Why was she being so ridiculous? This marriage wasn’t real, however real it had seemed last night.
‘By the way,’ Maxim continued, wiping his mouth with his napkin, ‘I will be travelling to Tuscany for a week in March. I will need you to join me at the end of the trip to attend a ball being held in honour of the man who, I hope, will be selling his vineyards to me.’
A spike of anxiety at the thought that he was going to leave her for a whole week sent her thoughts into a tailspin. ‘A ball?’
‘Yes. Jean-Claude will make all the arrangements and the couturière has been asked to supply suitable clothing,’ he murmured.
His hand covered hers on the table. The warmth of his rough palm sent the familiar desire sprinting up her arm to tighten her nipples. ‘Do not panic, Cara, you have a few weeks to prepare.’ He squeezed her fingers and lifted them to his mouth. The press of his lips and his teasing smile had her heart doing a jitterbug in her chest.
‘I enjoyed last night immensely,’ he said, the rough intimacy in his voice stroking her senses. ‘Would you like me to come to your rooms tonight, if it is not too late when I return from the winery?’
‘I... Yes, that would be...’ She swallowed. What? Fun? Wonderful? Exciting? All of those things and more? ‘I would like that very much,’ she managed, disturbed not just by her instant, instinctive response to him—and her complete inability to say no—but also by how much she was already looking forward to his visit.
When he released her hand, she clasped her fingers in her lap.
How did he do that? How did he disturb her and excite her at one and the same time? Was this need inside her normal? She’d tried to persuade herself it was last night, but if her response to him was just about endorphins, why did she feel so empty inside at the thought of not seeing him all day?
‘Is there anything you’d like me to do today?’ she asked.
His frown reappeared. ‘Do?’ he asked, clearly confused.
‘I mean, as your wife?’ she said. If she kept busy, surely it would help to alleviate the hollow feeling of inadequacy. ‘I’d love to be useful.’
She certainly didn’t want to sit around all day doing nothing, or she was likely to spend too much time dwelling on this marriage that wasn’t a real marriage, and how much she was going to miss her husband who wasn’t a real husband.
Maxim huffed out an incredulous laugh. ‘There is nothing for you to do, Cara. You are my wife. The staff are here to wait on you. Not the other way around.’
As if on cue, a parade of footmen arrived to deliver the breakfast Maxim had ordered for her. An array of food, enough to feed several people, was laid out on the breakfast table. Plates filled with buttery pastries, fresh fruit, a selection of bread and cheese and even a fluffy omelette were revealed with a flourish before the staff bowed and left. Fragrant scents filled the room and made her stomach growl.
‘Bon appétit.’ Maxim smiled then stood as he glanced at his watch. ‘I must go. Hopefully I will see you tonight,’ he said, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Eat,’ he said. ‘You need food.’ Her heart squeezed and her stomach knotted at the casual reference to her welfare. Was he thinking of the child too, as well as her? ‘And do not concern yourself with unnecessary chores.’ His lips skimmed down to her earlobe. The nip of his teeth had a shuddering sigh issuing from her lips. He laughed, the husky sound reverberating in her sex. ‘You will need your rest—I intend to keep you very busy when I return.’
Before she had a chance to gather her thoughts again, he was gone.
She forced herself to tuck into the delicious omelette, knowing he was right about her nutrition, and tried to control a pang of melancholy. But as she devoured the delicious food, much hungrier than she’d realised, a plan formed.
Maxim hadn’t said she couldn’t find a role for herself here. He’d simply said she didn’t need to.
Keeping busy, having a role, had been her way to cope with the constant feelings of isolation she’d experienced as a child.
After finishing the omelette and most of the fresh fruit, she headed off to find Antoinette.
She hated confrontations, but she didn’t need to get Maxim’s permission to figure out her role here for the next few months. Ultimately, it was up to her to decide what being Maxim Durand’s wife meant, because she was the new temporary mistress of Château Durand, not him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘YOUR WIFE IS exquisite, Durand.’
‘Hmm...’ Maxim barely registered his business rival Giovanni Romano’s observation, thanks to the blood pumping through his body at breakneck speed ever since Cara had arrived at the Donati Ball half an hour ago.
He’d made a point of not leaving Donati’s palazzo to collect her from their nearby hotel when he had been informed she had arrived in Italy, knowing if he saw her before the event, in a bedroom, after seven days—and nights—of separation, they would probably end up missing the ball altogether.
She looked stunning in a shimmering blue satin gown, her figure even more lush and gorgeous than when he had left Burgundy a week ago for this business trip; her blonde curls were artfully arranged with diamond pins which sparkled in the overhead light of the chandelier. He had not been able to take his gaze off her since he’d greeted her.
They had been married now for nearly a month. She had settled into life at the château with surprising ease. While he had not been pleased with her decision to befriend his staff, and take on the domestic duties of the mistress of the château, he had been forced to accept she needed something to keep her busy or she would be bored. His wife, he had discovered, had a prodigious work ethic and was incapable of being idle.
So he had indulged her, on the understanding that she would not take on any tasks that required physical labour. He had also had Jean-Claude send a confidential email to the château’s staff without Cara’s knowledge, telling them they would be fired if they allowed her to do anything more strenuous than lift a teapot.
Over the weeks he had begun to notice her presence in ways he had not expected—little touches, small changes that made the house more charming, more welcoming, more liveable—the bunches of fresh flowers that had begun to appear as spring bloomed over the estate, the smiles of the staff, who all seemed to adore her, and the smooth running of the household which allowed him to concentrate on his business instead of having to waste time making domestic decisions that didn’t interest him.