Bride of Desire (31 page)

 
‘She’s going to have her own troubles,’ she said. ‘Anyway, knowing that I’m homeless and penniless will probably be enough to satisfy her.’

 
‘And that is the life you would choose rather than be married to me?’ He sounded politely interested.

 
‘Yes,’ Allie said baldly. Because it won’t be as hard or as lonely as living here on sufferance. Wanting you, but having to guard every word—every look.

 
‘A pity,’ he said. ‘It means I will have to find a nanny for Thomas. Do you wish to help with the choice of a suitable candidate?’

 
‘No,’ she said, smarting under the pain of his careless words. ‘Thank you. I’m sure you’ll choose the right person.’

 
‘So,’ Remy said softly. ‘You trust me in something at last.’

 
Anguish clawed at her. She said with difficulty, ‘Don’t—please. For Tom’s sake we have to put everything that happened behind us. Try to forget.’

 
‘And you can do this?’ Remy’s voice was suddenly raw. ‘I congratulate you, madame. Because I am not so fortunate. I, tu comprends, I cannot forget. It is not possible.’ He drew a harsh breath. ‘When I opened the door earlier, and saw you, for one moment I allowed myself to hope that you had come to me. That you wanted me. But I was wrong. You spoke only of Thomas.’

 
He shook his head. ‘How could you—ask me to take our child without you? Do you truly think so little of me? Am I really such a monster? Do you think I can live only seeing you—sometimes? And that just for the sake of our baby?’

 
His voice rose. ‘Mon Dieu, Alys, how many more times are you going to break my heart?’

 
She stared at him, feeling hope tremble into life inside her, but hardly daring to believe it. ‘You—love me?’

 
‘Always—always.’ He moved, sitting beside her, taking her hands in his and holding them tightly. He said, ‘When I reached Paris two years ago, I was hurt and bitter, but I already knew that leaving you was a terrible mistake. That, in spite of everything, you were the only girl I would ever love, and that I should go back, and make you see this. Fight for you, whatever the cost.’

 
‘You followed me toEngland ,’ she whispered. ‘She told me that—and what she’d said to you. Second honeymoon! I was probably upstairs—throwing up.’

 
‘Ah, mon ange. But I did not know what to believe. It seemed that maybe you had been making a fool of me after all, and that I should go, try to put you out of my mind for ever.’

 
He raised her hands to his lips, kissing them reverently. ‘But I could not. You were there in my mind—in my heart—wherever I went, whatever I did. I could not escape the memory of what we had shared. I also had a dream, Alys, of you as my wife, and the mother of my children. A life together here in this house. As that seemed impossible, I thought—Stop running. Go back and make another life.’

 
She looked down. ‘With Solange?’

 
‘What are you saying? Are you mad?’ Incredulity mixed with horror in his voice. ‘You think I would involve myself with the woman who gloated over the destruction of our happiness? I swear to you that I have never given her a moment’s encouragement.’

 
‘But she thinks—’

 
‘Then that is her problem,’ he said. ‘Not ours. Because this house held only memories of you.’

 
‘Yet when we met you didn’t seem very pleased to see me.’

 
Remy groaned. ‘I was terrified. Because it had occurred to me that your life could have changed so completely that there was no longer any place in it for me.’ His smile was wry. ‘When you exist for so long on a thread of hope, Alys, you have no wish to see it broken.

 
‘And then, as I feared, you told me that it was over. And I—I reacted badly. I make no excuse for that. But I could not sleep that night for thinking of the touch of your lips, the sweetness of your body in my arms. And I knew I could not—just give up. That I had to try once more to get you back.

 
‘When I came to Les Sables the next day, it was to tell you that I loved you and ask you to be my wife. Then I saw Thomas, and it was as if you had taken all that I felt for you and thrown it back in my face. I felt you must hate me very much if you could have borne my child and not told me.

 
‘And just for a moment I wanted to take him away from you. To destroy your happiness as you had destroyed mine. But when I heard him call you Maman I realised that, although I might threaten, I would never do it. I could not.’

 
‘Is that why you took his toy—the little horse?’ Allie asked gently.

 
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘A gift that you had touched. That he had played with and loved. A small part of something I thought I would have no share in.

 
‘But I still wanted to punish you for trying to hide Thomas from me. I thought if I treated you with equal contempt it would be no more than you deserved.’ His mouth curved ruefully. ‘But I did not expect my bluff to be called—never believed that you would offer yourself as you did.

 
‘I kept telling myself—She will not go through with this. She cannot. At any moment, she will stop. But you did not. And then—I—could not…’

 
‘But you were so cold,’ Allie whispered. ‘So—businesslike.’

 
‘I wanted you too badly,’ he said frankly. ‘I was near the edge—scared of what I might do. I told myself I could not afford to lose control in case I hurt you.’ He looked at her remorsefully. ‘And I did hurt you, mon amour, but in a different way.’

 
‘Did you?’ Her eyes were shining, her face transfigured by love. ‘I—really can’t remember.’ She paused. ‘But I did try and tell you I was pregnant. Truly.’

 
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘So you said, and so my father confirmed that night. I had to confide in someone about Thomas or go mad, and we have always been close. But when he heard me speaking so bitterly he said that perhaps I was unjust. That you had once telephoned here, begging to talk to me, and maybe that was what you had wanted to say. Only he had refused to listen, or help. And that if he had been more understanding our lives could have been so different.’

 
‘He was trying to protect you,’ she said gently. ‘Just as I knew you would always protect your son. And why I could trust you with the rest of his life.’

 
‘And will you trust me with yours?’ he asked quietly. ‘Mon ange—mon coeur.’

 
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘If you still want me. Oh, Remy—Remy.’

 
Then she was in his arms and his lips were on hers, and they were murmuring brokenly to each other between kisses.

 
Allie wanted the consummation of their love. She wanted to sink down with him to the rug and offer the surrender of her body for his adoration. But Remy was drawing back with a faint groan.

 
‘We cannot, mon amour,’ he told her breathlessly. ‘Thomas may be getting fretful after all this time. Also, I promised Liliane that I would get my old cot from the attic so that she can clean it for him to sleep in. And my grandfather thinks it would not be convenable for Madame Madelon to sleep over at the house before they are married, so she must stay here, and her room needs to be prepared.’ He looked at her, his mouth rueful, his eyes brimming with sudden laughter. ‘Welcome to family life, ma belle.’

 
‘It has a nice ring about it,’ Allie said, her own lips twitching. ‘So we shall just have to wait until tonight, my darling.’

 
He took her hand. Kissed it. ‘Last time, to my eternal shame,’ he said quietly, ‘I took and gave nothing. Tonight it will be very different. So, will you forgive me, Alys, and lie with me in our bed?’

 
‘Yes,’ she told him huskily. ‘Oh, yes.’ She looked at him from under her lashes, a world of promise shining in her eyes. ‘Although poor Tom is teething, remember?’ she murmured. ‘We could be—disturbed.’

 
Remy kissed her again, his lips lingering on hers. ‘He is my son, chérie,’ he told her softly. ‘And no Frenchman would ever do that to another.’ His smile caressed her. ‘We shall have our night, I promise you.’

 
And so, with joy, tenderness and a sweet and soaring passion, they did.

 
ISBN: 978-1-4268-2511-8

 
BRIDE OF DESIRE

 
First North American Publication 2008.

 
Copyright © 2006 by Sara Craven.

 
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

 
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