Abby Green - Bought for the Frenchman's Pleasure by Bought for the Frenchman's Pleasure

Author:Bought for the Frenchman's Pleasure
Language: eng
Format: epub

She looked at him. ‘How…?’

‘He mentioned something at the start about knowing you from years ago. I put two and two together.’

She nodded. ‘Christian was his friend.’

‘Was Christian your lover?’ he asked sharply.

Her sense of danger skyrocketed.

How can I say I’m not sure…? Sorcha thought crazily to herself. She gave a brief, abrupt shake of the head. ‘No. I had a crush…it was all quite innocent…’

He seemed satisfied with that, and Sorcha prayed he’d move away from such dangerous waters.

‘Is that why you did the psychology degree? So you could work at the centre?’ He shook his own head. ‘I only realised when you told me about it that you wouldn’t have had time to come home for any real length of time…again, I’m sorry Sorcha…’

CHAPTER TEN

SORCHA struggled to stay calm, but she felt like she wanted to get up and run—hide, go away. With every word he was saying he was getting closer, digging deeper, and soon he’d reach the very centre of everything, the place were her desire threatened to bubble out of control.

She pulled her hand back and racked her brain for some way to take the intense spotlight off her.

‘And what about you? What are your secrets, Romain?’ Her voice felt very brittle, like her control. ‘How come you’re not married?’

Where had that come from?

Romain sat back. At least she’d had the desired effect. His eyes narrowed on hers.

‘I was engaged once, actually…’

‘You were?’ Sorcha’s treacherous heart fell.

He nodded briefly, curtly. ‘Yes. A long time ago. I was eighteen.’ His mouth twisted cynically. ‘She was my first true love. But one day I walked into her bedroom and caught her in bed with my older half-brother.’

The words were said without a hint of emotion, but Sorcha could intuit the pain. God only knew, she’d become so adept at hiding her own innermost emotions that she could see it a mile away in someone else. But she knew he wouldn’t welcome sympathy.

One big shoulder shrugged with apparent insouciance. ‘She’d found out that he stood to inherit the title of Duc. While I too have inherited a title, it’s that of mere Comte. He was older, richer, more experienced—and he also stood to inherit the family château.’

He felt familiar satisfaction rush through him when he thought of how he’d bought back that château just a couple of years before. His brother had come to him, begging for aid. And yet, even though it had been a moment he’d waited for a long time, the satisfaction, while still there, hadn’t tasted as sweet as he’d thought it would. He’d somewhere along the way lost that all-consuming desire to get back at the brother who had made his life a complete misery from when he was a small child.

‘I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to bring up something so—’

Before she could say painful, and put a word to his feelings, Romain laughed harshly. ‘It was a long time ago. She was dead to me a long time ago, and since then—’ he made a very Gallic facial expression ‘—I haven’t had the inclination to repeat the experience.

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