Having the Frenchman's Baby
“You’re welcome. Let’s go to lunch next week.”
“I’ll call you.”
He hung up and headed for the house. Thanks to Rachel, his plot of experimental vines had survived the storm. After inspecting his vineyard earlier this morning, he’d only counted five plants that were lost.
His heart did a fierce kick just contemplating being alone with her for the rest of the weekend. The only reason he’d left her this long was to drive to Thann for a certain artifact he needed to carry out a plan he had in mind.
But his excitement waned when he came in sight of his house and couldn’t see her rental car.
He would have known if he’d seen her on the road. She must have gone to the nearest village for something she needed. He parked the car and took everything in the house, anxious to read her note.
It wasn’t until he put his things on the kitchen counter that he noticed the large, familiar basket placed next to the empty plate and wine.
There was only one note. The same one he’d left for Rachel…
Bile rose in his throat imagining the scenario. “Holy mother of God.”
During his frantic trip to St Hippolyte he phoned Rachel’s cell, but she’d turned it off.
He rang Georges at the car rental agency, but the other man was off for the weekend. No one knew anything about Ms Valentine’s itinerary, not since a car had been provided for her on Thursday.
On automatic pilot now, he drove to his mother’s house. When he couldn’t find her inside, he raced around the back. She was in the garden surveying the damage to the flowers from the storm.
The way she eyed him let him know she’d been waiting for him.
“You’d better take time to catch your breath before you try to speak, mon fils.”
It had been twenty-five years at least since his mother had tried to shrivel him with her disappoval.
“All I want to know is how much you told her.”
Her brows arched. “Quite a bit—since you failed to tell her anything.”
His eyes closed tightly for a moment. “Why, Maman?”
“If she’d been a woman who wouldn’t think twice about sleeping with any available man, I would have told her I was the cleaning woman, and then I would have left.”
Luc rubbed his hand over his face.
“But I realized at once she wasn’t like that. Not at all. I sensed a vulnerability about her…and a sweetness you don’t often see. Considering the circumstances, I must admit I’ve never met anyone with more poise.”
His mother gave him a fierce look. “She’s a lovely woman, Luc. Too lovely inside and out to have lied to her the way you did.”
“There were no lies between us,” he bit out heatedly.
“Non? Did Paulette’s name ever pass your lips?”
“Rachel knew I was divorced. This morning I had plans to tell her everything.”
“You’re too late.” She shook her head. “A woman like that gives her heart with her body. Before she even saw me, she thought it was you.
“If you could have heard the joy in her voice, or have seen the stars in her eyes… How could you do it, Luc?”
Anger ripped through him. “I’m sorry, Maman, but this is none of your business.”
“It became my business because you didn’t tell her the whole truth, and you kept your interest in her a secret from me. Secrets have a way of coming out.
“I had no idea that car belonged to her. I thought it might have been one of the workmen’s who’d come to finish up something on your house.