The Gift of Loving Read online

  THE GIFT OF

  LOVING

  Patricia Wilson

  Lucy didn't trust Guy an inch

  The Comte de Chauvrais was the rudest and most insensitive man she had ever met.

  What had possessed her Aunt Wanda to accept an invitation to stay at his chateau? And why was he so interested in them? The whole affair made Lucy nervous.

  Especially when Guy claimed love did not exist--that it was merely a respectable cover for desire. Suddenly Lucy was strangely afraid she'd never be able to escape from the trap he had set--and the desire he aroused in her....

  CHAPTER ONE

  'He's here, just as I predicted!' Wanda Balfour grasped Lucy's arm eagerly, her voice low but triumphant. 'Your first glimpse of a count, Lucinda. Get a good look at him. You'll be seeing a lot of him soon.'

  Lucy looked across the foyer at the man who had just come into the hotel, her face amused at her aunt's enthusiasm. Her heart sank like a stone at the sight of him. He looked coldly autocratic, exactly her idea of how a French aristocrat would look, and she hoped she would be seeing nothing of him at all, because he wasn't what she had expected. He wasn't old for a start.

  Tall and dark, his face composed, and just a trifle bored, he was coldly handsome. He looked utterly unapproachable and how her aunt expected to attract his attention Lucy didn't know, in fact she was sure it would be impossible. For the first time ever she had doubts about working for Wanda.

  'Ah! Monsieur le Comte. Your suite is ready of course. Your luggage has arrived.'

  The receptionist snapped to self-important attention but the count merely nodded, collecting his key and turning away. He moved as effortlessly and as powerfully as an athlete, his dark eyes scanning the foyer with very little interest, and Lucy still watched in fascination. It was a commanding face, calm, still, expressionless like the painting of some god who didn't quite see mortals.

  He looked across, the dark eyes meeting hers unexpectedly, and shock hit her deep inside, alarm bells ringing wildly. His eyes were brilliantly alive, sparkling like sunlight off jet, the same command in them that was in his face. The glittering glance swept over her, his

  black brows rising in aloof surprise, and she looked hastily away, fixing her eyes on the carpet, her face flooding with colour.

  Her heart was racing. At this rate she was going to upset all her aunt's plans. She only relaxed when she heard the sound of the lift doors closing and the quiet hum that announced its departure. One glance had unsettled her easygoing nature and her skin felt shivery.

  'He looked across at us, anyway. He noticed us at once,' Wanda Balfour said with an air of total satisfaction, glee edging her voice.

  'It's a very good beginning.'

  'He didn't look across at us pleasantly, Aunt Wanda,' Lucy pointed out quickly, astonished that her aunt had not seen the danger in that face. She could very well do without him looking at her again at any time. She felt as if something powerful had brushed against her. It was almost like having a narrow escape. 'He seemed to be quite annoyed.'

  'Of course he wasn't, Lucinda! You don't understand these people.

  You have to realise that they're not like anyone else. Take the count for example. His ancestors were nobility in France in the days of Joan of Arc. By the time of the revolution they were one of the most powerful families in the country. Their history will be fascinating!'

  'Are you sure he'll want to -?' Lucy began hopefully, but her aunt silenced her with a wave of the hand.

  'He'll be delighted to have his family in one of my books. They always are delighted. As soon as he knows who I am he'll change.

  You'll see.'

  Lucy lapsed into an embarrassed, guilty silence. She had read one of her aunt's books and had been astonished that it had ever been published. Maybe her aunt had enthused at the publisher as she enthused at everyone else? Wanda Balfour was utterly engrossed by

  the idea of nobility, especially French nobility, and she had written several books on the descendants of the families who had survived the French Revolution, providing that they still had their chateaux and land intact. Aunt Wanda loved staying with them and gloating over their treasures as if they were her own. Lucy supposed it was some sort of obsession.

  She also felt guilty about her private thoughts. Coming to France with her aunt was a real thrill, the chance of a lifetime. Now that she had seen her aunt's next subject, though, the thrill was edged with deep unease, almost fear, as if she were on the verge of some abyss.

  'I'll give him a day and then we'll approach him,' Wanda said comfortably, getting ready to move.

  'We? I... I can't... You don't expect me...? I wouldn't know what to say! I...'

  'Don't act like a frightened mouse!' Her aunt's amused glance moved over her. 'You even look like a frightened mouse. You're not in that dingy office now and you're not at your mother's beck and call.

  You're working for me and we move in style!'

  Wanda Balfour stood and made her way to the door, leaving Lucy with no alternative but to follow, although the busy, colourful streets of Paris gave her less enjoyment than they had done earlier. They were certainly moving in style, staying at the hotel that housed the Comte de Chauvrais! It must be costing her aunt a small fortune.

  Lucy's creamy brow furrowed as she hurried after Wanda. Maybe the books did better than she had imagined? Her aunt didn't seem to have a care in the world. It was that bright self-assurance that had finally made Lucy decide to give up her safe little job and agree to work for Wanda as companion and secretary. It had seemed like a huge step into the future, a chance to live at last.

  She had given that same job up twice actually, once to look after her mother for three painful years and now again to go with her aunt.

  After her mother had died there had been a vacancy again at her old place of work, a small estate agent's office in the country town she had lived close to all her life. There was no money in her family and even the life assurance premiums had not been paid. The manager had been sympathetic, taking her back into her old job, and he had not been best pleased when she left again after such a short time. It had been a chance to really live though, coming with her aunt. It had seemed glamorous. In fact it had seemed glamorous until she had seen the count. Now she wasn't at all sure.

  She caught a glimpse of herself in a shop window and grimaced.

  She looked uninteresting, almost drab. She was twenty-three, her figure too slim, her legs too slender. Her hair was long and straight, not quite brown and not quite blonde—nondescript! Her face was a perfect oval but too pale now after the years of hard work and anxiety over her mother, making her dark blue eyes look over- large in her face.

  Mouse! It was a good description. Even her brown suit enhanced that appearance. The skirt was too short and she felt very self-conscious, not that anyone spared her more than a glance. She would have liked to buy a longer skirt, one that covered more of her legs. Aunt Wanda was doing everything else for her, though, and there would be no pay for this work until the whole project was finished. She was to get her keep and nothing more until then. It was what she had agreed to with some eagerness and she couldn't very well ask for money for clothes now.

  She knew her aunt didn't really need a companion. It was true that Lucy could type well, but she had no certificates to prove it. Wanda was just being kind, giving her a chance to see something of life.

  She hurried after her aunt and smiled brightly. Until today she had been thrilled. She was not about to let an arrogant-looking

  Frenchman unsettle her. Her aunt's amused glance told her that Wanda had noted that she had 'come to her senses' and she squashed all rebellion and fear. Aunt Wanda had rescued her from a drab existence. What was she wor
rying about?

  Her aunt intrigued her, and how she knew where her latest subject would be at any given time was a mystery that Lucy had not solved.

  'It's worth the expenditure,' Wanda had confided comfortably. 'After all, I have very little outlay for my work. Once my subject is interested I move in with them to have the use of their library and so on, and after that it's just the cost of the paper.'

  It was a wonderfully blithe way of going about things and Lucy hoped she was going to earn her keep. She had spent too many years looking after other people to have had any time for real training.

  'Let's get you a new dress for dinner tonight,' Wanda said in her usual determined manner, firmly squashing Lucy's anxious protests.

  'You've got to look the part, my dear.'

  What part? Maybe it was simply not to disgrace Wanda with her very ordinary clothes? Her aunt dressed expensively, though a trifle colourfully. Lucy submitted and when they went back to the hotel she had a straight blue dress that picked up the colour of her eyes. It was not at all glamorous but it was the most expensive dress she had ever possessed.

  At dinner, the count was not there, much to Wanda's annoyance and Lucy's great relief. At the back of her mind she could still see the aloof displeasure on his face when he had caught her looking at him.

  She had known all about how her aunt worked but she had envisaged some old man, some elderly aristocrat engrossed in his books and as enthusiastic as her aunt, someone who would look at her with vague and kindly eyes. The Comte de Chauvrais had eyes

  that glittered like black ice. Kindness looked very alien to him. She sincerely hoped that this time her aunt's plans would come unstuck.

  There were other aristocrats with other books.

  Next morning Lucy went along to her aunt's room before breakfast, determined to do any jobs that presented themselves. If she didn't begin to work in a sort of professional manner then her conscience was going to get the better of her. This was not a holiday. She was supposed to be assisting her aunt. Instead she was busy wishing disaster on well-laid plans.

  'Go down and see if there's any mail for me at Reception, Lucinda,'

  her aunt asked as soon as she saw her.

  Wanda was not ready to eat and Lucy went down in the lift feeling a little more light-hearted, a good night's sleep having vanquished dark, glittering eyes. There were several letters and Lucy decided to walk back up the two flights of stairs; it would delay her arrival and mean she was not simply hanging around waiting as her aunt was nowhere near ready.

  At the top of the last flight she swung round the corner a little too briskly, bumping headlong into a man who was just coming in the opposite direction. Her impetus almost knocked her off balance and the letters flew from her hand as she staggered.

  Strong hands steadied her, holding her fast, and she found herself looking up into the dark eyes of the man who had quite scared her yesterday, as the Comte de Chauvrais held her shoulders and looked down at her with the same aloof surprise he had shown before.

  'Oh! I—I'm sorry...'

  'Ca ne fait rien, mademoiselle,' he murmured coolly, looking as if it mattered a great deal, and Lucy went on staring up at him until the black eyebrows rose yet again and her face flushed painfully.

  'Th-thank you,' she managed breathlessly, as he relaxed his hold. He scooped up the letters before she had the chance to move and handed them to her courteously but her blushes deepened as he stared into her eyes.

  'Thank you.' There wasn't a lot more she could say, and close up he was having a very alarming influence on her. He had almost robbed her of the ability to speak, for one thing. She was aware of the leashed-in power of the body so close to her as if danger was all around her.

  'My pleasure, mademoiselle.'' The sardonic voice dropped easily into English. 'Perhaps in future I will take the lift. Stairs appear to present a certain amount of hazard.'

  Lucy was glad he couldn't see her as he went down the stairs. She was still embarrassed and strangely breathless, but his sardonic tone was so much at one with his appearance that she felt a wave of unaccustomed annoyance.

  She had long ago learned to keep control of what was a quite fiery temper. It had been utterly useless with the vague ways of her parents, but this man was irritating, all the more so when she knew it would not be long before her aunt pounced on him and caused even further embarrassment. He would simply look at them coldly and walk away. She found that she was leaning against the wall, her hand to her throat. She had to shake her head to fully recover.

  Wanda was ready, well made-up and slightly exotic- looking in a flowered dress, by the time Lucy got back to the bedroom and they went down to have breakfast. Lucy was in one of her skirts and a very plain sweater, at least looking the part of companion and secretary. If she kept on looking like that then this affair would have very little to do with her; he would stare into her aunt's eyes instead.

  The thought gave her a great deal of comfort and she composed her face accordingly, carefully walking just one step behind her aunt.

  He was in the dining-room! Lucy saw him immediately and her heart sank as Wanda walked right over towards him, only turning at the last minute to go to their own table, deliberately seeking his attention.

  He looked up and Wanda beamed at him graciously.

  'Bonjour, monsieur,' she murmured, and it obviously took him by surprise but he half rose and bowed slightly.

  'Madame.' H e did not extend the greeting to Lucy but his eyes slid over her sceptically before his glance flashed to hers. It was only for a second but she felt flustered as if he had taken an instant inventory of her clothes and appearance. They did not interest him at all. He ignored everyone and continued to eat, and as her aunt had manoeuvred them so close it was not possible for her to congratulate herself aloud. She did that as the count left the dining-room.

  'Stage two completed,' she announced smugly. 'Perhaps tonight at dinner...'

  Lucy hoped not. She spent the rest of the day just thinking about it and almost drowning in imagined embarrassment. Her aunt must be quite mad, after all. It was very obvious that the count would know at once what she was after. Those dark, ironic eyes were rather frighteningly intelligent. That quick glance had been probing and alert. She shuddered when she wondered what he would say.

  He seemed to be playing right into Wanda's hands, though, because when dinnertime came and Lucy was once more in the straight blue dress, walking into the very opulent cocktail bar with her aunt, the count was there already, right by the door, just waiting to be captured, and Wanda was not slow to act.

  'Bonsoir, monsieur.' This time the rather sardonic face relaxed into a sort of half-smile.

  'Good evening, madame. We appear to have met again.'

  Lucy looked at him closely from beneath her lashes but his face gave no clue to his state of mind and her aunt pounced rapidly.

  'You speak English? How very nice. I do speak French but it's most kind of you to reply in my own language, though how you knew...'

  'It is a certain something in the accent, madame. In any case, I take every opportunity to practise my English. I would be grateful for the chance to practise it now. You will allow me to buy you a drink?'

  Wanda most certainly would, and the dark eyes then turned on Lucy.

  'Mademoiselle?'

  She just stared at him, utterly tongue-tied, quite out of her league.

  She saw a glitter of amusement start in the dark eyes and Wanda interrupted this rather dazed interlude briskly.

  'My niece will take a small sherry, monsieur. This is her first time abroad.'

  One black eyebrow rose slightly, although he nodded pleasantly enough, but as he turned away to give his order, Lucy didn't miss the slight, disdainful smile that edged his lips. She wondered if the ground ever did open up and swallow people? She wished it would perform that service for her now.

  He couldn't have been as intelligent as he looked because he invited them to his table for dinner and ta
lked quite easily with her aunt. If Wanda noticed that his eyes frequently strayed rather disparagingly

  to her niece then she never commented. She was too busy talking to bring Lucy into the conversation and Lucy was heartily glad of it.

  She felt like a servant who had been asked to dine with nobility. She spent so much time avoiding the dark eyes that flashed constantly to hers that she hardly tasted anything.

  She heard when her aunt began to reel off her literary achievements though, quoting widely from her anecdotes of the French aristocracy pre-revolution, and Lucy could hardly believe her ears when he walked right into that too.

  'My own family is not without history, madame,' he informed her quietly. 'We are one of the oldest noble families in France.'

  'I most certainly beg your pardon.' Wanda's face was delightfully confused, a masterpiece of acting. 'I've been so busy talking about myself, monsieur, that I never even thought of making a correct introduction. I'm Wanda Balfour and this is my niece Lucinda.'

  'Guy Chabrol, madame, Comte de Chauvrais, although it is a title I rarely use. It is now quite worthless.'

  'Oh, surely not, monsieur! It's one of the most famous names in France. Your past must be absolutely bursting with fascinating history.'

  Having walked right into it, he kept on coming.

  'If it interests you, madame, I would be honoured to allow you to search my family records. I have a large and fascinating library in my chateau. Many of the books have not been touched since my grandfather's time. You are welcome to use them.'

  'You're so kind!' Wanda gushed, her enthusiasm like a tidal wave. 'Is the chateau close to Paris?'

  'No. I'm afraid not. It is bordering on the Loire.'

  'Oh. How disappointing. It would be an impossibility to travel there from here and really work.' Wanda's face was a picture of disappointment and Lucy was stunned into reluctant admiration at the way her aunt had let this arrogant Frenchman walk into the trap.

  What really puzzled her was that he had just waded right in there.