‘And this man who looks at me with murder in his eyes—what is he to you?’
‘Benedict! He wouldn’t…’ There was only one other couple on the dance floor and she had an unobstructed view of their table. She saw Benedict’s face and changed her mind—it looked distinctly possible that he would! There was nothing sophisticated about his expression—it was one of crude, violent disapproval.
‘Perhaps he doesn’t like you dancing with other men.’
‘It’s none of his business who I dance with,’ she responded, her mouth settling into a combative line. He expected her to get her mind around his colourful past; how perverse could you get? Even if he had assumed that Christophe was her former lover—and from his confrontational attitude that seemed very likely—he had no right to come over all possessive.
A sceptical expression stirred in Christophe’s eyes, but he maintained a diplomatic silence. ‘I would like to make amends—too late, I know. Don’t!’ he said, pressing a finger to her lips, which were parted to refuse. ‘The request is selfish also. Annabel and I couldn’t have children.’ Behind the stoical acceptance Rachel had a glimpse of pain and her tender heart ached.
‘There is no young blood in our family and the sound of a child’s voice would bring us all delight. Don’t deny my mother her only grandchild, Rachel. You and Charlie could visit us in France; we could all get to know one another.’
‘Charlie and I don’t have any family either.’ She couldn’t believe it was this simple! Suddenly there was a grandmother, a whole family Charlie had never met. Not in her wildest dreams had she pictured such ready acceptance.
Christophe sighed. ‘Thank you, Rachel,’ he said simply. ‘Now you’d better tell me your address before I return you to your young man.’
‘He’s not mine ‘
‘I think he might dispute that,’ came the dry reply.
‘I want Ben to say goodnight.’ Charlie wielded her dripping toothbrush like a conductor’s baton and her attitude was just as imperious.
It’s nice to be wanted, Rachel thought as she watched Ben sketch a courtly bow. ‘Your wish, my lady, is my command,’ he said solemnly.
She bent to receive her daughter’s kiss, worry behind her strained smile. It would be kinder to Charlie if she severed her connections with Benedict Arden cleanly. She’d never seen Charlie take such a shine to anyone before. It would be selfish and weak to listen to the insidious voice in her head that told her to forget her pride and enjoy what little time they had together. Deep down she had no doubt that had she been single that would have been exactly what she would be doing now—and to hell with the consequences!
When Benedict reappeared a few moments later the careful words of her ‘it was nice while it lasted’ speech fragmented. Looking at him made her feel weak and irresolute.
‘Ben, I…er…that is…’ She bit her lip and tried to reassemble her thoughts. The emptiness inside hurt now. It had always been there, but it was only since Benedict had got a handhold in her life that she’d recognised it for what it was—loneliness. He was going to go away anyway; she might as well feel the pain now as later.
‘He didn’t know about Charlie, did he?’
There was no question in her mind concerning the identity of the ‘he’ he referred to. The abrupt, expressionless accusation had robbed her of what little brain function she had left. He knew…how?
‘No,’ she heard herself confess. ‘I never expected to see him again. He and his wife…’
‘Oh, yes, the wife.’
She hardly noticed the sneer in his voice. Perhaps, she reflected, it would help sort things out in her own mind if she discussed the situation with someone. And Ben seemed to know so…
‘They can’t have any children so Christophe—’
‘I don’t believe this!’
She watched in confusion as Benedict ground his balled fist into the palm of his other hand. ‘Why would he lie? He’s no reason—’
‘No reason!’ he yelled. ‘That’s the truth, isn’t it? You’re obviously prepared to take everything he says at face value. One word from him and you’re prepared to forgive and forget. Haven’t you learnt anything from the past?’ he asked incredulously. His dark eyes moved angrily over her face.
‘It wasn’t Christophe’s fault,’ she protested. She couldn’t blame the man for his brother’s misdeeds.
Benedict sucked in his breath and his slanted cheekbones jutted even harder against the taut flesh of his face. Everything about him seemed tight; the explosive quality in him was tangible.