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‘I will protect my child,’ he said, his determined voice sending a shiver down her back.
‘Protect? Not love?’ she demanded. Because in truth that was all that mattered to Maria right now. It was the only thing that mattered.
‘Of course I will love my child,’ he said dismissively.
But not the mother of his child.
Maria pushed aside the sad thought. How had this happened to her? Just when she was on the brink of her freedom, her jewellery business beginning to find traction, her false feelings for Theo behind her, to discover who she was outside that, to find an independence that meant so much to her.
‘We don’t have to marry for you to...protect our child.’
He scoffed an almost cruel laugh. ‘Are you that naïve, Maria? Do you have even an inkling of what will happen when the press find out?’
She hadn’t thought of that. She simply hadn’t thought of anything past the point of telling Matthieu about the baby. Unease began to grow within her at the sheer conviction in his tone.
‘They will hound you, Maria. They will dig up every little thing they can find out about you. They will stalk your friends and family, they will offer money for any salacious story they could print, they will go through your rubbish and camp on your doorstep. They will follow you and anyone who knows you.’
Maria didn’t have to work hard to imagine the awful things he was saying. Because she knew how the press worked. Had experienced a little of it first hand when her father had been exiled, when her brother had been forced to assume the purse strings and sell off nearly every single thing they had owned. Even now they still stalked Sebastian and every single woman he encountered. Some thought he courted it, but Maria knew he resented it, hated it. But he was happy as long as they’d left her alone.
Her brother. Her protector. Just as Matthieu wanted to protect their child. She didn’t think for a minute that Seb could help her in this situation though. No. The Rohan de Luens were minor exiled nobility. Matthieu Montcour was a completely different level of notoriety and fame. She had seen that for herself within seconds of hitting enter on the search bar with his name in it.
His words had conjured exactly what he had intended. Fear. And more than that. His words had chipped away at her belief that she could still have her freedom, that she could still be in charge of her life the way she hadn’t before now, and now never would.
‘But how can we marry? I don’t know anything about you,’ she said, fighting back the rising tide of panic in her chest.
‘You know my birthday and my favourite colour. That is more than most know.’
‘You don’t know anything about me,’ she said, almost on a whisper as her last defences began to crumble. He waited until she met his gaze before speaking and his words were the final blow.
‘I know that you make jewellery and that you do it in spite of your stepmother’s objections. I know that you are kind and thoughtful or you wouldn’t have been so upset at the idea of breaking someone’s engagement, no matter how you thought you felt about the groom. I know that you are not after my money or this conversation would have been significantly different, and I know that you are strong, defiant and determined. And I know that you will do whatever you need to do to protect our child.’
I also know the feel of your skin beneath mine, the blush that rises to your cheeks when you can’t fight your desires, and I know the sounds of your pleasure when you climax, Matthieu concluded silently, unwilling to speak his wayward thoughts out loud.
He watched as her eyes grew wide with surprise, a faint blush—as if conjured by his very thoughts—rising to her cheeks.
‘If we were to marry... If,’ she repeated as if she hadn’t already made her decision, which he very much believed that she had. ‘What would that...be like? What would it look like to you?’
Terms. He was good at this. Securing contracts and finalising practicalities. He would have time later to consider the implications of impending fatherhood. Feelings had no place here, not now. The irony of that would have struck a more righteous man in the heart.
‘You will live with me here in Switzerland. I can arrange for everything you could ever need to be available to you. As I’m sure you have already figured out, there are certainly benefits to marrying me. Especially for your business.’
‘No. That’s...that’s not up for discussion. My business is mine and I don’t want your involvement.’
He frowned. For many, that would have been enticement enough.
‘I have contacts around the world and the resources to give you access to some of the finest materials—’
‘I said no. I can source my own materials and any achievements I make professionally will be my own.’
Her words were fast and harsh, as dark as he’d ever heard her tone, both tonight and three months ago. Clearly her independence was important to her, but he resisted the urge to warn her not to let pride get in the way of success. Partly because he very much found pride in his own success. He knew what that meant and found that he respected her for it.
‘Do you have a particular stipulation in mind?’
He also gave her credit for not flinching, though clearly she wanted to. It might have been distasteful to discuss the matter in such a way, but necessary to avoid future upset, misunderstandings...he couldn’t say heartache, because he would never, never, allow himself such an indulgence.
‘I...we...would stay married until our child is at least twenty.’
He almost laughed then, at her naivety, her innocence. ‘Maria, hear this now. In the little time they were alive, my parents at least installed in me a sense of the sanctity of marriage. I may not be religious, but I do not believe in divorce.’
