The Price of Honour. Emilie Rose

the humid air. There was a stillness in the ring just before dusk, a tranquillity that centered the universe on the rider and her mount.

      Megan missed riding like an amputee would miss a newly severed limb, and not being able to pit herself and her horse against time and obstacles left her empty and adrift. She’d been a rider since her father had bought her first pony for her fourth birthday. The show ring had been the one place she’d excelled, the only place she’d always fit in, and her last link to her father who’d been a great competitor. But she wouldn’t risk hurting her baby—not even for a short ride.

      “This is your favorite time of day. Why aren’t you riding?”

      Xavier.

      She startled at the sound of his deep, slightly accented voice, and her boot slipped on the rail, nearly dumping her on her bottom. She quickly regained her balance and spun to face him. Joy, hope and apprehension swirled like a dust devil inside her. He’d come. Finally. The urge to throw herself in his arms bunched inside her like a compacted spring. But she couldn’t. Not until she knew his intentions.

      The evening breeze tossed his dark hair. His observant green eyes pinned her in place. The shadow of stubble cloaking his jaw, combined with a white silk long-sleeve shirt and black jeans gave him the look of a modern-day pirate. A pirate who had stolen her heart and tossed it overboard like flotsam, she reminded herself.

      “What are you doing here?”

      “I have come to take you home.” His autocratic bearing and commanding tone were so familiar, so dear. She loved his confidence, his swagger. And those were the words she’d been waiting to hear. But …

      “You’ve canceled your wedding?”

      His brow creased. “No.”

      Her balloon of hope deflated. “Are you going to?”

      “I cannot.”

      She’d thought her heart couldn’t break any more. Wrong. A fresh stab of pain gouged her. “Then we have nothing more to discuss, Xavier. You’re committed to another woman. You’ve wasted a trip. Climb back in your jet and have a nice flight home. I’ll arrange for someone to pack up the rest of my things and get them out of your cottage.”

      “If you want your belongings come for them yourself.”

      How like him to be stubborn. “I can’t. I have a job here now.”

      “Teaching riding lessons,” he scoffed as if her occupation was no more prestigious than shoveling manure from stalls.

      “I like mentoring others.” Or she would once she got the hang of it.

      “You like teaching. But you love riding. Your possessions will be waiting for you when you return. I will not allow anyone else to enter your home.”

      “Your home. Your name’s on the deed.”

      “That can easily be changed.”

      “What happens when you marry, Xavier? Do you think your wife will like having your ex-mistress nearby? Or were you expecting us to carry on as lovers after the ceremony?”

      “Unlike my mother, I will honor my vows. You may keep the cottage. We are adults. Cecille need not know of our past.”

      “Everyone knows about us. We were inseparable for months. Ship my stuff here or give it away. I don’t care. I’m not coming to get it.”

      Good thing she’d brought the most important items with her when she’d packed in such a rush to get out before he’d returned from work that day. She wouldn’t need the fancy designer dresses he’d bought her since she wouldn’t be attending parties with him. Besides, pretty soon they wouldn’t fit. She was already noticing her tops fit more snugly.

      She wanted to howl in pain and frustration. Couldn’t he see he was making a huge mistake? But unless he relented on his marriage plans she couldn’t risk returning to the house where she’d been so happy with him—the cottage where she’d finally allowed herself to trust in forever. The memories would undermine her resolve to do the right thing for herself and her baby. Besides, she couldn’t afford to have him guess her secret and possibly claim her child.

      He moved closer. The fence blocked her retreat. As the distance between them decreased, a slight quiver overtook her body. He lifted a hand and cupped her face in the warmth of his palm. “How can you walk away from what we shared, Megan?”

      As tempted as she was to lean into his touch, she resisted. It wasn’t easy. “I could ask you the same thing.”

      “But I am not.”

      She forced herself to twist out of reach. “Yes, you are. You’re engaged to marry someone else. You know I won’t settle for second place. I always fight for first—in the ring and out of it. You once told me my zeal was one of the things you liked best about me.”

      “I admire many things about you, including your ambition and independence. But there is no need to throw a tantrum because you cannot have your way in this.”

      She gaped at him as anger boiled inside her. “A tantrum! You think I’m throwing a tantrum?”

      “What else could it be? I have showered you with gifts. I have even given you a home. I will make sure you lack for nothing even after we end our association. If you return to Grasse.”

      “I’ve never cared about your money, your estate, your fancy cars or airplanes. You’re not offering what I want most, Xavier. You. Exclusively.”

      “You have me exclusively now.”

      “But only until your wedding. One of these days I’m going to want a husband … and children. I want someone to grow old with. A friend and a lover. You want that with someone else. Do us both a favor and move on.”

      Her stiff muscles protested as she turned and ordered them to carry her away from the best—and the worst—thing that had ever happened to her.

      She didn’t need to hear gravel crunching under his heels to know Xavier followed. Her body sensed his like a divining rod does water. His purposeful stride quickly brought him up alongside her, and though her eyes hungered for another look at him, she denied herself the pleasure and the pain.

      “I have nothing more to say. Goodbye.”

      “If we are going to quote past conversations, then you will recall that my determination is one of the traits you claimed we shared and you admired. Do not expect me to give up so easily when what we have is so good. I fight for what I want, and I want you, mon amante.”

      “What we had. Past tense.” Apprehension tightened in her middle. She should have listened to her intuition and refused to ride his horses when he’d first approached her. But she hadn’t. She’d been swept away by a man who bought treats for her horses instead of gifts for her, and she’d ignored the warning prickles and signed the contract promising to become his trainer and rider.

      After the first competition he’d asked her out while she was still high on the euphoria of winning. She’d somehow found the strength to refuse but then he’d pursued her, unrelentingly bulldozing right over her vow to never become involved with a client.

      She couldn’t let him overpower her again. She had to get rid of him. But how?

      She glared up at him. “Stop following me. I won’t play cat and mouse with you. And I won’t entertain you until your bride-to-be is willing to warm your sheets. Find another lover, Xavier. I intend to.”

      A lie. But he didn’t need to know that.

      The nostrils of his aristocratic nose flared and jealousy ignited in his eyes like twin torches. She only had a moment to enjoy her successful score before he hooked a hand behind her nape, holding her captive as his mouth claimed hers.

      Shock stalled her heart before passion spurred it into a galloping beat. It shamed her to admit that even his angry kiss turned her on.