Then the mattress swayed beneath her. She heard a heavy footstep, and the sobs abruptly stopped with a hiccup.
That alarmed her as nothing else could. She instantly sat up, her pillow dropping softly to her lap.
Théo, shirtless and wearing only drawstring pajama bottoms slung low on his hips, was cradling their son against his bare, hard-muscled chest, crooning softly to the baby in the warm light of morning.
The baby’s chubby face peered up at him with a frown. Then, as Théo sang, rocking him in his arms, Henry’s face lit up. Théo’s deep masculine laughter provided a low baritone counterpoint to his son’s baby giggles.
For Carrie, the sound was sweet misery.
The past five days had been full of so many small joys. The three of them had enjoyed playing outside, eating a picnic lunch in the garden beside the stone fountain, lying out amid the sunshine and scent of flowers beneath the wide blue sky.
Small joys. And endless pleasures. Always she felt Théo’s dark, smoldering eyes upon her, his hot gaze promising a world of delights the moment their son was asleep in his crib. Every instant they spent together Carrie was so stretched with awareness she could barely take a deep breath. Shivers filled her body every time she felt his eyes upon her, every time his fingers brushed hers as they held their child between them. She’d given up trying to resist his seduction. Every night they spent together in bed was a revelation as he held and stroked every inch of her body, making her feel beautiful and new. Making her feel she might die from wanting him. From loving him.
She’d felt happy.
Too happy.
Thank heaven for his housekeeper, Lilley Smith. The plump, plain young housekeeper, who’d returned three days ago from her vacation, looked nothing like her distant cousin Théo. At twenty-three, she had light brown hair and brown eyes, was motherly and kind, and best of all she adored babies almost as much as they adored her.
If not for Lilley bustling around the castle, tidying the baby’s toys behind them or racing to fold laundry or bring out the picnic basket, who knew what insanity might have occurred.
Actually, Carrie knew exactly what would have happened. Sometime when she and Théo were just sitting outside with the baby, lying on a blanket beneath the warm summer sun and feeling the hot breeze blow through the sunflowers and vineyards, she would have broken the silence in the most disastrous way possible—by blurting out that she’d fallen back in love with him.
There could no longer be any doubt. Even when she’d hated him she’d never stopped loving him completely. Now, passion and longing infused her whole being, practically shining like light out of her fingertips and toes. She loved him.
Carrie’s heart turned over in her chest as she watched Théo, so masculine and powerful, carefully holding the tiny baby in his footsie pajamas. Henry was beaming up at Théo as father and son smiled at each other. And she watched it with a sinking feeling in her chest. She’d been stupid enough to fall in love with Théo. How could she?
If he found out, he would leave her. And worse: he would leave their baby.
Once, that would have been exactly what she wanted. But not anymore. Not now that she saw the father-son bond growing every day. Was it possible she’d been wrong about Théo? Could he truly be a good husband and father, as long as she played by his rules?
The thought was like a razor blade as Théo moved toward her, leaning to kiss the top of her head in the early-morning light. She felt that tender kiss all over her body.
“Bonjour, chérie,” he said softly.
“Good morning,” she whispered miserably.
The baby heard her voice and immediately turned to her with a whimper and whine. Théo grinned. “I think he’s hungry. He’s a growing boy.”
The pride in his voice made a laugh escape Carrie in spite of herself. Sitting up straight against the pillow, she reached out her hands. “Give him here.”
Théo handed the baby to her where she sat on the bed in her oversize T-shirt. She was making no effort to be pretty this time. She wasn’t trying to impress him anymore, as she had last year with sexy clothes and elaborate hair and makeup. This time it was strictly casual, with no makeup, sundresses by day and ratty old T-shirts by night. And yet he seemed dazzled, intoxicated by her. Just as she was by him.
As Carrie started to nurse the baby Théo watched for an instant. His black eyes seemed to devour her. Then he abruptly turned away. “I’ll be right back.”
Some of the warmth drained out of the room with him. A sigh escaped her lips as Carrie stared after him.
With Théo around there was no such color as gray. He brought vibrancy to her life. He’d taken her from a drizzly life of clouds and rain and made her whole world a summer in Provence, with blue skies, and lavender waving in the hot wind beneath a yellow sun. After a year of winter, she’d opened to him like a sunflower in spring.
She looked down at her blissfully suckling child.
Only two days until they’d get the results of the paternity test, and they could leave. Two more days to keep silent about her feelings.
If she could hide her love for two more days, she and Théo might come to an arrangement. Henry would live with her in Seattle, but often visit his father in France, or Théo would come visit them. And somehow, eventually, when she didn’t have to see Théo every single day, her love for him would slowly die.
It was her only hope.
She heard a noise and looked up to see Théo in the doorway. Her eyes unwillingly traced the hard curves of his upper body, his wide shoulders, thickly muscled biceps and flat belly. Even the way he walked toward her caused a sensual shiver across her body.