Maybe part of that child still lived inside her, she would have done something like this a lot sooner if she didn’t. But it was way past time she put that child aside.
‘Move the ladder and I’ll put them up there,’ she said, pointing at the cornice above the table she and Antoinette had laid out that morning.
Maxim was due back in less than an hour. He’d stayed away for a whole week in the end, supposedly to repair the deal with Donati. But in a way she was glad, because now she was sure she had been right to think he was running scared too. And right to know she couldn’t let him do that any more.
Cara swallowed around the ball of anticipation—and fear—lodged in her throat. His absence had given her a chance to muster her courage but, more than that, it had also, completely by chance, gifted her with the perfect way to show him how much she felt for him.
‘Is everything okay, madame?’ Antoinette asked.
‘Yes.’ Cara smiled at the maid, determined to believe it as she tied off the ribbon on the balloons and climbed the ladder.
Maxim was a workaholic, who had an almost preternatural ability to focus on the now. She also knew, from what she knew of his past, that the reason he worked so hard was to overcome the deprivations of his childhood. She also suspected he was nervous about becoming a father. She understood that, because she was nervous about becoming a mother too. But shouldn’t that give them an even better reason to forge a bond that went beyond sex?
‘Be careful, madame,’ Antoinette said as she steadied the ladder.
‘I will be,’ Cara said as she stretched to pin the balloons to the cornicing, her baby bump pressing against the metal.
She wanted this small celebration to be ready for Maxim’s arrival. She knew he was unlikely to want a big fuss—he hadn’t even mentioned to her that today was his birthday. But, as someone who had rarely had the chance to celebrate her own birthday, she suspected he had also missed out during his childhood. She knew his mother and he had been left living in abject poverty after Pierre had thrown them out when he was young. And she also knew he had left Burgundy at only fifteen to make his way in the wine trade. While her childhood had been blighted by the care system, she suspected Maxim’s had been non-existent—ever since he was a young child and he had witnessed the way his mother had been neglected by his father. What better way to show him she loved him—without scaring him off—than to mark this special occasion? To show him he mattered to her.
Of course it had taken every ounce of her newfound confidence as the mistress of Château Durand to suggest it to Antoinette and the other staff but they had happily agreed to the idea.
This marriage didn’t have to be an end, it could be a beginning. They still had two and a half months before the baby was due and she already felt as if she belonged here.
‘What do you think?’ Cara asked, admiring her handiwork.
Antoinette leaned to one side to look and loosened her grip on the ladder. The slight wobble had Cara’s body shifting.
‘Cara, descends tout de suite!’ The shout in French from behind her, demanding she get down immediately, startled Cara so much she swung round too fast.
The ladder tilted sharply to one side. Antoinette gasped.
Cara felt herself falling in slow motion, as she watched Maxim run towards her, his face a mask of panic. And pain.
Strong arms banded around her, breaking the fall. She inhaled a shuddering breath of pure relief. And caught the joyous scent of sandalwood soap and salty sweat.
Maxim. Maxim had saved her.
Her husband swore as she grasped his neck and clung on, pressing her face into the warmth of his pectoral muscles, feeling them tense and quiver under her nose.
Love rushed towards her, the threat forgotten.
‘Cara, what were you doing? Are you mad?’ He was shouting, his voice trembling.
But as she looked into his face, saw the dark eyes wild with concern, love flowed through her on a wave of hope. Why had she waited so long to show him how she felt about him?
‘I’m sorry, Maxim. I was...’ The surprise was ruined, but she let it go. ‘It’s your birthday, and we wanted to surprise you.’
‘You... What?’ He glanced around the room, taking in the bunches of balloons pinned to the cornicing, the banner she and Antoinette had made yesterday afternoon, the delicious croquembouche the chef had prepared on her instructions and the present she’d knitted herself over the last week, wrapped in paper and ribbon and arranged on a small side table with a bunch of early summer blooms she’d picked from the estate gardens that morning.
He placed her on her feet and stood back, his eyes widening as he studied the celebration she’d worked so hard on in complete silence. The muscle in his jaw tensed. He looked stunned, she realised.
And not happy.
She str
uggled to ignore the tightness in her chest at his reaction. He’d had a shock. They both had.
‘Are you okay, madame?’ Antoinette asked, still holding the ladder. ‘I am so sorry I lost my grip.’