He kissed her with the skill that had slayed her resistance from the start.

Xavier’s tongue traced the seam of Megan’s lips. Teasing her. Tempting her. Coaxing a response from her that she didn’t want to give.

She opened her mouth and let him in. His familiar taste overwhelmed her, and she couldn’t resist moving closer for one final delicious press of his body against hers.

His arms surrounded her, banding her against his muscled length, and his heat seeped into her, melting her resistance, warming her for the first time since she’d left him. She clutched his waist, caressed his strong back. Being with him like this felt so good, so right.

Saying goodbye shouldn’t be this hard.

Dear Reader,

I believe there is at least a trace of competitor in each of us. But most of us aren’t willing to sacrifice our creature comforts in pursuit of our passions. We’ll coast along hoping that one of these days we’ll get a chance to pursue our dreams.

I enjoyed writing Megan Sutherland’s story. She was so deeply entrenched in the path to her goal that it was fun to watch her get jolted off of it by an unexpected pregnancy that jeopardized everything she held dear.

The same can be said for Xavier Alexandre. He knew what he wanted and exactly what he had to do to get it. What he didn’t count on was his temporary mistress surprising him with permanent news that would risk not only his goals but his honor.

I must be slightly twisted because I loved my ringside seat as these two tussled to see who would end up the eventual winner since their dreams, they believed, were mutually exclusive. I hope you enjoy their slow realization that love is the only way to achieve everything they had hoped for and more.

Happy reading!

Emilie Rose

About the Author

Bestselling Desire™ author and RITA® Award finalist EMILIE ROSE lives in her native North Carolina with her four sons and two adopted mutts. Writing is her third (and hopefully her last) career. She’s managed a medical office and run a home day-care, neither of which offers half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include gardening and cooking (especially cheesecake). She’s a rabid country music fan because she can find an entire book in almost any song. She is currently working her way through her own “bucket list,” which includes learning to ride a Harley. Visit her website at www.emilierose.com or e-mail EmilieRoseC@aol. com. Letters can be mailed to PO Box 20145, Raleigh, NC 27619, USA.

The Price

of Honour

Emilie Rose

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my mom who battled back from the brink of death

this year for me and my boys.

I don’t know what we’d do without her.

Love you, Mom.

And to the man upstairs for giving me more

time with my mom.

One

“The tabloids are at it again.” Megan Sutherland dropped the newspaper on the kitchen table in front of Xavier, and then because she couldn’t resist, she bent and hugged him from behind, reveling in the warmth of his neck against her lips, his subtle custom-blended cologne, the firm pecs beneath her fingertips and the thick dark hair tickling her cheek.

As always, his nearness sent a shimmer of happiness through her. Love swelled in her chest and hunger settled heavily in her womb. One of these days the words she fought so hard to contain were going to burst free, but today she bit her tongue because he wasn’t ready to hear them. Nor was he ready to hear her news.

A sobering thought. She forced herself to back away and head for the coffeepot to get a jump start on the chaotic day she had scheduled.

“Give a guy a few million bucks and a perfume empire and the tabloid reporters get creative. Funny, isn’t it?” she called over her shoulder and waited for the sexy chuckle that never failed to make her knees weak. But the kitchen remained silent as she filled her cup. Eerily silent.

Surprised, she turned. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard.” His tight voice and the intent look on his face as he stared at the folded page made her pulse flutter. Then his gaze met hers. The resolve in his green eyes filled her stomach with lead.

“They’re lying. Aren’t they, Xavier?” Her last words, forced through a tightening throat, sounded a bit strident.

“No.”

Dizziness swamped her. Her fingers stung. She looked down to see hot coffee sloshing over the rim of the delicate china and dripping to the floor. She set the cup on the counter, grabbed a towel and bent to mop up the mess, taking a moment to gather her composure. She probably shouldn’t be drinking coffee anyway, but until the doctor confirmed—

No. She knew without a doubt that she carried Xavier’s baby.

She slowly rose on rubbery legs. “But the article says the blonde is your fiancée, that you’re marrying her one year from today.”

“That is correct.”

Megan’s body went numb, paralyzed with shock. It took several seconds before she could wheeze air into her lungs. “What about us?”

“This has nothing to do with our relationship, Megan. My pending marriage has been arranged for years.”

Feeling slowly returned to her limbs as though icicles were splintering through her veins in painful shards. “Years?” she squeaked. “You’ve been engaged for years? And you didn’t tell me?”

“It was irrelevant. Our affair was never intended to be anything other than casual. You knew that.”

Casual. Being crushed beneath a falling horse would hurt less. “I know in the beginning we agreed no strings. But …”

Sometime over the past six months she’d fallen in love with Xavier Alexandre, with his old-fashioned manners, his worldly sophistication and his second-to-none bedroom skills. And now she wanted more than just an affair to remember. She wanted forever. With him. She’d believed he felt the same since he spent every free moment with her.

“There is no ‘but.’ It is my duty to marry Cecille.”

Cecille. Hearing her name from his lips was like the crack of a bullwhip.

“Do you love her?” Don’t ask if you don’t want to know. Dread over his response tensed her abdominal muscles.

“My feelings are not important.”

“They are to me.”

“It is a business transaction. Nothing more.”

A business transaction. How could the most passionate man she’d ever encountered sound so emotionless about something as important, as intimate, as marriage? “Are you sleeping with her?”

“Megan, this need not concern you.”

“Need not concern me! Since you’ve been in my bed almost every night for the past six months, I think I have a right to know if you’re sleeping with someone else. Are you?”

“I have had no other women since I met you. Does that please you, ma petite concourante?”

His little competitor. She used to love it when he called her that. But it didn’t make her smile now. She should be comforted by his admission that he hadn’t been hopping from her bed to this blonde woman’s. But it wasn’t enough.

“You’re going to go through with it, then? The marriage?”

“It is a matter of honor.”

“Honor? Where was your honor when you were making me believe we had a future together that involved more than me riding you and your horses?”

His eyebrows slammed downward in a formidable scowl. “Have I ever made promises to you that I did not keep?”

“No. But I thought …” She twisted the towel in her hands. “I hoped you and I would get married. Eventually. And have a family.”

“Did I not tell you in the beginning that I would never offer marriage?”

With pain choking her, she couldn’t force a word out. She could only nod.

“And I will not have an illegitimate child. That is why we have always used protection.”

But she couldn’t tolerate birth control pills and condoms weren’t fail-proof, as she’d learned firsthand. She fought the urge to shield her tummy. He had a child on the way. He just didn’t know it yet. She’d only put the clues together yesterday and taken the pregnancy test this morning before her run. She’d been planning to tell him tonight during an intimate dinner for two. When she found the right words.

But everything had changed now, and there were no words that could make this situation right. Not if he was going to marry someone else.

Her pride gave her a kick in the pants. “Well, forgive me for getting the impression you might have reconsidered when you bought this house bordering your estate and set me up in it. And when you’ve followed me to every city on the Grand Prix circuit so you could share my bed.”

“And to watch you ride my horses—three very expensive investments. I have enjoyed our time together, Megan, and will continue to savor each moment we share until the very last.”

“When you leave me for her.” Indignation prickled her scalp. “Your fiancée might have something to say about that.”

“She has no say in my private affairs before the wedding. As I have stated, the marriage is a business arrangement. Neither Cecille nor I are going into this with any illusions of something as transient as love.”

Megan’s love didn’t feel transient at all. It felt like a big gaping hole in her heart—one that would follow her to the grave.

Xavier folded his napkin with crisp precision, rose and approached her. She couldn’t bear to look at his aristocratically handsome face. More specifically, she couldn’t handle the absence of the warmth and tenderness that were usually in his beautiful emerald eyes when he focused on her. At that moment he looked every inch the ruthless businessman he was rumored to be. Certainly not the man she’d believed—mistakenly, apparently—had fallen in love with her, the man who treated her like she was someone precious and wonderful and who didn’t expect her to change one iota of her person to be with him.

An immaculately fitted Italian suit outlined his lean, tall form and the powerful muscles he conditioned when they worked out side by side in the gym he’d installed in the spare bedroom for her. He had already dressed to board the helicopter that would fly him to Parfums Alexandre’s corporate offices in Nice the moment she left for the stables on his estate. No traffic jams for him. He simply flew over them all and landed on the roof of his office building.

Only this time when he left she wouldn’t spend the hours eagerly awaiting his return or daydreaming of the sensual delights they’d share in bed tonight. Instead she’d be worrying about whether he was with her. The woman he intended to marry. The woman who wasn’t casual or temporary.

He released an exasperated breath. “Megan, there is no need to be melodramatic. Our relationship will continue unchanged. We will have the next twelve months together.”

“You expect me to sleep with you while you’re engaged to someone else?” The idea seemed unconscionable. “And then what? You’ll marry her? And forget all about me? About us and what we’ve shared? Like discarding an out-of-style suit?”

“I will never forget you, mon amante.” He lifted his hand toward her cheek.

The gentle stroke of his fingertips made her shiver. Unable to stomach her traitorous body’s response, she backed up a step. Inhaling slowly, then exhaling, she willed the fuzzy-headed this-can’t-be-happening feeling away and tried to gather her thoughts.

“What if I asked you to choose between her and me?”

“Don’t.”

The inflexible word crushed her hopes and dreams. The idea of her man—the one she adored immeasurably—making love to her while planning to marry someone else made her want to howl and throw things. And she wasn’t the tantrum-throwing type. He might as well rip out her heart and grind it beneath his custom-made Italian shoes.

She would not be the other woman. She would not beg for his attention or settle for the crumbs his wife allowed him to toss her way.

And what about the baby she carried?

What of her career?

Her home?

Everything she’d counted on had been completely upset by his engagement. Panic clawed at her. She needed to think, to plan, to try to find a way out of this mess, and she couldn’t do that with Xavier watching her.

She tossed the towel aside. “I have to get to the stables.”

“Megan—”

“I can’t talk to you about this right now. I have horses and clients waiting for me.”

“Tonight, then.”

She barely managed not to snort in disbelief. Did he honestly believe she’d come home after work and casually share dinner the way they always did? Dinner. Then bed. Then lie in his arms all night and think about her? No way.

She raced into the bedroom. The fact that he didn’t come after her spoke volumes. She shed her running clothes and yanked on her riding attire. Her hair was damp and she probably reeked of sweat from her run, but she didn’t care. A shower was the least of her worries. She stomped into her boots.

Her cell phone blinked on its charger, indicating a new voice mail message. Unable to deal with whoever had called now, she snatched up the device and shoved it into her jacket pocket without checking caller ID.

She bolted from what until this morning had been her paradise, a fairy-tale cottage, part of the fairy-tale life she and Xavier had created. She heard the helicopter’s blades in the distance. Xavier had already left, as if this day—the one where he’d shattered her dreams and wrecked her life—were as routine as any other.

She’d sprinted half the distance to the stable before stopping beneath a tree—and out of sight of the rising chopper—to gather her shattered control. Struggling to catch her breath, she leaned against the rough bark and wiped the moisture from her face. Tears, not sweat. And she never cried. Never. Tears were useless and they never fixed anything. But, damn him, Xavier had driven her to tears for the first time since hearing about the plane crash that had killed her family.

She took big gulping breaths, but she couldn’t seem to stem the flow. She was pregnant. And the only man she’d ever allowed herself to love, the father of her baby, was going to marry someone else.

He had made it clear he wouldn’t want this child.

Do you?

Given the circumstances—the new circumstances—she didn’t know.

Part of her relished the idea of holding the proof of her love for Xavier in her arms. But her logical side argued that children and the Grand Prix circuit were not a winning combination. Only a few riders juggled parenthood and competition successfully, and they did so with the help of nannies and understanding spouses. Could she make it work without Xavier’s help?

She worked crazy long hours, often seven days a week, and the travel was grueling. What kind of mother could she be with that schedule? Her child would suffer without a second parent to fill the gaps. Single parenthood would be nothing like the merry band of gypsies she, her brother, mother and father had been before the crash.

Continuing the pregnancy would be incredibly complicated. Even if she booted Xavier’s gorgeous butt and his horses to the curb, how would she hide her condition from him if she stayed on the continent? She was almost two months pregnant and it wouldn’t be long before she’d start to show.

Would he try to talk her into an abortion or fight her for custody on principle? This was Xavier’s baby, and what Xavier owned Xavier kept. Would he feel as territorial about an unplanned love child?

It didn’t matter. Megan wouldn’t risk having her child raised by his wife—someone who might not want it, love and cherish it. Someone who might resent the hell out of the onerous duty thrust upon her.

Been there. Done that. After her family had been killed, her childhood hadn’t been the greeting card kind. Even though her uncle had taken her in, he’d made sure she always knew she was an unwelcome burden. An outsider. That woman’s child.

And what about her cottage—the house Xavier had bought for her? Even if he’d let her, she couldn’t stay there after he married someone else. Especially since her place had a clear view of the driveway to his estate. She’d see his wife coming and going. And that would destroy her.

She bent over double, hands on her knees. What are you going to do?

Panic tightened like a noose around her neck. She had to focus on the present rather than worry about what might happen months from now. Deal with today. Then the rest.

The birth control failure couldn’t have come at a worse time. She was on the verge of realizing her dream of making it to the top as a Grand Prix rider and trainer on the European circuit. Not only were her horses racking up credentials, but she’d been signing more and more exclusive clients each season. She rode over a dozen horses any given day. And she had a reputation for being the “go-to” girl when a rider sustained an injury and needed a temporary replacement.

But she couldn’t do any of that while she was expecting. Taking time off for a pregnancy would mean losing ranking and income from the horses other owners contracted her to ride and show. And then what?

Straightening slowly, she hugged her middle. Termination would be the least complicated route, she acknowledged with a heavy heart. But could she do it? She didn’t know. Her thoughts were a tangled mess of crushed dreams and a potential career crisis.

But whether or not she had the baby was her decision. She had the most to lose either way. As for Xavier … what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Until she made up her mind about her future she couldn’t risk him finding out about her condition. She had to get as far away from his influence as possible. But where could she go? Where could she hide?

Before she could flee to lick her wounds and reorganize her life she had to make arrangements for her horses and those she trained for other owners. Because no matter how this ended, she was a professional and she wanted to have a career to return to after … whatever happened.

She pulled out her phone, determined to get business out of the way so she could focus on the multitude of changes ahead. Hannah’s number popped up as the missed call. No surprise. Somehow her cousin always knew when Megan needed her, and Hannah would support her no matter which choice she made. Hannah would give her refuge while she tried to make sense of her future.

That took care of the where-to-go problem. It was time to go home to North Carolina—the state and country she’d fled a decade ago—and get as far away from Xavier Alexandre as possible.

Three weeks of silence weighed heavily on Megan’s nerves. She hadn’t heard from Xavier. He hadn’t called, emailed, texted or responded in any way to her email informing him that she wouldn’t be returning to France.

She’d expected … something. And yes, it shamed her to admit she’d hoped he’d miss her, come after her, apologize and propose. He was a fighter, not a quitter. His company’s rise to the top in the global perfume market proved his ambition and tenacity.

It was hard to accept that the most exciting time of her life, her love affair with the man she’d believed perfect, was over. Finished. And being dismissed so easily hurt in ways she never could have imagined. It was as if she’d never mattered to him and as the cliché said, she was out of sight and out of mind.

But life went on and this morning her cousin Hannah—not Xavier—had accompanied her to her first prenatal appointment—a bittersweet moment filled with both joy and pain.

She’d never planned to have children. But those plans had changed somewhere over the Atlantic when she’d remembered Hannah’s mother’s favorite saying. The end of something is always the beginning of something else.

The words hadn’t meant anything to Megan as a child, but they couldn’t be more apt now. This baby was the beginning of her new life. And if she couldn’t have Xavier, she could have a family of her own.

With her attention only half-focused on the rider in front of her, she thanked heaven for her cousin. Hannah had not only welcomed her and provided her with a home, but she’d helped find experienced riders to keep Megan’s horses in shape. And she had made a place for Megan at Sutherland Farm as a trainer and riding coach. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying or challenging as riding, but for now, it would pay the bills.

It was only when she wandered through the silent guest cottage—her new home—at night that Megan got caught up in the what-might-have-beens. But she and her baby would survive without Xavier Alexandre.

The sound of a rail clattering down jerked her attention back to the student cantering through the intermediate jump course. Megan signaled the rider—her last lesson of the day—to meet her at the gate. She was used to assessing her competition, analyzing their weaknesses and using those to trounce them in the ring. Finding a constructive way to share a rider’s faults and coach them into a better performance wasn’t a skill she’d mastered yet. But she was working on it.

“Do you know why that last rail came down, Terri?” she asked as she stroked the big chestnut’s glossy neck. The Hanoverian mare had heart and scope. That was half the battle. If only her rider were half as talented.

The girl grimaced. “I rushed it. I was already racing for the time line before I cleared the last vertical.”

“Exactly. And your distraction confused your horse. Otherwise, that was a good run. You could lean a little more forward as you approach, but you can work on that between now and your next lesson.”

“Got it. I’ll see you next week, Megan. Thanks.” Terri waved and trotted off on her mare.

Megan’s energy flagged. The combination of restless nights combined with her pregnancy was kicking her butt. The course needed resetting for tomorrow’s advanced students, but she just couldn’t summon any enthusiasm for the task. It would have to wait until morning. Right now she needed a moment to soak up the peace and quiet of the fading day.

She turned her back on the barn and the paperwork waiting on her desk, braced her arms across the top of the white board fence and parked her boot on the bottom rail as she savored the way the setting sun turned the sky sherbet colors as it disappeared behind the tall pines. The sweet aromas of honeysuckle and gardenias permeated the humid air. There was a stillness in the ring just before dusk, a tranquillity that centered the universe on the rider and her mount.

Megan missed riding like an amputee would miss a newly severed limb, and not being able to pit herself and her horse against time and obstacles left her empty and adrift. She’d been a rider since her father had bought her first pony for her fourth birthday. The show ring had been the one place she’d excelled, the only place she’d always fit in, and her last link to her father who’d been a great competitor. But she wouldn’t risk hurting her baby—not even for a short ride.

“This is your favorite time of day. Why aren’t you riding?”

Xavier.

She startled at the sound of his deep, slightly accented voice, and her boot slipped on the rail, nearly dumping her on her bottom. She quickly regained her balance and spun to face him. Joy, hope and apprehension swirled like a dust devil inside her. He’d come. Finally. The urge to throw herself in his arms bunched inside her like a compacted spring. But she couldn’t. Not until she knew his intentions.

The evening breeze tossed his dark hair. His observant green eyes pinned her in place. The shadow of stubble cloaking his jaw, combined with a white silk long-sleeve shirt and black jeans gave him the look of a modern-day pirate. A pirate who had stolen her heart and tossed it overboard like flotsam, she reminded herself.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have come to take you home.” His autocratic bearing and commanding tone were so familiar, so dear. She loved his confidence, his swagger. And those were the words she’d been waiting to hear. But …

“You’ve canceled your wedding?”

His brow creased. “No.”

Her balloon of hope deflated. “Are you going to?”

“I cannot.”

She’d thought her heart couldn’t break any more. Wrong. A fresh stab of pain gouged her. “Then we have nothing more to discuss, Xavier. You’re committed to another woman. You’ve wasted a trip. Climb back in your jet and have a nice flight home. I’ll arrange for someone to pack up the rest of my things and get them out of your cottage.”

“If you want your belongings come for them yourself.”

How like him to be stubborn. “I can’t. I have a job here now.”

“Teaching riding lessons,” he scoffed as if her occupation was no more prestigious than shoveling manure from stalls.

“I like mentoring others.” Or she would once she got the hang of it.

“You like teaching. But you love riding. Your possessions will be waiting for you when you return. I will not allow anyone else to enter your home.”

“Your home. Your name’s on the deed.”

“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 crème brûlée. 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 fiancée.

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.

She reached for the buttons of his shirt, releasing them with an enthusiasm that pleased him. Then she unfastened his belt and pants and tugged his shirttail free. A carnal hunger invaded him, making it difficult to force air into his lungs. He reined in the undisciplined feeling.

She parted the fabric of his shirt and cool air swept his chest a split second before her warm hands brushed over him. The need to toss her onto the burgundy-and-gold bedding and sate himself nearly overwhelmed him, but he would let her set the pace. For now. Later, when he had her panting and weak with need he would call the shots.

She bent and touched her lips to his nipple, then flicked the hardened tip with her hot tongue. Desire carved through him like a sharp knife, making him shudder. Only Megan had this incendiary effect on him. He would not give her up. Not yet. Thank God she had moved past her jealous nonsense, and although he did not know what had changed her mind, it did not matter. He had won. As he always did.

Her short nails rasped gently down his sides and then beneath his waistband and around to his fly. She lowered his zipper in slow motion, and he hardened almost to the point of pain. And then she cupped him in her palm. Her touch burned him through his silk boxers and his hips flexed of their own volition as she encircled and stroked him. He clamped his teeth on a moan.

He hooked a hand around her waist, yanked her forward and covered her mouth. She tasted divine, like heady champagne or her favorite Moscato d’Asti. Sweet. Flavorful. Her lips were soft, her tongue slick and hungry as it intertwined with his. His pulse drummed in his ears.

Merde. He could not wait. He hastily unbuttoned and removed her shirt, ripping it down her arms and tossing it aside to reveal a white cotton bra. Surprised, he paused to trace a finger along the plain edge. Her breath caught. “What is this?”

“Um … a sports bra.”

He didn’t like it. He preferred sheer lace that allowed a glimpse of her nipples. But on the other hand, this bra made her breasts seem fuller, so perhaps the ugly piece did have some merit. He bent and licked the top of one soft swell and then the other. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close.

Megan had extremely sensitive breasts, and he would use that to his advantage to make her promise to see this affair through until the last possible moment.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her between his legs. Her scent filled his nostrils and her taste tantalized his tongue, urging him to delve into the shadowy cleft. Cupping the pale mounds, he stroked her nipples through the fabric, relishing in the way her flesh sprung to attention beneath his thumbs.

She whimpered. “I’ve missed this. Missed you, Xavier.”

“And I you.” He unhooked the unattractive garment and dropped it, eager for more of her skin and a lungful of the headier perfume always lurking between and beneath her breasts, which were definitely rounder, heavier. She must be nearing her monthly cycle. While he feasted on the puckered tips, he used his free hand to flick open her jeans, then pushed them down her legs. He needed to feel her wetness.

He combed his fingers through her tight curls, finding her center. She jerked and gasped. And then he located the prize he sought. She was ready for him. Her hips moved against his hand, encouraging his caress.

His groin pulsed harder, demanding attention. He ached with the need to drive inside her and race toward the release she had denied him for too long. The temptation to do so and take care of her afterward flitted across his mind. But non. That was not his way.

Instead he drew a sobering breath and slicked his finger upward, using her womanly lubricant to tease her while he gently scraped a nipple with his teeth then sucked.

She whimpered his name, clenched her fingers in his hair and bowed her back, offering him a pale feast. A tremor shook her body as he divided his attention between the puckered tips begging for attention. The aroma of her arousal filled the air. He wanted to taste her, but he was precariously close to the edge, and he wanted to make her wait until she was incoherent with need.

Rising, he ripped back the covers, then lifted her into his arms and set her onto the bed. He made quick work of her boots and remaining clothing then his own, pausing only long enough to toss the condom from his pocket on the nightstand.

The sight of her ivory curves spread across the burgundy sheets mesmerized him. Megan possessed an athlete’s body, leanly muscled, but softened by her feminine attributes. Her strength was quite a turn-on.

“You are beautiful.”

“You make me feel beautiful. Come here.” She raised a hand and bent her knee, inviting him into her bed, into her body.

One frayed fiber of self-control remained. He settled on the mattress at her feet and captured a slender arch in his palm. Her eyes widened and her lips parted. She squirmed, knowing what was coming.

Megan’s feet, legs and hands were her primary methods of communication with her horses. Over the years, they had become hypersensitive to any nuance. He lifted her foot to his mouth, kissing her big toe, her instep. He rasped his bristly chin on her skin then flicked his tongue over the arch. She shuddered, as he had known she would.

He hid his smile against the tender skin behind her ankle then worked his way up the inside of her calf, pressing her legs apart as he ascended. Megan’s fingers fisted in the sheets and her breathing quickened. He savored the satiny skin cloaking firm, tensed muscles and nipped at the soft pad of flesh inside her thighs that she hated. She twisted impatiently. The aroma of her arousal made him dizzy with hunger. He flicked his tongue along the crease of her leg.

She flexed her hips, silently begging him to pleasure her, but he ignored her request—for now—and focused on planting teasing kisses, licks and nips along her bikini line and over her tummy. He swirled his tongue in her navel, and watched goose bumps rise on her skin. Her curls tickled his cheek.

To hell with it. He had hungered for her taste for weeks. He would not deny himself any longer. He cupped her buttocks and flicked her swollen bud with his tongue, slowly at first, then more rapidly. He groaned at the delicious taste of her.

She bucked her hips off the bed. “Oh, Xavier. That feels … so good.”

He stroked her in the way he knew would drive her to the edge until her legs quivered. He waited until she hovered on the brink before lifting his head and kissing her thigh. She squeaked a disappointed protest.

“Are you in a hurry, chérie?”

“Yes. Yes. It’s been so long. I haven’t … since you … Please.”

That she had not had a release since leaving his bed pleased him inordinately.

“Please what, Megan?” He licked her once, twice, enjoying each flinch and gasp of delight, then stopped again.

She pulled the pillow from beneath her head and whacked him with it. Her playfulness between the sheets was yet another reason he could not let her go. Not yet. Megan was both his lover and his playmate, and on days when work drove him to the precipice of insanity, she never failed to pull him back and make him smile.

But the desire on her face now, the white teeth digging into her bottom lip, and her passion-filled eyes told the truth. She ached as badly as he and the time for play was over.

“I need you. Now,” she pleaded. He liked to hear her beg for him. The growling demand of the last word turned him on.

“Need me how? Like this?” He slid his fingers inside her, drawing out a low, sexy whimper.

“Oh, yes.”

“Or this?” He bent to suck her into his mouth while pumping his fingers.

“Yes,” she hissed as her orgasm undulated through her.

He rode each jerk of her climax with his hand and mouth, drawing out as much pleasure as he possibly could. The rhythmic clench of her body around his fingers drove him precariously close to losing control. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself release. Doing so without Megan had been less than satisfying and therefore pointless.

The moment her spasms ended, he dove for the condom, rolled it on and hooked his hands behind her knees. “Look at me as I take you, Megan.”

Her heavy lids lifted and her dazed eyes met his. “I want you inside me, Xavier. Hurry.”

Gritting his teeth against the searing need urging him to race hard and fast to satisfaction, he eased into her slick channel and sank deep into her. The blaze intensified as he withdrew and returned again and again, setting a steady, controlled pace that he hoped would prolong his ecstasy.

But Megan had other ideas. Her hands grasped his shoulders, pulling his torso closer to hers. Her nails lightly scored trails down his chest, bumping over his nipples and fanning his hunger like bellows. She arched off the bed and planted a wet kiss on his neck, then her tongue outlined the shape of his ear and dipped inside with hot, wet plunges that mirrored his thrusts.

Hunger blasted through him like a furnace. He countered it by focusing on continuing to torment her, but then the pressure swelled inside him and he knew he could not delay any longer.

“Come for me,” he ordered, his voice more growl than words as he swiveled his hips against the tender spot that would set her off. Almost instantly her breath caught and her fingers dug into his back. Climax burst through her. The first contraction of her body hit him like a Molotov cocktail. Wave after wave of release reverberated through him until he had nothing left.

No strength in his arms. No air in his lungs. He collapsed to his elbows, momentarily savoring her damp torso against his, then he slowly rolled to her side. The ceiling fan stirred the air, cooling and drying his skin.

No. He would not give up Megan until his vows required they part.

She grabbed his hand, pulled it across her body and rested it on her smooth stomach. He forced his weighted eyelids open and found her eyes on him. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, but she said nothing.

He understood her speechlessness. His climax had been as stupefying as hers apparently had been. “Come home with me, Megan.”

“I’ll come as soon as you end your engagement.”

His muscles went rigid, his contentment shattered. “I have told you I cannot.”

Her face blanched. She threw his hand aside and bolted upright in the bed. Her eyes turned from soft and sated to wounded and betrayed.

“It will never be this good with her.”

“I know that, mon amante.”

Her lips quivered and she nipped the bottom one between her teeth. But she didn’t cry. No, his Megan had too much pride for tears—yet another quality he admired about her. She did not indulge in the emotional drama most women employed to get their way.

“Do you really believe you can turn off what we have like a tap? That the feelings will stop just because you order them to?”

He expelled a frustrated breath. Apparently they had not made as much progress as he’d believed. “I assure you it will not be easy. But it must be this way.”

She climbed from the bed, stalked across the room and through an open door out of sight. When she returned she had her silk robe wrapped tightly around her. The fire blazing from her eyes had little to do with the passion they had just shared.

“That’s where you’re wrong. It doesn’t have to be this way. I don’t have to settle for second. I want more than a temporary affair, Xavier. I deserve more. And if that’s all you have to offer then I don’t need you in my life. Get out and go home.”

Another tantrum. How unlike her. Why was she acting so out of character? “As you have said, you will never find passion like ours with anyone else.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Watch me.”

Jealousy discharged inside him. She pivoted on her heel and wisely retreated through that same door. The lock clicked, echoing through the silent room.

He heard the shower turn on and cursed. She asked the impossible. He could not break his engagement no matter what games Megan played. Even without the Alexandre estate as incentive, he would not shame his family name the way his father had when he had cast honor aside for “love.” The subsequent marriage had failed, and it had cost the Alexandre family everything.

Xavier vaulted off the bed and yanked on his clothing.

He had no intention of repeating his father’s mistakes. He would simply find another way to coerce Megan into spending the next eleven months in his bed.

And he’d be damned if he would allow her to take another lover. She belonged to him until he said otherwise.

“You shouldn’t be lifting these by yourself. Not in your condition,” Hannah chided as she joined Megan in the riding ring.

The diamond engagement ring on her cousin’s finger caught the sun and flashed like a strobe light as she grabbed the opposite end of the rail Megan was placing in the cup.

“I’m being careful. And you heard the doctor say I should keep up my regular activities. Except riding. Tim will help me as soon as he finishes cooling down Midnight. He’s paying for his lessons by helping me set up the courses three days a week and by exercising my horses.”

Hannah set the round pole into position and dusted off her hands. “It’s good of you to cut him a deal. You could be teaching only the highest-paying clients. Didn’t I predict someone with your qualifications would have your choice of students and a waiting list?”

“You did,” Megan conceded. “And thanks for setting that up. I help Tim because he has innate talent and a good horse. He reminds me of me when I first started out on my own—all raw talent and ambition. I’d hate to see him miss the chance to compete because his dad lost his job.” She paced off the distance to the next jump.

Hannah accompanied her. “We have a new neighbor.”

“Who?”

“No clue. Wyatt said some guy called his office and asked if he knew of any horse farms available in the area.” Her cousin’s face lit up whenever she mentioned her fiancé and she mentioned him often—in almost every sentence. It was both sweet and a painful reminder of what Megan didn’t have.

“Wyatt told him about the property down the road from us being vacant. You probably didn’t know ol’ Mr. Haithcock died two years ago. His heirs can’t come to an agreement over what to do with the property, so it’s been sitting vacant. Anyway, Wyatt gave the man the contact information. One of the heirs called to say thanks. The guy leased the farm. That’s a load off me because I’ve been keeping an unofficial eye on the place.”

“I drove past the property last week on my way to town. It’s in really bad shape.” Apprehension prickled Megan’s neck. Xavier wouldn’t …

Hannah nodded. “Mr. Haithcock’s declining health prevented him from keeping up with the maintenance. The fences are falling down, the paint is peeling on all the buildings, the pastures are overgrown and the driveway is so littered with storm debris it looks like an obstacle course. I was considering sending a crew over to mow the fields and clean up a bit just to keep the riffraff and rodents out.”

Definitely not Xavier’s kind of place. But Megan hadn’t heard a word from him in the five days since she’d kicked him out. At the time she’d been too relieved to find him gone when she’d come out of the bathroom to be suspicious. She’d never known him to back down from a challenge.

She put a hand over her belly. “When did all this happen?”

“Hmm. The guy called earlier in the week and Haithcock’s nephew called last night. I’ve noticed a lot of activity on the farm for the past couple of days, and I passed a horse hauler turning into the driveway on my way home from the wedding planner’s just now. I’ll say one thing, the new tenants’ horses travel first-class. That was an expensive rig.”

Panic trickled through Megan. She clutched the oxer’s vertical for support. No. Please no. It’s just a coincidence.

“Megan, are you okay? Did you overdo it? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Megan tucked her hair behind her ears with an unsteady hand and forced a smile that almost cracked her face. It couldn’t be Xavier. The sprawling cedar ranch home was far too rustic for his caviar tastes, and the barn wasn’t nearly as large or posh as his stable. “I’m just borrowing trouble.”

“That’s not like you. Care to explain?”

Not really. But Hannah could be stubborn. “I had a fleeting thought that Xavier might be laying siege by setting up camp outside the castle walls, so to speak, but I’m sure he’s returned to France. After all, I’m not giving him what he wants and he has a wedding to plan and a business to run.”

“I hate that I was out when he stopped by. I would have loved to meet him and tell him what a jerk he is.”

Megan wasn’t surprised by Hannah’s protectiveness. She and her cousin had been as close as sisters since the day Megan had moved into the Sutherland house after her family’s plane crash. If not for the impossible relationship with Hannah’s father nothing could have driven Megan away.

Now that Luthor had retired and moved out, the farm wasn’t a battle zone anymore. But the farm was Hannah’s and Wyatt’s now, and once more, Megan was the outsider looking in. And if Hannah and Wyatt started a family, Megan feared she’d be in the way all over again.

She pushed the unpleasant possibility aside and focused on the more pressing issue. “Hannah, you have no idea how close I came to telling Xavier about the baby. For a few moments after we made love everything seemed so perfect and I felt so close to him. I thought he’d decided to dump his fiancée. I put his hand on my stomach, and I’d taken a breath to share my news. But I just couldn’t find the words.”

“Good thing you didn’t.”

“That would have been a disaster.”

Hannah pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “I’ll call Wyatt and see if Haithcock’s heir mentioned the tenant’s name.”

“That isn’t really necessary. I’m sure I’m just being paranoid. This isn’t a feudal war, despite Xavier’s arranged marriage. Moving horses halfway across the globe in a couple of days and with no prior planning would take an act of Congress. Even if they do have all their paperwork in order.”

“We’ll both feel better once we’re sure.” Hannah smiled as she punched in the number. The love and anticipation of talking to her man written all over her face sent a tiny twinge of envy through Megan. Then disappointment replaced Hannah’s smile. “It went to voice mail. I forgot he had a conference call this afternoon. I’ll ask him tonight.”

“It’s okay. Really.”

But she wouldn’t sleep a wink until she knew for sure that Xavier hadn’t leased Haithcock’s farm. It seemed she would have to drive over to personally welcome the new neighbor.

Megan got a bad feeling as soon as she steered the pickup truck she’d borrowed from Sutherland Farm between the newly repaired and whitewashed fences flanking the Haithcock farm driveway. A fresh layer of gravel crunched beneath her tires.

Then she spotted the top-of-the-line tractor-trailer horse hauler—the kind multimillion-dollar horses rode in. Her stomach sank. This couldn’t be good.

She parked beside the luxurious transporter and climbed from the cab. The humid evening air smelled of paint, fresh shavings and recently mowed grass. When she saw the chestnut stallion being led by a groom down the truck’s ramp, she broke out in a cold sweat.

She knew that horse as well as she knew her own. His strengths. His weaknesses. His bad habits. His owner.

Xavier.

The urge to bolt for the woods and lose her lunch charged through her, but she gritted her teeth until the nausea passed. Fleeing would be futile anyway. Xavier had already proven he’d follow. With his prize stallion, her favorite mount.

She scanned the now pristine property. How like Xavier to take the old farm from derelict to showplace in just days. He had the means and the money to work miracles.

An odd mixture of hope, dread and excitement fizzed through her. Would he go to so much trouble if he didn’t feel something for her? If he didn’t want her back? Her and only her. Maybe he’d realized how stupid and anachronistic an arranged marriage was.

The stallion caught her scent. His ears flicked forward and he whickered in recognition. She closed the distance and stroked his glossy neck.

“Hello, Apollo. Where’s Mr. Alexandre?” she asked the unfamiliar groom handling the horse.

He pointed toward the freshly painted barn. “Inside.”

“Thanks.”

Her heart thumped harder as she approached the building. A black Maserati Quattroporte identical to the high-performance luxury sedan Xavier drove at home occupied a spot near the barn’s front entrance. She heard his voice before she saw him and then he came through the door with his cell phone to his ear, jolting her to a stomach-dropping halt.

His jade eyes coasted over her, giving her goose bumps. He ended his call. “Good evening, Megan.”

She waited for him to tell her he’d made a mistake and wanted her back, but the silence stretched between them. “Why are you doing this, Xavier?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “If the rider won’t come to the horse, then the horse must come to the rider.”

“What happened to the replacement rider I found for him?”

“She was inadequate.”

“She’s ranked in the top ten.”

“Apollo prefers you.”

And so do I, she waited for him to add. But he didn’t.

“You’ve put him through a transatlantic flight for nothing. I’m not riding him.”

“He and your other mounts will stay until you come to your senses.”

Another brick slid down her throat and landed with a kerthunk in her belly. “You brought all three of them?”

He inclined his head.

“Why? You’re decreasing the value of the animals by pulling them from competition midseason.”

“You did that when you abandoned them to a strange and inferior rider. They did not perform as well for her as they did for you.”

“You didn’t give them a chance to adjust to each other’s styles.” But maybe a teensy part of her was happy that the horses had performed better for her. Petty, Megs.

“It is done.” And once he made a decision, she’d learned, he stuck to it. But she hoped he’d change his mind on one—his marriage.

“How long are you going to play this game, Xavier?”

“I have signed a year’s lease.”

She smothered a groan. She had to find a way to convince him to go home and soon. She might be able to hide her condition under baggy shirts for another month, but that was it, and in six months she’d have his child. “What about Parfums Alexandre and your upcoming wedding? That’s less than a year away?”

“Cecille can plan the nuptials without me, and I will work via conference call for now. And I have the jet on standby.”

To him jetting to another country was like any normal person’s road trip. Only, he had a full crew so he worked during the flights. “Haithcock’s house is hardly up to your five-star standards.”

He shrugged. “It has a simple charm and the furnishings provided are adequate.”

“You’re wasting your time, Xavier.”

“You have mentioned competing on the American circuit. I will provide the means for you to do so until you get it out of your system. The horses and you are certainly up to the task. I understand your need to prove your worth although I am told your uncle has retired from the horse business and no longer attends the shows to witness your success.”

It shouldn’t surprise her that he’d done his homework. “Proving myself on my uncle’s turf isn’t what this is about.”

“Then what is the problem? What keeps you here?”

Had he not heard a word she’d said? “Her.”

“As I have said before, Cecille is not an issue. I will not leave until you agree to return with me.”

“Only one thing will make that happen.”

A dark eyebrow lifted.

Her palms turned clammy. “End your engagement.”

His expression darkened ominously. “You demand the one concession I cannot grant.”

His words punctured whatever remained of her balloon of hope. If he loved her he wouldn’t hurt her this way. No, they’d never spoken the words, but the closeness they’d shared, the amount of time they’d spent together, had led her to believe he cared. He allowed her to see a side of himself that others never saw—a side that was gentle instead of ruthless, considerate instead of conquering. Had that meant nothing to him at all?

“How does your fiancée feel about your extended vacation?”

“I did not ask her opinion.”

She gaped at him. Was he clueless? “I realize you didn’t have a good role model, so let me help you. Marriage is a partnership. It means always considering the feelings of your significant other before making decisions that will affect him or her. Cheating on your future wife with a mistress—even if that mistress is across an ocean—is hardly the way to earn trust and make a relationship last.”

“And you are an expert on long-term relationships? I think not. The only lasting associations you have had are with your cousin and your horses. You thrive on competition, Megan. Why are you not competing?”

She scrambled for an acceptable response. One he’d believe. One that would convince him he couldn’t change her mind. Unless he changed his first.

“I’ve chased the dream of being on top of the leaderboard for ten years. I’m tired and need a break. I miss my cousin. I want to help Hannah plan her wedding. And now that my uncle has moved away from Sutherland Farm, there’s no reason for me to avoid the place. I’m leaving the European Circuit for good, Xavier. I won’t come back. Not for you or your horses. Not if you’re married to her.”

The minute she said the words she knew they were true. She couldn’t go back if he married that woman. Megan couldn’t bear to see Xavier and his wife in the stands or at the pre- and post-show parties. They’d bump into each other constantly. And knowing Xavier’s have-his-cake-and-eat-it-too attitude, he’d probably expect her to keep riding his horses even after he said his vows.

The life she’d built in Europe was over and the friends she’d made relegated to the past. The realization hit hard, and even though she’d left a month ago a part of her had hoped to return. But that wasn’t looking likely. Her emotions, which had been close to the surface lately, threatened to mutiny. Her eyes and throat burned and her chest tightened.

She would not cry. Especially not in front of Xavier. Gritting her teeth and fighting for composure, she turned on her heel and stalked away. She kept her eyes focused on the truck and escape.

“Why are you trying to change the rules of our affair?” he called after her.

Amazed that such a brilliant man could be so obtuse, she stopped and pivoted. “For the past six months we have spent nearly every hour together when we’re not working. I thought the rules had already changed.”

“Non.”

“Do you love me, Xavier?”

Rejection stamped his face. “Love was never part of our agreement.”

“Our agreement? You make our relationship sound like a business deal sealed with a handshake.”

“Are you claiming you love me?” He didn’t sound as though the idea appealed, and the fact that he avoided answering her question was answer enough.

Disillusionment settled heavily on her shoulders. “I believed I did. But I guess I was mistaken. You aren’t the man I thought you were, because that man would never subject his wife and his children or his lover to the humiliation of the gossip we both know runs rampant on the circuit.

“You may not care about the whispers that will go on behind your future wife’s back or mine, but I do, Xavier, and I won’t embarrass her or cheapen myself. I’m going to say it one last time. Maybe this time you’ll hear me. Go home. As long as you’re planning to marry her, there’s nothing for you here.”

Three

Megan stared at the fuzzy white image on the screen, too choked up to speak. That beating heart, those little hands and feet, tiny fingers and toes, eyes and mouth belonged to her baby. Hers and Xavier’s.

As if sensing the emotion damming Megan’s throat, Hannah squeezed her hand.

The obstetrician pushed a button on the ultrasound machine and the printer started humming. She wiped the gel from Megan’s stomach and helped her sit up. “Megan, everything looks exactly as it should for twelve weeks gestation. I’d guestimate your due date is the first week of January. You should have a new baby to start the New Year.”

A new year. A new life. Alone with her baby. She’d better get used to doing things without Xavier.

“Can you tell if it’s a girl or boy yet?” Hannah asked the doctor, making Megan glad she’d brought her cousin along for moral support since her brain refused to produce the appropriate questions.

“Not yet. But since we’re unclear on the date of your last period we’ll repeat the ultrasound in eight weeks just to confirm our dates. We might get a better picture then. Any more questions?”

When Megan shook her head, the doctor handed her the printed picture, wished her well and left the small room. Megan stared at the image, a tangle of emotions weaving through her. Excitement. Happiness. Sadness. Fear. She would be responsible for this little person, for his or her health and happiness and well-being. Her and her alone. What if she messed up?

“You okay?” Hannah asked.

Megan slid off the table and straightened her clothes. “Xavier should have been here for this.”

“It’s his loss, Megs.”

What if one parent wasn’t enough? What if something happened to her? Who would care for her baby? “Maybe I should tell him.”

“Do you think telling him would make him dump her and marry you?”

“That’s the million-dollar question—one I’ve asked myself a zillion times. I don’t know. On one hand, once Xavier sets a course he never deviates. On the other, what’s his is his. He doesn’t give up easily.”

“If you told him and he dumped her and married you would you always wonder if he’d done so just because of the baby?”

Leave it to Hannah to get to the heart of the matter. “Yes. I want him to wake up and realize that what we have—what I thought we had—is too special to throw away.”

“Then postpone telling him a little longer. If he hangs around you’ll have no choice. But for now wait and see if he comes to his senses.”

“Right. For now I’ll carry on.” Alone. The way she always had since her parents’ and brother’s deaths.

After his confrontation with Megan three days ago, Xavier had been ready to say to hell with her, fly himself and his horses back to France and let her suffer for her foolishness. Replacing her would be easy enough.

But he didn’t want any other woman.

He craved Megan. She was in his blood like a narcotic. He had to make her understand that what they had—combustible sex, mutual respect and similar interests—had nothing to do with his marriage. That alliance was business, whereas they shared pure pleasure. And he wanted to drink in as much of that pleasure as he could. After his marriage he would have to suffice with duty, honor and obligation. Not that Cecille was unattractive. But she was not Megan.

If he could not get what he wanted from Megan directly, he would have to use alternative means. Targeting Wyatt Jacobs, the CEO of Triple Crown Distillery and co-owner of Sutherland Farm where Megan resided, was the only strategy Xavier could think of for getting closer to Megan. He needed to know whether her abrupt departure was simply jealousy or something more. He was beginning to suspect the latter.

She had always been strong, determined and logical. He admired that about her. But she had an inflexibility to her attitude now, and her decision to abandon the career she loved was most definitely illogical and therefore out of character.

He shook Wyatt Jacobs’s hand. “Thank you for helping me find the farm and agreeing to see me.”

“Your offer to give me the inside track on corporate sponsorship of Grand Prix events is hard to refuse. It’s something I’ve been considering for a while but other priorities have prevented me from doing the required research.”

“My sources told me that your company was preparing to launch a high-end whiskey. I have never seen your brand connected with equestrian events. It is a missed opportunity—especially given your new ties to Sutherland Farm.”

“True. The advertising information you sent me is timely.” Jacobs led Xavier through the foyer and into his study and gestured toward a leather visitor chair. He settled behind his desk. “Now that I’ve begun watching Grand Prix events on TV with my fiancée, I appreciate Parfums Alexandre’s visible presence.”

“As you can see from the numbers, we have had a good return on our investments. Our ads reach a target market that can afford our product. You could do the same.”

“I see your point. Grand Prix attendees are the right demographic. I also want to surprise Hannah by helping her horse rescue operation. The best way to do that is through public awareness—an area in which you have expertise. I won’t mention this to her until it’s a done deal, so please keep that information to yourself.”

“Certainly.” Xavier was glad he had educated himself on Hannah Sutherland’s horse rescue operation and therapeutic riding program. “Find Your Center is a worthy cause. The equestrian audience should be both sympathetic and generous.”

Jacobs sat back in his chair, his eyes shrewd and assessing. “What do you want in return for sharing your knowledge?”

Xavier appreciated a man who was smart enough to know nothing came freely and one who got to the point. “I have relocated three of my horses to the Haithcock farm. I need expert riders to exercise and show them, but I have few connections in the States.”

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