Free A Place of Storms by Sara Craven Page A

curse. 'Is this what you want?' he demanded violently. Before she could move or say anything, he had gone on one knee at her side. She shrank back on the settle, a sudden wave of heat sweeping over her body at his sudden proximity. Before she could guess what he intended to do, he took her hand. For a moment, he stared down at the slenderness of the fingers in his own, and then he turned it over and carried it to his lips. His mouth moved warm and sensuous across her palm, and a long, sweet shiver ran through her body. His lips moved lazily to her upturned wrist and she tensed, miserably sure he would sense the utter tumult in her pulses. She closed her eyes, desperately seeking to hide the revelations she feared they might contain, and felt the smooth chill of the great ring as it slid on to her finger.
    She sensed that he had moved from her side, and clasped her hands tightly together in her lap, concealing the ring.
    When she did venture to look up, he was standing, one arm resting on the mantelpiece as he had been when she had first seen him. The bitter brooding look was back in his face.
    'I hope that fulfilled your obvious expectations,' he shot at her.
    'I expected nothing.' She bent her head. 'But I suppose you can count it as another victory,
monsieur
. Now may I go?'
    '
Un moment
.' He paused, then said without a trace of emotion, 'Our marriage will take place the day after tomorrow.'
    Andrea felt physically sick. Nothing—not even the gift of the ring—had prepared her for this. She felt trapped.
    'Does it have to be so soon?' Her voice sounded totally unreal in her own ears.
    'Yes.' He pushed at the burning logs with the toe of his boot. 'My lawyers tell me that Simone is planning to start proceedings to contest Jean-Paul's will almost at once. I wish to forestall her, naturally, so there can be no further delay.'
    'But there are legal formalities, surely,' she said faintly.
    'All dealt with weeks ago. You have a short memory,
mademoiselle
.'
    Andrea stifled a groan. Clare had kept from her the full extent of her involvement—she realised that now. But she had no time to waste in useless recriminations. The only thing she could do now was get away from this place as quickly as possible. The need to recover Clare's letter could not weigh with her now, she thought desperately.
    She forced herself to think calmly. She had to make him think she was resigned to her fate.
    'I wish you'd warned me earlier.' She even managed to sound a little sulky. 'I do have some shopping still to do.'
    He raised his eyebrows. 'I see no problem. Gaston may drive you to Clermont-Ferrand tomorrow.'
    She lowered her lashes to hide the gleam of triumph in her eyes. 'Thank you,' she acquiesced meekly.
    It would mean, of course, she would have to leave behind most of the luggage she had brought with her, and take only what she could carry, but it would be worth it. Once in Clermont-Ferrand, it would surely be easy to give Gaston the slip, and find some means of returning to Paris.
    She bade him a subdued goodnight and went upstairs. As she reached the first floor she hesitated, looking speculatively along the corridor to the big closed double doors. His room—which just might possibly contain Clare's letter. Common sense told her that she owed Clare nothing, but the same did not apply to her uncle and aunt. It was their heartbreak she had to consider in all this. She had to face the fact that by coming here in this deliberate deception and then running away, she might well have made things worse for Clare. Blaise Levallier would be angry when he learned the truth, and the retribution he might seek could well be swift and unpleasant for all concerned.
    But if she was able to retrieve Clare's letter, then his major weapon would be lost to him.
    She looked half-fearfully over her shoulder, as if expecting to see him following her up the stairs. But he had given no indication that he intended to have an early night himself. In fact, just as