Read Online Count Toussaint’s Pregnant Mistress by Kate Hewitt - Free Book Online Page B

had gone. Since that morning, after being with Luc when she’d woken up alone, so terrifyingly numb, she had been determined to live life to the fullest, accepting invitations, laughing, dancing or just enjoying life when she could. She hadn’t enjoyed that evening. The man, a local carpenter, had been too full of himself and his own importance. Abby had barely managed to get a word in edgeways, and she’d taken herself home alone at nine o’clock.
    Now it was all too easy to imagine herself in that bed, to remember how long, lean and perfect Luc’s body had been, how cherished she’d felt in his arms. Those moments felt like the most precious and most real of her life. Or was she simply romanticizing her one experience?
    Of course she was. The cold, hard fact that he’d walked away before they’d even made love proved that.
    ‘A bit pathetic, really,’ Abby said aloud, shaking her head. She needed to stop thinking about Luc; his memory crept up on her in these unexpected moments, made her feel vulnerable. ‘What I really need to do,’ Abby said, ‘is go out on another date. Just not with that carpenter.’
    She headed downstairs, only to check herself when sheheard the sound of a key turning in the front door’s heavy, old-fashioned lock. The new tenant wasn’t supposed to arrive until three, and it was only noon. Shrugging, Abby decided she might as well say hello and confirm that everything was just as it should be.
    That friendly, professional smile was already on her face as she stood in the centre of the cozy little parlour, ready to greet whoever opened the door. The words ‘welcome to Corner Cottage’ were in her mouth, about to trip off her tongue.
    Then the door opened, and the words died as the smile slid off her face. She was staring right at Luc.

CHAPTER SIX
    S HE looked so much the same, Luc thought, the key still in his hand as he stood there gazing at her motionless, transfixed, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst.
    She didn’t move either; her own mouth was open in shock, her face pale, her eyes wide. So much the same…and yet so different. Her dark, glossy hair was caught up in a careless ponytail, and instead of an evening gown she worn jeans and a red parka over a cotton tee-shirt. She looked as fresh and scrubbed as any village girl, and yet she had a lifetime of cosmopolitan experience. He’d reduced her to this, to menial work for a second-rate catering company. Guilt sliced through him once more, and made him take a step into the room and slide the heavy key into his pocket. ‘Hello, Abby.’
    She shook her head slowly, a gesture of both disbelief and denial. ‘What are you doing here?’
    ‘I…’ He paused, wondering how much to say. ‘I wanted to see you.’
    ‘You came here on purpose.’ It was a statement, not a question; he recognized that for the obvious fact it indeed was. A man like him would hardly visit a tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere for no reason. He would frequent glamorous hotels and resorts, spas and ski lodges—places like Hotel LeBristol, Luc thought, a spasm of remembrance shooting through him.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘To see me,’ she clarified, and he heard the incredulity, the latent anger.
    ‘Yes.’ He stared at her, struggling to keep his voice even. He hated how stilted he sounded, how he was powerless to keep the memories, the feelings, from rushing back, from overwhelming him with their force. Seeing Abby now made him remember afresh how wonderful that night had been— could have been. He swallowed, forcing the feeling back. He couldn’t afford regrets, not those kind. Still he stepped closer to her, inhaling her scent. She smelled, he thought, like clean laundry and fresh bread. ‘I had a devil of a time finding you,’ he continued, his voice steady now. ‘But I did, and now I’m here.’
    ‘Why?’ Abby crossed her arms, her eyes flashing, her tone turning soft and almost menacing in a way Luc had never heard before.
    He paused.