The Marriage Bargain (16 page)

She hadn’t seen Julian approaching the table, and was a bit startled when he leaned down between them but spoke to Madeleine. “I do hope you’re not thinking of making a scene.”

“Of course not, darling.” She trailed her fingertips longingly over his cheek. “Your new bride and I were just setting some ground rules.”

Julian turned to Camille and plastered on a smile. “Will you excuse us for just a moment, Chéri?” He didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he latched onto Madeleine’s arm and forced her from the chair. His expression gave no sign of tolerance and Camille was certain Madeleine wasn’t being guided willingly.

Hopefully, Julian didn’t want a scene anymore than Camille. But he had to understand, she wasn’t about to put up with Madeleine’s rudeness. Not for any amount of money.

J
ulian practically dragged Madeleine in front of him by the time they cleared the tent’s entrance. Outside on the rain-drenched lawn, they stepped in a mud puddle. Madeleine scoffed and stomped her foot, splashing them both with dirty water.

“How dare you.” She chastised him with one of those evil-eyed looks she was so famous for. “How dare you treat me like a casual and indifferent acquaintance.”

“Madeleine, you are a guest at my wedding.” He ripped out the words through gritted teeth. “Not my choice, but you are here. So let’s be civil and do me a favor?” he asked, but didn’t wait for her response. “Stay away from my wife.”

Not that Julian liked being hostile to Madeleine, or any other woman, but he knew this one too well. Civility meant something more than its true purpose in her eyes. Thanks to his meddlesome father, Madeleine actually thought there was still a chance for some sort of relationship between them. And the last thing Julian wanted was Madeleine still hanging around with stars in her eyes after Camille had come and gone.

“Julian...?” Desperation invaded her voice and pushed her plea out. “She cannot give you what you truly need. I’m the only one that can do that. You know I know what satisfies and pleases you.”

Well, she had a point, little did she know. Julian’s wife had made it clear that he wasn’t getting what he needed from her, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying. The one thing he did know was there was no place for Madeleine in this scenario.

But he wasn’t about to confirm that to Camille. He thought he’d seen a hint of jealousy in her eyes, more than once, over Madeleine. And where there’s jealousy, there was also a chance for seduction.

“Have some dignity, girl.” His less-than-friendly tone chilled the air around them. “I chose someone else. Move on.”

He hated the hurt in her eyes, but it was necessary. Necessary to keep her away when Camille left and Julian played the dutiful, but abandoned husband. He neither needed nor wanted any comfort from Madeleine. Hopefully his treatment of her now would compel her to disregard him when the time came.

“You’ll change your mind.”

This was worse than he’d thought, and required drastic measures. “Pack your things. I want you gone by the time I get back.”

“Get back? Where are you going?”

“On my honeymoon.”

She glared at him for a moment, like she had something else to say, but instead, picked up the hem of her dress and trotted across the lawn toward the house.

Good. Now that that’s taken care of
....

Julian turned and faced his guests. Scanning the crowd, his bride was gone too. He checked his watch. Soren was probably on his way back by now. If he’d had trouble carrying out his mission, he would’ve called. A semblance of relief reassured Julian. At least something was going to go right today.

He stepped back inside the tent’s entrance just in time to see Papa swoop into Andre’s empty chair and commandeer Tasha’s attention. Julian didn’t trust Papa, not entirely. Stealth mode was the best course of action. Julian walked around the perimeter of the tent and slipped in through the back entrance. He paused, unnoticed, behind a wall of flowers next to the bride and groom’s table.

The sweet scent of lavender overwhelmed him, but he didn’t find it nearly as offensive as Madeleine’s perfume.

“My dear, it was so nice of you to drop everything,” Papa said, “and join us for Julian’s wedding at the last minute.”

Papa had left Camille’s name out on purpose. But Julian had a feeling Papa’s innuendos were going to be wasted on Tasha.

“Well,” Tasha said, in a serene voice. “Nothing’s more important than my best friend’s wedding.”

Good. She’s keeping the conversation amiable and neutral.

“I hope your boss doesn’t feel so inconvenienced that it will affect your job.”

Papa was fishing. Julian hoped Tasha didn’t bite.

“Well, I do freelance work,” she said politely. “And I’m between gigs right now. So, there’s no worries.”

She’s really good. It would serve Papa right if Andre did manage to steal her heart.

“You are a delightful girl, Tasha.” Maurice’s tone took on an air of indulgence. That worried Julian. It was Papa’s lure of choice when the fish weren’t biting. “Where prey tell did you and Camille meet?”

Her answer came after a split-second of silence. “Camille and I met in an acting class.”

“Well, now...you don’t say.”

Julian slid his hands in his pockets and emerged from behind the partition. So what if Papa found out Camille was an actress. Big deal.

“Papa...” he eased up to the table and sat next to his father. “You’re not pestering this young lady, are you?” he asked in an offhanded and joking manner. One he knew Papa would recognize for its hidden gravity. Julian was pretty sure the man had invented it himself.

“Me? Pester a lovely young lady?” he asked, as if that was a ridiculous notion. “Absolutely not.” He added his boisterous trademark laughter, knowing it intimidated most people.

What Papa didn’t know was that it hadn’t intimidated Julian for quite some time. He’d been waiting for the perfect moment, and decided the time had come for his demands.

Julian leaned closer to his father. “When I return from my honeymoon—” His soft whispering tone tangled with the hardened stare he was caught up in with Papa. Julian didn’t blink. “—I want Madeleine out of the house.”

“Boy, don’t presume to tell me what or who to invite into my home.” Maurice kept his voice low, but stern.

“Either she goes, or Camille and I will move into town.” Julian played his hand, but it wasn’t a bluff. He was prepared to move out of Pacifique de Lumière because the only thing Maurice de Laurent hated more than being told what to do, was being abandoned by his family. Julian smirked and leaned back into his chair. “I do believe Claudette is looking for you.”

Papa’s head crooked around, as if in spy mode, searching for his wife.

Julian leaned closer before Papa had the chance to escape. “You wouldn’t know what happened to my wife’s dress, would you?”

Papa looked stunned. “You think I had something to do with that?”

Julian studied his face. “In a word...yes. I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Julian, I swear to you...” he said, raising a hand in the air as if giving an oath. “I had nothing to do with the disappearance of that wedding gown. Claudette would have my head.”

That was true. Claudette didn’t mess around when it came to fashion, and high-priced fashion at that. Julian doubted Papa would risk the doghouse just to upset Camille. No, this had to be Madeleine’s doing.

Camille appeared in his peripheral vision, headed toward him, still wearing the same length-shrinking dress. She’d let her hair down, and he found the look, although a bit on the wild side, just as pleasing as before the rain. The perfect picture of grace, she greeted their guests with polite smiles and gestures as she passed them by. Julian swelled with pride.

He stood, pulled her chair out and waited. She smiled as she sat, and something in her manner soothed him. “I wondered where you’d gone off to,” he said, returning to his seat.

“Just freshening up a bit.” She surveyed the crowd around them with a quick glance. “So what’s on the agenda for this evening?” She settled her gaze on Julian. “We do need to talk.”

He chuckled. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about whatever your heart desires. There’s going to be nobody but you and me for the next ten days...well, you, me and a small crew.”

Camille studied his face. No doubt trying to figure out the mystery surrounding his elusive clue. But he wasn’t telling.

“Am I going to regret this?”

Julian pretended to consider it. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I can pretty much guarantee you’re going to love it.” He smiled and winked.

“Full of yourself, aren’t you?” she asked, half-serious, half-teasing.

“I’m getting to you.” Julian caught her gaze and trapped her there.

“Not as much as you want to.”

“Are you ready?”

“For...?”

“To...how do you Americans say...?” He paused, and searched his mind for the correct phrase. “Blow this pop stand?”

Camille giggled. “That’s so 1990s.” She looked at the bridal bouquet on the table. “But I haven’t tossed my bouquet away yet.”

“You’re really going to throw that away?” He didn’t understand the concept. Women were extremely sentimental and giving their bridal bouquet away made absolutely no sense.

“Well, this is not the one I carried down the aisle. It’s a replacement to use specifically for tossing the bouquet.” She reached for the flowers and cut her eyes toward Andre and Tasha.

Julian stole a look across the table. His brother was making a spectacle of himself. Julian managed to contain his amusement and kept the laughter to just a thought. He scooped up a handful of miniature mints in a nearby bowl and tossed them at Andre, tearing him away from Tasha. Julian’s laughter escaped.

Andre glared at Julian and mouthed the word, “What?”

“You’re on, little brother,” Julian said. “Gather all the single girls around.”

A smile spread across Andre’s face. “I can do that.” He stood and scooted Tasha up to the dance floor.

Once Andre had gathered a slew of single girls around Tasha, Julian reached for Camille’s hand and led her to the stage in front of the dance floor. He turned her back to the crowd and winked, saying, “No peeking.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Julian said, as Andre hopped up onto the stage.

“Ladies, ladies...gather round.” Andre coaxed with waving hands. “It’s that time. Who’s going to be next?”

“Andre, we want to see you front and center when Julian tosses the garter.” An unidentifiable feminine voice came out of the crowd.

In spite of himself, Julian chuckled at Andre trying to charm his way out of this one. Andre landed his hand against his chest and followed it with a defining headshake. Baby brother was not interested in being next.

Andre turned his focus on Camille. “Okay, on the count of three.” He paused and draped his hand over the microphone. “Just toss it over your shoulder. They’ll do the rest.”

Julian moved closer to Camille, targeting her ear. “Ten lira says he’ll use this bouquet-throwing incident to seduce the woman who catches it.”

Camille looked at Andre. “Ten lira. Is that a lot?”

Andre’s laughter had a bite to it. “Okay, ladies...here we go.” He cajoled Camille with a gentle nudge. “One. Two. Three...”

She tossed the bouquet back over her head and it sailed into the cluster of single women. The flowers bounced around as if on a springboard, rebounding off Tasha’s head and sailing behind her into Lecie’s hands...where it stayed.

Oh, Papa wasn’t going to like this. Julian snickered inside. At least she was safe from Andre’s charms.

“Okay, bud...” Camille hit his arm and waggled her hands. “Cough it up. Ten lira. Pay up.”

One of the groomsmen passed a chair up to the stage. Andre directed Camille to sit. She glanced anxiously between Julian and his brother. Julian flashed her an assuring smile and leaned in toward her ear. “No worries, Chéri. I’m just going to tastefully removed your garter and toss it out into a group of uninteresting and undeserving members of the male sex.” He kissed her cheek and she giggled as Julian dropped to the floor on one knee.

“He’s already been there.” Another nameless female yelled out, and all the other women howled.

Julian bowed his head and smiled at the mob, and that induced them to cheer louder. He slid his hands beneath Camille’s dress and ran them slowly up her smooth, bare leg. The gentleman in him stopped when he found the garter.

“Remember,” Andre said to Julian, “This is a G-rated show.”

“I know that,” Julian huffed under his breath. Did Andre think him a cad? He thought he deserved a bit more credit.

Julian slid the garter down Camille’s leg and over her foot. He swung it around his extended forefinger like a hula hoop. When the crowd neared a frenzied state, Julian whipped it into the air like a prize.

The wedding guests cheered with catcalls and profane words in French. Julian slipped his hand around Camille’s. He scanned over the crowd to see who’d caught the garter, but came up with nothing. He wouldn’t care much, except that Lecie had caught the bouquet and these two people were supposed to dance.

He leaned toward Andre. “Who caught that?”

“Stephan Payette.”

“You tell that little shit to keep his hands off Lecie.” Julian ordered, trying to contain his ferocity and hint at it at the same time. He turned to Camille and she softened his mood. “Are you ready?”

She raised her chin with a cool stare in his direction.

“Trust me,” he said.

She looked at him like she’d already done that and look where it had gotten her. Julian winked at her and squeezed her hand.

“Yeah, okay.” Her expression of doubt changed to desire.

Julian winked at her again, his confidence growing. He tore his attention away from Camille and turned to their guests. “As much fun as this party is...” He laughed comically. “My wife and I must bid you adieu.”

Julian hopped off the stage and swept Camille into his arms. He kept her there as he made his way through the crowd and to the limo waiting just outside the tent’s main entrance. Soren was waiting by the car.