For André it was oh, so much more arousing to make love to her mind as well as her body. To look into her eyes and know she was seeing him—the man she’d married. The man she’d loved enough to do that.
So he made love to her in Italian. He made love to her in French—because she’d always loved him doing it and he wanted to give her back every single thing she had forgotten in the last empty year.
And she listened—hell, she listened with every single cell. As he slowly smoothly entered her he had never felt so energised in his whole life.
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Afterwards he kissed her slowly back down to reality. He kissed her soft mouth, her closed eyes, the scar at her temple. When she opened her eyes they were heavy, liquid and loved.
‘If I run away again, you’ll come and find me, won’t you?’ she whispered, so very earnestly.
‘Always,’ he replied.
She sighed at that.
They slept in a close love-knot. When André eventually woke up, he glanced at the time and slid stealthily out of the bed, let himself out of the room and quietly went downstairs.
When he came back she was sitting up with the duvet trapped around her breasts. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve just bought another hotel in between orgies?’ she said.
‘No.’ His smile was rueful because of her unwitting connection with what he had actually gone downstairs for. Coming to stand over her by the bed, he placed two packages down in front of her, then bent to murmur. ‘Happy anniversary…’
It took her a moment to realise what he was talking about. Then her cheeks bloomed with colour, her eyes turned black. ‘I forgot,’ she said, and sounded as if she was going to start crying.
‘Take it from me, I’ve got what I wanted.’ He smiled. ‘Here…open this one first, because it belongs to last year’s anniversary…’
Fingers trembling, Samantha did as he said, tearing the plain pink paper away from the flat package folded neatly inside. Opening it up, she read the words on the piece of paper until the tears blurred them away. It was the deeds to the Bressingham. ‘No.’ She sobbed. ‘You don’t have to do this.’
‘It was done a long, long time ago,’ he quietly replied. ‘About an hour after your father signed the Bressingham over to me, to be precise,’ he added gently.
Her eyes flashed and, as unpredictable as ever, she turned on him like an angry cat. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before, when I was spouting out all of that rubbish to you?’ she cried. ‘I feel an absolute fool now!’
‘Good,’ he said, and kissed her again. ‘So you should, for doubting me.’
‘And you didn’t doubt me?’
‘We aren’t getting into this one again,’ he ordained. ‘It’s our anniversary. So open your second package.’
Not sure she wanted to, Samantha did as he said. A sigh heaved from her. ‘I don’t believe this,’ she said breathily, staring down at the deeds for the Tremount Hotel.
‘I think these two might make you an official member of the tycoon club,’ André drawled, then added lazily, ‘Here, I think this is a good moment to put these back where they belong…’
These turned out to be a simple gold wedding band, which he slid onto her finger, following it with a glowing emerald circled by a ring of diamond fire.
Samantha sat staring down at the rings she’d left behind for so long that she wasn’t really surprised when André prompted ruefully, ‘Don’t I even get a thank-you kiss?’
‘I’m going to cry,’ she told him with a shake of her lowered head.
‘Will it make you feel any better if you do?’ he questioned gently.
‘No.’ She shook her head again.
‘Okay,’ he murmured and reached out to push her down onto the bed then came over her to claim his own kiss.
When it was over, he remained poised above her, looking deep into her swimming eyes, with his own eyes very sombre. ‘The Bressingham was always yours. I never considered it mine from the moment your father concocted his deal. But the Tremount is different,’ he admitted deeply. ‘The Tremount is to say thank you to it, for looking after you when I should have been doing it. And to say I’m sorry for ever doubting you.’
‘Raoul is your brother and you loved him—just as I loved my father.’ Reaching up, she placed a kiss to his sombre mouth. ‘Neither of us expected either of them to deceive us, André.’
‘Your father’s deception was well meant. Raoul’s lies were not. And I deceived you too, don’t forget.’