Emilie Rose - The Price of Honour

Xavier’s tongue traced the seam of Megan’s lips. Teasing her. Tempting her. Coaxing a response from her that she didn’t want to give.

She opened her mouth and let him in. His familiar taste overwhelmed her, and she couldn’t resist moving closer for one final delicious press of his body against hers.

His arms surrounded her, banding her against his muscled length, and his heat seeped into her, melting her resistance, warming her for the first time since she’d left him. She clutched his waist, caressed his strong back. Being with him like this felt so good, so right.

Saying goodbye shouldn’t be this hard.

Dear Reader,

I believe there is at least a trace of competitor in each of us. But most of us aren’t willing to sacrifice our creature comforts in pursuit of our passions. We’ll coast along hoping that one of these days we’ll get a chance to pursue our dreams.

I enjoyed writing Megan Sutherland’s story. She was so deeply entrenched in the path to her goal that it was fun to watch her get jolted off of it by an unexpected pregnancy that jeopardized everything she held dear.

The same can be said for Xavier Alexandre. He knew what he wanted and exactly what he had to do to get it. What he didn’t count on was his temporary mistress surprising him with permanent news that would risk not only his goals but his honor.

I must be slightly twisted because I loved my ringside seat as these two tussled to see who would end up the eventual winner since their dreams, they believed, were mutually exclusive. I hope you enjoy their slow realization that love is the only way to achieve everything they had hoped for and more.

Happy reading!

Emilie Rose

Bestselling Desire™ author and RITA ®Award finalist EMILIE ROSElives in her native North Carolina with her four sons and two adopted mutts. Writing is her third (and hopefully her last) career. She’s managed a medical office and run a home day-care, neither of which offers half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include gardening and cooking (especially cheesecake). She’s a rabid country music fan because she can find an entire book in almost any song. She is currently working her way through her own “bucket list,” which includes learning to ride a Harley. Visit her website at www.emilierose.com or e-mail EmilieRoseC@aol. com. Letters can be mailed to PO Box 20145, Raleigh, NC 27619, USA.

The Price

of Honour

Emilie Rose

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my mom who battled back from the brink of death

this year for me and my boys.

I don’t know what we’d do without her.

Love you, Mom.

And to the man upstairs for giving me more

time with my mom.

“The tabloids are at it again.” Megan Sutherland dropped the newspaper on the kitchen table in front of Xavier, and then because she couldn’t resist, she bent and hugged him from behind, reveling in the warmth of his neck against her lips, his subtle custom-blended cologne, the firm pecs beneath her fingertips and the thick dark hair tickling her cheek.

As always, his nearness sent a shimmer of happiness through her. Love swelled in her chest and hunger settled heavily in her womb. One of these days the words she fought so hard to contain were going to burst free, but today she bit her tongue because he wasn’t ready to hear them. Nor was he ready to hear her news.

A sobering thought. She forced herself to back away and head for the coffeepot to get a jump start on the chaotic day she had scheduled.

“Give a guy a few million bucks and a perfume empire and the tabloid reporters get creative. Funny, isn’t it?” she called over her shoulder and waited for the sexy chuckle that never failed to make her knees weak. But the kitchen remained silent as she filled her cup. Eerily silent.

Surprised, she turned. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard.” His tight voice and the intent look on his face as he stared at the folded page made her pulse flutter. Then his gaze met hers. The resolve in his green eyes filled her stomach with lead.

“They’re lying. Aren’t they, Xavier?” Her last words, forced through a tightening throat, sounded a bit strident.

“No.”

Dizziness swamped her. Her fingers stung. She looked down to see hot coffee sloshing over the rim of the delicate china and dripping to the floor. She set the cup on the counter, grabbed a towel and bent to mop up the mess, taking a moment to gather her composure. She probably shouldn’t be drinking coffee anyway, but until the doctor confirmed—

No. She knew without a doubt that she carried Xavier’s baby.

She slowly rose on rubbery legs. “But the article says the blonde is your fiancée, that you’re marrying her one year from today.”

“That is correct.”

Megan’s body went numb, paralyzed with shock. It took several seconds before she could wheeze air into her lungs. “What about us?”

“This has nothing to do with our relationship, Megan. My pending marriage has been arranged for years.”

Feeling slowly returned to her limbs as though icicles were splintering through her veins in painful shards. “Years?” she squeaked. “You’ve been engaged for years? And you didn’t tell me?”

“It was irrelevant. Our affair was never intended to be anything other than casual. You knew that.”

Casual. Being crushed beneath a falling horse would hurt less. “I know in the beginning we agreed no strings. But …”

Sometime over the past six months she’d fallen in love with Xavier Alexandre, with his old-fashioned manners, his worldly sophistication and his second-to-none bedroom skills. And now she wanted more than just an affair to remember. She wanted forever. With him. She’d believed he felt the same since he spent every free moment with her.

“There is no ‘but.’ It is my duty to marry Cecille.”

Cecille . Hearing her name from his lips was like the crack of a bullwhip.

“Do you love her?” Don’t ask if you don’t want to know . Dread over his response tensed her abdominal muscles.

“My feelings are not important.”

“They are to me.”

“It is a business transaction. Nothing more.”

A business transaction. How could the most passionate man she’d ever encountered sound so emotionless about something as important, as intimate , as marriage? “Are you sleeping with her?”

“Megan, this need not concern you.”

“Need not concern me! Since you’ve been in my bed almost every night for the past six months, I think I have a right to know if you’re sleeping with someone else. Are you?”

“I have had no other women since I met you. Does that please you, ma petite concourante? ”

His little competitor. She used to love it when he called her that. But it didn’t make her smile now. She should be comforted by his admission that he hadn’t been hopping from her bed to this blonde woman’s. But it wasn’t enough.

“You’re going to go through with it, then? The marriage?”

“It is a matter of honor.”

“Honor? Where was your honor when you were making me believe we had a future together that involved more than me riding you and your horses?”

His eyebrows slammed downward in a formidable scowl. “Have I ever made promises to you that I did not keep?”

“No. But I thought …” She twisted the towel in her hands. “I hoped you and I would get married. Eventually. And have a family.”

“Did I not tell you in the beginning that I would never offer marriage?”

With pain choking her, she couldn’t force a word out. She could only nod.

“And I will not have an illegitimate child. That is why we have always used protection.”

But she couldn’t tolerate birth control pills and condoms weren’t fail-proof, as she’d learned firsthand. She fought the urge to shield her tummy. He had a child on the way. He just didn’t know it yet. She’d only put the clues together yesterday and taken the pregnancy test this morning before her run. She’d been planning to tell him tonight during an intimate dinner for two. When she found the right words.

But everything had changed now, and there were no words that could make this situation right. Not if he was going to marry someone else.

Her pride gave her a kick in the pants. “Well, forgive me for getting the impression you might have reconsidered when you bought this house bordering your estate and set me up in it. And when you’ve followed me to every city on the Grand Prix circuit so you could share my bed.”

“And to watch you ride my horses—three very expensive investments. I have enjoyed our time together, Megan, and will continue to savor each moment we share until the very last.”

“When you leave me for her.” Indignation prickled her scalp. “Your fiancée might have something to say about that.”

“She has no say in my private affairs before the wedding. As I have stated, the marriage is a business arrangement. Neither Cecille nor I are going into this with any illusions of something as transient as love.”

Megan’s love didn’t feel transient at all. It felt like a big gaping hole in her heart—one that would follow her to the grave.

Xavier folded his napkin with crisp precision, rose and approached her. She couldn’t bear to look at his aristocratically handsome face. More specifically, she couldn’t handle the absence of the warmth and tenderness that were usually in his beautiful emerald eyes when he focused on her. At that moment he looked every inch the ruthless businessman he was rumored to be. Certainly not the man she’d believed—mistakenly, apparently—had fallen in love with her, the man who treated her like she was someone precious and wonderful and who didn’t expect her to change one iota of her person to be with him.

An immaculately fitted Italian suit outlined his lean, tall form and the powerful muscles he conditioned when they worked out side by side in the gym he’d installed in the spare bedroom for her. He had already dressed to board the helicopter that would fly him to Parfums Alexandre’s corporate offices in Nice the moment she left for the stables on his estate. No traffic jams for him. He simply flew over them all and landed on the roof of his office building.

Only this time when he left she wouldn’t spend the hours eagerly awaiting his return or daydreaming of the sensual delights they’d share in bed tonight. Instead she’d be worrying about whether he was with her . The woman he intended to marry. The woman who wasn’t casual or temporary.

He released an exasperated breath. “Megan, there is no need to be melodramatic. Our relationship will continue unchanged. We will have the next twelve months together.”

“You expect me to sleep with you while you’re engaged to someone else?” The idea seemed unconscionable. “And then what? You’ll marry her? And forget all about me? About us and what we’ve shared? Like discarding an out-of-style suit?”

“I will never forget you, mon amante .” He lifted his hand toward her cheek.

The gentle stroke of his fingertips made her shiver. Unable to stomach her traitorous body’s response, she backed up a step. Inhaling slowly, then exhaling, she willed the fuzzy-headed this-can’t-be-happening feeling away and tried to gather her thoughts.