The Frenchman's Bride

The Frenchman's Bride
Rebecca Winters

“I’m sorry, Hallie. The last thing I want to do is offend you. I want to close the door on that chapter of my life forever.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“But will you be able to forgive me?”

She jerked her head around. He saw a blur of blue-green fire. “How can you ask me that? Don’t you realize I’m your friend?”

Friend.

In his gut he recognized he wanted her to be more than that to him….

Rebecca Winters, an American writer and mother of four, is excited to be in this new millennium because it means another new beginning. Having said goodbye to the classroom where she taught French and Spanish, she is now free to spend more time with her family, to travel and to write the Harlequin Romance® novels she loves so dearly.

Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to e-mail her, please visit her Web site at: www.rebeccawinters-author.com.

The Frenchman’s Bride

Rebecca Winters

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

REACHING for a towel, Vincent Rolland stepped from the shower of his London hotel suite having made the decision to fly to Paris after his business lunch later in the day. This weekend he’d be taking his twins home to St. Genes. He couldn’t wait.

The chateau had been like a tomb without them. Though there’d been phone calls and visits, the nine month school year had been too long a separation.

It was Thursday. They weren’t expecting him until Friday, but he wanted to surprise them. Tonight they would celebrate the end of school together before flying home to their chateau tomorrow.

While he was shaving, he heard his cell phone ring. It was probably one of the children calling him now.

He hurried into the other room to answer it. A glance at the caller ID told him someone from St. Genes was ringing.

Hopefully nothing was wrong.

“Oui?”

“Bonjour, Vincent.” It was the housekeeper. She sounded in good spirits.

“Bonjour, Etvige. How’s Pere Maurice?”

“Don’t worry. He and Beauregard just left on their morning walk.”

That was reassuring; with the twins away, his grandfather and the dog were becoming devoted to each other.

“Monsieur Gide at the bank in Paris called you. He’d like you to phone him as soon as you can. Here’s his number.”

Monsieur Gide? Vincent hadn’t talked to him since he’d set up an account for the twins last fall.

He wrote it down. “Merci, Etvige. Tell Pere Maurice I’ll call him from Paris.”

Once they’d hung up, he punched in the number and was put through to the bank manager.

“Thank you for getting back to me so quickly, Monsieur Rolland. You did say to phone if the need arose.”

“Of course. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to let you know that two days ago your son wrote a check for a large sum of money. Before I put it through, I thought I should call to be certain you approved.”

“How large?”

“Eighty-seven hundred Eurodollars. There’ll be nothing left in the account.”

On hearing the banker’s words, disappointment swept through Vincent that his children hadn’t waited for him before they spent it.

“It’s all right, Monsieur. I promised them a car if they did well in their end of year exams.”

“A car? I’m afraid this check was made out to Rue Vendome Fine Jewelry.”

Jewelry—

A shudder passed through his body.

Just hearing the word was like an echo from the blackest period of his life.