‘Maxim, wait,’ she said, gripping his arm. ‘Did I... Did I do something wrong tonight?’
He pressed a finger to her lips, his expression no longer blank but filled with regret. ‘Shh, Cara, you were exquisite. You are the perfect wife.’
If that were so, why did she feel like even less of a wife than she had a week ago? She gulped down the fear expanding in her throat. And forced herself to ask the question that was torturing her. ‘Then why don’t you want to stay in my bed for a whole night?’
‘I cannot stay.’ He cupped her cheek, stroked his thumb across the sensitive flesh, tender from the rub of his stubble. ‘If I did, I would exhaust you and the baby.’
It was an excuse he had used before, to leave her bed at dawn, and she’d never challenged it because she knew where his fears about her safety came from. But this time the truth spilled out of her mouth, regardless.
‘You wouldn’t exhaust us.’ She gathered every last ounce of her courage. ‘I’m fit and healthy and so is our baby.’
His gaze dipped to her stomach, prominently displayed in the close-fitting gown. Had the baby’s movement spooked him? But he didn’t look spooked, just distant. And suddenly so aloof.
‘You need your rest,’ he continued before she had a chance to gather her wits and question him more. ‘You must travel back to Château Durand alone tomorrow.’
‘You’re not returning home with me?’ she blurted out, the panic twisting into something more painful.
His eyebrow quirked at the mention of the word home and she realised Maxim still didn’t see the château as a home, even though she had tried so hard to make it one.
‘I need to re
pair the deal with Donati, if I can. If not, I have other business in the Loire before I return. But I should see you in a few days.’
He lifted her numb fingers and buzzed a kiss across the knuckles. The stupidly gallant gesture made her want to cry.
He’d made no promises, and she had no doubt at all that he wouldn’t contact her before he returned. But somehow it wasn’t enough any more.
‘Au revoir, Cara,’ he murmured, before leaving her standing in the doorway to her suite.
She watched him go, his broad shoulders stretching the seams of his suit jacket. A jacket she had gripped for dear life only minutes ago, while he took her apart with his lovemaking.
But it wasn’t lovemaking, she thought as she stepped into the suite and closed the door. Not for him.
How many times had she been rejected in her life? So why should this rejection hurt so much more?
She leant against the door, blinking back the stinging sensation in her eyes and swallowed around the tightness in her throat as she finally acknowledged the truth she had been denying for weeks—every time Maxim took her with such passion, every time he stayed a little bit longer in her bed, every time he smiled at her, his eyes dark with approval, every time he frowned, concerned for her well-being or that of the baby...
She had fallen hopelessly in love with her temporary husband.
She pushed away from the door, kicked off her shoes, walked into the lavish bedroom and gazed at the four-poster bed where she would sleep alone tonight, while her husband slept alone down the hallway.
She was scared, terrified really, of her feelings for him. But as she lay down on the empty bed, inhaled the smell of him still clinging to her skin, she wondered...
What if Maxim were running scared too, of his feelings for her?
She rolled onto her side and curled up into a tight ball to cradle the precious bump of her pregnancy.
When Maxim returned to the château she had to find a way to confront him, to show him how she felt. And somehow, eventually, she had to find the courage to demand from Maxim something she had believed she could never have, never deserve, ever since her father’s desertion all those years ago. His love.
It was a risk, a huge risk. If she failed, she would feel like that abandoned child again, alone and unlovable. But if she succeeded? Her heart lifted into her throat. If she succeeded, perhaps she could finally let go of that girl for ever and have Maxim’s heart, as well as his body.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
‘WHERE SHALL WE put this bunch?’ Antoinette asked, her eyes bright with excitement.
Cara grinned back, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl with a secret. Not that she’d ever been naughty as a schoolgirl, she’d always been too scared that if she caused any trouble her latest foster family would chuck her back into the system.
But she wasn’t that insecure child any more, she thought staunchly as she grasped the ribbon on the bunch of gold-and-silver balloons Antoinette and two of the estate’s footmen had been helping her blow up to decorate the dining room.