William cut in coolly. “No need for titles, brother. After all, we are to be family soon enough.” He turned to Jacyn. “So you are the beauty who has managed to snare my elusive brother,” he said smoothly. “You may call me Liam.”
Always the charmer, Liam was. A part of him felt satisfied when he saw the obvious appreciation for her beauty on William’s face. On some subconscious level, perhaps, one of the reasons he’d chosen Jacyn for this scheme was her race. He knew she was his brother’s preference—or used to be, before he married Sofia.
She responded with admirable spunk. “You can call me Jacyn. I’ve never met a count before.”
“I assure you; we bleed just like anyone else,” the Count offered with well-practiced humility and a gallic shrug. “Forgive me if I have not heard a name such as yours before. Please teach me how to pronounce it properly.”
The sound of Jacyn responding to Liam was cut off in his ears by a low, throaty purr as Sofia stepped forward, gracefully encircling him in her arms and pressing her full, red lips to each cheek in the traditional French greeting. “Alex,moncher.I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see you again.”
He could feel the warmth of her body against his, the press of her small breasts, and he stepped away as sharply as he could without making a scene. The contact had been brief, but it had done things to his mind that he didn’t want to dwell on right now. Especially not in front of Sofia’s husband, his brother.
The smirk Sofia gave him told Alex that she knew exactly what kind of disturbance she was causing. She glided back to her husband’s side and slid her hand into the crook of his arm, watching them both.
Jacyn did the same, slipping into her role of fiancée, and trying to project warmth in the face of Sofia’s cool examination. But his sister-in-law stared Jacyn down, as unabashed as a territorial cat meeting another on the sidewalk.
To Alex’s relief, a butler appeared. He wore the familiar burgundy uniform, but the young man’s face we unfamiliar. “Where is Morel?” Alex asked, a bit puzzled.
“This is Hassan; he has been with us for some time.” William shrugged with exaggerated casualness. “Mr. Morel retired more than three years ago. If you’d attended our father’s funeral, you’d have known.”
Alex wanted to respond to the subtle barb, wanted to remind his brotherwhyhe hadn’t seen fit to come home in so long, but Jacyn seemed to sense the crackle of electricity in the air and pressed her curves against his. She turned to him with a pout on her beautiful, curved lips.
“Honey, I’m really quite tired from traveling. Would you mind if we went to our rooms so I can freshen up and get some rest?”
Masterful,he thought, smiling at her in surprise. She just might pull this off.
William nodded at Hassan, who sprang into action, leading them deeper into the château, past the grand ballroom and the dining room, to the wing that was farthest from the main family quarters. Down a wide, long hallway, to a tall, solid oak door.
Jacyn looked at him questioningly.
Hassan threw open the doors and stood aside. “Your apartments, Monsieur Dubois.”
“Just Alexandre will do,” he informed.
The butler nodded politely. But Alex was willing to bet dollars to donuts that this young man was going to call him Monsieur Dubois again before his visit was up. Nobility had a way of clinging to you. Like a cheap perfume.
“Merci,”Alex said, and the butler disappeared like a figment of their imaginations.
He ushered Jacyn inside, eyes intent on her face, feeling an odd sense of pleasure at her wonder. The apartment within was easily twice the size of her home, from what he remembered of it. There was a large sitting room with a thick-piled carpet, which he immediately knew was a replacement for the ancient one that had been there when he’d left. The furniture, too, was more modern; no more of the 19thcentury antiquities that his mother favored.
“I’ve asked for the pantry and fridge to be well stocked, but of course you may request anything you desire from the main kitchens, at any time.” He led her past the dining room and let her peep into the kitchenette.
Jacyn smiled at this. “Soo… I can ask for Oreos and pistachio ice cream at two in the morning and someone will bring it for me?”
“Naturally,” he responded with a smile. “If what you are hankering for is not available in the château, someone will be sent to go get it.”
“Oh,naturally!”
He ignored her sarcasm. Instead, he led her deeper inside, past the two guest bathrooms and the book-lined study. “That door leads to the balcony, where you can have your breakfast or just sit and read. And this,” he stopped at a door, “this is your bedroom.”
She stepped in before him, looking around in awe. Her bags were already neatly stacked near the bed.
“If you need someone to help you unpack—”
“I can unpack my own stuff,” she answered firmly. “Just becauseyou’rerich doesn’t meanI’mlazy.”
“Nothing wrong with enjoying life’s luxuries,” he shot back. “Especially when you’ve earned them.”
“Well, I don’t know if I’ve earned them yet,” she mused. “Maybe it will all be mine in a few months, along with my Academy Award for great acting.”