The Price of Honour

“That can easily be changed.”

“What happens when you marry, Xavier? Do you think your wife will like having your ex-mistress nearby? Or were you expecting us to carry on as lovers after the ceremony?”

“Unlike my mother, I will honor my vows. You may keep the cottage. We are adults. Cecille need not know of our past.”

“Everyone knows about us. We were inseparable for months. Ship my stuff here or give it away. I don’t care. I’m not coming to get it.”

Good thing she’d brought the most important items with her when she’d packed in such a rush to get out before he’d returned from work that day. She wouldn’t need the fancy designer dresses he’d bought her since she wouldn’t be attending parties with him. Besides, pretty soon they wouldn’t fit. She was already noticing her tops fit more snugly.

She wanted to howl in pain and frustration. Couldn’t he see he was making a huge mistake? But unless he relented on his marriage plans she couldn’t risk returning to the house where she’d been so happy with him—the cottage where she’d finally allowed herself to trust in forever. The memories would undermine her resolve to do the right thing for herself and her baby. Besides, she couldn’t afford to have him guess her secret and possibly claim her child.

He moved closer. The fence blocked her retreat. As the distance between them decreased, a slight quiver overtook her body. He lifted a hand and cupped her face in the warmth of his palm. “How can you walk away from what we shared, Megan?”

As tempted as she was to lean into his touch, she resisted. It wasn’t easy. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“But I am not.”

She forced herself to twist out of reach. “Yes, you are. You’re engaged to marry someone else. You know I won’t settle for second place. I always fight for first—in the ring and out of it. You once told me my zeal was one of the things you liked best about me.”

“I admire many things about you, including your ambition and independence. But there is no need to throw a tantrum because you cannot have your way in this.”

She gaped at him as anger boiled inside her. “A tantrum! You think I’m throwing a tantrum?”

“What else could it be? I have showered you with gifts. I have even given you a home. I will make sure you lack for nothing even after we end our association. If you return to Grasse.”

“I’ve never cared about your money, your estate, your fancy cars or airplanes. You’re not offering what I want most, Xavier. You. Exclusively.”

“You have me exclusively now.”

“But only until your wedding. One of these days I’m going to want a husband … and children. I want someone to grow old with. A friend and a lover. You want that with someone else. Do us both a favor and move on.”

Her stiff muscles protested as she turned and ordered them to carry her away from the best—and the worst—thing that had ever happened to her.

She didn’t need to hear gravel crunching under his heels to know Xavier followed. Her body sensed his like a divining rod does water. His purposeful stride quickly brought him up alongside her, and though her eyes hungered for another look at him, she denied herself the pleasure and the pain.

“I have nothing more to say. Goodbye.”

“If we are going to quote past conversations, then you will recall that my determination is one of the traits you claimed we shared and you admired. Do not expect me to give up so easily when what we have is so good. I fight for what I want, and I want you, mon amante.”

“What we had. Past tense.” Apprehension tightened in her middle. She should have listened to her intuition and refused to ride his horses when he’d first approached her. But she hadn’t. She’d been swept away by a man who bought treats for her horses instead of gifts for her, and she’d ignored the warning prickles and signed the contract promising to become his trainer and rider.

After the first competition he’d asked her out while she was still high on the euphoria of winning. She’d somehow found the strength to refuse but then he’d pursued her, unrelentingly bulldozing right over her vow to never become involved with a client.

She couldn’t let him overpower her again. She had to get rid of him. But how?

She glared up at him. “Stop following me. I won’t play cat and mouse with you. And I won’t entertain you until your bride-to-be is willing to warm your sheets. Find another lover, Xavier. I intend to.”

A lie. But he didn’t need to know that.

The nostrils of his aristocratic nose flared and jealousy ignited in his eyes like twin torches. She only had a moment to enjoy her successful score before he hooked a hand behind her nape, holding her captive as his mouth claimed hers.

Shock stalled her heart before passion spurred it into a galloping beat. It shamed her to admit that even his angry kiss turned her on. But then their sexual compatibility had never been in question.

His lips crushed hers, then softened. He plied her tender flesh with the skill that had slayed her resistance from their first kiss. His tongue traced the seam of her lips. Teasing her. Tempting her. Coaxing a response from her that she didn’t want to give.

Oh, yes, she wanted him. Badly. It disgusted her that she could be so easily manipulated. But even her disgust didn’t kill the hunger.

One last kiss. And then you say goodbye. And mean it.

She opened her mouth and let him in. His familiar taste overwhelmed her, and she couldn’t resist moving closer for a final delicious press of his body against hers. His arms surrounded her, banding her against his muscled length, and his heat seeped into her, warming her for the first time since she’d left him.

She clutched his waist, caressed his strong back. Being with him felt so good, so right. Saying goodbye shouldn’t be this hard.

Desire shuddered through her, filling her with a need that only Xavier could satisfy and reminding her how many weeks it had been since she’d shared his body. Love blossomed inside her. How could he not feel it, not want more?

His fingers tightened in her hair. His other hand cupped her bottom, pulling her against the hot, thick column of his erection. He slowly lifted his head. His gaze burned into hers and his breath fanned her skin.

“You are delicious, like the finest wine, the most decadent cr?me br?lеe. I have missed having you in my bed and in my arms, mon amante. Come home with me, Megan.”

The huskiness of his voice proved he wanted her. Maybe if she reminded him just how good they were together he’d reconsider his disastrous choice and ditch the fiancеe.

Risky.

But their passion was the strongest weapon she possessed, and if she could change his mind she’d have everything she never knew she wanted before Xavier—a home of her own, a man who loved her and a family. And her new cottage was conveniently only a few hundred yards away.

“You come home with me.” She laced her fingers through his and led him down the driveway. The quarter-mile walk gave the voice in her head plenty of time to insist that this was a foolhardy strategy. But she ignored it.

If she wanted Xavier back, then she had to fight fire with fire.

Two

Xavier knew he’d won from the moment Megan’s lips turned soft and pliable beneath his. He allowed her to take his hand and lead him to her lair. He could afford to be magnanimous in victory.

Seeing the interior of the small stone cottage only confirmed his belief that she had left him to make a point. As charming as her temporary accommodations might be, she had not bothered to make them hers the way she had the house he had provided for her.

If she had intended to stay in the States she would have stamped some trace of her personality in the living area or the bedroom, but the only hint of Megan’s occupancy lingered in the air. The bedroom smelled of her and the rose-scented lotion she—or he—smoothed over her skin each night in the ritual he enjoyed watching or sharing. A scent made by one of his low-budget competitors, he recalled with no small amount of distaste.

As good as she smelled, she could smell better if she allowed Parfums Alexandre to blend a personalized fragrance for her. But she had refused his offer.

He surveyed the steep-ceilinged bedroom, taking in the queen-size cherry bed and the traditional, elegant burgundy-and-gold decor. A ceiling fan hanging from one of the exposed crossbeams lazily stirred the air.

The room contained none of the feminine, lacy frills he knew Megan preferred in her linens and in her lingerie. To the world, she was an aggressive competitor and a dedicated horsewoman with a savvy mind for business and an enviable work ethic. He liked knowing that only he saw the soft femininity she concealed beneath her utilitarian riding clothes and no-nonsense attitude.

His heart pounded faster in anticipation of removing her shirt and jeans and uncovering the delicate French undergarments she always wore. He enjoyed buying her sexy lingerie almost as much as he relished removing it and sampling her supple skin.

She stopped beside the bed and tipped her head back to look at him. Her blue eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, her pupils dilated. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips parted. Her hand trembled in his, revealing her eagerness for his caress—an eagerness he shared.

It had been a long, frustrating three weeks waiting for her tantrum to end. It angered him that she had wasted some of the dwindling time they had left. Now that she had come to her senses, they could get on with the pleasure. But he would make her pay for making him come to her. Soon he would have her begging for what she had left behind and their affair would resume. On his terms.