“Delusions of grandeur.”
“I see I’m going to have to stay on my toes around you.”
“You had to do that anyway.”
“I like this sassy Quinn.”
“Good, ‘cause she’s here to stay.”
He leaned over and kissed her.A light, almost delicate brushing of his lips that was more sensual than sexual.It hit her again.This man would soon be her husband.Her life was about to change.
****
Max drove them outof the Paris city limits to a town named Pontoise.Actually, according to him, it was called a commune, which wasn’t the same as a commune in the States.In France, it was an incorporated municipality.TheCaïdlived in a very beautiful, very old chateau, which was a more or less a fortified castle.Four stories high, the place was huge.Built with white limestone, and offset with black granite, the place took her breath away.
“This is amazing,” she whispered in awe.“Absolutely beautiful.”
“If you’re impressed by the outside, wait till you see inside.”
Max placed a hand on her lower back to guide her.She couldn’t help but notice the two guards at the door and another four standing at attention on the surrounding perimeter.Who knew how many were hiding from sight.One of the men at the door nodded to him and opened it to admit them entrance, where she spotted two more guards.Max took her hand and led her deeper into the chateau.Opulence was the only way to describe what she was looking at.Chandeliers, suits of armor, huge vases with foliage.Rich mahogany and marble.Paintings of people in period attire.Her mouth fell open and, for the life of her, she couldn’t seem to close it.She stood in a place only seen on television or in a magazine.
“I think you’re drooling,” Max teased.He used his finger to close her mouth.
“This place is unreal.”
He chuckled and took hold of her hand, leading her down a wide corridor to a room.He knocked and the door opened, where a butler bowed his head at them.Inside, people mingled, and many greeted Max in French.He introduced her to many as they made their way to the front.
Finally, he stopped and waited as an older gentleman talked with some people.He was very distinguished, with grey hair and a chiseled jaw.His shrewd gaze swept over everyone and everything.When it landed on her, he raised an eyebrow, leaving the group of people he was with in mid-sentence.
“Maxence!”
Quinn knew, right then and there, who he was.Gaston Lemaire.
Max bowed his head in deference.
“And this must be your lovely fiancée.”His accent was beautiful.
“Oui,” Max said.“Quinn Varlet.”
Not knowing what to do, she curtsied.
Lemaire smiled.“No need for that, my dear.We’re all family here.”
The slight emphasis he put on the word family made her think he was telling her something.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Where are you planning the nuptials?”
“Oh, um, I’m not sure where Max—”
“I insist you have it here,” Gaston offered.“AtChateau de Famille.”
He waited for her answer.
“Married in this beautiful home?That’s a no-brainer.”
“I do love Americanisms.”
