The Frenchman's Captive Wife

‘He looks like you,’ Emily said grudgingly as she watched Jean-Claude smile at his father. From the moment her son had first opened his eyes and focused on her, she’d been taken aback by his likeness to Luc. It was as if fate itself was on Luc’s side, determined that he would not be forgotten, but seeing them together brought home to her that her baby was all Vaillon, truly his father’s son.

Jean-Claude regarded the stranger solemnly. At almost a year old, he knew his own mind, knew whom he liked and whom he didn’t, and Emily felt a sharp stab of jealousy when he stretched out his chubby arms to Luc. Would all Vaillon men betray her? she wondered bitterly. And then dismissed the shabby thought. She wanted Jean-Claude to have a good relationship with his father and incredibly it now seemed that Luc shared that desire. Perhaps, once he had calmed down, she could broach the idea of divorce once more. She was certain he did not really want her as his wife and if she assured him of her willingness to share custody of Jean-Claude, their parting could at least be amicable.

‘Jean-Claude and I are booked on an evening flight to London,’ she murmured. ‘It seems silly to waste the tickets but I’ll meet you as soon as possible, tomorrow if you insist,’ she added when Luc made no reply and simply surveyed her with his cool grey stare.

‘I’m not taking him to London,’ he replied at last, and she stared at him in confusion.

‘Then where are you going?’ She had hated Luc’s Chelsea penthouse, which had all the appeal of a dentist’s waiting room and had never felt like her home, but Luc had seemed perfectly at ease there and she assumed it was still his London base.

‘To France, of course. Jean-Claude is a Vaillon, my son and heir. Naturally he will be brought up in my homeland,’ he informed her, his brows raised in surprise that there could be any doubt.

‘Naturally,’ Emily snapped sarcastically, ‘but what about my homeland? Hasn’t it occurred to you that I’d like to bring him up in England?

‘But you weren’t, were you?’ he pointed out silkily. ‘For some peculiar reason you decided that an artists’ commune in the middle of the Spanish wilderness was the best place for our son to live. But no longer. From now on Jean-Claude will enjoy all the benefits of his heritage at my château in the Loire Valley. The Vaillons are an old French family. Surely you would not want to deprive him of his birthright?’

‘I didn’t even know you owned a château. Something else you failed to mention. But what of Jean-Claude’s British heritage?’ Emily argued, panic assailing her once more at Luc’s resolute expression. ‘The Dyers are an old family, too. Heston Grange was their ancestral seat for over four hundred years, until you bought it,’ she finished bleakly. ‘Tell me,’ she demanded with a hollow laugh, ‘did you know from the beginning that my parents hoped you would marry one of their daughters so that the Dyers would retain some link with the family’s heritage? Did they offer you Heston at a fraction of its value as long as you agreed to marry one of us? And if that’s true, Luc, why on earth did you pick me? I was the plain one, the drab Dyer, more at home with horses than people. My sisters are beautiful, clever and sophisticated, any one of them would have made you a far more suitable wife, but I suppose you thought I would be the easiest to manipulate, the one least likely to make a fuss when you resumed your relationship with your mistress.’

At twenty she had been shy and severely lacking in confidence, unable to disguise her massive crush on the handsome, enigmatic Frenchman who had turned all their lives upside down, but to him she must have seemed a pushover. She had been a pawn in a far more serious game.

‘You always did seriously undervalue yourself,’ Luc murmured dryly, as his eyes skimmed her flushed face and huge navy blue eyes. ‘I admit there were a number of reasons why you were suitable…’

‘All to do with money and prestige, and none to do with love,’ Emily finished for him. She didn’t want to hear every cold, calculated detail of why he had decided to marry her. She already knew it was because her parents had offered him Heston Grange at a massively reduced price if he married one of the Dyer daughters, thereby retaining the family’s link with their heritage. It was archaic, she thought bitterly. She felt like a brood mare, sold off with a suitable dowry, but Luc hadn’t even wanted her for her childbearing ability. He hadn’t wanted children at all, which made his sudden determination to gain custody of their son all the more shocking.

‘Jean-Claude is a Vaillon,’ Luc repeated stubbornly, ‘and from now on the Château Montiard will be his home, not some filthy dump in the middle of nowhere.’

‘San Antonia is not filthy. The farmhouse is beautiful and Jean-Claude loved it there.’

‘Really.’ Luc’s brows rose as he murmured sardonically. ‘He must be a child prodigy to express his opinion when he’s not even a year old. Tell me, chérie, what would you have done if he’d been taken ill? The nearest hospital is miles away. For someone who expresses such maternal devotion, you seem to have little regard for his well-being.’

‘While you, of course, are an expert on child care,’ Emily snapped furiously. ‘Jean-Claude was perfectly well cared for, but it’s not easy being a single mother and I was grateful for the help of the other members of the commune.’

‘You were a single mother by choice,’ he pointed out hardily, ‘but you never gave Jean-Claude a choice. You forced him to live his life with only one parent and you denied me a relationship with my own son. Now it’s your turn to suffer,’ he told her darkly, and she shivered at the contempt in his gaze.

‘For heaven’s sake, can’t we be adult about this?’ she cried despairingly and he gave a harsh laugh.

‘It would be a first for you, chérie, that’s for sure, but I’m afraid you’ve pushed me way beyond the boundaries of wanting to be reasonable. Now that I have my son I have no intention of ever letting him go, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.’

The car was slowing and Emily glanced out of the window, frantically searching for the signs to the airport, but there were none. Instead they drove through the gates of what appeared to be a private airfield and sick fear gripped her. How could she have forgotten that Luc owned his own private jet? There was no bustling airport, no queues at the check-in desk where there might have been an opportunity to grab Jean-Claude and run. Luc’s plane was ready and waiting on the runway. He had stated that he was prepared to take her to his château for their son’s sake but he couldn’t force her to resume the role of his wife, could he?

Suddenly her pride was an expendable commodity she would gladly sacrifice in return for her baby and she stared beseechingly at Luc as the car drew to a halt. ‘Please, don’t do this,’ she begged huskily. ‘I can’t live without Jean-Claude but neither can I live with you. You must see that.’

‘Surely, if you have any sense of fairness you must see that it is my turn to have him now,’ Luc replied coldly. ‘Jean-Claude is coming home with me, with or without you.’

‘But you didn’t want him!’ she cried, her voice rising with frustration. ‘From the moment you knew I was pregnant you made it clear that you had no interest in either of us. You slept in another room,’ she reminded him huskily, ‘when you bothered to come back to the flat at all. And you were completely uninvolved in my pregnancy. You didn’t even show up at the hospital for my ultrasound scan.

‘Do you have any idea how I felt that morning?’ she demanded bitterly as a wave of memories hit her. ‘The fact that you’d spent the night with Robyn was unforgivable but I still thought…hoped you cared enough about our child to want to see the first pictures of him. I sat in that waiting room alone surrounded by excited, happy couples, and I prayed you would come,’ she whispered brokenly. Every time they called my name I allowed someone else to go in my place until there was no one left, just me on my own with a very sympathetic nurse who tried to make a joke about men being useless timekeepers.’ She scrubbed her eyes furiously with the back of her hand, desperate that he didn’t see her cry. ‘But you hadn’t mistaken the time, had you, Luc? You just didn’t care about the baby or me, and that’s why I left. I knew I’d outstayed my welcome.’

‘That’s not true,’ he began, his face twisting with emotions she refused to try and decipher any more.

‘It is true,’ she cried angrily. ‘I didn’t need any more proof of your indifference. How can you blame me for questioning your motives now?’ she finished brokenly.

Luc paused as he opened the door. She looked as young and innocent as on that first day when she had stared up at him and an arrow had pierced his heart. He wanted to hate her—indeed, there had been many times during the past year when he’d convinced himself that he despised her—but she was watching him with those expressive blue eyes. He glimpsed her vulnerability and something tugged at his heart.

He had never been any good at saying how he felt, he conceded, and his conscience prickled as he remembered how his unspoken fears had caused him to appear tense and uncommunicative. His childhood had left scars, a wariness of revealing his emotions. He hadn’t forgotten her scan. Dieu, he would have given anything to be with her but Robyn had been distraught, he had been torn and by the time he had managed to phone and explain the situation, Emily had already left for the hospital. He had been too late but at that point he hadn’t realised the extent of the damage his decision had cost him, and he had never been given the chance to make amends.

‘Wait there while I see if they’re ready for us,’ he growled as he climbed out of the car. ‘I have employed a nanny to take care of Jean-Claude. It might be better if he meets her before we get on the plane.’

‘He doesn’t need a nanny,’ Emily pointed out sharply. ‘I can look after him perfectly well on my own.’

‘Mon Dieu! Do you have to argue about everything?’ He was already striding across the tarmac and she watched him go, adrenalin coursing through her as she tapped on the car’s glass partition to gain the attention of the chauffer. This was probably a hired car, she reasoned feverishly, and it was likely that the driver was Spanish.

‘Drive on, please,’ she requested in a confident tone that did not match the sick fear in the pit of her stomach. The months she’d spent in Spain meant that she was fairly fluent in the language and she smiled reassuringly at the driver. ‘There’s been a change of plan and Señor Vaillon wishes you to take me to the international airport.’

The chauffer was young and his dark eyes flashed with a boldness he made no effort to hide as he responded to her smile.

‘Sí, señora.’

The car rolled forward and she took a sharp breath. ‘As quickly as you can, por favor.’ But it was too late. Luc must have moved faster than the speed of light and already he was wrenching the door open.

‘You little bitch,’ he swore at her savagely, his face contorted with fury. He yelled at the driver to cut the engine and swiftly released Jean-Claude’s safety harness before lifting him into his arms. ‘I was prepared to be fair, to treat you with a respect that you clearly don’t deserve. But not any more,’ he snarled as his fingers curled around her arm.

‘Is everything all right, Monsieur Vaillon?’ The woman at the bottom of the plane’s steps looked calm and professional in her grey uniform. Presumable she was the nanny Luc had hired, Emily thought desperately as she struggled to break free of his bruising grip.

‘Shall I take the baby?’

‘Merci.’ Luc transferred Jean-Claude into the woman’s arms and immediately turned his attention back to Emily, his eyes dark and dispassionate as he watched a single tear roll down her face.

‘You can’t do this,’ she whispered as he jerked her into his arms.

‘Watch me,’ he taunted, and before she realised his intentions his head obliterated the sunlight. It was not so much a kiss as a public branding, his lips hot and hard, forcing hers apart and uncaring if he evoked a response. Emily was so shocked that she simply leaned against his chest fearing that her legs would buckle beneath her. Her humiliation was complete when she was forced to cling to him for support. It was as quick as it was brutal and he released her with a savage imprecation while she stared up at him, her trembling fingers covering her mouth. For a few brief seconds she had been on fire for him, her body reacting instantaneously to his raw sexuality, and her cheeks burned with shame at the speculative gleam in his eyes. He knew the effect he had on her, knew that for those few seconds he had made her forget everything, even her son, and with that knowledge came power.

‘Take your hands off me,’ she demanded, her voice shaking with outrage, and he threw back his head and laughed.

‘You’re a good actress, I’ll give you that. But you don’t fool me, ma chérie. I know you too well and I have forgotten nothing. I remember vividly what pleases you,’ he breathed in her ear and the warmth of his breath on her skin caused a trembling within her that had nothing to do with fear. ‘Welcome back, my sweet wife,’ he goaded softly as he put his hand in the small of her back and pushed her up the steps into the waiting jet.

CHAPTER THREE

WHAT THE HELL had he done?

Luc stared moodily at the glass on the tray in front of him and with a muttered oath snatched it up and downed its contents in one gulp, although he rarely drank alcohol in the middle of the day. Right now he needed something to anaesthetise the effect that Emily had on him—had always had on him, he admitted begrudgingly, although fortunately she seemed unaware that his emotions were veering dangerously out of control.

She was sitting away from him at the front of the plane, nursing Jean-Claude who had taken an instant dislike to his new surroundings and let his displeasure be known in no uncertain terms. The nanny he had employed, Liz Crawford, had an impressive record in child care, but she had been unable to pacify the baby, whose cries had only subsided once he was in his mother’s arms.

‘He needs me,’ Emily had insisted, and watching them now, mother and son, Luc knew she was right. She was cradling Jean-Claude against her shoulder, rocking gently as she sang to him in her sweet, husky voice, and Luc felt a curious twisting in his gut as he recognised the familiar French lullaby that evoked memories of his own childhood.

He shouldn’t have kissed her, he conceded grimly. He shouldn’t have given in to the basic, almost primal need to hold her in his arms once more. He needed to be in control, to take things slowly and persuade her that coming back to him would be the best thing for all of them, not just the baby.

He had convinced himself that he had every right to hate her but from the moment he’d walked across the courtyard at San Antonia the battle being waged in his head had been lost. She had deprived him of the first year of his son’s life, and when he’d received notice from her solicitor that she wanted a divorce he had been ready to commit murder. If she no longer wanted to be his wife, that was fine, he had assured himself, because he’d had enough of feeling a fool and he didn’t want her back.