An Eligible Stranger Page 7

  "You're talking about a normal couple. Nothing about our relationship fits that description."

  "Do you want it to, Nicole?" he asked softly.

  "Certainly not! No more than you do." She turned her back and started putting pins at random into the soft fabric.

  Her body stiffened as she sensed him moving closer, but she didn't turn around. She didn't see the look on his face or the hand lifted to touch her hair. After a moment, Philippe's hand dropped to his side and he said casually, "I'll see you tonight, then, if you're sure you don't want to go with me."

  The dress Nicole had designed for their reception was everything she'd hoped it would be—simple, yet elegant. The long gown was cut on the bias, so it flowed smoothly over her body. The spaghetti straps left her shoulders almost bare, and the cowl neckline was provocative without being plunging.

  She spent a lot of time on her makeup that night, applying blush and lip gloss so artfully that they looked natural. Her hairdo was simple, yet glamorous. She brushed her blond hair until it gleamed like a length of satin, then let it float long and straight around her shoulders. When she was finished, Nicole was satisfied that at least she looked the part of a wealthy man's wife.

  Although she had confidence in her appearance, Nicole was slightly nervous about meeting Philippe's friends. Would they accept the reason for their whirlwind marriage?—that they'd fallen in love almost instantly. It was going to make their playacting that much harder.

  Philippe's reaction was more than satisfactory. "You look sensational!" The flash of desire in his eyes told her he wasn't merely being polite. "I can't believe you made that gown yourself."

  "I told you I was talented. You thought I was going to disgrace you tonight," she teased.

  He took her hand and brought it to his lips. "You would be an asset, chérie, no matter what you had on."

  To hide her pleasure, she asked jokingly, "Are you rehearsing your part as the ardent bridegroom?"

  "Everything I say isn't calculated," he chided. "I wonder if you'll ever trust me."

  "I could say the same about you. We're not your average bride and groom."

  "If I ever start to forget, I can always count on you to remind me," Philippe answered dryly. "The guests should be arriving at any moment, so you'd better put this on." He handed her a blue velvet jeweler's box.

  Inside was a large, square-cut emerald ring. It was so magnificent that she gasped. The flawless green stone was surrounded by flashing diamonds that enhanced its brilliance.

  "It's gorgeous, Philippe, but surely you didn't have to make such an extravagant gesture. This must have cost a fortune!"

  His mouth twisted sardonically. "I wanted to be sure my devotion looks convincing, at least."

  Why did tension always spring up between them? Nicole wondered despairingly. Philippe's admiration had seemed genuine, but a few moments later there was veiled hostility between them. What did he want from her?

  When the guests started to arrive, Nicole was too busy to worry about her relationship with Philippe. She met so many people that she finally gave up trying to remember all of their names.

  As expected, his friends looked her over covertly, trying to see what special something had attracted the most eligible, yet elusive, bachelor in their group.

  They asked endless questions, as well. Not only about how they met, but also what future plans they'd made.

  "Where are you going on your honeymoon?" Marie Dupuis asked. She and her husband Georges were the couple from Chez Martine.

  Nicole let Philippe field the question since it was one they hadn't anticipated.

  He put his arm around her waist, saying, "We haven't decided where we want to go yet. We've been too busy getting to know each other."

  "I can't think of a better place than on a honeymoon. Ours was so romantic. We went to Tahiti." A woman named Claire sighed happily.

  "Nicole and I don't have to go anywhere to find romance." Philippe tipped her chin up and looked at her adoringly.

  Her body tensed in spite of her effort to look relaxed. Nicole was tinglingly aware of his caressing fingers on her skin and his muscular thigh pressing against hers. Philippe was an awesome actor. She could almost imagine—like his audience—that they spent their nights making passionate love, their nude bodies glistening in the moonlight as they moved erotically against each other.

  "That's so poetic." Marie turned to her husband. "Why don't you ever say lovely things like that to me?"

  "They're newlyweds," he answered. "Wait until they've been married for a few years. They'll settle down like the rest of us."

  "You're wrong, Georges," Philippe said softly. "The magic between us will only grow, won't it, my angel?"

  "Yes," Nicole murmured, mesmerized by his throaty voice and the desire in his eyes.

  They stared at each other, oblivious to the people around them.

  The spell was broken when one of the men complained, "You're making life difficult for the rest of us, Philippe."

  "Or perhaps I've given you an incentive to put romance back in your marriages," he answered lightly. As he led Nicole to the next group of guests, he said, "I believe I handled that rather well, don't you?"

  "I thought you overdid it," she replied coolly, pulling her hand away from his. "You sounded like a lovesick schoolboy."

  "That's the way love is supposed to make you feel. But I was talking about the way I deflected questions about our honeymoon. You have to admit that was masterfully done."

  "I thought my performance was better," she said, ignoring the fact that her response hadn't been faked. "Don't I deserve some credit, too?"

  "You should have been an actress. You almost fooled me," he said mockingly. He took her hand again as they were joined by other guests.

  Philippe was charming to everyone, but his face lit up when he spotted a late arrival, a stunning redhead. She had on a green satin gown and a spectacular emerald-and-diamond necklace. Claudine Duval, without a doubt.

  "There's Claudine. Come, I want you to meet her." Philippe led Nicole across the room. After introducing the two women, he said to the redhead, "You're more than fashionably late. I was afraid you weren't coming."

  She kissed him on both cheeks. "How could I pass up an opportunity to meet the woman who finally tamed the wild stallion, chérie?"

  "That's scarcely an apt description," he protested.

  "Who knows you better than me?" She grinned mischievously. Turning to Nicole, she said frankly, "I suppose you realize everyone is wildly curious about you."

  "Yes, I guess I should have prepared a resume," Nicole said, trying for a light tone.

  The woman had made her relationship with Philippe crystal clear. Was her frankness a warning that she didn't intend to call off the affair? That seemed rather tacky. Not that she cared, Nicole assured herself. But she had hoped the two of them would at least be discreet.

  "As an American, do you think you'll like living in France?" Claudine asked.

  "I'd prefer to live in San Francisco, but Philippe is very persuasive." Nicole slanted a glance at him, which he ignored.

  "I told Nicole you'd help her with all the things I can't," he said to Claudine. "Like where to have her hair done, things like that."

  "I'd be happy to. I'll also take you to a little shop I discovered that carries stunning clothes when you need something right away," she said to Nicole. "Couturiers always require so many fittings."

  Nicole was surprised when Philippe said, "That's one thing she doesn't need. Nicole has golden fingers. She made the gown she's wearing tonight."

  "He's joking, isn't he?" Claudine looked her over appraisingly. "That gown is positively stunning! I can't believe you made it."

  Some women standing nearby heard her and joined in the inspection. The comments Were all favorable, but so was the disbelief.

  "I'll bet you just told Philippe it was your own creation so he wouldn't know how much you paid for it," a woman named Simone joked.

&
nbsp; Philippe put his arm around Nicole. "We don't have any secrets from each other," he said suavely. "Our marriage is based on trust, is that not so, chérie?"

  "And a lot of faith," she replied ironically.

  Claudine was watching them with narrowed eyes, but the other women were more interested in Nicole's gown. As they asked questions about how she learned to sew so divinely and was it her original design and so forth, Philippe and Claudine moved away unobtrusively.

  Nicole managed to answer their questions while watching the other couple obliquely. They didn't leave the drawing room, but their absorption in each other made it clear that they didn't welcome company. Claudine was talking earnestly to Philippe, and it looked to Nicole as though he was reassuring her of something.

  That his marriage wouldn't affect their relationship? Nicole was coldly angry. Not that she really cared, but Philippe might have had the decency to keep up appearances at their wedding reception!

  When an attractive man joined the group around her and expressed his obvious admiration, she was more receptive than she might have been. His name was François Clermont and he said he was an old friend of Philippe's.

  After a few moments, he deftly drew her away from the others and over to the tall French windows where they could be alone.

  "We were all amazed to hear Philippe had finally married, but after seeing you, I find it understandable," François said gallantly. "I only wish I had met you first."

  "I think Claudine wishes you had, too," Nicole answered lightly. "She and Philippe seem to have a close rapport."

  "They've always had a special kind of friendship, but his marriage needn't change that."

  Nicole smiled brightly. "I guess I have a lot to learn about the French."

  His expression changed. "I'll be glad to teach you anything you want to know," he murmured.

  Philippe materialized at her side. He was smiling, but his eyes were cool. "Whatever François is telling you, don't believe him."

  "I was just trying to make your lovely bride feel welcome," François said.

  "And I certainly appreciate it," Nicole said warmly for Philippe's benefit.

  "If you'll excuse us, I want to talk to my wife," he told the other man, taking her arm in a firm grasp. When they were out of earshot, Philippe said in an annoyed tone, "This is scarcely the proper time to flirt with François. We're supposed to be acting like a happily married couple."

  "Is that what you were doing when you went off in a corner for a private chat with your girlfriend?"

  "It's not the same thing. I told you Claudine is an old friend."

  "It's exactly the same thing, except François is a new friend."

  Philippe's jaw set grimly, but before he could explode, Paul coughed discreetly. The butler had been hovering in the background, waiting to announce that the buffet supper was ready.

  Nicole and Philippe didn't have a chance to talk privately until the party was over. By then, he'd forgotten his annoyance with her. "I think the evening went well," he said after the last guests had departed. "We were quite convincing, don't you think?"

  "I suppose so."

  "I tried to do my part," he said mischievously.

  "Except for one noticeable lapse."

  Philippe's laughter faded. "I had hoped you and Claudine would be friends."

  "I'm willing to overlook your affair, but asking me to be friends with her is a little too much to ask," Nicole said tartly.

  "You're starting to sound remarkably like a wife."

  "I'm willing to call it off any time you are."

  After a look at her stormy blue eyes, Philippe became conciliatory. "You're tired, chérie," he said in a honeyed voice. "Meeting so many strangers all at once is an ordeal. But everything will be easier from now on, I promise." He lifted her hand to his lips. "Get a good night's rest, my dear."

  Nicole was tired, but she couldn't fall asleep. Why did it bother her that Philippe intended to continue his affair with Claudine? She couldn't expect a man as virile as he was to remain celibate. What difference did it make whom he slept with?

  But it did matter. What she'd experienced when she saw them together felt frighteningly like jealousy. But that couldn't be! She wasn't in love with Philippe.

  Nicole sighed and wedged the pillow under her cheek. She was just being a dog in the manger. She didn't want Philippe but she didn't want anyone else to have him. That explanation should have satisfied her, but it didn't.

  Chapter Six

  Nicole was dazzled by her first glimpse of Philippe's country estate. The imposing chateau looked like a castle set in the middle of velvety green lawns bordered by a forest in the distance.

  As soon as Max stopped the limo in front of the massive double front doors of the house, two large dogs dashed up to greet them, wagging their tails frantically.

  "Do they live here?" Robbie asked Philippe excitedly. "Are they yours?"

  Philippe nodded and said, "They're yours now, too."

  Robbie gave him an ecstatic look and fumbled impatiently with the car door.

  A tall, rangy man had followed the dogs. He was accompanied by a small boy about Robbie's age. Philippe introduced the man as Maurice, the grounds-keeper, and the child as his son, Jules.

  While Maurice was offering his best wishes for their marriage the two little boys were silently sizing each other up. They seemed to come to a favorable conclusion because Jules offered to show Robbie a litter of puppies down by the servants' quarters.

  "Can I go see them, Aunt Nicky?" Robbie asked eagerly. "Please, please!"

  "I'll look after the young master," Maurice offered.

  When Nicole gave her consent, the two little boys took off across the lawn with the dogs frolicking and barking around them.

  "That's the happiest I've ever seen him," Philippe remarked wryly as he and Nicole walked toward the house.

  "He's usually like that. I think he'll be a lot more content here, now that he has somebody to play with."

  When they went inside, the entire staff was lined up in the huge entry hall to greet the new mistress of the house. Since the chateau was the size of a modest hotel, it took a small army to run the place. Besides Paul and Heloise, who had driven down in another car, there were innumerable maids and a sprinkling of young men whose duties Nicole couldn't even imagine.

  Philippe laughed at the dazed look on her face as he led her upstairs after the introductions. "Don't worry. You'll learn all their names in time."

  "I hope so, but my experience in dealing with a staff is limited. At home, I'm the household help."

  "This is your home now, and you won't have to lift a finger."

  Philippe's satisfied smile disturbed her somehow. He could afford anything he wanted. Had he bought her, as well?

  Nicole's troubling thoughts were driven from her mind when Philippe showed her the master suite. The king-size bed seemed dwarfed by the huge room, which also had a couch and several comfortable chairs in front of a fireplace at one end.

  It was an unmistakably masculine room. The dark-blue bedspread and the heavy drapes looped back from the tall French windows were tailored, and there were no knickknacks scattered around on tables, only books and a few photographs in silver frames.

  One was of Raymond and another was of Claudine, Nicole noticed. She wondered acidly if he intended to put it in a drawer, now that he was technically a married man.

  "This is very nice. You can tell it's a man's room."

  "The color scheme doesn't suit you?" His expression was innocent, but his gray eyes danced impishly. "Feel free to redecorate any way you like."

  "You know perfectly well that I don't intend to share this room with you."

  "Women have been known to change their minds," he teased.

  She ignored his remark, frowning. "We have a bit of a problem. What are the servants going to think when we don't share the same bedroom?"

  "They're not likely to question me about it. If we keep up our devoted-newlywed act
, they'll simply assume that one of us snores."

  "I suppose I'll have to be the culprit since I doubt if any of your other companions complained." Before he could comment, she asked, "Where is my room?"

  "Right through here." He opened a connecting door into another equally elegant suite.

  Nicole didn't notice immediately. She was too focused on the implications of the unlocked door.

  Philippe was aware of her reservations. "There's a limit to what you can expect the servants to swallow. Many couples have separate bedrooms for one reason or another, but they don't put padlocks on the doors. I can assure you that I have no intention of creeping into your bed in the middle of the night to ravish you. An unwilling woman holds no charm for me."

  Nicole felt extremely foolish. A man like Philippe wouldn't have to use force—or even much persuasion. "That never even crossed my mind," she lied, turning hurriedly to survey the room. "This is charming!"

  That, at least, was true. The furniture in the light and airy bedroom was more delicate than Philippe's solid pieces. It was upholstered in pastel prints with lots of throw pillows. And instead of heavy drapes, sheer lace curtains billowed in the breeze from French doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking a beautiful garden.

  "I hope you'll be comfortable here. Your bath and dressing room are through there." He indicated a door on the opposite wall. "I told Paul to have the suite prepared for you. He's pretty efficient, but if you need anything, just tell either of us."

  "I can't imagine what else I could need."

  "Well, I'll let you get unpacked."

  Nicole didn't have that much to unpack, so she explored her quarters instead. The dressing room was as large as a small bedroom. It had endless drawers and shelves, as well as hanging space for every kind of garment, and a shoe rack that had space for more shoes than she'd ever owned.

  But the piece de resistance was the bathroom. In the center was a sunken marble tub with faucet handles made of rose quartz. There was also a shower with clear glass panels. One long wall of the room was mirrored, reflecting the incredible luxury.