The Frenchman's Love-Child

great tolerance, Tabby was willing to overlook Christien’s current aggressive aura for the sake of peace. She surveyed the two males who owned her heart with helpless appreciation. She missed her son’s curls but had to admit that the cropped style was much more boyish. Christien? Christien looked irresistibly sexy and fanciable. Her mouth ran dry. Her breathing quickened. Involuntarily she remembered how she had felt on that sofa and her knees quivered and her face burned with mortification over her own weakness.

‘What time did you get up this morning?’ Tabby enquired, dredging her attention from him.

‘Jake woke up at seven and I took him out for breakfast. Lock up,’ Christien urged. ‘I want to take you for a drive.’

Tabby did as she was asked and climbed into the passenger seat of the powerful car. ‘Where else did you go this morning?’

‘Daddy showed me his cars. I got little cars and he’s got big cars,’ Jake volunteered chirpily.

Jake was already calling Christien Daddy and he said it with such pronounced pride. From the corner of her eye, Tabby watched Christien’s handsome mouth curve with eloquent satisfaction. Evidently the morning had been spent in a male bonding session composed of laddish haircuts and car talk. Tabby did not begrudge them their mutual appreciation. She was delighted that they had got on so well.

When Christien drove through a colossal and imposing turreted entrance, Tabby tensed and dragged herself from her preoccupation. ‘Where are we?’ she questioned even though she already knew, for at the end of a very long, arrow-straight drive lined by trees sat a chateau.

‘We’re home!’ Jake announced.

‘Sorry?’ Tabby gasped.

‘Duvernay. I needed a change of clothes earlier and I brought Jake back here before we went out for breakfast,’ Christien advanced with the utmost casualness.

She had a delightful image of Christien playing it cool over breakfast in some cafe while Jake attempted to mirror his every action and expression.

‘It’s very big…’ Tabby went on to remark because, the closer the car got to the ancient building at the end of the drive, the more enormous the chateau seemed to get.

‘Where will I sleep?’ Jake asked.

‘I’ll show you later,’ his father responded.

Tabby froze at that casual assurance. Christien brought the car to a halt and sprang out. He lifted out Jake. A rather rotund lady with a big, friendly smile was approaching them. Christien introduced Tabby to Fanchon, who had been his nurse when he was a boy. Jake planted a confident hand in the older woman’s and, beneath Tabby’s disconcerted gaze, woman and child headed off into the gardens.

‘I wanted to speak to you without Jake present,’ Christien explained.

Her oval face flushed and set, Tabby came to a halt in the vast marble entrance hall and fixed angry green eyes on Christien. ‘Why is my son asking where he is going to sleep? And why did he refer to your home as his home?’

‘It is a challenge to keep a secret with a chatty three-year-old around.’ Christien pressed open a door and stepped back in invitation.

‘Well, what I heard was more of a fantasy than a secret!’ Tabby retorted sharply, entering a terrifyingly elegant reception room furnished with loads of antiques.

‘Is it? Duvernay is where my son belongs.’

Tabby collided with the cold glitter of Christien’s challenging appraisal and her tummy gave a frightened lurch. ‘At present, our son belongs with me-’

‘Long may that arrangement last,’ Christien remarked softly, and there was something in his intonation that made goose-bumps rise at the nape of her neck. ‘Children need their mothers as much as they need their fathers.’

‘Thank you for that vote of confidence.’ Tabby tilted her chin but her heart was starting to thump very fast and her chest felt tight. ‘Although I have to admit that I haven’t a clue why you should take the trouble to tell me that.’

Christien was very still. ‘I’m prepared to be generous and make you an offer-’

‘I’m not very fussed about the kind of offers you make,’ Tabby declared with complete truth.

‘Either you hear me out or my lawyers deal with this situation. Your choice,’ Christien traded, smooth as silk.

‘We don’t have a situation here.’ Tabby’s hands closed so tight in on themselves that her nails carved dents into her palms. ‘I was the one who told you that Jake was your son and you can see him as often as you like. I’m pleased that you want to spend time with him and I can’t see why you need to talk about bringing lawyers in.’

‘Naturally not. However, I want Jake and you to live with me-’

A disconcerted laugh fell from her dry lips. ‘You can’t always have what you want-’

‘You think not?’ A winged ebony brow quirked in open defiance of that statement. Hard dark golden eyes surveyed her. ‘If you can’t even accept that I have the right to make terms that will enable me to see more of my son, you will leave me with no choice but to challenge you for legal custody.’

This time, Tabby could not have laughed had her life depended on it for she was shattered by that warning assurance.

CHAPTER EIGHT

TABBY imagined trying to fight Christien for custody of Jake and almost winced for she only had love to offer. She struggled to stay calm and make allowances for Christien’s anger with her while curiosity prompted her to say, ‘What exactly are your terms?’

Christien sent her a slashing smile as if she had already lain down at his feet and awarded him victory. She wanted to slap him so badly that her palm tingled with longing.

‘You and Jake move in with me-’

‘Move in?’ Tabby repeated. ‘Quantify “moving in” from my point of view.’

‘I get to buy you boxes of sexy lingerie and you get all the sex you can handle…as well as a lifestyle most women would envy.’

The tingle in Tabby’s palm had become almost unbearable. ‘What happens when you get bored?’

‘We remain civilised.’

‘I’m not civilised. Right now I just want to kill you for having the sheer nerve to suggest I would agree to a casual arrangement of that nature-’

‘Even though it is what you want too?’ Christien chided. ‘Why else did you choose to come to Brittany?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You could’ve sold the cottage and never set foot here with our son. Instead you brought him to a property within three kilometres of Duvernay. Your choice of location speaks for itself, ma belle.’ Christien sent Tabby a knowing look that sent a tide of chagrined colour up into her cheeks at the same time as it made her want to scream at him in a very unladylike fashion. ‘It’s obvious that you were as eager to see me again as I was to see you-’

‘That is untrue!’ Tabby slung at him shrilly.

‘The first chance you got, you went to bed with me again.’

‘Drop dead, Christien.’ Tabby stalked past him.

‘Zut alors…the first chance I got, I went to bed with you too,’ Christien drawled. ‘Even being furious with you doesn’t stop me lusting after you every hour of the day!’

‘Every hour?’ Tabby queried involuntarily.

‘I even dream about you,’ he growled.

Tabby concealed the grin that had come at her out of nowhere. If lust was all he could feel, she was happy that it should be a source of hourly torment for him. But on that same thought, the desire to grin ebbed fast. Was it possible that she had cherished a subconscious hope that she could be with Christien again in Brittany? Did he know her better than she knew herself?