'Four, and all quite young. We didn't mean it to happen, for us to fall in love, but it was just one of those things—'
'One of those things?' Dark, furious colour seared the hard cheekbones savagely and his voice was rapier-sharp. 'What the hell do you mean, 'one of those things'? There is always a point where you know, where you can draw back…' Now his face was black with rage, his voice barely coherent. 'And I thought you were so straight, so virtuous compared to Charlotte Montgomery and the like. What a laugh you must have had about that! At least she and her kind make no secret of what they arc, but you—' a bitter disgust had turned his face grey '—you're the worst sort of liar there is.'
'You forced me to tell you.' The pain in her heart was physical, reaching every part of her, but she had to go through with it. Terrible though this was, it was the only way out. Because she couldn't tell him the truth, she couldn't, and if he believed this he would leave her alone, meet someone else, someone he could fulfil those dreams of a family with, someone—
'I could kill you, do you know that?' He had moved round the table to stand in front of her, and as she shrank from the bitter contempt and anger in his face he gave a short, hard bark of a laugh. 'But don't worry, I won't. And do you know why? Because you aren't worth it. You aren't worth soiling my hands on.' He stared at her for one more moment before stalking from the room, his face fiery.
'We'll forgo coffee,' he added over his shoulder as he reached the door. 'Arnold will take you home when you're ready.' And then the door closed. With a softness that was more chilling than any rage.
CHAPTER TEN
Josie existed in abject, black misery for the next few weeks, and the strain of keeping it hidden, of maintaining a bright, efficient image at work, brought her near to breaking point in the last week of October, when she was due to fly out to oversee the launch.
She hadn't seen or spoken to Luke since the night of her birthday; all their communication had been through faxes, letters and his iceberg of a secretary, although she had had the strangest feeling more than once that a pair of unseen eyes were watching her every movement. It was stupid, she knew it was stupid, but the sensation persisted right up till the day she flew out to France, alone.
She had reserved a room in a fairly mediocre hotel for the duration of her five-day stay, along with a hire car to be delivered to coincide with her arrival. The thought of staying at Luke's chateau was inconceivable, although his secretary had made it clear, on more than one occasion over the last few weeks, that it would be expected of her.
But no way, Josie thought grimly as the plane disgorged its passengers into the airport terminal. The next few days were going to be horrendous enough as it was. She felt the sickening lurch to her stomach that accompanied all thoughts of Luke, and took a few deep breaths, her face pale.
Before leaving the dining room that night six weeks ago she had taken off the necklace he had given her, leaving it carefully spread out on her white linen napkin whore it would be seen by Mrs Hodges, along with a short note on paper she had torn out of the notebook in her handbag. 'I'm sorry.'
Such inadequate words for the hurt she had inflicted, she thought miserably, but so much better than the nightmare of watching him realise the truth, seeing the budding knowledge in his face that he had made a terrible mistake, that she was incapable of fulfilling his plans and aspirations, that he couldn't marry her. Either that or he would go through with his declaration, make the supreme sacrifice, give up the possibility of the Hawkton heir, the children he had spoken of more than once. And either way she wouldn't be able to bear it. Not loving him as she did.
The formalities over and her suitcase and bags collected, she walked towards the massive glass doors, intending to pick up her hire car and go to her hotel, when a touch on her arm brought her head swinging round. 'Mademoiselle?' Louis, Luke's French chauffeur, smiled at her easily. 'I take the bags, eh?'
'Louis?' She stared at him in surprise before glancing hastily round her. 'What are you doing here? Are you waiting for someone?'
'You, mademoiselle.' He nodded towards the doors, his handsome face beneath the gold chauffeur's cap bland as he wrestled the suitcase and bags from her in one easy movement. 'The car is outside.'
'But—' She realised he was already moving away and had to move quickly to catch him up, trotting along at his side as she tried to get his attention. 'Louis? I'm not supposed to be met,' she protested breathlessly.
'Here we are, mademoiselle.' The Rolls was waiting in what looked suspiciously like a no parking area, and Louis had lifted the luggage into the back before she could stop him, opening the door for her as she stood hesitating on the pavement, her face troubled. 'Mademoiselle?' He gestured towards the interior of the car and she glanced at him one more time before sliding defeatedly into its luxurious depths. But she wasn't going to the chateau, if that was the plan. No way, no how.
Once they were out of the airport confines she slid the glass panel aside and spoke to the back of Louis's trim head. 'Do you want to know the name of my hotel?'
'No, mademoiselle,' he answered politely.
She tried again, her heart pounding with a mixture of panic, irrita
tion, excitement and something else she couldn't quite pin down. 'But I'm booked into the—'
'You are staying at the chateau, mademoiselle. Is all arranged. The 'otel has been cancelled, oui?'
'Cancelled?' she said weakly. 'But I don't understand. Is Mr Hawkton at the chateau?'
'No, mademoiselle, not till Thursday,' the level voice replied stoically.
'Oh…' She leant back against the seat for a moment. She recognised now what that other emotion was—hope— and she berated herself for it as she bit down the fierce surge of disappointment. What was the matter with her anyway? It was best that they saw as little of each other as they could until this whole miserable episode was over; that had been the whole point of her staying at the damn hotel in the first place.
Why was she being so illogical, so stupid? Luke clearly thought it was practical for her to be on hand at the chateau, and she had to admit it was. That was all there was to it. And if he was prepared to endure her presence for the sake of a successful launch she owed him that at least. 'Thank you, Louis,' she said flatly as she slid the panel closed.
The next two days flew by in an orderly chaos that had Josie working from dawn to dusk and then some. She fell into bed each night almost too exhausted to wash or brush her teeth, dragging herself up each morning to stand for long minutes under a cool shower and get her brain into express mode again. But by the Thursday morning, the day before the launch, everything had come together wonderfully.
The quaint old fair was established and working perfectly, the ice rink was finished, and looking far better than even Josie had expected, and all the little extras were completed and in place. Chestnut braziers, muffin stalls, hoops and kites for the children—they were all ready and standing to attention—even row upon row of neat white ice-skating boots, all the right size for each individual guest and labelled with their names.
The caterers were coming that afternoon to set up a marquee in the grounds for refreshments during the day, and also to prepare for the more traditional buffet meal in the beautiful ballroom on the launch night.
By lunchtime, when Luke was expected, there was little more for Josie to do. She always endeavoured to leave at least half a day's leeway at this stage of a project, having learnt from bitter experience that last-minute panics often filled it to the hilt, but this time everything had fitted together like clockwork. Even the Night Hawk, streamlined and beautiful, was waiting patiently, moored out at sea beyond the house, and the small boats that Luke had hired to bring her in amidst a veil of coloured smoke were bobbing closer to the water's edge before they all disappeared the following morning for their glorious return later in the afternoon as dusk fell.