Fiona Lowe - Latin Lovers - Seductive Frenchman - Chosen as the Frenchman's Bride / The Frenchman's Captive Wife / The French Doctor's Midwife Bride

To her relief, he was businesslike. Coming to rest beside her on the sand, he opened up the basket, taking out a light blanket. He spread it out and started to take out a mouthwatering array of food. Olives, bread, cheese, houmous … sliced ham, chicken wings, pâté.

‘There’s enough food here to feed an army.’

‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’

‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘Why don’t we start here?’ he said, uncorking a bottle of champagne that came in its own encasing to ensure it stayed chilled. He filled two glasses and handed one to her.

‘To … meeting you.’

‘To meeting you.’ She echoed his words, not sure what to say.

A funny feeling lodged in her chest as she took a sip, the bubbles tickling her nostrils. As he busied himself preparing her a selection of food to pick from on a plate, she couldn’t help but shake the feeling that this was all a little too smooth … practiced, even—as if he had done it a thousand times before.

‘Do you come here often?’ she asked lightly, trying to make it sound like a joke.

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her sharply. ‘Do you mean have I brought women here before? Then the answer is yes.’

She was taken aback by his honesty. He hadn’t tried to temper his words, or make her feel better. Somehow it comforted her. Although the thought of being the latest in a long line of undoubtedly more beautiful women caused some dark emotion to threaten her equilibrium, which she was barely clinging on to as it was.

‘I can tell you, though, that it hasn’t been for some time. And there probably haven’t been half as many as you seem to be imagining. I’ve come here since my teens, and it’s a favourite hang-out for friends of both sexes … not some place purely to seduce women.’

‘Oh … well, of course. I never thought for a second—’

‘Yes, you did—but I suppose I can’t blame you.’

A blush crept up over her face and she turned her attention to the food, hoping to distract him and get off the subject. She could envisage a neon sign above her head with an arrow pointing downwards saying— Gauche!

She crossed her legs and helped him to put out the food.

If anything had ever helped her to take her mind off things then it was food. She tucked in healthily. After the first few mouthfuls she looked up to find him staring.

‘What?’ She wiped her mouth with a napkin. ‘Have I got some food somewhere?’

He shook his head, taking his glasses off. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman eat the way you do. You look like you could keep going until everything is gone.’

She smiled wryly. ‘My appetite is legendary, I’m afraid. You’ve probably met your match. I’ve never been a delicate eater …’

He nodded towards her. ‘Keep going, please—I’m enjoying the novelty of watching a woman relish her food.’

Suddenly self-conscious, she took a sip of champagne to wet her throat and forced herself to keep eating as nonchalantly as possible. But now his attention was focused on her it was impossible. He seemed to be fixated by her mouth. She swallowed a piece of cheese with difficulty.

‘The history of your island seems fascinating … what I read of it in the exhibit space. Has your family really been there for centuries?’

Thankfully he finally took his gaze away. ‘Yes. They were given the island as a gift by the French royal family in the twelfth century. We originally came from Aragon, in Spain. The royals in the north wanted to establish allies in the south. We took the name of the island and added it to Salgado … hence my name today.’

‘And are there many in your family now?’

His voice was curiously unemotional. ‘No, just me left … Hard to believe that the line could very well die out with me. I was the first born, and my mother passed away when I was five … my father never married again, and he died when I was in my early twenties.’

Jane pushed her glasses up onto her head, her eyes wide and sympathetic. ‘I’m sorry … he must have loved her a great deal … and to lose both parents so young … My father died when I was small too—a baby. But at least I still have my mother.’

Xavier looked into her eyes and felt an unfamiliar sensation, almost like losing his footing. How had they got onto this subject?

She gazed out to the sea and shook her head.

‘I just remembered what I read about the earthquake … it must have affected your family?’

He followed her look. ‘Yes, it did … all of them perished apart from my great-grandparents … not to mention many of the islanders. Whole families were wiped out.’

‘That’s awful. It must have taken generations to begin to forget, rebuild lives …’

He nodded. ‘We built a commemorative grotto to their memory on the island some years ago. There are hundreds of names inscribed.’

She turned shining eyes on him, stunning him again momentarily. ‘That sounds like a lovely thing to do. I wish I’d seen it … how come the tour didn’t go there?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s small, and wouldn’t mean much to anyone else. It’s a very personal space for the islanders.’

He regarded her profile. ‘If you want you could come back there with me tomorrow and I’ll show it to you.’

‘Would you really?’

She couldn’t control the surge of excitement that took hold at the thought of seeing him again the next day.

He nodded. They didn’t speak for a few moments, and then he started to pack away some food but refilled her glass. He avoided her eye.

‘I’m going for a quick swim, but you should let your food settle for a while.’

She had to smile inwardly at his arrogant assumption that he was somehow immune to cramp after eating. Which, she had to admit as she watched his powerful back and legs walk away from her, he probably was. Immune to banal mortal complaints.

She lay back on her sarong, feeling deliciously relaxed and replete. The sky was hazy, the sun blissfully not beating down with full force. The lapping of the waves lulled her into a light sleep.

A while later she woke with a start … She looked to her side, to see Xavier stretched out beside her. The basket was gone and there was nothing between them. His eyes were closed, lashes long and dark against high cheekbones. He really was beautiful.

‘Do I pass inspection again?’ he asked, opening one eye, fixing her.

She sat up quickly to hide her mortification. ‘I think I’ll go for a swim now …’

‘I’ll join you.’ And with lithe grace he stood up beside her and held out a hand. She looked at it warily for a moment before taking it.

The initial cool of the waves lapping against her feet woke her up better than a pail of water over her head.

She extricated her hand from his, and once in far enough dived headlong into the first big wave, swimming underwater for as long as her breath held out.

She popped up to the surface some way off and shook her head. The sun glinting off the water was dazzling. She looked around and could see Xavier’s sleek head, arms gracefully scissoring through the water as he swam powerfully towards her. She trod water, breathing far more heavily than was normal after what she had just done.

He came within a couple of feet of her. They just looked at each other. Simultaneously his arms reached for her, and she felt herself gravitate towards him as if being pulled by a magnetic force until she was in his arms. It felt completely right … inevitable.

He brought her arms around his neck and instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist to steady herself. She was out of her depth … in more ways than one.

Seduced by the place, by him, and her resolve to embrace the moment, she gave in to a powerful desire. Slowly she dipped her head towards his, eyes closing as she felt the hard, sensual contours of his lips. His arms were like a steel band around her waist.