casino was the right thing to do with her father in the hospital. It smacked of fodder for tabloid headlines: Margeaux Broussard Parties while Father Lies in Hospital Bed. Tonight, the only thing better than being anonymous would be rendering herself invisible. But her father was fine. She'd done her duty by him tonight and would follow his wishes to come back and get him tomorrow.

Besides, this dress was far too fabulous for invisible.

Bottom line: Margeaux Broussard had never shied away from life, and she didn't intend to start now. Tonight would simply be a nice night out with friends.

Nothing scandalous about that.

“We all look like Bond girls,” said A.J. “I
wonder if we'll meet any spies in the casino tonight?”

The girls laughed and as they forged ahead toward the casino, Margeaux hung back in the lobby, reacquainting herself with the hotel's ornate beauty. The chandeliers hung from frescoed ceilings, dripping honeyed light, warming the gold-and-marble atrium. She took in the sculptures, the caryatids and the bas-relief motifs etched into the walls.

Throughout her youth, she'd seen this place dozens of times. The memory had her gaze shifting until she'd located a certain long, dark hallway that led to one of the seven elevator banks.

Once on a dare, she'd dragged Henri here; they were only thirteen years old and he was her best friend. They'd hid in the hallway with a bag containing a big, black rattle snake, which he'd trapped in the overgrown orchard that grew between her homes. She'd dared him to let it loose in the lobby during the high-season rush.

He didn't want to, but she'd taunted him until he'd buckled.

“Okay, I will on one condition,” he'd said,
and Margeaux had been too full of mischief to even ask about the
condition.
How bad could it be if he was too chicken to do something like this? All she wanted was for Henri Lejardin, son of the Minister of Security and Protocol, to break out of his shell and do something
fun
for a change.

She didn't care if they got caught. The worst that would happen was that it would rile up her father. Sure, it would embarrass him if it came to light that his daughter had a hand in the prank.

But shouldn't a man who had no time for his family feel a little embarrassment? At least he'd have to make time for her—even if it was to reprimand her.

But Margeaux's father wasn't the only one who'd gotten a surprise that day. After Henri had set the snake free in the lobby and Margeaux had sufficiently delighted in the way people had screamed and scattered like handfuls of tossed marbles, Henri had run back to the dark hallway, backed her against the wall and kissed her senseless. She'd never seen it coming. She'd certainly never thought a boy
who played by all the rules would ever do something so bold and out of character.

The unexpected feel of his mouth on hers had sent her reeling. She could remember it as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. Henri had kissed her boldly, ravenously, and she'd kissed him back, in awe at his hunger. It was as if they'd both done it before, though neither of them had.

Somehow, following instinct, they just knew what to do.

Over the next three years, instinct would lead them to new, uncharted territory. They'd explored together and discovered just how well they'd fit. Their hands.

Their mouths.

Their bodies.

Henri was no longer the shy, hesitant one.

Margeaux had liked these new paths down which he coaxed her and she'd followed willingly.

Until finally, they'd reached a dead end.

Now Margeaux felt anxious. Her nerve endings were like live wires, burning under her skin. She put her fingers to her lips,
remembering the feel of that first kiss. More than once when she'd kissed another man, she'd found herself fantasizing that the man was Henri, only to suffer the letdown when she'd opened her eyes to discover the familiar stranger in her arms.

The memory of that first kiss took her back. Tonight it was as if she were seeing everything for the first time, and it had an unforgettable emotional impact.

Henri was somewhere on this island, and she had a sudden urge to find him and rediscover some of those paths.

But the newly discovered rational side of her reminded her that it had been a long time since they'd talked, much less kissed or… He certainly had a life by now. Probably a wife. Maybe even a family.

She hadn't kept up with him because it hurt too much. Too much history, too much…too much. She'd been lying low for the past couple of years trying to play the “out of sight, out of mind” game with the press. It had worked. The paparazzi had finally moved on to the newest
celebutante
train wreck.

Rehabilitating one's self was not “sexy
news.” Nobody cared that Margeaux Broussard had finally grown up and was making her own way. That she wasn't stupid—it was dyslexia that had held her back. After that heaven-sent discovery she'd made with Pepper's help, everything had changed. It was as if the world that had always been blurry and nonsensical had finally snapped into focus.

She wasn't stupid. She was sober and productive and some had even deemed her talented. Through photography, she'd finally found her voice and her vision.

That was what had given her the strength to come home. Finally, she could prove to her disapproving father that she wasn't the
fille sauvage
—the wild girl—as he'd written her off. It would take a while, but she was prepared to go the distance.

“Margeaux, come on!” called Caroline. “Hurry up.”

The girls waited for her at the entrance to the casino.

She took one last wistful look at the hallway and glanced around the lobby. She'd come back here and photograph the hotel lobby, she decided as she walked toward her friends. This
would be the first of many places and people she intended to get reacquainted with.

 

Knowing that Margeaux Broussard was back in town made everything about St. Michel feel different to Henri Lejardin.

As he and Sydney entered the lobby of the Hotel du St. Michel, he was glad to have hands full of the materials they'd need to do a final edit of the copy for the show catalogue during their working
date.

He'd made a final call to the curator of the Musée d'Orsay, pressuring him about the missing paintings. When the curator couldn't assure their arrival by Wednesday, Henri decided to cut the pieces from the show.

It may have been a rash decision, but he'd been impatient all day and wanted closure on this project, so that they could move forward with plans for the opening.

Knowing that Margeaux was back had only added to his anxiousness. He'd kept thinking he was catching glimpses of her out of the corner of his eye. A mane of long, straight, blond hair here, a flash of long, strong, tanned leg there. But they all proved to be specters.

Maybe his rush to tie up loose ends with this show was so he could finally call her and get the inevitable out of the way. When it came to Margeaux, he'd always been reckless and impulsive. Obviously, nothing had changed.

He hadn't seen her in years, but her presence permeated his being like a spirit.

He glanced at Sydney, feeling a little guilty for bringing her here tonight, even if it had been her suggestion and she hadn't budged when he'd recommended other options. If he was fully honest with himself, he hadn't vetoed her choice of meeting location because he
hoped
he'd run into Margeaux.

Tonight.

The sooner the better.

So, it almost came as no surprise when he heard a lovely brunette call from the entrance to the casino, “Margeaux, come on! Hurry up.”

He turned his head, and there she was. Looking like a grownup version of the girl he'd once loved so deeply. A vision in a black evening dress, her blond hair smoothed back into a sophisticated up-do that accentuated her crystal blue eyes.

She took a few steps toward her friend, and then her gaze snapped to the right as if he'd called her name.

He hadn't. Not out loud.

It had always been like that between them.

Just as he'd somehow known if he came here tonight, he'd see her.

After a split second of pure joy, his heart sank. What the hell was she doing at the casino her first night in town when her father was in the hospital?

Worse yet, why had he known in his heart he'd find her here?

 

“Henri? Is that you?” For a moment, Margeaux was frozen in her tracks, but then she found her footing and her legs carried her to him.

He didn't even have to say anything. He simply flashed that smile.

Yes! It is.

And before either could say a word, they were in each other's arms.

The contact was brief but intense and it stole her breath. Even though a lifetime had passed since they'd last seen each other—sixteen years
since they'd last seen each other, at age sixteen—it felt as if there'd never been any space between them.

They pulled apart and stared at each other.

He was so gorgeous it made her heart hurt. So did the dawning realization that the beautiful woman standing next to him was the woman pictured with him in the
Folio de St. Michel
photo.

“I can't believe it's you,” Margeaux said. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled at him and then at the woman, her heart aching at the prospect of not knowing who she was or what they meant to each other. A quick glance at the woman's hand revealed she didn't wear rings—engagement or wedding.

“Margeaux, I'd heard you were back,” he said. “Oh, excuse me. This is my associate, Sydney James. She is the curator for one of the state art museums under my jurisdiction.”

The woman flinched at the introduction before artfully covering the slight with a bright smile and the offer of a handshake.

Not only was she beautiful, but she had an
impeccable British accent that gave her the air of someone proper and well educated.

So, Henri had gotten himself a beauty with brains. That rankled Margeaux even more than the way that Henri had tried to downplay his relationship with his coworker.

They weren't just colleagues. Obviously not from Sydney's—was that her name—point of view.

A.J., Caroline and Pepper joined them, and as Margeaux made the introductions she felt Henri's gaze alternately acknowledge each woman she introduced and then drift back to her.

When the introductions were done, an awkward silence fell over the group, so Margeaux interjected, “I saw my father today and he swiftly kicked me out.”

Henri's brows knit. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, no! It wasn't like that.” Margeaux touched his shoulder and she felt Sydney's displeasure rolling off her in palpable waves. “He was actually quite happy to see me. Er, as happy as my father can let on. You know how he is.”

Henri of all people would understand. He'd once been so close to her father, but Colbert all but disowned him after
that night.

The night that had landed her a one-way ticket to the first of a series of boarding schools. But she didn't want to think about that now. It was ancient history and this felt like the dawning of what might be a new era.

Margeaux's thoughts were called back to the present as Henri was explaining to Sydney exactly who her father was.

Margeaux caught an equal mix of reverence and “Oh, you're
that
Margeaux Broussard.” The perceived judgment in the woman's expression made Margeaux want to lash out with a
You don't know me. You have no right to judge me.

But Henri diverted the tension. “Sydney and I are having dinner in the restaurant. Won't you join us?”

Sydney frowned. “What about the catalogue?”

He dismissed her. “We still have several days before it needs to go to the printer. Please join us.”

The last thing Margeaux wanted to do was
intrude on their date. No, that wasn't entirely true. She simply didn't want to have dinner with Sydney shooting daggers. She and Henri had a lot to catch up on. And when they did, it should be just the two of them.

“Thank you, but we were heading to the casino. I don't want to come between you and your…project.”

Margeaux flashed her friendliest smile at Sydney, who managed to manufacture an equally pleasant expression.

“We will join you for a drink at the casino bar, then,” Henri said, and a sense of relief flooded over Margeaux. She wasn't ready to say goodbye to him tonight.

In the same way that she hadn't been ready to say goodbye all those years ago. Even if it was just a drink, it was more time. The rest would work itself out.

“I bought my parents' house,” Henri said. “So I still live next door to your father.”

The revelation surprised her. “How has that been?” she asked cautiously, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer. At least not right now.

“Your father and I have had our differences
over the years.” He gave Margeaux a knowing look, and she knew exactly what he was suggesting. “But we've called a truce. I'll never be his favorite person in the world. In fact, he could be the lone Council member who stands between me and my goal of joining the Crown Council one day. But we're working out our issues. I'm proving myself worthy.”

Wow. Henri has designs on the Crown Council?

She never would've guessed that with a thousand chances. Not that he wasn't worthy. He was smart; he had a social conscience and he was charismatic. All of the qualities she lacked. Her father had been very vocal about how desperately he hoped Henri's good qualities would rub off on her.