A Vow to Secure His Legacy

‘It’s not about the report,’ Thierry said. ‘I need you.’

Imogen’s head snapped around. But the banked embers in his eyes had disappeared, or maybe she’d imagined that. Thierry looked all business.

‘Of course. Excuse me, Henri?’

‘Yes, fine.’ He turned back to the spreadsheet. ‘We’ve almost sorted this. You’ll have it in ten minutes, Thierry.’

‘No rush. So long as I get it by this evening.’

Imogen frowned. An hour ago the report had been urgent. But her thoughts frayed when Thierry put a hand under her elbow as she stood.

Once she’d loved those little courtesies. Now they were exquisite torture.

‘You want me for something?’ Her voice was only a little husky.

‘I do.’ To her surprise, he escorted her out to the car park where the sun shone warm on her face. ‘I suppose I’ll need to get another car,’ he murmured as they approached his.

‘You will?’ The words flummoxed her. He adored his low-slung sports car.

‘There’s no room for a baby seat in this.’

The idea of Thierry replacing his streamlined beast with a family sedan stunned her. He really was serious about being an involved father.

If she stayed.

‘Why are we here?’ She stood back when he opened the passenger door. ‘I’ve got work to do.’

‘You’ve done your share today.’

Imogen shook her head. ‘It’s early—’

‘You married the boss, so there are perks. Besides...’ his expression turned serious ‘...you need to look after yourself. You’re still getting morning sickness.’

‘Only a little.’ She found it better if she kept herself busy. Between the accountancy work, intensive French lessons and the hours she spent with Jeanne learning the secrets of French baking, every waking hour was filled. Soon she’d have to decide whether to leave, but having time on her hands hadn’t helped her reach a decision. All it had done was depress her.

‘Well, today we have somewhere else to be.’ He held open the door. Imogen wavered, for suddenly it hit her—she’d deliberately arranged her days to spend as little time as possible with her husband.

Because she was afraid he’d convince her to stay?

‘Please, Imogen. It’s important.’ His mouth flattened. Curiously, she read strain in his proud features and restlessness in the way his hand slid along the open door.

‘What’s wrong?’ Anxiety leapt into her chest. She’d learned no one was immune to bad news and she’d never seen Thierry look this way, as if suppressing agitation.

‘Nothing’s wrong. Can’t you just trust me?’

Imogen looked into the face of the man she loved and knew that was the one thing she’d always done. He’d never deliberately hurt her. He’d gone to remarkable lengths to protect her.

She laid her hand on his where it shifted along the door. Instantly, he stilled, and she felt the familiar thrill of connection. ‘Of course I trust you.’ Whatever Thierry wanted, she’d help him if she could. She owed him that.

Yet she was careful not to meet that gleaming gaze as she slid into the passenger seat.

* * *

‘I can’t believe it. This is amazing!’ The wind caught her words as hair streamed across her face. Imogen laughed, lifting her free hand to pull her hair back.

The air rushed around her, skimming her body just as the small sailing boat skimmed the lake’s sparkling waters. The sensation of speed, the huff and ripple of the wind against canvas and the joyous sense of adventure were like champagne in her blood. Her skin tingled, and her heart felt lighter than it had in months.

Thierry beamed, his face creasing into grooves that accentuated his devastating appeal. He looked totally at ease, his long frame swaying, adjusting easily each time the small boat shifted. Yet she’d seen how quickly he could move, coming to her aid whenever an unexpected change in conditions threatened her fragile confidence. She was a complete novice.

But he’d made sailing so easy.

Her hand clenched on the tiller. That was what he’d always done, wasn’t it? Make things easy for her. Their affair. Their baby. Even dying. No matter what she’d faced, he’d been at her side.

Her heart lurched against her ribs. She loved him so much. How was she supposed to walk away? Was she mad, even considering it?

‘I knew you’d take to it.’ He linked his arms behind his head, stretching those long legs towards her till they almost touched.