Lynne Graham's Brides of L'Amour Bundle

Having left Matilde’s apartment, Tabby and Christien were in the lift before Tabby had the opportunity to say, ‘Veronique…was that the same Veronique I met years back?’

Christien gave her an uncommunicative nod of confirmation.

So he had been seeing the other woman. Tabby almost winced. She was disappointed in him. All right, Veronique had been beautiful and stylish and clever, but she had also been a cold, nasty piece of work as Tabby had found out to her cost after that car crash when she had gone up to the villa in the hope of seeing Christien again. But there it was, deserved or otherwise, evidently Veronique had finally got what she had wanted all along: her chance to shine with Christien as something other than a good mate. For once, however, life appeared to have handed out its just deserts for Christien had obviously been less than impressed, Tabby reflected with a satisfaction that was only human.

But that satisfaction was just as swiftly replaced by a disconcerting stab of unease that prompted her to say, ‘I gather that you and Veronique were together a while back…so I don’t have anything to do with you breaking up with her, do I?’

‘Ne fais pas l’idiote…don’t be silly!’ Telling all, Christien had decided, would only cause distress. In fact it was a kindness to keep quiet for Tabby was happy and an awareness of how recently he had been engaged to Veronique would only make her very unhappy…

On the night of their engagement party, Tabby twirled in front of a giant gilt-edged mirror in the grand salon at Duvernay and then twirled again for good measure.

Courtesy of Christien’s generosity, an antique Cartier diamond necklace of deco vintage encircled her throat. It looked fabulous and her dress had a to-die-for glamour that thrilled her. Ruby-red in colour, it bared her shoulders, hugged her shapely figure to perfection and fell into a flirty hem round her ankles, scoring on all three counts of being feminine and sexy and chic into the bargain. But without Matilde, she would never have had the nerve to enter the high fashion emporium on the Rue St-Honore where she had found the gown.

The past eight days had been hugely enjoyable for Tabby and jam-packed with activity and entertainment. With Christien she had picnicked below the chestnut trees in the Jardin des Tuileries, visited Disneyland Paris with Jake, toured fabulous art collections and on one memorable occasion had gone out clubbing until dawn. They had talked about her career as an artist and stolen hungry kisses behind doors like guilty teenagers. They had spent virtually every daylight hour together with Christien making up business hours most evenings and Tabby was now fully convinced that she had had very good taste when she’d fallen in love with him almost four years earlier.

He had become so romantic since then too, she thought blissfully. He kept on sending her flowers and buying her little gifts, like the teddy bear with the silly smile that he had said reminded him of her…and big gifts like the diamond necklace and a gorgeous deco bronze of a dancing woman. With Matilde Laroche being so welcoming, Tabby truly felt as though she was becoming part of a family again and that it should be Christien’s family was a source of real joy to her for it healed the wounds of the past.

In between times, and regardless of the reality that she had yet to officially give her agreement to marrying Christien, their wedding plans had marched on with Matilde in enthusiastic charge. Tabby’s actual spoken agreement had come to seem quite unnecessary. In just thirty-six hours, they would undergo a civil ceremony in the mairie or town hall, and that would be followed by a church blessing.

Tabby could hardly wait for the wedding, not least because she and Christien would finally be able to make love again. They had both learned an embarrassing lesson by letting Jake catch them in the same bed before she had a wedding ring on her finger. Not the least of their punishments had been Jake’s earnest suggestion that he keep his mother company at night in case she had another nightmare. Indeed Tabby and Christien had reached the conclusion that it was their duty to set their son an example until that magical moment when they could freely point out that married people slept in the same bed.

Christien appeared in the doorway, a sleek and spectacular masculine vision in an Armani evening suit.

‘Show-stopping,’ he pronounced with intense appreciation when he saw her in the ruby-red dress. ‘You look hot and you’re mine, ma belle.’

The party took off like an express train and the best champagne flowed like a river in flood. Jake got a little over-excited at all the attention he was receiving and had to be reprimanded once or twice. Christien’s relatives were generally very much in the older age group and Tabby found them old-fashioned and formal but kindly and inclined to treat her son like a little prince in waiting. Christien had invited only a handful of close friends to the engagement celebration because it was being staged so close to the wedding. Tabby had only contrived to invite one guest of her own: Sean Wendell. Her aunt and her boyfriend were flying in just for the wedding before they travelled on to Australia but unfortunately Tabby’s friend, Pippa, was unable to leave her father to manage on his own.

Veronique Giraud staged her entrance when the party was in full swing. Tabby noticed the sudden silence that fell and she glanced up. She was dismayed by the other woman’s arrival for she had had no idea that the brunette had been invited. Sporting a stunning black and white evening gown, Veronique headed direct for Christien. As she crossed the floor she performed a couple of fluid teasing steps to the music and extended her hand to Christien. Striding to meet her, he accepted her invitation.

Tabby knew how to jive but had never learned how to do anything else. She had ignored Christien’s effort to persuade her that she could easily learn the steps because she had not wanted to risk making a fool of herself at their engagement party. The sight of Veronique smiling while she gracefully circled the floor in Christien’s arms sent a shard of angry envy and hurt darting through Tabby.

Indeed, just watching Veronique Tabby could feel herself regressing to the intimidated teenager she had been almost four years earlier. On the day that she was to fly back home with her widowed stepmother, she had hurried up to the Laroche villa to make a desperate last ditch attempt to see Christien before she had to leave France. After all, he had not called her, nor had he been answering his phone.

Veronique had come to the door in the wake of the manservant. ‘What do you want?’ she demanded rudely.

Tabby was shocked for, up until that point, the brunette had always been pleasant. She found herself asking if she could see Christien as if she was asking for Veronique’s permission to do so.

‘It’s over. Isn’t it time you accepted that you’ve been dumped? He doesn’t want to see you.’ Veronique dealt Tabby’s white drawn face and shadowed eyes a scornful scrutiny and her lip curled. ‘H

e thinks he may have to change his mobile number to shake you off!’

At that confirmation that her calls had been received and that the other woman was as aware of that fact as she was of Christien’s evident determination to ignore those same calls, Tabby died a thousand deaths inside herself. Already sick with grief over her father’s demise and the appalling suffering of her bereaved friends, she was torn apart by the pain of Christien’s rejection for she had never needed him more than she needed him then. She turned to leave at that point but Veronique was the kind of female who specialised in kicking her victims even harder when they were already down.

‘Surely you didn’t believe that Christien Laroche would get serious with a cheap little scrubber like you? Do you believe in Santa Claus as well?’ Veronique sneered.

Tabby dragged herself out of the past and back into the present and threw back her slim shoulders. She was not a teenager any longer and in a day and a half she would be Christien’s wife. In those circumstances she could afford to overlook the brunette’s spiteful nature and be gracious. After all, whether she liked it or not, it looked as though Veronique was still firmly entrenched in the ranks of Christien’s friends and would have to be tolerated.

Some of the older guests were leaving and, having bid them goodnight, Christien was hailed by a friend. Tabby left him to it and returned to the ballroom alone. Veronique was coming towards her and Tabby felt pride demanded that she stay still long enough to acknowledge the other woman with a polite smile.

‘Oh, do let me see the ring Christien gave you!’ Veronique exclaimed with mocking insincerity.

‘I’m sure you’re not really interested,’ Tabby said uncomfortably, feeling horribly small and squat when she had to tip her head back to look up at the tall brunette.

‘But naturally I’m dying to make a comparison.’ The brunette extended a hand on which a large solitaire diamond glittered on her middle finger.

‘Sorry…a comparison?’ Tabby stared at her in confusion.

‘This is the ring I wore when I was engaged to Christien. Look closely at it, expect to see it back on my engagement finger again, because when you screw up as a wife he’ll divorce you and I’ll comfort him,’ Veronique forecast.