In the Best Man's Bed Read online

  “They’re consenting adults. As long as they’re discreet, I’m not going to make a fuss.”

  “But I thought that was the reason you insisted Solange not stay in the main house. I thought—”

  “You thought I was a controlling bully whose chief pleasure in life was wielding his clout to make those around him as miserable as possible.”

  “Well, you do like to have your own way!”

  “Where my son is concerned, yes, I do. I will not have him exposed to behavior which will only confuse him. He had enough of that with his mother’s carryings-on.”

  He hadn’t realized he’d set such a brisk pace that she was almost running to keep up with him until she caught his arm and said, “Slow down, Ethan, please, and let me catch my breath enough to apologize. I’ve misjudged you on a number of points and I’m really sorry.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes. I hate that other things and other people keep coming between us.”

  “Given that your stay here is temporary, it hardly matters.”

  “It matters,” she said firmly. “Everything matters in life, Ethan. Every ant you step on accidentally, every petal that falls, everything and everyone—especially us.”

  “Us? How do you figure that?”

  “Well, Solange is like a sister to me, so after the wedding, you and I will be…sort of related.”

  “Related?”

  She blushed again, a lovely, delectable shade of rose. “Stop looking at me like that!” she mumbled. “If related is too strong a word for you, how about friends, instead?”

  She was the kind of woman who eroded a man’s defenses. Warm, forgiving, generous, and a damn sight too alluring. If he’d met her seven years ago…!

  But that kind of useless thinking did nothing but provoke the urge to kiss her again, and that annoyed him enough to say brusquely, “I’m not the kind of man who makes friends casually or easily, Anne-Marie.”

  “Well, at least we’re on speaking terms again. Isn’t that progress of a sort?”

  “It’s a beginning,” he allowed.

  “And that’s enough,” she said, lifting her face and bathing him in a smile which threatened to topple what was left of his reserve. “At least for now. Tell me more about the island, Ethan. How does it feel to know you hold the welfare of its residents in the palm of your hand?”

  They’d left the old residential section behind by then, and reached the center of town where the market clustered around the fishing harbor. “No different from any other job where a man’s responsible for his employees,” he said, then stopped to greet the young mother passing by with a baby balanced on her hip. “Bonjour, Madeleine! That’s a fine-looking boy you’ve got there. How’s your husband?”

  “Getting stronger every day, thanks to you, Monsieur,” she replied. “The operation saved his life, and we can never repay you for your generosity.”

  “You already have, Madeleine, by being there when Jean needed you,” he told her. “Give him my best, and take care of each other.”

  “No different from any other job?” Anne-Marie said, watching as Madeleine went on her way. “I rather doubt that.”

  “I might own the land, but I don’t own its people, nor could I run it efficiently without their cooperation.”

  “But they revere you as if you’re a god, and I’m beginning to understand why.”

  “I’m as mortal as the next man, Anne-Marie. I’ve made my share of mistakes, and there’s not a soul here who doesn’t know it.”

  “Do you ever get claustrophobic, living on such a relatively small patch of land, with everyone knowing your business?”

  “I don’t,” he said, the question giving rise to far more unpleasant memories than she could begin to imagine, “but there are some who do. You might find, if you stay here long enough, that you’re one of those people.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so!” She flung out her arms and spun around, sending the skirt of her dress dancing around her slim ankles. “I love the open vistas of sea and sky. There’s a feeling of freedom here that I’ve never experienced anywhere else.”

  “There’s also a lack of sophisticated culture. No opera or theater, or ballet. No glitzy hotels or resorts.”

  “That’s what the rest of the world’s for, Ethan, and in this day and age, it’s only a short hop away. After all, aren’t you the one who said, just this morning, that if my sewing supplies didn’t arrive in time, we’d go shopping in Miami? But this…!” She climbed on the low stone wall separating the market from the park behind the beach and, taking off her hat, sent it skimming through the air like a saucer. “This is paradise!”

  A boy of about eight, dark-skinned, dark-eyed, dark-haired, left the soccer game he was involved in, picked up her hat from its landing spot on the grass, and ran over to present it to her. “Pour vous, Mademoiselle.”

  “Thank you, angel,” she said, jumping down from the wall and bending so that she was at eye level with him. “Merci beaucoup!”

  He held her gaze a moment, broke into a worshipful smile, then ran back to join his friends.

  “Isn’t he beautiful?” she murmured, straightening.

  “They all are, at that age,” Ethan said, giving in to the stab of regret assailing him at the way she’d addressed the child.

  Had any woman ever spoken to Adrian with such a wealth of tenderness in her voice? He thought not. Though loving enough, Josephine wasn’t given to extravagant demonstrations of affection, and Lisa…. Lisa had saved her endearments for men outside her marital sphere.

  “You sound so sad,” Ann-Marie murmured. “Why is that?”

  “Because they learn too soon about betrayal, the world stops being a shining, perfect place for them, their innocence is lost, and they never get it back again.”

  “Not always, Ethan,” she said, catching his hand and folding her fingers around his. “There are happy endings, sometimes, and I should think that on this protected, beautiful island, the chances are better than just about anywhere else. There’s a sense of family, of belonging here, that you don’t find in big cities. It’s a wonderful place for a child—safe, free from crime and poverty.”

  “And still it’s not enough for some people.”

  “It wasn’t enough for your ex-wife,” she said. “But that was a failing in her, not you.”

  “Try telling that to Adrian, the next time he wants to know why he doesn’t have a mother to come to school concerts, or tuck him in at night, the same as all his friends do. Try answering some of the other questions he asks, as well, while you’re at it.”

  “Well, I don’t pretend to be an expert on children,” she said thoughtfully, “but it seems to me that all you can do is answer as honestly as possible.”

  “You think it’s that easy, do you?” He laughed bitterly. “Then tell me, how should I have answered when my son asked me why his mommy was kissing a man behind the pool cabana and why she wasn’t wearing her bikini top at the time?”

  “She did that?” Anne-Marie exclaimed, on a shocked intake of breath. “Oh, Ethan, I’m so sorry! Was she with Señor Santos? Is that why you hate him so much?”

  “No. He was just one of several, and when he wound up behind bars, she moved on to a member of my house staff—a blond Adonis responsible for maintaining the swimming pools. They left the island together, just five minutes ahead of my boot, but not before she’d flaunted the affair in front of Adrian.” He paused long enough to swallow the bitter anger souring his tongue. “I made up some excuse at the time, but if you think I should now spell it out to him candidly, in all its sordid detail—”

  “No, of course I don’t! He’s too young to understand, and even if he weren’t, that’s more information than he ever needs to know.”

  “Right now, perhaps. But in time he needs to understand, if only to protect himself against repeating my mistake when he’s old enough to choose a wife.”

  “Why do you assume you’re the one who made a mistake?”

>   “Because I knew the risks, but I married her anyway.”

  “When two people are deeply in love, risks aren’t something they always consider. It’s easy to be wise, after the fact. Hindsight’s a wonderful thing.”

  “So is foresight.” He swung around and started retracing their steps. “I wish I could subscribe to your dewy-eyed belief that love conquers all, Anne-Marie, but the plain fact is, it doesn’t. It’s fragile and, in the romantic sense at least, short-lived.”

  “Are you saying you don’t believe in marriage?”

  “No. I’m saying it’s up to a man to choose wisely. I didn’t, and Adrian is still paying the price.”

  She was silent for so long that he thought—hoped—the topic had exhausted itself. He lived with the knowledge of his own culpability every day. Rehashing it all with this woman, who stirred up emotions and desires best left sleeping, merely added another wrinkle to an already messy situation. He didn’t need it. He didn’t need her.

  But when had she ever been satisfied to let someone else have the last word? “So if you had everything to do over again,” she began, the minute they were in the car and headed back to the estate, “what would you do differently?”

  “That’s easy,” he said promptly. “Choose a woman with Bellefleur blood flowing through her veins—someone born and bred to the rhythm and tempo of this island—instead of settling for an outsider.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE second the convertible cruised to a stop in the forecourt, Morton, the butler, came out to meet them, his face creased with worry. “Thank goodness you’re home at last, Monsieur! I’m afraid there’s been an accident. Madame Josephine took a bad fall just before lunch.”

  “Good God! Why wasn’t I informed sooner?”

  Just how significant a matriarchal role Josephine played showed in the alacrity with which Ethan leaped out of the car while the engine was still running, and in the staccato burst of alarm in his voice as he fired off his question. Equally concerned, Anne-Marie reached across to turn off the ignition, then hurried after the two men as they strode into the house.

  “We tried to reach you at the club, but you’d already left, Monsieur,” Morton was explaining, when she caught up, “and we were unable to contact you on your cell phone.”

  Ethan slapped the heel of his hand to his forehead. “I forgot to take the damn thing with me when I went out, that’s why. Has the doctor seen her?”

  “Oui, Monsieur.”

  “And? Does my aunt require hospitalization?”

  “Madame refused to entertain the idea and Doctor Evert agreed she could recuperate at home. She’s resting comfortably now, and asked that you and Mademoiselle Barclay stop by her room as soon as you returned. She’s quite agitated, I’m afraid, and Monsieur Louis is beside himself with worry.”

  “I can imagine,” Ethan said grimly. “We’ll go up right away.” Already halfway across the inner courtyard to the curving staircase at the other end, he crooked a peremptory finger at Anne-Marie. “Follow me.”

  He’d already taken the bloom off her day with his remark about never entrusting his heart to anyone but an island woman, and that he was now flinging orders at her without so much as a please would ordinarily have been enough for her to remind him in no uncertain terms that she was not one of his lackeys.

  In this instance, though, Josephine’s condition took precedence over Ethan Beaumont’s manners, or lack thereof. Still, Anne-Marie couldn’t suppress a twinge of regret that the intimacy they’d shared on their stroll through town had lasted such a brief time.

  A central hall lined with many closed doors ran the length of the upper floor of the house, with tall, open windows at each end and numerous ceiling fans whirling lazily to keep the air circulating. On the walls between the doors hung portraits of dark-haired, noble-looking men and finely-featured women. Beaumont ancestors, she guessed, glancing at them as she sped by; the resemblance was unmistakable.

  The Duclos’s suite of rooms lay in a wing at the far end of the house and, as Anne-Marie might have expected, was a spacious, elegant affair with a sitting room, small private dining room and study, all opening onto the usual deep shaded verandahs overlooking a fabulous view down the hillside to the sea.

  A shaken Louis ushered them into a bedroom furnished in shades of blue and ivory. Josephine, wearing a froth of beribboned lace and satin, sat propped up on a bank of silk-covered pillows like an aging Cleopatra about to set sail in her barge.

  “This is not how I planned to spend the next several days,” she proclaimed, waving aside her husband’s anxious hovering and patting the edge of the bed in invitation for Anne-Marie to sit. “I’ve twisted my ankle rather badly, and I’m afraid it’s going to create a serious inconvenience, in light of all the entertaining we’re facing in the coming days.”

  “Never mind all that. We’ll manage somehow.” Ethan glowered affectionately at her from the foot of the bed. “More to the point, how come you fell in the first place? I suppose you were in your usual hurry and not looking where you were going?”

  “Don’t blame me!” she snapped. “It was that benighted kitten’s fault. Ever since Adrian took a shine to it, it’s forever underfoot. It’s a miracle I didn’t break my neck.”

  His scowl melted into an unabashed grin. “You’re an indestructible old woman, ma tante, and I don’t know why we’re wasting sympathy on you. If anyone needs comfort, it’s probably the cat.”

  “The cat,” she assured him irascibly, “is perfectly fine, and you have bigger problems to face than worrying about it. Or have you forgotten that the French Trade Envoy and his entourage are joining us for dinner tonight, and staying over until tomorrow?”

  “Oh, hell! Yes, I had.”

  “I expected as much. Well, lucky for you that Anne-Marie is able to take my place as hostess, or you’d be left to cope single-handedly with Monsieur Pelletier and that insatiable wife of his.”

  “Me?” Anne-Marie said. “Oh, surely not! Surely Solange is the one who should take your place?”

  “Good heavens, child!” Josephine snorted. “Solange and Philippe are too wrapped up in each other to spare a thought for anyone else. Why, the Envoy could choke on a fish bone and fall face first in his plate, and they wouldn’t notice! No, you’re the only possible choice.”

  “I’m afraid my aunt’s right,” Ethan said. “Solange isn’t up to the task, not these days. Too caught up in wedding fever.”

  “Precisely.” Josephine smiled, gracious in victory. “And now that we’re all in agreement, Ethan, have Louis show you out. I believe the cook wants your approval on some last-minute changes in the menu. No, my dear, not you,” she added, when Anne-Marie rose to leave also. “You stay and keep me company a little longer.”

  Before leaving, Ethan rested his hand on Anne-Marie’s shoulder; a passing touch only, but as always where he was concerned, it stirred up an aftermath of sensation out of all proportion to the occasion. “Will you come up to the house half an hour earlier than usual, Anne-Marie, so that we may greet our guests together?”

  “Yes,” she managed, more elated than she had any right to be at the idea of being his consort for the evening.

  “I should warn you, it’ll be a somewhat more formal occasion than usual.”

  “More formal than usual?” She blinked, taken aback. “I have a hard time imagining how, since everyone here always dresses for dinner.”

  “When it’s just family, we make an occasion of it, yes, but not to the degree that Mimi Pelletier expects. She shows up looking as if she’s about to be presented to the crowned heads of Europe. Full length evening dress, enough jewelry to set up shop, and all that sort of thing. It’ll be a long and rather tedious evening, I’m afraid. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  “I’ll manage,” she said, her gaze trapped helplessly in his.

  “You have something suitable to wear? If not, I’m sure Solange—”

  “I have something. Don’t worry, Ethan, I won�
��t embarrass you.”

  “Having never seen you look anything but lovely, it never occurred to me that you might. I was thinking only of how you’d feel if you found you were under-dressed for the occasion.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” she said, drawn ever deeper into the beguiling depths of his blue, blue eyes.

  He rewarded her with one of his rare and charming smiles. “Until later, then.”

  She watched as he dropped a kiss on his aunt’s cheek, then followed Louis from the room. The door clicked shut behind them, and left behind a hanging silence marked only by the discreet tick of the exquisite ormolu clock on the bedside table.

  At length, Josephine said quietly, “Your face is a picture, child. Everything you’re feeling is written there and what I see at this moment is utter turmoil. Is my nephew the reason for it?”

  “Yes,” she said simply. “He’s…different from other men I’ve known.”

  “In other words, you don’t understand him.”

  “I don’t understand myself, Madame Duclos!”

  “Because you’re hopelessly attracted to someone who’s working so hard to keep you at arm’s length?”

  “Crazy, isn’t it?” Anne-Marie attempted a laugh which fell sadly short of the mark.

  “Not really, my dear. Sex has you by the throat, and that tends to befuddle one’s faculties.”

  Appalled, Anne-Marie exclaimed, “Ethan and I haven’t had sex!”

  “But you’ve thought about it. Indeed, that’s almost all you can think about where he’s concerned.”

  “Is it so obvious?” she muttered, burning with embarrassment.

  Josephine laughed, not unkindly. “There’s no need to look so ashamed. It’s mostly about sex at this stage of a relationship, and that’s as it should be. Sex is crucial to love between a man and a woman. It’s a gift beyond price, and it’s meant to be enjoyed. I enjoy it. Louis is a magnificent lover! There, does that shock you?”

  “In all truth, yes. But not in the way you might think. I just never expected you and I would ever have such a frank discussion.”