Sleeping Love (5 page)

‘Francine, Madame Valoire has come home,’ he told the woman with pride. He brought Sabrina’s hand to his lips and gently kissed it. That’s when she saw the wedding ring on his finger. It hadn’t been there when she arrived.

‘Good. Now Madame Valoire is very tired and needs to rest, but not before a small celebration for her homecoming. Please bring up a bottle of champagne to our room.’

‘At least for tonight, so you can rest. Tomorrow I want you back in my bed and in my arms where you belong. No arguments,’ he told her firmly with that arrogant smile that said he always got what he wanted.

She had until tomorrow night to make her escape. Still it was nice to be so wanted by a man like Raoul. Sharing his bed would be no bad thing, more than desirable. But she wasn’t about to let him have his way so easily and dictate to her. If he wanted her back in his bed, he would have to prove he was worthy of her trust and her love. Nothing less. She was in for one hell of a fight.

Sabrina closed the bathroom door in Raoul’s room and tightened the belt on her silk dressing gown. She eyed him with suspicion when he handed her a glass of champagne. She’d done all she could to avoid sleeping in the same room, but Raoul was a formidable, strong personality. There had been no room for negotiation, especially when he threatened to carry her there if she continued to refuse.

‘I told you there is no escape. You are spending the night with me as my wife.’ The way he said it made her feel as though she had been neglecting her duty.

Champagne was the last thing she wanted. Her mind and body were drained and tired. She was already giddy from the whole experience, but she would do anything to placate him. Maybe once she’d had a drink, she could just slip under the covers and throw him a pillow for the sofa.

‘To our reunion,’ he said with a smile tapping his glass against hers. Sabrina nodded cautiously and took a sip.

‘You look tired,’ he said gently. ‘I think you should get into bed.’ He took her glass away and put it on top of the wide alabaster fireplace that was the centre piece of the large room. He guided her towards another antique Walnut French Gothic four poster with crimson curtains, very similar to the one in the blue room only it appeared a little larger. Raoul lifted the white silk covers, gesturing for her to get in. Sabrina stared at the bed with a mixture of anxiety and longing. She was desperate to go to sleep. Maybe she would wake up in the morning and find herself back in her own bed in London, having woken from a strange dream.

She fumbled at the tie on her dressing gown, hoping to get into bed quick, but Raoul stood in front of her taking over just the way he had done with her coat. Before she could protest he had removed her dressing gown and tossed it onto a chair. Sabrina took her cue and slipped into bed, pulling the covers up around her feeling safe that she could hide her body from view. Raoul gently lifted a matching crimson mohair and silk bed throw over the covers to keep her warm on the chilly night. She nodded her thanks and quickly reached for a pillow, alarmed when he started removing his suit jacket.

Sabrina ignored him and reached over to turn the lamp off at the side of the bed. She lay down quickly, tightly pulling the covers under her chin over her silk camisole and pyjama trousers. She murmured goodnight. Sabrina heard Raoul give a chuckle. She closed her eyes tight hoping he wouldn’t change his mind and get in bed beside her.

Raoul moved about the room taking a blanket out of the wardrobe and then poured himself another glass of champagne. Try as she might Sabrina could not allow herself to sleep. A hundred fleeting memories entered her mind only to vanish in a breath before she could work out what they were. She was restless, moving her body about in the bed, vainly attempting to enter the sanctuary of sleep.

A moment later Raoul’s breath caressed her face, and she inhaled his intoxicating scent of pine and cedar wood. She pretended to be asleep. His lips brushed her forehead. From the way he talked to her she knew he believed her to be asleep.

‘Shhh, Sabrina. You are safe. There is nothing to fear. You are home now,’ he whispered gently, slipping his fingers through her hair. ‘I love you, Sabrina. I always have. There has never been anybody else. No matter what you thought. You should never have doubted me before you left.
Je t’aime
, Sabrina.’

His lips brushed her forehead once more, and then Sabrina heard him settle down on the sofa. She couldn’t help wondering why she would have doubted his love in the past. Something had been going on, and whatever it was would give her the answers about how she ended up beaten and raped in that hospital. It was time to put her history research to good use in her own life.

Chapter Five

Sabrina woke late the next morning. It hadn’t been a dream. She was still in Raoul’s bed but he was nowhere to be seen. Relieved she decided to get up. She felt the chill in the room immediately. Reaching for her dressing gown she remembered what Raoul had said about draughts in the Chateau the night before. Sabrina parted the silver grey drapes and stole a look out of one of the two large arched windows with French doors, leading out onto a long balcony.

A heavy winter’s frost covered the ground giving the deceitful appearance that snow had fallen the night before. The room was positioned at the back of the house and overlooked the moat that ran around the Chateau, the formal gardens and wide lake in the distance. A light cold mist hung in the air. The sun tried in vain to penetrate the covering here and there lending a breath taking fairy-tale quality to the idyllic scene.

Sabrina picked up a photograph on a table next to a vase of fresh Casablanca lilies. They were her favourite flowers. She smiled considering that Raoul may have had them put in the room for her. The photograph showed her sitting on a horse next to Raoul on his. She had never imagined herself riding. In the last seven years there had never been any impulse to ride. They were both leaning over towards each other engaged in a kiss. It was impossible to mistake the love between the two figures. Sabrina touched the figures in the picture and stroked her fingers over Raoul’s face.

How could I forget my own husband?

‘Madame Valoire, are you all right?’

It was Francine bringing a breakfast tray into the room. Sabrina changed her frown into a gentle smile and nodded, thanking the woman for her concern. She put down the photograph and walked over to inspect the contents of the tray. Francine put it down on the large, oval glass table in front of the long, curved, white leather sofa that sat in front of the white marble fireplace. The woman moved away and busied herself lighting the open fire. Sabrina came to stand next to her.

‘Francine, please call me Sabrina. I hate Madame Valoire. It makes me sound ancient. Francine, is this all true or am I dreaming?’ she said with humorous wonder, taking in her rich exuberant surroundings.

Francine stood up and gave a small sarcastic laugh. Sabrina prickled.

‘No, Madame Valoire you are not dreaming. Monsieur Valoire has really missed you. He never gave up looking for you. He has suffered too much. I only hope that you see fit to remember the wonderful life he has given you. You owe him that,’ she said with a stiff measure of haughty disapproval. ‘And if you please, I prefer to use your correct title, Madame Valoire.’

Sabrina raised an eyebrow. It seemed Raoul wasn’t the only one who bore some resentment and anger at her disappearance. She nodded still shocked by the older woman’s forthright speech. Yet she considered it might work to her advantage. Perhaps, Francine would also be forthright in giving her some information regarding the day of her disappearance.

‘Francine, what happened on the day of my disappearance? Did Raoul and I argue over something? I remember arguing with someone at the party. It’s so faint and vague. Do you know what happened?’ Sabrina asked seizing her opportunity for information not coloured by Raoul’s influence.

Francine’s face turned ashen. Sabrina watched her turn to the door to make sure no one was standing there. She opened her mouth to speak but then quickly closed her lips together tight, obviously thinking better of what she was about to say. Eventually she spoke.

‘It’s not my place. If there is nothing else, Madame, I will leave you now.’

Sabrina caught her arm.

‘No. Please, Francine. Help me remember. If not for my sake, then for Raoul’s,’ she pleaded, playing on Francine’s more than obvious motherly concern for Raoul.

Francine looked down at Sabrina with impatience and gave a small sigh. She opened her mouth to speak, but a male voice cut her short.

‘Francine, Sabrina will remember in her own time. We must be careful with her memory until she has been examined by my doctor,’ Raoul told her firmly as he stood in the doorway.

He had been riding. He wore a heavy knit cream sweater over the broad frame of his shoulders underneath a black wool jacket. Sabrina watched him throw his riding hat on a chair and stride into the room in his jodhpurs and boots. Cedar wood, pine and a generous helping of delicious male scent wrapped around her senses. She remembered that intoxicating smell. Breathing it in, a dozen memories of their bodies entwined in bed penetrated the fog in her mind. It was a potent aphrodisiac and she found herself at its mercy.

Francine smiled nervously at Sabrina.

‘Of course,’ she said with a brisk nod and took her leave.

Sabrina clamped her teeth together in frustration. Francine obviously knew something Raoul didn’t want her to know by the dark look he gave the woman when she left the room. Sabrina would have to wait for another opportunity to question the woman alone.

‘No,’ she snapped. ‘I can’t eat anything. I need to clear my head. Since last night I can’t think straight. My life feels as though it is out of control. I need to leave and get some space so I can think.’

She turned back to the bed deciding to get dressed when she suddenly felt Raoul’s arms around her waist from behind, tugging her possessively towards him. She felt him press his head against hers before brushing his lips across her neck.

‘No. I won’t let you leave. I have already won this argument,’ his words were a whisper against her skin. ‘Besides . . .’ he paused to kiss her neck again.

Sabrina closed her eyes finding herself melt with his warm closeness despite all efforts not to let him placate her with his seductive powers. Once more his strong fresh scent triggered her memories of them making love. It was a struggle not to give in to the power he wielded over her self-control, admit defeat and snuggle against his chest.

‘I don’t want you to be on your own. We need to work out what happened. We have to make sure you are safe,’ he told her.

Sabrina turned quickly in his arms to face him, alarmed by the level of anxiety in his voice. The seductive memories dissolved and vanished quickly. He really didn’t want her being alone, and he wasn’t just being overprotective.

‘What do you mean? What aren’t you telling me? What do you mean we must make sure I am safe?’ she challenged forcefully. She was in no mood for him being evasive.

He took her back into his arms and told her to hush. There was nothing to worry about. He was just concerned about her health. Sabrina flinched away from him demanding to know what he kept from her.

Raoul dropped his hands from her waist and sat down on the bed. He leaned back on his elbows studying her closely with his black fathomless eyes. He muttered some words in French under his breath then shook his head. She spoke French well, and she’d heard enough to know he was calling her stubborn.

‘I shouldn’t be telling you this. The consultant told me to be careful with you. No shocks . . . Telling you who you are last night was more than enough for now.’