The Price of Honor (9 page)

Living without him.
The words punctured his skin like a dull hypodermic needle. But she was right. The day would come when they must part. But that was months away.

“I am going to contact the owners about purchasing Haithcock Farm.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why would you do that? You have a perfectly fine estate in France.”

And after the wedding he would have two estates. “The property will be my gift to you once you have signed custody of the child over to me. You will have a home base near your cousin.”

Hurt flickered across her face. “What good is a home without a family to share it? How many times and how many ways do I have to say I'm not giving up my baby? You can't bribe me into changing my mind with a piece of land or a pot of money.”

“It is more than land. I am offering you security and the opportunity to return to the competition you love without the hindrance of a child.”

“Competition isn't the most important thing in my life anymore. My baby is. If you insist, you can visit him or her.”

She proved more
obstinée
than he had expected. “My heir must be taught the Alexandre business from the soonest moment he can comprehend his heritage.”

“Be indoctrinated in duty and honor, you mean? Look how well that's working for you. You're going to marry someone you claim you care nothing about for the sake of Parfums Alexandre.”

“The marriage is not about money. The money is irrelevant.”

“Spoken like someone who's never had to worry about whether or not he can pay the rent or put food on the table. Tell me something, Xavier. How much do you know about your bride-to-be other than the fact that her father is pushing her into an arranged marriage and she's meek enough to agree?”

The attack surprised him. “It is not like you to be catty, Megan.”

“No. But it
is
like me to study my competition and assess their strengths and weaknesses, and nothing I've learned
about Cecille indicates she'll be a good wife to you or, heaven forbid, a decent stepmother to my child.

“She's a party girl. Did you know that? Late nights overindulging in booze have never been your thing. You're a man who treats a cocktail party like a military campaign. You connect with the people you've predetermined to be important. Once that's done, you leave. You never linger and you're never the last to leave. You certainly never drink enough to lose your wits.

“And Cecille must love getting her picture in the tabloids because I found hundreds of images of her when I did an internet search on her name. You like your privacy, and you hate being written about in the tabloids.”

“Cecille will conduct herself appropriately after the marriage—as I will.”

“Are you sure? Did you know she's an avid tennis fan and religiously attends Grand Slam matches worldwide? You hate tennis, and from what I read, she's not fond of horses. What will you have in common?”

“Those are minor details which we will work out.”

“She's twenty-five and she's never had a job.”

“My wife need not work.”

“No, but she needs to be interested in more than just fashion and tennis to hold your attention.”

“Are you quite finished with your assassination of her character?”

“I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be argumentative or insult someone I've never met, but I don't think you're looking at the big picture. Other than both of your fathers starting perfume manufacturing companies and French citizenship you have little in common.”

Her arguments were beginning to irritate him—primarily because they pinpointed every negative aspect of the marriage arrangement. But he had no alternative.
He'd sworn on his father's grave that he would right all the wrongs his father had committed—the most important being the loss of the Alexandre estate. The only way to regain the property was to marry Cecille. Her father had turned down every purchase offer Xavier had made.

But now that Megan had planted the seed of doubt, Xavier had to wonder why Monsieur Debussey had insisted on marriage. And why Cecille had agreed.

“I assure you, I am cognizant of the situation. But that is months away. What is important immediately is that I have registered the horses in the show in Lexington this weekend.”

“That's why you asked if I had students?”

“Oui.”

“Couldn't we start with the smaller local show? Tim isn't ready for that level of competition.”

“But the horses are and Tim must learn.”

“You must've pulled some strings to make that happen on short notice.”

“Providing sponsorship and prize money can be very persuasive. You will attend with me.”

She hesitated. “I don't think it's a good idea for you to be seen with me when you just announced your engagement. There will be photographers swarming at a show of that size.”

“Paparazzo? I think not.”

“Equestrian magazine people. A show of this size always has a good write-up in the important publications.”

“No one in the States cares about my personal affairs.”

“Are you kidding me? When the CEO of one of the world's top perfumeries becomes engaged to the daughter of his strongest rival, it's news.”

“If you will not attend the show for me, then do so for Timothy. He will need your guidance.”

“You've asked him about this?”

He dipped his head. “He is eager to test his skills against a more competitive field.”

She grimaced, glanced at horse and rider, tapped her toe, then sighed and he knew he had her. “I want my own hotel room.”

“Do you not remember our nights—”

“I remember. But I still want my own room.”

“As you wish.” He bowed slightly.

He would acquiesce this time. But that did not mean he would not try to change her mind. He wanted Megan back in his bed. But more than that, he was counting on her stint in the stands at the show making her yearn to return to the competition she loved. Then she would see that there was no room in her life for a child.

M
egan followed the bellhop into the luxurious hotel room. Xavier shadowing her steps was her first inkling that all was not as she'd requested.

She stopped and scanned the space. One elegant sitting room. Two bedrooms—one on either side—both with king-size beds visible through the open doors. Nothing subtle about that.

“This is a suite. I asked for my own room.”

“That will be all.” Xavier tipped the hotel employee and sent him on his way, then indicated the open door to the left. “You have your own room.”

“That's not what I meant and you know it. You should have put me in the same hotel as Tim.”

“Tim is staying with the rest of the equestrian team in a hotel closer to the show grounds. Megan, rest assured, I will not force my attentions on you.”

He'd never had to force her into anything. That was part of the problem. Around him, her strong will vanished.

He checked his watch. “We have limited time before our first engagement of the evening. Since you left your evening wear in Grasse, I have arranged appropriate cocktail attire for you. It should be in your room. We will leave in thirty minutes.”

He strode into the room on the right and, without closing the door behind him, removed his coat and tie, tossing them on the bed. Megan turned away from the sight of him disrobing and debated insisting on a different room, but she had an agenda for the weekend. Creating friction now wouldn't help her cause.

A moment later, she heard his shower turn on. Desire instantly percolated inside her. Memories of hot shared showers pushed themselves forward.

But that was plan B. First she had to give plan A a chance to work.

She deliberately marched into her room. After closing and locking her door she headed for the closet and discovered a garment bag emblazoned with a very familiar logo—that of her favorite Parisian designer. Xavier had always claimed this particular designer fashioned clothing as if she had intimate knowledge of Megan's body. A smaller bag sat on the shelf above and a shoe box rested on the floor below.

Eagerness Megan had no business feeling fizzed through her. Xavier hadn't told her anything except they'd be attending two cocktail parties on the show grounds.

She felt a twinge of reservation about accepting more expensive gifts from him, but she hadn't brought anything suitable with her from France, and the dress she'd borrowed from Hannah wouldn't be the haute couture expected at the kind of gatherings Xavier usually frequented.

Xavier seemed to take pleasure in dressing Megan for the occasion, and when she was with him she fit into any celebrity, designer-draped crowd. It looked as though tonight would follow the same pattern, and if she wanted to prove she was perfect for him, then she needed to dress the part.

She opened the smallest bag first and discovered a decadently fragile bra and panty set in rich purple. Next she unzipped the garment bag and her breath caught. The midnight-blue cocktail dress had an almost iridescent sheen. She stroked the soft, glimmering material then laid the dress on the bed and went back to the closet for the shoes. She fell in love the moment she opened the box and saw the nude color crisscross leather sandals with mountain-high heels.
Très
sexy.

She quickly touched up her makeup then stripped off her clothes and donned the lingerie. Sheer lace provided glimpses of her aureoles and the curls between her legs. Her heart pumped harder. She looked good in these. So good she wished Xavier could see her.

Uh-uh. Plan B again.

Pushing that thought aside, she slipped the silky jersey knit over her head and added the shoes. She stepped in front of the mirror and twisted left then right. Wow. The fabric shimmered from navy to almost purple in the changing light. It deepened the color of her eyes and made her skin look luminous.

The wrapped bodice dipped low, revealing more cleavage than she was accustomed to, but then she had more cleavage to reveal than she used to because her pregnancy had made her breasts a full cup size larger. And somehow Xavier had known that. The bra and dress fit perfectly.

The short, ruched, tulip-hemmed skirt fell just shy of midthigh, making the most of her figure and showcasing
her legs while concealing her budding belly. No one would suspect her secret in this miracle of a dress.

Oh, Xavier, you do know how to dress your women.

She smiled. Little did he know he'd inadvertently given Plan A a huge boost. Plan B, too. This dress provided powerful ammunition for either strategy. And when she looked this good, plan C—raising her child alone—would never come into play.

This horse show weekend was her time to shine, her opportunity to prove to Xavier that they were an unbeatable pair, that having her by his side made his life better and easier.

As soon as he'd told her they were attending the show, she'd employed her talent for remembering minutiae and gone online to study the major players—the sponsors, owners, exhibitors and horses.

If things went according to her playbook, before they returned home Sunday night, Xavier would no longer be able to deny that she was an asset he couldn't afford to lose.

 

Money, Megan decided, smelled the same on every continent, and she was surrounded by it.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she carefully made her way in her new heels through the show grounds beside Xavier. Heads turned as they passed. Xavier's tall, athletic grace and good looks always drew attention, but put him in a custom-made dinner jacket and lascivious looks from the women and a few of the men never failed to follow.

She couldn't help but be proud to be seen with a man who could have any woman he wanted. And knowing she looked damned good, too, didn't hurt her confidence or her plan any.

But truth be told, even though she'd been raised on the
Grand Prix circuit and her father had been a high-ranked rider, she was more comfortable consorting with the carrot man, the freelance braiders or any of the other peddlers pushing their horse-and dog-related wares.

“You are very quiet this evening,” Xavier said, interrupting her thoughts.

“I'm just remembering the days when my brother and I spent most of our time with the vendors. Since the same group often frequents the same shows and my mom made friends with most of them, the vendors were like extended family. Did I ever tell you my first job was braiding manes and tails?”

“
Non.
You have said little about your family.”

“Dad was the equestrian. Mom packed us up and we followed him to every show. We weren't vagabonds at all. We were a family. A tight unit.”

“Your father could not have been the one to teach you how to interact with sponsors if he died when you were a teen.”

“And you can bet my uncle didn't. I picked that up on my own. Competing is expensive business, and I've never been independently wealthy. I learned to mingle at the cocktail parties and the fancy chef-prepared buffets to pick up sponsors. It took a while but eventually I mastered the art of not getting star-struck and stammering around the rich and famous.”

“I have never seen you less than poised.”

She'd have to be
more
than poised tonight if she wanted to prove she was perfect for him.

Golf carts, some privately owned, some rented from the onsite vendor, zipped past, making their way toward the tent kingdom ahead, which housed owners, exhibitors, dignitaries and upscale vendors selling everything from jewelry to tack to gourmet dog biscuits.

“When I was a child I believed the show grounds resembled something from the Arabian Nights, with each stable having its own brightly colored drapes and awnings. But that's where the fairy tale stopped. I never dreamed of a prince. I always dreamed of the perfect horse.”

Xavier's hand enclosed hers and he gave her an indulgent smile. Megan's pulse skipped. She rested her cheek against his shoulder as she'd done a thousand times before, then she remembered they weren't on hand-holding terms anymore. Not yet anyway. She straightened and tried to pull free, but he held fast, tugging her against his lean, hard body as a cart passed too close.

“Careful,
chérie.
”

Falling back into their old relationship, into his arms and his bed would be so easy. But that was plan B. “I should probably swing by the exhibitor tent to check on Tim. This is his first big show. He's probably a nervous wreck.”

“Tim is in the capable hands of the stable's equestrian team. He is fine. You are here as an owner this time, Megan, not an exhibitor. You will stay with me.”

“I'm here as an owner only because you paid the exorbitant entry fees for my horses.”

“As you have said, you cannot devalue the animals by removing them from competition.”

“But three thousand per horse—”

“It is done. We have reached our first event of the evening.” He stopped in front of a massive white-and-cobalt tent. The entrance was an intricately designed flower garden complete with a gurgling water fountain, twinkling lights and a violinist to welcome the new arrivals. “Smile,
mon amante.
No woman here can possibly be as beautiful as you tonight.”

When he looked at her like he wanted her—
only
her—
she melted a little and her carefully constructed strategies blurred. “Thank you.”

He withdrew an embossed ivory invitation from his pocket and handed it to the tuxedoed guard. The man checked his list then waved them through. Megan scanned the crowd, spotting at least four movie stars, a presidential candidate and the TV chef she'd been watching late at night when she couldn't sleep.

Their hostess, a blonde beauty who'd recently inherited a world-renowned jewelry company, left a fashion icon behind to greet them.

“Xavier, darling, it's good to see you stateside again. I'm so glad you could come to my little soiree,” she said before kissing him full on the mouth. When she withdrew she lingered over wiping her lipstick from his lips until Xavier adroitly maneuvered out of reach by pulling Megan forward.

The woman's gaze chilled substantially when she focused on Megan. “I hear congratulations are in order. Is this your fiancée?”

An icy splash of humiliation washed over Megan.

Xavier stiffened almost imperceptibly. If his arm hadn't been pressed against her she wouldn't have noticed. “
Non.
Renee, may I present Megan Sutherland? She has been riding my horses and her own on the European Circuit. Quite successfully.”

The woman's exquisitely made-up eyes reassessed Megan and dismissed her as if a lowly equestrian were beneath her notice. “Are you riding tomorrow?”

“No. I'm taking the rest of the season off to help my cousin plan her wedding. One of our up-and-coming riders will be competing on the horses.”

Xavier's palm branded on Megan's spine. “Megan has generously agreed to act as trainer and assist him.”

“How kind of you,” Renee said in a saccharine tone that implied she couldn't care less. “Where is your bride-to-be, darling? I so want to meet the woman who has brought Xavier Alexandre to heel.”

The hostess's bitterness made Megan wonder if she and Xavier had a history, but it was the underlying message in the not-so-subtle dig that reminded Megan how small the global equestrian community could be. No matter which continent she competed on, it would be impossible to avoid news of Xavier, his wife and any children they might have. That meant her plan had to work. Preferably plan A, because plan B was dicey.

Grateful for the research she'd done on her competition, she forced a big smile for her hostess. “The French Open is this weekend, and Cecille is a devoted tennis fan. I would wager my best horse that she has center court seats.”

The quick flash of surprise and approval in Xavier's eyes rewarded her. “That is correct.”

Megan had ridden sick and she'd ridden hurt. Pasting a plastic smile on her face and faking for the judges was nothing new. Contending for the man she loved at a cocktail party shouldn't be all that different. There was no doubt in her mind that this was a jump-off between her and Cecille, even though the other woman wasn't on American soil. And the clock was ticking. Megan had to give a faultless performance.

But she always rode to win, and there was no better way to prove to Xavier that she was the woman he needed than by playing up their mutual love of horses and the fact that she was by his side while his fiancée was not.

 

Funny how dread and anticipation shared similar indicators: rapid pulse, quickened breaths, moistened palms.

Megan lagged a half pace behind Xavier as he strolled
down the carpeted hotel corridor with his I-own-the-world swagger. She had been dreading this part of the evening—the same part she'd once anticipated the most.

Would Xavier try to kiss her? Invite her into his room? And if he did, would she stick with plan A, the safest strategy, and keep trying to show him how much they had going for them besides sex?

Or would she step up her game and go to the much riskier and more complicated plan B?

On one hand, he'd had her hyperactive hormones simmering all night. Each glance had stolen her breath and each touch had been like a tiny electrical shock. And he never
just
touched. He made contact, then skimmed his fingertips an inch or two across her skin—far enough to give her goose bumps. Spending the rest of the night in his arms would be extremely satisfying. Physically.

But plan B—showing him that they had so much more going for them by giving him sex and only sex then walking away—demanded more control than she'd ever displayed in her life. It would require her to keep her heart out of their lovemaking and focus solely on the physical aspects.

Using the passion between them to sway him was a strategy as old as time, but his rejection after they'd made love in her cottage had left her reeling, hurt and empty. She wasn't sure she wanted to go there again—even if it might be the most effective line of attack.