Three Weeks in Paris (35 page)

“But you did live,” Alain said, staring hard at Jean.

Jean nodded. “I did, yes. After a number of agonizing treatments, I went into remission after about eight months. Even so, the prognosis was not encouraging. The oncologist warned me the cancer could come back; in fact, he led me to believe it would do so.” He looked across at Jessica. “Marriage was no longer a possibility.”

“But you
did
marry. And you have a child,” she responded quietly, hurting inside.

“That is true, yes. I married three years ago. I had a childhood friend living nearby, and once I came out of the hospital she came here to Montcresse to help me handle things. Then my father suddenly died, and I inherited. My responsibilities increased. Sadly, my mother died a few months after my father. I was totally overwhelmed. Annick, my dear old friend, was my rock at the time. Slowly, we became involved, but I had no plans to marry.”

“Then why did you marry her?” Jessica asked. “And not me? I would have come here. I, too, could have been your rock.”

“Because to my utter surprise Annick became pregnant,” Jean answered. “I had not thought this possible, because often the treatment for cancer renders a man … sterile. But Annick was pregnant all of a sudden. I cared for her. She loved me, wanted to marry me, and so I did the correct thing. Also, she was going to give me an heir to the title and the lands, someone to follow me when I died. She knew that I would probably not live to see the boy grow up, but she and I accepted that.”

“How old is the child?” Alexa said, speaking for the first time.

Jean looked at her, a faint smile flickering on his mouth. “Three.”

“And you are in remission now, are you?” Alain asked.

“No. I’m undergoing treatment again. Chemotherapy this time.”

“I’m sorry,” Alain responded. “I’m sorry it has come back.”

Jessica, staring at him, her eyes still moist, said slowly, “I would have understood all this, I would have come to you, Lucien, I would, I really would. You were … my life.”

Jean’s light bluish-gray eyes filled with tears. He opened his mouth to reply but found he could not say a word, so choked was he.

Jessica, always so close to him, always so understanding of his thoughts and feelings, rose and walked across the room, her step firm. When she drew closer to him, Jean reached out to her.

As she came to a standstill in front of him, Jessica saw the tears on his cheeks, grief and sorrow in his eyes.

He was aware of no one else in the room but her. He took hold of her gently, brought her into his arms. She clung to him, rested her head against his chest, her own face wet with tears. And she forgot every other question she had meant to ask him. They no longer mattered.

Against the top of her head, he said in a low voice, “I thought I was doing the right thing. The best for you. Perhaps I was wrong.”

When she did not respond, Jean murmured, “Forgive me, Jessica.”

“I do,” she whispered against his chest. “I do forgive you, Lucien.” She blinked back fresh tears, endeavoring to compose herself. “I’ll always think of you as Lucien, remember you as him.”

“I know.”

There was a sudden rustling noise, the sound of running feet, and as the two of them drew apart, a small boy came hurtling into the library through the French windows. “
Papa! Papa! Je suis là
!” he cried, and then stopped when he saw that there were other people with his father.

Jean walked over to him, took hold of his hand, and led him over to Jessica. “This is my son … Lucien,” Jean told her, looking deeply into her eyes.

She gazed back at Jean, nodding, understanding. Then she hunkered down in front of the child, touched his soft, round baby cheek with one finger, and smiled at him. “
Bonjour. Je suis Jessica,
” she said.

The boy smiled back at her. “
Bonjour,
” he answered in his high child’s voice, his little pink face radiant with happiness and good health.

Swallowing her emotions, Jessica stood up, looked across at Alexa and the two men. “I think perhaps we should go,” she said to them, and turning to Jean, she added, “Thank you for explaining … everything.”

“And I believe you understand
everything.
”

“I do.”

Dropping his voice, he said, “So you are not married, Jessica.”

“No.”

He sighed, looked at her sadly. “I’m sorry.
C’est dommage
.”

“It’s all right.”

Jean escorted them out of the library, one hand on Jessica’s shoulder, the other holding his son’s hand as he crossed the stone hall to the front door. When they stepped out into the courtyard, he leaned into her, kissed her cheek.

“
Au revoir
, Jessica.
Bonne chance.
”

“Good-bye.”

He inclined his head.

She walked away from him, heading for the car. She heard the others taking their leave, hurrying after her. Jessica paused at the car; turning around, she looked back.

He stood where she had left him, near the door, holding the child’s hand. With the other he blew a kiss to her, and then waved. So did Lucien.

She blew kisses back and waved to them, then got into the car, her heart full.

————

NO ONE SPOKE
as they drove away from Montcresse.

Alexa held Jessica’s hand and looked at her several times. But once they had left the château behind, she finally asked, “Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine,” Jessica replied in a fading voice. Clearing her throat, she went on speaking softly. “Now that I know what happened to Lucien I can be at peace with myself. I have closure, as I always knew I would.”

“It was so sad,” Alexa said. “My heart went out to him.”

“I also felt sorry for him,” Alain murmured, turning to look at them. “What a pity the cancer has come back. But perhaps … Well, let us hope he will go into remission again.”

“I honestly think he truly believes he made the right choice. For you, Jessica. He thought he was protecting you,” Tom told her.

“I know he did. But he did my thinking for me. That’s not really fair.” Jessica let out a deep sigh. “All these years I have been in love with a memory. A memory of Lucien, a memory of my first love. But
he
is different now.
I
am different now. I just wish he had trusted me. Trusted our love enough to tell me the truth seven years ago, when all these terrible things were happening to him.”

“What would you have done?” Alexa ventured, looking at her intently.

“I would have gone to him immediately. There is no question in my mind about that,” Jessica asserted.

“And would it have worked, do you think?” Tom asked.

“I don’t know, I really don’t. But I am relieved I did finally see him again. Now I can move on at last.” But part of me will always love him, Jessica added to herself as she leaned back and closed her eyes. And part of me will always belong to him, as I know part of him belongs to me. He made that so very clear, just as he made it clear that he still loves me.

KAY SAT STARING AT HERSELF IN THE MIRROR, WONDERING
if she needed just a touch more blush. It seemed to her that her face was paler than usual, and she wanted to look her best tonight.

Leaning back in the small chair, she now scrutinized herself from a distance, her eyes narrowing slightly, her head held on one side. Picking up the brush, she delicately stroked her cheekbones with it, and finally, satisfied with the effect, she turned her attention to her hair. It fell around her face in a tumble of auburn waves and curls; she mussed it a little more with her hands, combed the front, and sprayed it lightly. “There, that’s the best I can do,” she said out loud, again peering at herself in the dressing table mirror.

“You look beautiful, Kay,” Ian said from behind her, placing a hand on her bare shoulder.

“Gosh, you surprised me!” she exclaimed, craning her neck to look up at him towering above her.

Smiling, he bent down, touched her cheek with his finger, then swiveled her shoulders so that she was again looking at herself in the mirror.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed.

“Why?”

“Just do as I say.”

“All right.”

Once her eyes were tightly shut, Ian reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a necklace. Very carefully, he placed this around Kay’s long, slender neck, fastened it, then said, “Now you can open your eyes.”

When Kay did so, she gasped in surprise and delight. Around her neck her husband had placed the most beautiful diamond and topaz necklace she had ever seen. Loops of diamonds formed a lacy bib, and set along the front in the loops of the diamonds were eight large topaz stones.

“Ian, it’s exquisite! I’ve never seen anything quite like it!” she exclaimed, gazing at him through the mirror. “Thank you, oh, thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it, darling. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it, in just the same way I fell in love with you. Immediately, to be precise.”

She laughed, and then her eyes widened as he handed her a small black velvet box.

“These will add the finishing touch,” he said.

Again she gasped as she lifted the lid. Lying on the black velvet were a pair of topaz earrings, each large stone encircled by diamonds. “Ian, how extravagant you’ve been,” she cried. “But they’re so beautiful. Darling, thank you.”

A wide smile spread across his face. He knew her happiness, excitement, and pleasure were genuine, and this gratified him. He wanted to please her, to let her know in every way possible how much he loved her. “Put them on,” he said.

“Right away, sir,” she answered, and clipped an earring on each ear, staring at herself. “They’re just … 
magnificent,
” she said.

“As is my beautiful wife.”

“Again, thank you, for the compliment and these beautiful pieces. But it’s not Christmas, nor is it my birthday.”

“It doesn’t have to be a special day for me to give you a present, does it?”

She laughed. “No. And you’re quite incorrigible.”

“I truly hope so.” He stroked her shoulder, then said, “Do you remember when I went into Edinburgh that Saturday in February? The day before Fiona’s birthday?”

“Yes, very well. You seemed a bit mysterious. Or maybe
vague
is a better word. Certainly you were rather close-mouthed when you came back.”

“I know. And actually I was mysterious. The reason being the necklace and earrings.”

“Oh!” she said, staring at him through the mirror.

“I’d asked old Barnes, the manager of Codrington’s, the jewelers, to keep his eyes open for a diamond necklace. Imagine my delight when he phoned to say he had a diamond and topaz necklace, very rare, very old, and would I like to see it.” Ian paused, touched a strand of her auburn hair. “You can’t imagine how those topaz stones match this,” he said, and continued. “I really went into Edinburgh to look at the necklace, although I did need to buy something for my sister.”

“And you’ve had those pieces all these months?”

He nodded. “Actually, Kay, I was going to give them to you for Christmas, but suddenly I realized that now would be as good a time as any. So I brought them with me on Thursday.”

She nodded and rose, went to him, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him firmly on the mouth. “You are the most unique and wonderful husband a girl could ever want.”

“Likewise, my pet.” As he spoke, he untied the belt of her robe, slipped it off her shoulders. It fell to the floor, a
pool of pale blue around her feet. He held her away from him, gazing at her. “Look at you, Kay. So beautiful.”

Slipping off his own robe, Ian brought her into his arms, held her tightly, kissing the hollow of her neck, and then her breasts. Lifting his head he looked deeply into her eyes and said, “Come to bed with me. I promise I won’t mess your face and hair.”

She laughed lightly. “As if I really care. I can do it all again.”

“We do have time,” he murmured as he drew her toward the bed. “We don’t have to meet Alexa and Tom until six forty-five.”

They lay down together, clasped in each other’s arms, their mouths meeting again. Kay let her tongue brush Ian’s lips and then she opened her mouth slightly, tasting him, their tongues meeting. His kisses became more passionate, more intense, and his hands roamed over her delicately, touching, stroking, exploring. Her long, tapering fingers went into his hair, and then moved down to stroke his back, his firm, muscular buttocks.

Kay felt him growing harder against her, and she rolled away from him, onto her back, and pulled him onto her. Pushing himself up on his hands, he looked down into her eyes and said softly, “I love you, Kay, with all my heart.”

“Oh, Ian, Ian,” she whispered, and she arched her body toward him. “I want you … I want to feel you inside me. Please, please.”

Leaning over her, he kissed her on her mouth slowly, lingeringly, and then he lay on top of her, pushed his hands under her buttocks, and brought her closer. He entered her swiftly, and she groaned; instantly the two of them fell into a rhythm they had made their own long ago. As she moved her body against him, breathing harder, clutching at his shoulders, he felt as though he were going to explode. A moment later, she spasmed convulsively,
and so did he, and they were carried along on a wave of rising passion, lost in their mutual ecstasy.

At last, when they lay still, their hard breathing slowing to normal, Ian raised himself up on an elbow, gazed down at her, moving a strand of hair away from her face. “Perhaps we just made that baby you want so badly,” he murmured, a half smile playing around his wide and generous mouth. “But if we haven’t, it doesn’t matter. You do understand that now, don’t you, darling?”

“Yes, I do.” She returned his smile. “And as Dr. Boujon told me, I have to relax, and we have to just keep on trying. And as he mentioned, there are always ways he can help.”

Ian laughed. “That won’t be necessary, I’m sure of that. Don’t forget, I’m a full-blooded Scotsman from the Highlands.”

————

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER
, Kay was sitting at the dressing table again, smoothing a makeup sponge across her face, adding a little powder and blush. As she outlined her mouth with a lip pencil, she thought about the last five days. Ian had arrived in Paris unexpectedly, responding to her invitation to join her for Anya’s birthday party tonight.