Forbidden or For Bedding? (17 page)

‘Quite unnecessary,' said his mother airily. ‘Alexa is perfectly familiar with the concept of a
fête champêtre
. We have already discussed my predilection for the art of the Rococo—and I confess I am much looking forward to showing her all the paintings hanging here, too. It is always enjoyable to discuss these matters with professional artists. Their eye is quite different from that of a mere amateur such as myself. But that is for later—we have many years ahead, my dear, for you to give me your opinions, and of course to choose your own additions to the collection. Guy is far too much of a barbarian for it to be necessary to regard
his
tastes, so I never do,' she finished dismissively, and she led the way forward to the table.

‘Come!' She lifted her hand to them, seating herself regally at the foot. Guy pulled out the chair beside him for Alexa, and sat himself down at the head of the table. He handed a glass of champagne to his mother, and another to Alexa.

She was in a daze—a daze of incredulous happiness—happiness so full, so complete, that it was carrying her on an iridescent rainbow to heaven. She tried to think, to understand—but it was impossible. Impossible to do anything other than what she was doing: letting Guy take her hand once more and hold it loosely, possessively, across the table, as they raised their glasses at his mother's instigation.

‘To you both,' said Madame de Rochemont, her eyes suddenly soft, and full with emotion. ‘To your love. And to your long and happy marriage.'

Together, Guy and Alexa tilted their flutes to drink, and the setting sun turned the champagne to molten gold. As golden as their happiness, and their future yet to come.

‘D
ON'T
move. Stay just like that—'

Guy stilled, lounging back against the sun-warmed rock behind him. The instruction to stay still was not a problem. Nothing in the world was a problem any more. He relaxed gazing out over the incredible Alpine panorama of soaring mountains. Some rocky peaks were still topped with pristine snow, even now in the high summer, and the lower slopes were garbed in verdant green, plunging down to deep valleys far below. Here on the upper slopes, where they had walked on this wonderful sunlit day, the air was like breathing crystal—clear and sharp. Making him feel so alive…

His gaze went out over the soaring vista, focussing on the eagle rising lazily on the thermals. As free as the wind that bore it upwards. As free as he now was. Free to live the life he wanted—and, oh, more than that! The life that he hadn't even dreamt could ever be his. The life that was like a precious, precious jewel—and that jewel was here, so close he could reach out his hand and stroke the tender curve of her calf. Her legs were half drawn under her as she rested the sketchpad on her knees, her wide brow furrowed in concentration as her pencil worked across the paper. He gazed lovingly at her as she worked.

Alexa—his Alexa! His beautiful, beloved Alexa! He felt
his heart fill with emotion, with love. Oh, she was a jewel indeed. He had thought her lost—thought he had driven her away—but she had come back to him, given him the gift of her heart, her love. And he would treasure it all his life. His eyes softened. For a moment he saw her as he had first seen her—lifting her gaze to his and doing exactly what she was doing now: reeling! He had seen it then, at their very first meeting, and it had sent a shot of lightning through him, a satisfaction so intense he had known even in that moment that getting this beautiful, wonderful woman to gaze at him with the same rapt expression was worth everything in the world to him.

For a moment that raptness held, and then he saw her expression change—liquefy and transmute—into something so much more than what it had first been. Now, as his gaze mingled with hers, and hers softened to his, between them flowed the message of their love—strong and pure and eternal.

Then her expression changed yet again, and her mouth pursed.

‘Stop it—I can't concentrate,' she admonished sternly.

A smile played at his mouth. ‘Of course you can,' he replied. He stretched back, lengthening his legs and crooking his arms behind his head, lean and relaxed. ‘You just concentrate on me,
ma belle.
'

His evident satisfaction at this state of affairs drew an answering smile. Alexa put aside her sketchpad.

‘It's hopeless,' she said. ‘I want to draw you, but I can't. You are far, far too distracting. I don't want to draw you—I want to kiss you.'

She leant forward, her hand cupping the outline of his jaw, and brushed his mouth with hers.

He folded her to him, nestling her against his heart as they both gazed out over the breathtaking vista all about them.

‘It was so good of Louisa and her gorgeous young bridegroom to lend us their chalet for our honeymoon,' she said.

A frown creased Guy's brow. ‘Gorgeous?' he growled, in mock anger.

She glinted up at him. ‘Well, he
is
gorgeous—if you like those sort of looks. Which Louisa obviously does. Even though I—' she gave a mock sigh ‘—am utterly addicted to green eyes, and so sadly young Stefan leaves me quite unmoved.'

‘That's better,' said Guy, and hugged her more closely against him. ‘I'm glad you like Louisa, though—she's a nice kid.'

‘Pretty, too—much prettier now she isn't being forced to wear those formal clothes her mother chose for her,' said Alexa.

She'd met Louisa properly now, when Alexa and Guy had arrived from their lavish wedding reception at the château the day before and the young couple had shown the honeymooners around their chalet before heading off down the mountain themselves, to visit Stefan's family on the far side of the range. Louisa had been first astonished, then delighted, and then smug when she'd recognised Alexa from their initial anonymous meeting in the hotel powder room.

‘Didn't I tell you that you were exactly the sort of woman Guy would go for? Elegant and
soignée
—unlike me!' She'd grinned. ‘And that ring looks far, far better on you than it ever could on me.'

Alexa had glanced down at the huge betrothal ring glittering on her finger. ‘I'm afraid I've done what I advised
you
to do—asked for another one for everyday wear. I'm keeping this for best!'

Now, as she sat within the circle of Guy's arms, high on
the alpine slope, only the simple gold band of her wedding ring adorned her hand. She glanced at it wonderingly.

‘Are we really married?' she asked dazedly.

Guy smiled, humour tugging at his mouth. ‘How could you doubt it? Did our wedding not have sufficient impact on you? A packed cathedral, a wedding breakfast that could have graced a Renaissance feast, and enough champagne to float a battleship! I lost count of how many hundred guests there were. And even I do not know just how many relatives I have. Even more than those who decided they could not bear to miss seeing you make me the happiest of men!'

He moved her more comfortably into the circle of his arms and she nestled close against him. More happiness than she could bear filled her.

‘Will your family forgive you for marrying an outsider?' she asked.

Guy shrugged a shoulder. ‘It's of no importance to me,' he said, ‘and besides…' wry humour tugged at his mouth again ‘…one good thing about marrying you is that it means I am not favouring one branch of the family over another. But if we are talking of forgiveness,' he went on, and his voice was serious now, ‘although she was very civil to me as your bridesmaid, will your friend Imogen forgive me for my treatment of you? When I was desperately trying to find you after you'd run from London, and I contacted her to see if she knew where you were, she was not…well-disposed…towards me.'

‘I think,' said Alexa mischievously, ‘that you have now convinced her of your honourable intentions! Besides, she is deliriously in love herself now, and that makes her charitable.'

Guy laughed. ‘Ah, yes—that man I thought might threaten my claim on you. It was actually Imogen who interested
him! How blind can the man be?' he said, his prejudice blatant.

‘Richard agreed to ask me out as a kindness, because Imogen was so keen to take my mind off you—but, so she's told me now, it was
her
he was hoping to impress. And eventually she got the message.'

‘These obdurate women,
hein
!' he exclaimed humourously. ‘So,
dis-moi…
' He smoothed the pale fall of her hair from her shoulder. ‘Are you truly happy to spend your honeymoon on a mountain miles from everywhere? In a humble mountain chalet?'

‘Completely,' Alexa assured him. ‘I like living in the back of beyond—I've done it in Devon, and I've done it in a desert. An alpine mountain is a welcome addition to my list. But are
you
sure,' she asked, and the mischievous note was back in her voice, ‘that you can acclimatise to this after all the splendours of your natural environment.' She waved an arm around the airy vista.

‘I revel in it,' Guy assured her. His eyes softened. ‘Don't you yet believe how much I crave the quiet life—not the three-ring five-star circus I usually have around me?' His expression changed again—a more serious note entered his voice. ‘Now that Heinrich's bank is safe—and so, thank goodness, are all the other parts of Rochemont-Lorenz—I'm going to ease off. Running everything hands-on brought my father to an early grave, I'm sure of it, and I won't go that way, Alexa.' His voice was resolute. ‘Our wealth is quite enough,' he went on dryly, ‘and I'm going to set up a more federated management structure—spread the load more. The bank nearly cost me the most precious treasure of all—you.' He tilted his head, cupping her cheek in his hand. ‘I could not live without you, Alexa
ma belle, mon coeur
—not for a day—not for a lifetime.'

He kissed her tenderly, and she kissed him back. Then
they both relaxed back against the rock. All around was silence, with only the occasional tinkling of a cowbell from far away, or the wind soughing in the bare rocks of the peak towering above them.

‘It's a good mountain,' said Guy approvingly.

‘Better than a global historic banking house?' Alexa queried wryly.

‘If I had to choose, then, in the end, yes. I am proud of my heritage, I will not deny that, but mountains last a lot longer than banks. I think Stefan is richer than I in that respect.'

‘They'll be happy, won't they, the two of them—Louisa and Stefan—turning this place into a nature reserve?' said Alexa.

‘Blissfully,' Guy assured her.

‘Will Louisa's parents forgive her, do you think? Jilting you to run off with Stefan?'

‘Oh, yes,' Guy said dryly. ‘Annelise and Heinrich are two of the biggest snobs I know, and they've got far, far more than they deserve. Louisa told me they went ballistic at first, hearing she'd run off with some drop-out green crusader she'd met through those friends in London she'd been staying with. They saw all their hopes of having a grandchild of theirs running the whole of Rochemont-Lorenz evaporating before their ambitious eyes. But then—' his eyes glinted mordantly ‘—they realised that I'd bailed out Heinrich's wretched bank for them anyway. And then they realised that they'd snaffled a much, much bigger prize for their wayward daughter. One to set their snobbish hearts aglow. I would have just
loved
to have seen Louisa introduce him when she finally dragged him to that ducal
schloss
of theirs!'

‘Prince Stefan of Andovaria,' supplied Alexa, her eyes laughing.

‘Yes, indeed. Only a younger son, but it's the title that counts,' said Guy sardonically. ‘And now Stefan can be as green as he likes, with their blessing, and live in any eco-chalet he wants—for he owns his own mountain and his cousin is a sovereign prince, so their daughter takes social precedence over every person in
this
family! Heinrich and Annelise are very pleased with Louisa.'

‘I'm glad,' said Alexa. ‘And I'm glad, and so relieved, that your mother, Guy, doesn't mind my marrying you.'

‘She approves of you enormously.' His voice was wry again. ‘And not just because you have made me the happiest of men. You are unimpressed by all our wealth—but
very
impressed with our art collection. And best of all—' he kissed her affectionately on her nose ‘—you are polite about her saccharine Rococo paintings!'

‘Well, they have their charms,' allowed Louisa.

His mouth curved. ‘And so do you, Madame Guy de Rochemont.' A new note entered his voice, doing what it always did to her, what she knew it would always do, all her days—weakening her limbs like honey. ‘Charms so plentiful, so alluring, so…enticing…that there is only one thing to be done…'

The jewelled green eyes poured into hers, reaching her soul. Her heart.

‘This…' said Guy.

His mouth was soft as velvet. His touch as fine as silk.

His love as long as life.

And so was hers for him.