Tower of Shadows (21 page)

from me that I didn't want to give.' He closed his eyes for a

moment. 'Our quarrel was terrible—irrevocable. I still bear the

scars of his disgust —his rage.' He shook his head. 'For a moment I

thought he was going to kill me. In a way I wish he had done.

Because the ultimate penalty was much worse.

'He condemned me to a kind of living death with my guilt —my

shame. My life became a torment. I drank too much—rode too

hard —took too many risks. That's how I ended up in that chair.

'But even then Fabien never spoke to me again in his lifetime. He

made it clear that he stayed at La Tour Monchauzet because the

vines needed him —and because he was sure that one day—

somehow—Isabelle would return to him, and he had to be here—

waiting.'

He looked at Sabine, his face serious, his eyes almost pleading.

'Can you forgive me, my child? Or will you also turn your back

and walk away, condemning me to an eternity of silence?'

Sabine stared down at her hands, locked together in her lap. She

was wretchedly conscious of Rohan watching her, his brows

drawn together - in frowning concentration.

She said quietly, 'No. I can't do that. There's been altogether too

much guilt —too much pain already. I'm not prepared to inflict

additional suffering—' she glanced across at Madame de

Rochefort'—on anyone.'

'You shouldn't have come here.' The
Baronne's
voice was a sudden

wail. 'It was all right until you came.'

Her husband gave a tired sigh. 'No,
ma chere,
it has never been all

right. But now, maybe, we all get a second chance. The wounds

can begin to heal,
hein?'
He took one of Sabine's rigid hands,

gently unclenching her fingers. 'Tomorrow, I shall send for the

notaire,
and arrange to formally acknowledge you as my only

child.'

Sabine bit her lower lip until she tasted blood. 'Is that really

necessary? Couldn't we just leave things as they are —enjoy the

fact that we've found each other?' She swallowed. 'I mean—you

hardly know me. . .'

'That is something I hope to remedy.' The
Baron
smiled faintly,

and lifted her hand to his lips. 'I hope that you will stay here with

me, take your place as my daughter, my heiress.'

Rohan moved swiftly, restively, his lean body tense as a coiled

spring. There was total silence in the room. Everyone was waiting

for her to speak, to smile—to submit.

At last, she said, 'I'll visit you regularly, I promise, whenever I can

get away. But I can't stay here. I have a life —a career in England,

and I have to get back to it. I think you should stick to your

original plan when you dispose of your property.' She looked

swiftly and expressionlessly at Antoinette, who glared back at her.

'I came here for some answers. Nothing else.'

Rohan said, 'It's not as simple as that, Sabine.'

She shrugged. 'That's unfortunate. Because I don't want La Tour

Monchauzet. There are too many connotations—too many strings

attached to it.' She gave a small, brittle laugh. 'Besides, I don't

really see myself as a
vigneronne.'

'You could learn.' Rohan's voice was harsh suddenly.

She didn't look at him. 'I think I've had enough lessons for a while.

I need the life I know, the life that I've made, and that belongs to

me.'

There was a tap at the door and Jacques came in. 'The doctor is

here for Madame de Rochefort.' His voice and manner was

subdued.

'Of course. Ernestine—Antoinette, will you help my wife to her

room, if you please?'

The
Baronne
dragged herself to her feet. 'It was for you, Gaston,'

she said tonelessly. 'All of it was for you.'

'I understand,
ma chere.
We will talk tomorrow — when you have

rested a little.' He sounded kind, but remote.

Don't withdraw from her, Sabine wanted to cry out. She needs you.

Don't shut her out and turn to me, as you did with Isabelle. All she

said quietly was, 'I think I'll go back to Les Hiboux now.'

'Your place is here,' her father protested.

She forced a smile. 'At the moment, I don't really feel that I have a

place anywhere. I need to be alone for a while —to think. I still

can't really believe everything that's happened.'

'But you will come back tomorrow.' He was clinging to her hand,

and she gently disengaged herself.

'Yes,' she said. She could guarantee that, if nothing else.

She waited until the
Baronne's
sad little procession had left, then

started for the door. Behind her, she heard Rohan say something

low-voiced and fierce to her father, and then his footsteps

following her.

Her throat closed up in misery and panic. As the door of the
salon

shut behind them, she turned on him,

'I thought I said I wanted to be alone.'

'I did not realise,' he said slowly, 'that I was involved in that total

exclusion.' He shrugged. 'But it doesn't matter. Tomorrow, life

begins again. No more shadows —no more secrets.' He smiled at

her, and his hands came down on her shoulders to draw her

towards him. 'Tomorrow,' he promised softly, 'I will show you my

world —our world that is to be.' His smile widened into a grin.

'Perhaps I can persuade you that the life of a
vigneronne
has much

to recommend it after all.'

'No.' She recoiled from the beguiling warmth of his hands, his

eyes. How sure he was of himself, she thought bitterly. How sure

of her, too. 'It's not going to happen.'

The smile faded, and was replaced by a frown. 'I don't think I

understand.'

She squared her shoulders. 'I don't belong here. I'm an intruder —

an interloper. I don't want La Tour Monchauzet, or any part of it.

Let Antoinette have it, just as everyone always planned.' She

paused. 'And you can have Antoinette.'

There was another long silence. He stared at her. 'You don't mean

that,' he said slowly, at last.

'Oh, but I do,' she said fiercely. 'My—father doesn't have to

acknowledge me. After all, up to a few hours ago, he never knew

of my existence.'

'But all that has changed now. . .'

'No.' Sabine shook her head fiercely. 'I —I won't desert him. I've

given my word on that. I'll write —and I'll visit him regularly, but

I'm going home to England —to stay. To get on with my life. My

real life.'

'And what about our life?' he asked harshly. 'Our plans?'

She looked down at the door. 'They —never really existed. I let

myself get caught up in a legend —a fairytale. Everyone's entitled

to one wild escapade —one romantic fling in their life, surely.'

'Is that all it was to you?' His voice was expressionless.

'Yes, of course.' She forced a bright smile. 'Oh, it was wonderful

—at the time. You're incredibly attractive, as I'm sure you know.

You'll be a—very hard act to follow.'

'Thank you.' His voice was a sliver of ice, a whiplash across her

quivering senses.

She swallowed. 'But sooner or later one has to come back down to

earth,' she went on. 'Wake up from the dream, and return to reality.

Once I've left, everything will settle down again very quickly.' She

shrugged. 'After all—life goes on. And I've done enough damage

here already.'

'Well, we can agree on something at least,' he said grimly. 'What

do you want me to do, Sabine? Go on my knees? Beg you to stay?'

'No.' Panic closed her throat. This was the worst kind of torture,

she thought achingly. She was hungry—starving for him. He was

standing so close to her that she was aware of the warm scent of

his skin. One step, and she could be in his arms, where she craved

to be.

But that would be to deny all reason — all common sense. She had

allowed herself to be deceived—carried away by his physical

allure already. For her own peace of mind—her emotional

sanity—she couldn't let it happen again. Because it was her

potential inheritance he wanted, not her, and she had to remember

that, however much it hurt.

She said huskily, 'Please don't make things more difficult than they

already are, Rohan. It was —good while it lasted, but it was all too

much, too soon, and now it's over.'

She paused, almost desperately. How gullible she'd been. How

naive, to think that Rohan could fall in love with her.

'It was just a dream.' Her voice cracked. 'Because things like this

just —don't happen. Not to people like me, anyway. . .' Her voice

died away into an endless silence.

He did not even move. When eventually he spoke, his voice was

flat.

'No,' he said. 'You are right. They—just don't happen.'

He took her hand, raised it briefly and searingly to his lips, then

walked away.

SABINE parked the car outside the chateau's main entrance, and

took a deep breath. This was the moment she'd frankly been

dreading.

But I've come this far, she thought. I might as well make it the

whole way.

She took a deep breath, then walked reluctantly to the massive

door and rang the bell. It was answered promptly by an unsmiling

Ernestine. Sabine was surprised to see her. She'd imagined the

woman would have wanted to accompany Heloise de Rochefort to

the private and expensive clinic in Switzerland where she was

having treatment for her nerves.

In the circumstances, I can't expect a warm welcome, Sabine

thought wryly, as Ernestine silently accepted her light wrap, then

conducted her to the
salon
where Gaston de Rochefort was

waiting.

'So you came after all.' He rose from his chair and embraced her

warmly. 'I was afraid you wouldn't.'

'I had second thoughts,' she admitted candidly, her answering

smile a little pinched. 'But I promised Marie-Christine I'd be here

for her wedding. Besides. . .' She hesitated.

'Besides, you promised to lend them your house for their wedding

night,' he completed blandly, and laughed at her frank

astonishment.

'How did you guess? It's supposed to be a deadly secret.'

'No one will find out from me. I think young couples should enjoy

their privacy uninterrupted by cauldrons of soup.' He offered her

the chair opposite his own, and looked at her critically. 'You have

lost weight.'

'Have I?' she prevaricated. But she knew he was right. It showed in

her face, in the starkness of her cheekbones and the deeply

shadowed eyes.

'What have you been doing?' He sounded concerned.

'Working,' she said. She'd been glad to find so much work waiting

for her when she arrived back in England. It had always proved a

solace for past unhappiness, but this time its charm hadn't worked.

She'd thrown herself into it with gritted teeth, recklessly taking on

more than she could handle. Anything—anything to stop herself

thinking.

'And thinking,' she added.

The
Baron's
brows drew together, but he didn't jump to the

immediate conclusion she'd feared.

'You must not blame yourself,' he said. 'It was right for the truth to

come out. We all treated your mother very badly. It is time amends

were made.'

'In spite of the cost?' she asked wryly. She'd been shocked when

she'd heard Heloise was receiving treatment, even though Gaston's

letters had been positive and optimistic on the subject.

Her father nodded slowly. 'In spite of that.' He paused, then lifted

himself out of his chair again. His doctors were amazed at the

speed of his progress, but he still found some movements awkward

on occasion. 'May I offer you an aperitif?'

Sabine requested a
pineau de Charentes,
then sat back in her own

chair, trying to relax, but it was impossible. Her senses were too

finely tuned, listening, waiting for another footstep, a voice, a

breath of male cologne in the air.

The thought of having to face Rohan again had nearly kept her in

England. Seeing him at the wedding was something she could

bear. There'd be so many other people around that she'd be

cushioned to some degree from the effect of his presence, she had

reasoned. She could hide in a crowd. But an intimate dinner at the

chateau was another matter altogether— because this would be the

first time she'd as much as set eyes on him since he'd walked away

from her outside this very room on that awful night.

She'd left for England two days later, having spent most of the