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Harlequin Presents January 2015 Box Set 3 of 4(159)

By:Lynne Graham


‘So he moved out of the château to La Petite Maison, where I was born. But, sadly, his father refused to accept the marriage until the day he died.

‘And for a long time, my mother did not wish to move to the château, because of the unhappy memories it held for her.’

The fairy tale had its dark side, Ginny thought, glancing back at the château with a quick shiver.

Which he noticed. ‘You are cold? We will go back to the house.’ Adding quietly, ‘But not quite yet.’

Before she realised his intention, he turned her to face him, pulling her into his arms and pinning her against him, while his mouth sought hers.

Sky and earth were tilting dizzily as her senses leapt at the pressure of his lean, hard body, the stark insistence of his lips parting hers in a kiss that she could not withstand. A kiss that she ached for and which made her realise in one devastating moment that if he was to pull her down with him to the frosty ground, she would not be able to resist him. Nor, to her eternal shame, would she want to.

But even as she felt herself melting into surrender, Andre released her and stepped back as if nothing particular had happened.

Her voice not entirely under her control, she said, ‘What the hell was all that about?’

‘Let us call it—a welcome to my world.’

‘Your world.’ She could feel the thud of her heart against her ribs as she challenged his gaze. ‘But not mine. Never in a thousand years.’

She turned and started down the slope, resisting an almost overwhelming impulse to run, as the sudden tightening of her throat muscles warned her that tears were not far away. A self-betrayal she knew she could not afford.

Not then, she told herself, or at any time until she had left Terauze behind her for good.





CHAPTER EIGHT

ON GINNY’S RETURN, the kitchen was already beginning to fill with the enticing aroma of chicken and vegetables cooking slowly in another big pot on the stove, but she did not linger, but hurried to her room to discard her coat and boots, trying without success to dismiss from her mind that blinding, agonising moment of desire that had devastated her defences against him only a few moments before.

She should have fought him off, she told herself angrily. She’d been mad to expose herself to such danger. Even crazier to try and pretend the danger did not exist.

It had been a shock to discover that Andrew had planned to live at the château.

And I, she thought, swallowing, I would have lived here too—if I’d agreed to come with him—which, of course, I wouldn’t have done. But, if I had, Andre and I would have met under totally different circumstances...

But I won’t think about that, she told herself sternly, aware that for a moment her mind had gone into a curious kind of freefall. I’ll deal with things as they are.

She had just hung away her coat, when there was a sharp rap on the door, and Andre came in, his face set and unsmiling.

He said, ‘Have you spoken yet to your mother?’

‘There’s still no answer. I’ll try again later.’

‘You will be wasting your time,’ he said. ‘Monsieur Hargreaves is also trying to find her. He wishes to arrange for Barrowdean to be cleared for the new tenants. Yet he has learned that she has flown out to the Seychelles to take a holiday with your sister, and cannot be contacted.’

He paused. ‘You knew of this plan?’

Ginny bit her lip. ‘Well, yes, but I had no idea she meant to leave so soon.’ Or, more worryingly, leave no details of her trip.

He frowned. ‘I find her decision curious. Does she fully understand the terms of my father’s will—its financial implications for her?’

‘I think so.’ Ginny flushed. ‘But you also have to understand how stressful everything has been for her—losing Andrew and—all that’s followed.’ Including my decision to come here...

‘She was probably too desperate for an interlude away from it all to consider the cost.’

‘Then she must learn to do so,’ he said drily.

He paused again, his eyes studying her, travelling from the startled, vulnerable curve of her mouth down to the thrust of her breasts under the thick sweater. Reminding her silently that layers of clothing were no protection at all.

He said, ‘But you chose not to accompany them.’

She looked away. ‘It was never really an option. I—I needed to find permanent work. And, of course, I still do.’

‘So this time at Terauze is your own—interlude, peut-être?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘More like being caught between a rock and a hard place. But I came here to work, so if you’ll explain the routine, I can get started.’