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She had no part in that scenario. Just as she had no right to feel that the ache in her heart was the most painful thing she’d ever experienced.
Château Fortier, the centuries-old ancestral seat of the Fortiers, was soaked in rain as their car approached along the tree-lined, double-width lane. Reiko gaped in wonder at the dark waters lapping the stone walls.
There was a genuine moat. And an honest-to-goodness drawbridge.
She tried to suppress the hysterical bubble of amusement that rose in her throat. She succeeded. Only to lose it at the first sight of the château.
Beside her, in the back seat of the silver limousine that had transported them from the private airport in Bordeaux, she felt Damion’s keen gaze swing her way.
The car stopped at the end of the sweeping driveway. She looked up at the never-ending fairytale splendour of Château Fortier and shook her head. ‘He never stood a chance.’
‘Who didn’t?’
She heard the frown in his voice. ‘My grandfather. Against all this.’ She ind
icated with the wave of her hand. ‘Your grandfather had this; mine was just a poor art student from a suburb of Kyoto on scholarship to the Sorbonne when he met your grandmother. There was no way he could offer her anything like this.’
Damion’s frown was replaced by a carefully neutral look, but not before she spotted the hint of regret in his eyes.
‘Money isn’t everything,’ he dismissed.
Reiko blew out an exasperated breath through the sadness welling up inside her. ‘That’s rubbish. Only the people with money tend to trot out that piece of nonsense. Money buys power. Power is a drug few people can resist.’
‘You’ve set aside the pursuit of it for a higher purpose.’
‘We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about how mean life can be sometimes.’
His eyes narrowed as he slammed the boot and came to stand before her. Tilting her chin with one long, slim finger, he let his gaze rake her face. ‘But if you could have anything you want, what would you choose, Reiko?’
For you not to have walked away.
For me not to be left with emotional and physical scars because of my mistakes.
She couldn’t even think about the third and deepest wish, so she looked away from him and started counting the turrets that graced the château. When she ran out of fingers to count on, she sucked in a composing breath and glanced back at him.
‘For now? A tour would be nice. Maybe a cheese panini thrown in at the end? I’m starving. You think your chef can rustle one up for me if I ask nicely?’
‘Without question.’ He took her arm and led her through the double-pillared entrance into the château. ‘But first we’ll do your exercises.’
Her pulse shot into overdrive. ‘What do you mean, we? I can do them on my own.’
‘You’re in pain again. Don’t try to tell me otherwise. As much as your exaggerated walk is sexy as hell, I can’t overlook the reason behind it. So—exercise first, then the tour, before food.’
‘Did anyone tell you you’re an insufferable tyrant?’
His jaw tightened. ‘No, but I understand some think I’m a stuffy Frenchman. Tell me—if I pick you up will I hurt you?’
She felt her resolve weakening, an ever-growing need to set down the chafing reins of self-control. Just to let go … for a little while. ‘No, but why—?’
He swung her up into his arms, held her close to his chest and mounted the stone steps that led into the château.
Over his shoulder she could see beautifully landscaped gardens stretch as far as the eye could see, above her she caught a view of a slate-roofed turret, and the feeling of being overwhelmed washed over her again. There was just so much—of the man, of his wealth and prestige, of the history in this place.
She looked at his profile and felt an overwhelming need to touch his face. Giving in to it, she traced her fingers over his jaw. Hard, warm, slightly rough. And so evocatively sexy she couldn’t resist leaning up to press her lips against his skin.
He stumbled to a halt in the hallway. Above the din of blood roaring through her ears, she heard him dismiss the driver and the housekeeper. He stared down at her, the look in his eyes so captivating and powerful she trembled.
‘See how far we’ve come, ma petite? Now you kiss me because to resist is simply too painful. And you touch me because you want to. Not because you want to gain the upper hand.’
