But during the nights Cara had missed Maxim, feeling alone and confused in the hotel’s luxury suite.
Her fevered mind had had far too much time, going over every moment of their relationship so far, and especially the last time she’d seen him, in Dr Karim’s surgery in Harley Street—and the stricken look on his face when their baby...she breathed...their son had appeared on the monitor.
There had been no sign of that haunted look this morning when he’d met her at the airport. Perhaps she had imagined it?
There had certainly been no time to question him before they’d been whisked to the mairie to say their vows, before heading to a heliport for the breathtaking ride to the Durand estate.
She pulled the brand-new smartphone she’d been given by one of Maxim’s army of assistants out of the pocket of the new linen trousers she wore—part of the beautiful new trousseau that had arrived yesterday. Maxim had arranged to have her belongings brought from her room in Leyton, but her battered rucksack now sat in the back of this pristine SUV, among a pile of matching hand-tooled luggage with her initials stamped on them.
Her new initials. CED. Cara Evans Durand.
She checked the time, trying to ground herself, and get rid of the tightness that had gripped her chest ever since she’d stepped out of his private jet, to see him waiting for her on the tarmac.
Two o’clock in the afternoon. She huffed out an unsteady breath and stared through the car’s window as the line of vehicles entered a leafy courtyard at the side of Maxim’s palace. She could see a large pool shaded by trees, covered now for the winter months, at the far end of a manicured lawn which led down from the château’s back terrace.
Of course he had a pool! She’d never even visited somewhere this lavish, let alone lived in such a place.
She’d known Maxim was wealthy. But she’d had no idea of the extent of his wealth, and power, and how he wielded that power so effortlessly, until the last ten days. His home was simply the crowning glory.
The car stopped and Maxim ended his latest call. After stepping out of the car, he skirted the bonnet, spoke to one of his assistants then arrived to grasp the door handle before she could open the door for herself.
‘Welcome to Château Durand, Cara,’ he said, sending her a distracted smile. He clicked his fingers and two footmen rushed out of the long line of uniformed staff waiting at the château’s door to greet them.
‘Your new French obstetrician and her team are waiting to check you over,’ Maxim said as the footmen began collecting her luggage from the boot. His large hand settled on the small of her back, to direct her up the marble stairs to the château’s entrance. Shivers rippled up her spine where his fingers touched.
‘But I had another check-up with Dr Karim yesterday,’ she said.
‘It is only a formality,’ he murmured, rubbing her back as he guided her, making the shivers increase. ‘Once the doctor is happy,’ he said, ‘it is probably best if you take a rest in your rooms before tonight.’
Her rooms? Why did she need more than one? And what was happening tonight? Was he talking about consummating their marriage?
He glanced at his watch. ‘Does six o’clock suit you?’
‘You’re scheduling sex?’ Her shocked question burst out before she could think better or it. After all, she’d had far too much time to think about this aspect of their relationship in the last ten days, while lying alone in her hotel bed.
His lips quirked in a wry smile, but his intense gaze had a blush firing into her cheeks.
‘I was talking of the wedding, Cara,’ he said, the arousal in his eyes unmistakable at the mention of sex.
‘Oh, I... I see.’ She’d never felt more gauche or stupid—or needy—in her life. ‘But aren’t we already married?’ she murmured.
She’d assumed the quick ceremony at the town hall in Auxerre was all they needed to do. Had actually been grateful for the secular, perfunctory nature of the proceedings. It was going to be hard enough to keep the reality of their marriage clear in her mind while living in Maxim’s lavish home for the next few months.
‘Yes, but we need a wedding ceremony, so that I can introduce you as my wife,’ he said. ‘There is a chapel in the grounds which has been prepared for the event, and my kitchen staff have arranged a wedding banquet in the château’s great hall.’
A banquet?
‘But, I... Really?’
How had he arranged all this in little more than a week? And why?
She’d assumed there would be no ceremony. The less this felt like a real marriage the better. But Maxim seemed to have other ideas.
‘Do not concern yourself,’ he said. ‘The stylist assured me she has provided a suitable dress in your trousseau.’
She had? Was it one of the numerous outfits she’d tried on? Why had no one told her it was a wedding dress?
He proceeded to introduce her to a few of his senior staff. Cara dutifully shook hands and spoke to them in her faltering French. The whole episode started to feel surreal as Maxim directed her into the house.