‘I really don’t know where you got the idea that they weren’t—’
‘Emilie’s accountant said the twins had only got out of hospital in the autumn. He assumed that they were newborns men…certainement.’ His usual level diction rose in volume, a dark frown slowly building.
For Star, who was feeling nauseous with nerves, that silence was unbearable.
‘J’etais vraiment fâché…’ Luc murmured in fluid French.
I was angry as hell, Star translated, watching Luc, bracing herself for a sudden massive explosion, every muscle in her slender length straining taut. Without warning, he moved again, and she jerked, only to look on in utter bewilderment as he headed towards the housekeeper, who was standing about thirty yards away in the hall, positioned by the front door in readiness for his punctual exit.
Luc was engaged in recalling the way Star had used to see him off every morning, no matter how early the hour of his departure, no matter how discouraging his mood. Chitchat at breakfast wasn’t his style. Star had been impervious to the message of his silence. She had torn up his croissant for him in the most infuriatingly invasive and messy manner, poured his coffee, and talked and talked with endless sunny good cheer, deflated not one jot by his monosyllabic replies.
She had been waiting for him when he’d come home as well, surging across the bridge to greet him, always hurling herself at him as if he had been away for at least a month. It had never mattered who was with him either. A party of important diplomats or high-ranking bankers, he mused, all of them had been instantly fascinated by her quicksilver energy, her innate charm, her incredible legs…
Now he was undoubtedly confronting a future of having his croissant mangled…Ah, c’est la vie, Luc conceded with a sigh. Congratulating himself on his self-control, not to mention his remarkable cool in crisis, he informed his housekeeper that he would not be flying to Paris after all. He then strolled out into the fresh air, where he breathed in slow and deep to counteract the infuriating light-headed sensation assailing him.
Had he considered himself to be an emotional individual, he might have wondered if what he was experiencing was shock combined with the most intense relief. But a complete stranger to all such self-analysis, and a male who reasoned solely in practical terms of cause and effect, Luc decided that he was suffering for his alcoholic indulgence several hours earlier.
Striding in the direction of the heli-pad, he was even more happily engaged in rationally reviewing obvious facts which might not immediately appear as obvious to Star as they were to him. Point one, he thought, smiling at the prospect, Rory would now sadly be nothing more for Star than a fleeting thought of what might have been, but was not to be. All children deserved two caring parents living under the same roof.
Frozen in position by one of the tall dining-room windows, Star watched Luc approach the waiting helicopter with eyes of complete incomprehension. He spoke to his pilot, sunlight glinting off his luxuriant black hair, one lean hand thrust with casual nonchalance in the pocket of his well-cut trousers. Star could not credit what she was seeing. He looked so relaxed, not at all like a male who had just been given a revelation of earth-shaking magnitude. Maybe he had walked outdoors in an effort to keep a tight rein on his temper. Maybe she just couldn’t read body language. When had she ever known what was happening inside that tortuously complex brain of his?
Striding back through the front door, emitting a strong air of decisiveness, Luc headed straight for the stairs. Star hurried across the hall in his wake. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To see my children.’
The sound of the possessive pronoun he used off-balanced Star.
Bertille had already fed and dressed the twins, and as soon as she saw their parents appear, she smiled and slipped out. Luc stilled in the centre of the room, just staring at the two babies playing on the carpet, his bold profile taut.
Venus cried, ‘Mum-mum!’ and began to crawl towards Star.
‘They can move independently…and talk?’ Luc breathed in almost comical amazement.
‘Well, Venus knows two words…those two.’ Star was watching Mars. Her son could only crawl backwards. Brought to a halt by the barrier of the wall, he loosed a plaintive wail, big brown eyes filling with tears of frustration.
As Star went to help, Luc startled her by getting there first. Hunkering down with athletic ease, he lifted Mars and spoke to him in husky French. A total pushover for all affection and attention, Mars’s tears dried up like magic. Beaming, he snuggled into the shelter of Luc’s arm with the air of a baby who would be quite happy to spend the rest of the day there.
‘He’s so trusting…’ Luc commented in a roughened aside, torn between the child he held and Venus, who, intrigued by his presence, had switched direction from her mother to make a beeline for him instead.
Planting herself back on her bottom, Venus tugged at the tassel on one of Luc’s shoes. Then she threw her bright curly head back and looked up at him with a playful smile of challenge.
Luc extended his free hand in welcome. Venus gripped his thumb. Then she let go to make a frantic grab at the gold watch she had just noticed gleaming on his wrist. At that sudden switch of focus, Luc’s rare smile broke out, amusement lighting up his lean strong face. ‘She’s like a miniature clone of her mother.’
Her heart rocked by that intensely charismatic smile, Star’s mouth ran dry. ‘Well, Mars takes after you.’
In fact it was as if their respective genes had known better than to try to mix in their offspring, Star reflected ruefully. Mars got upset if his routine was disrupted, and when he played his ability to concentrate was already noticeable. Venus did everything at high speed and took life just as it came.
As the minutes passed, with Luc wholly engaged on interaction with the twins, Star’s tension steadily increased. She just couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Careless of his beautiful expensive suit, Luc was now seated on the carpet with Venus and Mars swarming over him as if he was a large and novel toy. Little hands were snatching at his tie, digging into his pockets, pulling at his hair and exploring his face.
Star had never dreamt that Luc might drop his dignified reserve to allow all that close bodily contact and over-familiarity. In fact she would have sworn that he would run a mile from such treatment. Nor had she appreciated that learning that the twins were his might enable Luc to relax and handle their children with much greater confidence than he had shown before.
Indeed, the most awful biting jealousy surged up through Star as she stood there. She was totally ignored by all. She had even been denied her usual enthusiastic early-morning welcome from her babies. And she was now an unwilling audience to the birth of what appeared to be a mutual admiration society for three.
‘They’re both yawning,’ Luc commented a whole twenty-five minutes later, his disappointment audible.
‘You’ve overtired them,’ Star heard herself snipe, although she was well aware that after their disturbed night the day before both children would have a much greater need for a long morning nap.
Star settled the twins back into their cots, but not before quite a few hugs and kisses had been exchanged.
‘I didn’t expect such young children to accept me so easily,’ Luc finally drawled, finding himself as ignored as Star had felt ten minutes earlier.
Star turned her head, shining copper hair framing the tight expression on her triangular face. ‘They’re very fond of Rory, and because of him they like and trust all men,’ she said dismissively.
Luc gazed steadily back at her, stunning dark eyes unreadable as an overcast night sky, but his magnificent bone structure was taut beneath his smooth golden skin.
‘So can I expect to see a lot of you in England after the end of the summer?’ Star asked brittly. ‘You know, I’m homesick already.’
‘We’ll discuss that downstairs,’ Luc informed her, and strode out.
I just bet we will, Star thought, resenting the way Luc automatically assumed charge and closing out the little voice that warned that she was being mean and nasty. After all, just at that minute she felt like being horribly mean and nasty. It felt better than dwelling on the physical ache of painful yearning which Luc could rouse in her just by being in the same room. She could even justify nastiness as a necessary defense mechanism against a male who had hurt her as much as Luc had hurt her during the early hours of the morning…
First wanting her, then rejecting her, but not before he had picked out every one of her failings and held them up to her, so that she could know what an awful person she was. That seemed to be a pattern with Luc too. It was as if every time he felt he might be getting too close to her he just instantly switched off again and dragged up every reason under the sun to keep his distance.
And what she had said about Rory was true…up to a point, she reasoned. Rory was fond of the twins, but he really saw them as an extension of Star, while Luc had instinctively responded to their son and daughter as individuals and had awarded them and not Star his full attention. Was that a sin or a virtue? she asked herself bitterly.
Coffee had been laid out in the main salon when Star finally came downstairs again. While he’d entertained Venus and Mars, Luc had appeared more relaxed than she had ever seen him. Now she absorbed his cool and distant expression and veiled eyes. In a split second her nervous tension mushroomed. So Luc had accepted the existence of his children and had spent some time with them, but that certainly didn’t mean he was pleased that the wife he was planning to divorce had made him a father.