Love Entwined (12 page)

He came around the table and brushed the tears away. “You cry for him?”

“Never.” She got up to stand in front of the casement window. “He used me.
Salaud
.”

“Yes, he was a bastard.” He was right behind her, close enough to smell the perfume of her wine-colored hair. She uprooted his senses, reduced him to the most primal being with the weapons in her arsenal; tears, laughter, or blazing anger, it didn’t matter. She was the most genuine woman he had ever met. He wanted her. “What do you mean that he used you?”

“At first, he was so sweet and always there. And then…well, he wasn’t. We completed the Artisan Collection anyway and were about to start on another project when his fiancée called the office. Emil wasn’t around and I took the call. She congratulated me on a job well done. ” Her shoulders shook.

He took her in his arms.

“I left the new project that day. I have not seen him since. I’ve turned into a crybaby.”

“Nonsense.”

“I have soaked your shirt, just as I did that night in the vault.” She tried to pull away, but he tightened his hold on her. When she couldn’t get free, she kept her eyes trained on his chest. Finally, she looked up at him.

He held her gaze. “I have not forgotten that night.”

Her tongue glided over that bottom lip; a sexy, nervous gesture that had his lips aching for hers. And then came too many words that had nothing to do with the two of them.

“It is my fault. I should never have gotten involved with Emil. I let my guard down when I should have focused on the assignment. That’s all he wanted of me anyway, despite what I chose to believe. I was such a stupid, romantic fool.”

He put a finger to her lips. “That is the very best kind, you know.”

Her laugh came out as a sob, and then she hiccupped.

He didn’t know how, but they were connected in some way. Even while he fought for purchase of this uncomfortable reality, he was a man possessed. She was not the type of woman he wanted to get involved with. She wanted a relationship. Marriage would certainly follow suit, and he had no such intentions. But for all that, he could not allow her to avoid what was between them a moment more.

He rubbed her back, bringing her closer. “Don’t let him do this to you, Amelie. Don’t let one man ruin the rest of your life. Don’t let him keep you from me.” His lips came down on hers. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, he lifted her to the drafting table.

He was working on the buttons of her sweater but the damned things were so small and there were so many of them, and she was pulling him down. Finally, he just tugged the sweater over her head. Neither of them heard the knock on the door.

“Ah-hem. Sorry to disturb. Your four o’clock is here, sir.” James said. The lackluster drawl he affected compromised by laughing eyes.

Amelie jumped off the drafting board and pulled Roman in front of her.

James bent and retrieved the discarded sweater, which Roman had thrown clear across the drafting table. The sketch in his other hand had been shoved off the table with all the rest when Roman had served Amelie up for a feast. He handed the sweater to Roman while examining the sketch. “This is quite something.”

Amelie plucked her sweater from Roman’s hand. “Th—thank you, James,” she said from behind Roman’s back.

Drunk from the sweet musky scent of her, Roman worked to focus on the butler’s words. He had the good sense to remain where he stood while Amelie dressed. “I thought the Western region contracts were next week.”

“I do believe that is tomorrow’s engagement,” James said, walking to the door. “Tonight you have a date with the Central region. Indeed, you are promised to Mr. Cobbs and Mr. Marchant for dinner. The contracts are to be consummated this evening for overnight delivery.” James’s droll summation left them both speechless as he walked out of the drafting room.

“Cheeky bastard.” Roman pushed the hair out of his eyes. “Will you come to dinner?”

“If I do, you will not be attending to business.” She was still flushed.

God, she looked so alive right now. He tasted her lips once more. “Tonight, then.”

North Yorkshire, England – April 1988

The next morning, there was a knock on the sitting room door.

Amelie opened it a crack.

Roman was dressed in faded jeans. They were not tight, that wasn’t his style. That was one of the things she liked about him—he didn’t try. Not that he had to. The man’s confidence was as breathtaking as that prominent bulge the denim would never cover up.

His eyes traveled over her silk nightgown. “Good morning Beauty, I hope you slept better than I did.”

She stood on tiptoe to nip his lips. “I told myself I wasn’t going to fall asleep and the next thing I knew the sun was in my eyes. You should have woken me.” He lifted her against him and deepened the kiss. He pressed into her and, too soon, set her back down on her feet, keeping her close with an arm around the waist.

“It was late by the time I came up and you’ve been working so hard, I didn’t have the heart. There is another meeting later and if I stay here, they won’t leave me alone.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You want me to aid you in an escape.”

His eyes dropped down to her hips and his hands followed. “There is a hunting cabin I want to show you. I thought you might like to go horseback riding this morning.”

“I’ve never ridden Arabians before! I would love to ride. I haven’t ridden since…”

“University?” His dimples made her breath catch in her throat.

A frisson of desire coursed through her.
No, since I dreamed of you
, she thought, but said with a mock grimace, “
Oui,
monsieur
, you avail yourself of every opportunity to point out what an un-fun life I lead.”

He had the audacity to give her a curt nod in agreement. He turned to walk away, and then turned back. “One more thing. I don’t own Arabians. What made you think I did?”

“I see them galloping near the River Wharfe sometimes. They are so beautiful.” The expression on his face made her add, “They must belong to someone else.”

“That someone else lives miles away. My nearest neighbors are in Scarborough. That’s a long way for prize horses to roam. You’re certain that you saw them?”

She nodded. “Wild and free.”

His brow furrowed, and she wondered what she’d said to take away the light in his eyes. “I will meet you downstairs in twenty minutes.”

She nodded. He was right, of course. With the recent shooting on his land, trespassers of any kind were unwanted. Those Arabians might mean someone had access to his property. A matter he would surely discuss with Security Chief Bryant.

She wouldn’t think about that now. Today she wanted to have fun.

Turning to the armoire, she pulled out her favorite pair of jeans and a cardigan.

She found him waiting in the study. She walked straight over to Khan, who was sitting up for once, tail wagging.

“Hello, boy,” she crooned, stroking his shiny black coat.

Khan rolled all one hundred eighty pounds over onto his back. She laughed and stroked the exposed belly.

“The dog’s gone soft.” Roman ushered her out of the study.

“Jealous?” she asked.

“To the core.”

They made their way to the stables beyond the garden on the south lawn.

When the horses were saddled, he helped her up onto Blue Belle, a gray roan. He jumped on Titan, a huge black stallion and led the way over the green.

They cantered over a field bright with buttercups and passed through an orchard.

“This is beautiful country.” She breathed in the fresh air of the woodlands filled with Scotts pine and silver birch.

“We’ll soon be able to have a picnic lunch at the hidden dell.”

She glanced at Roman, but his expression was unreadable. He spoke as if she were staying here in England. Their work together would soon be completed and she would be going home to New York, to Penrods. She had been working so hard for so long that being in England was a vacation, for she could hardly consider this assignment work.

The more time she spent with Roman, the more chinks there were in her armor.

She shook that frightening thought from her head. Over-thinking again, she couldn’t help it. Old habits are hard to break.

But she wanted to believe in him. She rode to this rendezvous just as determined as that daring soul inside of her. She was human, after all.

She knew who was to blame for what she felt…the woman inside her who loved him.

Mon Dieu…I’m in love with my dream lover!

She kept her eyes on the way ahead, but only saw herself at St. Clair Manor in the drafting room with Roman, completely satisfied and at peace as the years rolled by with a mechanical pencil in hand.

They went single file across a stone arch bridge and rode along the path of the River Wharfe. Passing a cabin in a small grove of trees, they turned down a path into the woods.

The wind lifted her hair from her shoulders when she turned toward Roman to see pride written on his face. He loved this land.

She had missed so much of her life working at Penrods. She wanted to do so many of the things she had given up for work.

The hope growing in her heart made her giddy. She smiled that anything could make her lose control, even for just a few minutes. He did this to her.

When they came to a clearing, she nudged Blue Belle ahead of Titan. “Do you want to have some fun?”

He arched a brow. “I thought you would never ask.”

She laughed aloud. “The first one to reach that huge tree across the meadow gets to choose the setting for the ruby and diamond trio.”

“You’re on.”

She was already flying past him on Blue Belle.

“Hey! That’s cheating!”

“Oh, so sorry, I forgot to say ‘On your mark, get set, go!’” Her laughter trailed behind her.

She grinned as Roman gave her a head start. Blue Belle would never outrun Titan, but she didn’t even thank him for the favor. She was halfway there when Roman galloped across the field. He was trying to overtake her, the brute.

“Amelie! Stop!”

“Come on, Blue Belle! Come on, girl!” she said with her head close to Blue Belle’s mane.

She was almost at the ancient oak, which reached for the sky with its thick, twisting branches. The tree was as wide around as the hunting lodge in the distance.

Auburn curls flashed in the sunlight.

She sat up on Blue Belle. The woman came out into the open, long skirts flowing, directly in Blue Belle’s path.

“Turn back.”

The words reverberated in her head.

“Pull up! Pull up!” Roman shouted behind her.

She pulled on Blue Belle’s reins, but it was too late. The woman was too close.

And then she saw it. A thick rope was strung between the two trees that Blue Belle’s hoofs were about to meet in the path.

Blue Belle surged ahead. When her front hoof connected with the rope the mare neighed in surprise, digging her hooves into the soil, trying to maintain her balance.

Amelie screamed as she pitched forward, sailing through the air, upended.

One moment the grass was over her head where the sky should be, and then she was plunged into darkness.

Captain Cardiff and Jacqueline

Château de Vaujours, Asnières-Sur-Seine, France – May 18, 1789

“Jacqueline…Jacqueline…” Someone called from a distance.

“Jacqueline, are you all right?” The girl said in anxious French, shaking her. “Open your eyes.”

Amelie’s head hurt too much to comply with that request.

“Don’t move. I will get help.” The girl ran off. “Papa! Papa!”

She lay with her eyes closed, other pains in her body making themselves known now. Her left ankle throbbed and her arm felt like it was on fire.

Her only comfort was the sweet smelling grass beneath her. It was soft and giving. It would be nice to just lay here and go to sleep, but the sound of river water teased her.

A horse whinnied softly. A furry muzzle bumped her head, which rang with the jolt.

“
Ma chérie
!” A man’s voice and heavy footfalls pounded in her head. A hand touched her cheek.

“
Ma petite
! Claude, what happened?” A woman’s frantic plea.

“Simone, take her hat,” Claude said. He gently pulled something off her head.

The darkness inside her closed eyelids brightened. Someone touched her forehead lightly and she winced at the stabbing pain.

“We were riding along the banks and she fell from Anouk,” the girl said.

Amelie squeezed her eyes shut against the confusing words.

“Jacqueline, open your eyes,” the man named Claude pleaded.

Slumber was just a dream now. Curiosity got the better of her.

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

The middle-aged man kneeling over her wore his faded brown hair in a ponytail. His green eyes were concerned, and looked vaguely familiar to her. “
Mon Cœur,
that was quite a fall. Let me get you back to the house. Margaux, take her arm.”

They each took an arm and supported her weight as she stood. She winced at the lancing pain in her ankle.

Margaux’s eyes, the same color as the gold-netted scarf holding back her hair, brimmed with tears as she took hold of a bloody arm.

Her own eyes stung with unshed tears as she leaned against Claude.

“Jacqueline, you are bleeding.” The older woman named Simone stroked her forehead. Black hair intertwined in an elaborate wire netting, which lifted her hair about a foot high above her head. Her gown brushed the grass.

“My name is Amelie.” She introduced herself in her native French, which seemed more appropriate among these strangers. They all spoke the language.

Claude exchanged a worried look with Simone.

Amelie turned a fearful glance toward the girl they called Margaux, who began to wail.

“Where am I?” She forgot her question when she tried to put weight on her left foot, and then nearly blacked out with the pain.

Claude murmured sympathetically and picked her up. He carried her across the lawn.