Conquering Sabrina (9 page)

“No, but I should have insisted you did.”

Sabrina parted her lips to retaliate, but Raoul effortlessly captured them with his mouth, silencing any further complaint she was about to make. His fingers raked through her hair, possessively tugging at her dark brown curls. Her palm pressed weakly against the tight unforgiving muscle, reminding her of how fragile and helpless she was in his hold. Slowly her resistance melted and her hand fell away. Raoul lowered her back onto the bed, cupping her covered breast in his hand.

“Monsieur Valoire, I need to speak to you urgently.” Francine’s worried voice and knock at the door made them both stop and look at each other with frustrated smouldering desire.

“What is it, Francine?” Raoul asked, making no effort to hide the impatience in his tone as he lifted off Sabrina.

She tried to sit up, but only found herself being lowered back down with firm hands. He rested his arm over her body to restrain any further attempt at escape, whilst he lovingly cradled her breast in his hand, flexing his thumb over its tip.

“There is an urgent message from…” the woman hesitated. “Yes, one of your business clients, its urgent, he’s arriving in Paris this evening and he needs to talk to you straight away.”

The confusion on Raoul’s face slowly dissolved into comprehension.

“All right, Francine. I will be down in a few minutes.”

Raoul closed his mouth over Sabrina’s once again, his probe of her mouth deep and uncompromising. She reached up for him, her arms around his neck bringing him down to take more of him inside. His touch on her body felt so right, so natural.

“I want you so much,” he whispered, grazing his teeth over her swollen bottom lip. “But I have to go; there is something important I must see to.”

“I won’t be long. I want to give you a tour of the chateau and show you your life here. Then I want to take you in to Paris for the rest of the day. Make sure you are not wearing any underwear. Remember my rules, Sabrina.”

Coyly she smiled and nodded.

He gave her one last aching kiss and stood, unable to tear his eyes away from her as she lay on the bed.

“By the way, I cancelled your lecture after we spoke to Dr Martine. I explained your situation and they will contact you about rescheduling it.,” he told her matter-of-factly without any emotion or even remorse.

“You did what? How dare you. Who gave you the right?” she demanded, sitting up.

“Until you are safe, I will not allow you to leave this house, Sabrina. My rules and my right to protect my wife. I am taking you back as my wife, Sabrina, if I have to drag you back kicking and screaming.”

Chapter Eight

Sabrina was already finding her way around the chateau when he caught up with her.

“I wanted you to wait for me.”

“Well, I didn’t want to wait.”

He looked hurt. She was glad; it served him right for his outburst before he left the room.

“What have you found out?”

“Nothing, really. I like cars, especially fast cars and apparently I am able to give you a run for your money on horseback. And according to Francine, I always wanted to stop being a solicitor and take a degree in history.”

“Really?” he grinned. “Fascinating.”

She smiled.

“Oh, and some rooms are familiar, especially the one in the West tower,” she grinned. “All apart from one you keep locked.”

“Your study, the room you were taken from. I don’t want you to be alone when you go in there.”

“How touching, but I can look after myself.”

“No, you can’t. You have more than proved that to me on many an occasion,” he informed her sternly.

“Don’t start again.” She didn’t want another argument.

He caught her arm.

“Come on, I will take you out for lunch in Paris. Get your coat.”

* * *

It was bitterly cold and Paris was shrouded in a light winter mist as they strolled hand in hand through the Tuileries Gardens. Sabrina stared up at the smaller version of the Arc De Triomphe, built in respect of Napoleon’s war victories. It was in perfect line with the obelisk in the centre of Place De La Concorde, the Arc De Triomphe and the Arc in the business quarter, all visible at the other end of the gardens. She remembered her love for the tidy formal order of Paris with its parallel streets and its beautiful stone architecture that was discernible from the Eiffel Tower. And the people, always wearing their designer clothes with such style and elegance, no matter what the age. She remembered the feeling of being very at home in Paris and never wanting to live anywhere else.

She was jerked from her thoughts as she felt Raoul’s thumb caress her knuckles. It was something she remembered he did to soothe any anxiety, anger, or fear he knew she was feeling. An intimate caress to remind her he was close by and she was safe. Every time he touched her, it was electric. And the way he looked at her with such yearning and a deep burning passion, it made her feel both excited and afraid. It was a potent cocktail that tempted her self-control.

“Why don’t we just spend the day in Paris and visit the places we usually do and see what you can remember? No pressure,” he suggested.

She agreed.

“I’ll tell the chauffeur to come and pick us up later.”

He moved away to return to the car parked outside the gardens and then suddenly stopped.

“You’ll wait for me?” he questioned, a surprising hint of fear in his tone.

“Yes, you know I will,” she told him quietly, feeling him pull hard on those strings he’d attached to her heart.

When he returned, he looked relieved to find her still standing there. There was no way she could leave him again. Try as she might to hold on to the illusion of identity her broken mind had created, it was slowly slipping away. The old Sabrina was returning day by day and she never wanted to be pulled from Raoul’s side again.

“I thought we could go for a drink first to warm up.”

His arm hung loosely around her waist to guide her out of the gardens and across the road crowded with manic French traffic. They stepped onto the covered archways of the Rue De Rivoli, glancing at the small boutiques and souvenir shops. There was a multitude of tourists all communicating in different languages and her own. They wound their way past a guide narrating the history of the famous street and slipped into a Salon De Giselle’s. Her memory was immediate. She had been in Giselle’s many a time. She remembered the crisp white tablecloths and the brown leather chairs. It bore old-style elegance that would not have been out of place in the nineteenth century.

She sat down, looking at her surroundings with excitement.

“I remember, Raoul. I remember being here.”

He smiled with affection.

“That’s good. Do you know what you usually have?”

She smiled nervously at the waiter who handed her a menu.

“Monsieur Valoire, I have not seen you here in an age. Not since Madame Valoire…” he stopped, eyeing Sabrina with confusion.

Raoul grinned.

“Yes, Jean-Paul. So that’s why I thought I would bring her back here.”

Jean-Paul raised his eyebrows at Raoul and then took another look at Sabrina.

“Madame Valoire?”

Sabrina looked nervously at Raoul and then nodded at the man.

“Yes, yes, I can see it now.”

He took her hand.

“Madame Valoire, it is so good to see you again. We all thought you were dead. What happened?”

Sabrina felt uncomfortable and Raoul was quick to the rescue.

“Madame Valoire lost her memory, Jean-Paul. We don’t know what happened yet. I can’t believe we found her again.”

The man kissed her on both cheeks in the traditional French style, giving Sabrina the impression that she must have known him well.

“Well, let us see if we can jog your memory. I will prepare my best…”

“Ah, Jean-Paul, do not tell her what she usually has in here. I am trying to get Sabrina to remember.”

The man smiled and handed her a menu.

“Of course, Monsieur Valoire.”

He chuckled.

“I am sure Madame will not have forgotten.”

He laughed and walked away and they could hear his hushed whisper as he told the other waiters.

Sabrina glanced at the menu and its contents, then put it down, dismayed. Raoul placed his hand over Sabrina’s that rested on the table.

“Relax, Sabrina. It is coming back slowly; we just have to be patient. One step at a time.”

She felt as though she was letting him down.

“What would I have normally?”

He made a quick scan of the menu.

“It’s a little different from what it used to be ten years ago. Ah, there it is. We would have breakfast here before as you so astutely put it, we ran amuck in the shops.”

Amuck was such an English word, one of her words. It was an inelegant word that his soft accent seemed to make sound almost poetic.

“But I don’t really like shopping that much.”

Raoul raised one dark eyebrow, making him look devilishly sexy. She tried to avoid making contact with his eyes, but he was there holding her own captive. She heard herself take a sharp intake of breath, deciding his eyes were mesmerising, beautiful, and haunting. She haunted them. She could see his memories of their life together reflecting back at her.

“Oh, yes, you do, Sabrina. It is your favourite pastime and you are relentless in its pursuit.”

He shook his head with amused disbelief. She watched him give the menu another closer look.

“Well, you didn’t have tea because you hate tea in France and any other European country. You always complain that it looks and tastes like dishwater.”

He laughed, watching the surprised recognition widening her eyes.

“It’s so bad that you have to have your brother send you teabags from England…”

His voice trailed off, realising the mistake.

“I have a brother?”

She asked the question with timidity. He looked uncomfortable, as though he’d said too much, too soon.

“Yes, he’s already on his way to France. He wanted to be here on Friday, but he is a doctor, a heart surgeon and couldn’t get away. He will arrive at the chateau later on. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to spend the day worrying about meeting him.”

Sabrina felt her eyes sting with tears.

“My parents?”

“They died when you were twelve in a car accident,” he told her gently. “Your brother was nineteen at the time and he looked after you. I’m so sorry, Sabrina.”

She swallowed hard and tried to blink her tears away. It was just like being a ghost in your own life. Raoul stroked her fingers with his thumb over the hand she rested on the table. But she snatched it away. He stared down at the bare table where they had been connected and sighed. Sabrina felt hurt and a little betrayed he had kept information from her. He didn’t remove his concerned eyes from her once, even when he ordered her usual of a cappuccino and a decadent butter croissant covered in sugar.

They visited the Louvre first. She slowly began to remember her way around the smooth display floors, and was able to follow its labyrinth appearance with its long halls and wide staircases. They’d toured the French and Italian paintings, discussing Caravaggio, Vermeer and Da Vinci. Then they ended up in the Denon Wing to view the erotically carved white marble sculptures. Sabrina had been able to recall her favourites, the Venus De Milo, Canova’s Psyche & Cupid & The Wings of Victory.

She discovered a love for French shopping that equalled no other. She wasn’t too keen on French food and was not impressed by the Continental way of eating that made her comment they were so close to the next table that they might as well be sitting on it. The Eiffel Tower was her favourite attraction, followed closely in line by Jardin des Tuileries, Place De La Concorde and the dazzling streams of traffic lights parading up and down the Champs-Elysees. In fact, everything was going well until they caught up with an old friend on the Champs Elysees as the winter darkness began to fall around them.

“Raoul, fancy seeing you here. Who is this gorgeous creature on your arm?”

It was an English voice, crisp, clear, and instantly recognisable. Sabrina turned round to find a beautiful woman hugging Raoul. She clung to his arm like a limpet. Raoul looked uncomfortable and removed her hand.

“Cressida. How nice to see you,” Raoul said with irritated sarcasm.

“Sabrina, is that you?” There was amazement in the voice and something else, fear.

“Yes, it is, Cressida. I found her again. Sabrina has lost her memory, but we are doing everything we can to get it back.”

Oh, I remember you, Ms Williams. Funny, that. How did I remember you so quickly?. Still hanging around my husband, I see.

There was a warning in Raoul’s words to the woman and Sabrina could help wondering if he was signalling for his lover to be on her guard.

“So the rumours were true. She doesn’t remember anything? What about you? Does she remember you, Raoul?”

“Raoul, please stop talking as if I’m not here. I do remember some things,” Sabrina said with a smile.

The woman suddenly looked nervous.

You should be. I am on to you both. I should have known Raoul was lying. Our marriage was all too good to be true.

“Cressida Williams, isn’t it? Yes, I remember. You were the architect who designed the luxury holiday village on the south coast for Raoul’s company. Yes, I’m beginning to remember a lot of things.”

She could almost hear Raoul and Cressida hold their breath. The two women locked eyes for a moment. Cressida’s beautiful pea-green eyes narrowed to a sharp point under the brim of her black winter fur hat as she caught Sabrina’s warning. Her peachy brown lips tightened, but she slowly relaxed them into a smile that widened as she turned to face Raoul, her back deliberately to Sabrina.

“Raoul, you must come and see me soon. It’s been a while.”

The woman possessively held his arm again and ran a finger down the front of his long black military-style coat.

“I miss you. You must come.”

It sounded like a pathetic plea to Sabrina and the invitation was obviously not extended to herself. She looked around at the throng of shoppers walking up and down the busy avenue trying not to bump into them. She could just escape now, forget Raoul, forget this humiliation and disappear again. There was obviously still something going on between them. She wondered if Cressida’s husband had found out just like herself. He obviously found it easy to ignore.