Dark Blue: Study in Seduction, Book 1 (20 page)

“No offence taken,” said Carla, not sure whether she was offended or not.

 
Suddenly, Mme. Lemaitre’s face lit up. “Ah, there is Alex’s cousin, Gaby. I know she is very eager to meet Alex’s new
petite amie
.”

In the kitchen, Alex was panicking for the second time in a day. That was twice since he’d driven through the gates of La Bastide. On his way to fetch the wine, he’d spotted his mother leading Carla to the edge of the terrace, where a young woman carrying a huge bunch of lilies had just arrived.

Merde
. Gaby. He’d had no idea she was invited. He didn’t even know she was back in France, let alone in the vicinity of La Bastide. His mother hadn’t dropped so much as a hint of it in her telephone conversations. Now Carla had his mother and Gaby to contend with.

As he pulled a bottle from the rack, he found himself uttering a little prayer that Gaby would keep her mouth shut, at least until he’d had chance to talk to Carla. Jesus, he would have to talk to her now, just in case Gaby decided to go all confessional.

But why would she? It had been years since it had happened, and Gaby was a different person, like he was, on the outside at least.
Merde
. Gaby would never change, not deep down. Alex ought to admit it.

He took a deep breath and strode back to the party.

“Come over here and say hello to Gaby, Alex.”

He fixed a smile on his face, deposited the wine on the table and headed over to his mother, Carla and Gaby. The customary double kiss on each cheek was exchanged.

“
Bonsoir
, Alex. Are you surprised to see me?” Gaby’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he kissed her. She’d had her long red hair chopped into a gamine crop since he last saw her, and she looked like she’d lost even more weight. A ripple of unease ran through him, but he didn’t say anything.

“Yes. I am. My mother didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Gaby sniggered. “I asked her not to. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

His mother sniffed the lilies. “I knew he would love to see you, Gaby. Now, Alex, these lilies are beautiful,
n’est-ce pas
?”

“Very.”

Carla inhaled. “They smell wonderful too.”

“Yes, they do.” Gaby turned to Alex. “Your mother has just introduced me to Carla. Now that was a
grande surprise
to me.”

Carla, glass in hand, was hiding her unease well. Alex’s heart gave a little lift. She must feel like she’d landed on another planet, even though she looked comfortable on the surface. It must be all the practise of hiding her feelings from her own family, the years of pretending that Stephen had been the saint they wanted him to be. And to think he’d told her not to lie and to tell her own family the truth so she didn’t bear that burden alone.

What a hypocrite he was.

Carla smiled politely. “It’s such a treat to meet so many of Alex’s family and friends.”

“I count myself as both,” said Gaby. “I’m sure Alex has told you all about me.”

Alex’s admiration for Carla ramped up to a new level as she parried this statement without missing a beat. “It’s so much better meeting you in person,” she said.

“I will take the lilies into the house,” said his mother, “while you three catch up.”

Soon dinner was served. Gaby must have been keen to practise her English, because she bombarded Carla with questions almost nonstop. Carla could see Alex watching her closely all through it, but he showed no sign of being annoyed with his cousin for monopolising Carla. The food was delicious and beautifully presented by the Lemaitres’ cook-cum-housekeeper, but Carla toyed with her foie gras and only managed one of the escargots with garlic butter.

Gaby pointed at her with a fork, a hurt expression on her elfin features. “You don’t like the snails? The English always are horrified. Really, you should try them.” She pulled one from its shell and popped it whole into her mouth. Carla felt slightly nauseated.

“I hardly blame her. They’re disgusting creatures.” Olivier smiled from the other side of the table.

Alex had finished his escargots. “They’re an acquired taste. A bit like fish and chips.”

Carla laughed.

Gaby snorted. “Ugh. English food is all…fat and, how do you say it? Studge.”

“Stodge,” said Carla, stung into action, silently admitting she could never imagine the sylph-like Gaby putting away a plate of chips.

Gaby shrugged, then turned to Olivier and started to speak French so rapidly Carla had no hope of following. Dinner continued with a mixture of French and English, largely from Alex as the others grew tired of making the effort. Even when Alex spoke in English, he sounded so like his family that Carla felt, as she had never felt before, that she was in a foreign country—except it was not France that was the foreign country, it was the man with her. His gestures, his laughter, everything seemed alien to the Alex she’d started to get to know, the Alex buying a pint in the pub, watching the cricket and shouting at the television as another English wicket fell.

Here at La Bastide, he was an exotic, strange creature surrounded by his tribe in this fortified place. She was Rapunzel in her tower or Scheherazade or the wife of Bluebeard… She almost laughed out loud at her wild thoughts. She was just tired after the journey and meeting so many new people, not to mention the effort of speaking a language she’d hardly used since school.

An entrée of steak
au poivre
and dessert of crème caramel had been served. Olivier offered Carla a platter of glistening cherries and peaches. “Fruit?”

The fragrance of the peaches made her mouth water, but she held up her hands. “
Non, merci, je suis pleine
.”

Olivier paused midway in handing over the platter. After a nanosecond of silence, the table erupted in laughter.

Shit. What had she done?

Gaby let out a shriek of delight as Carla died a slow death.

“Oh God, what have I said?”

Olivier replaced the fruit platter on the table and spoke gently. “Only that you are pregnant.”

Gaby wiped a tear from her heavily kohled eyes. “
Comme une vache
. Like a cow!”

Mme. Lemaitre threw her niece a warning glance. “Gaby! That is not polite. Carla, to say you are
pleine
is pregnant like an animal, not a woman. I’m sure Gaby does not mean to be rude. Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Yes. I am
terriblee sorry,
as Alex would say when he is in England.” Gaby mimicked an English accent.

Carla forced a smile, yet she wanted to melt through the terrace flagstones. “I meant to say I was full and couldn’t eat another thing. My French is very rusty.”

Alex’s voice was gentle
. “
Then you need to say ‘
je suis rassasié
,’ or in the case of this huge feast, ‘
je n’en peux plus
’.”

Gaby sniggered. “Now I am disappointed that you are not pregnant, because that would be
much
more interesting.” Even allowing for cultural differences, Carla could think of another word for Gaby’s attitude to her, and it wasn’t bloody
farfelu.

Alex’s mouth set in a grim line, but he said nothing.

Olivier smiled at Carla. “It’s an incredibly easy mistake to make. When Gaby and I last came to England to visit Alex, she made so many faux pas, we pissed ourselves laughing.”

Gaby pouted. “You promised not to keep talking about that. You teased me without mercy.”

Alex snapped, “You asked for it, Gaby, as you often do.”

Gaby rounded on him. “You bastard, Alex.”

Madame Lemaitre held up her hands. “Thank you. I think that is enough practising of English curses. Please let us enjoy our desserts. Carla will think we are very rude.”

Carla only thought Gaby was rude, but secretly agreed that the Lemaitres were like warring children. Alex spent the rest of the meal, if not in silence, then definitely quieter than Carla had ever seen him. After Gaby’s remarks to her about being pregnant, she wondered if he was worried she was hurt and offended. Too right she’d been pissed off, but it took a lot more than a sharp remark to affect her these days. Nothing could hurt any more than Stephen’s death and betrayal had. Except perhaps it happening again—with Alex.

At the end of the meal, coffee was served on the terrace, but as soon as they’d finished one cup, Carla saw Alex check his watch.

Olivier held up a bottle. “Does anyone want a
digestif
? My mother has some very fine cognac this year.”

Alex’s arm slipped around her back. “I don’t think so. Carla’s had a long journey, and I think she’s far too polite to say that she’d really like to go to bed.”

“Yes, you run along to bed,” said Gaby.
 

Carla was tempted to point out the smudges of kohl under Gaby’s eyes but restrained herself. Bed was exactly what she did need right now. “Yes, I’m pretty done in. We had to be up at the crack of dawn to get the plane from Heathrow to Nice.”

“Yes, you must be exhausted after meeting the Lemaitre clan.” Gaby helped herself to a cognac.

“Especially one particular crazy member,” said Olivier, taking the bottle from her and pouring a generous measure into his glass.

Gaby laughed. “
Nous sommes tous farfelus à la maison, surtout la petite anglaise
.”

Olivier rolled his eyes, and Carla felt Alex’s hand tighten at her waist. “Good night,
Maman
, Olivier.” He shot a glance at his cousin. “Gaby.”

“Sweet dreams, Alex. Isn’t that what they say in England?”

Without replying, Alex steered Carla out of the courtyard towards the guest suite.

“What did she say?” Carla asked as he locked the bedroom door behind them.

“A pile of crap.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Alex.”

Her warning made him raise his eyebrows, but he ran a finger down her cheek. “That everyone is a bit odd here at La Bastide.”

“And? I heard the part about
la petite anglaise
. Don’t try and fool me, Alex. I’m not that naive.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t dare try to fool you. Gaby said that we are all a bit quirky, including you.”

Carla blew out a breath. “Well, that’s nice of her.”

“Ignore her. Gaby is beyond being
farfelu
. I warned you not to take what my family say too seriously.”

“She obviously knows you well. What side of the family is she from?”

“Her mother and mine are cousins. Aunt Sylvie and
Maman
were very close, and Gaby spent a lot of time here when we were young.”

“Your mother didn’t say she’d be here for dinner?”

“Not until I saw you all talking in the courtyard. She works freelance for a production company, and apparently she’s been around the area, scouting out some locations for a new French TV series. At least that’s what she said she was doing. You never know with Gaby.”

“Her job sounds very glamorous, from what she told me.”

“I’m sure it’s not as exciting as she’d like us to think…but she won’t be here long. I think she’s got to go back to Paris in a few days.” His face was apologetic.

“I don’t mind. She is one of your family.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed, and Carla knew she was under his scrutiny. “I think you
do
mind, and if it’s any consolation, I don’t particularly relish her company either, not when she’s in this mood. Now, let’s not say another word about her. You really do need to go to bed, and for once, I fully intend for you to get some sleep, at least until dawn.”

Despite his reassurance and her physical exhaustion, Carla was still staring at the ceiling an hour after they’d gone to bed. Although Gaby’s attitude towards her and Alex had disturbed her, she’d rationalised her reaction as tiredness and being pulled out of her comfort zone. There was a far bigger concern keeping her awake. An elephant in the room, in fact.

It was pitch-dark yet had been a moonlit night when they’d gone to bed. She wondered whether to get up and take a walk outside, but that would mean opening the shutters and waking Alex.

“Carla?”

His voice was husky with sleep as she pushed herself up off the pillows.

“You’re still awake?”

“Yes.”

She turned on the lamp. Alex propped himself up on one elbow, watching her. “What’s the matter? Not still worrying about Gaby?”

“No. I’m just buzzed, I suppose, from the excitement of coming here. Overtired.”

“Don’t try and fool me either. I warn you.” Tenderness overlaid the threat, and her stomach clenched with desire and need. She was way out of her depth here in every possible way.

“I just wanted to know… Why is
it
in the drawer? You didn’t put it in there? You didn’t have time…”

“I don’t know, and I didn’t put it there or arrange for it to be there. Maybe it was found lying around the house by my mother’s cleaner and just put away in there because it was an empty drawer.”

“You think?”

“I haven’t seen it for years. If the cleaner found it, she wouldn’t throw it away, and she might not have wanted to bother my mother with it.”