Page 9 of Madam Alana

Get to know one another? Was that code for consummating themarriage? Angus had told us to expect our husbands to want to have sex and“seal the deal,” as he referred to it, right after the ceremony.

“Are we…going to your bedroom?” I asked boldly.

He frowned, took my hand, brought it up to his lips, andkissed my palm. Something he’d done during the ceremony that I’d foundendearing and had enjoyed very much.

“No,moncoeur. There is plenty of time to connect physically.I would like to get to know my wife personally.” He offered me the crook of hisbent arm the way a gentleman did.

“And how do you propose to do that?” I asked, a hint ofuncertainty laced my words.

“By taking you to dinner, of course. I’m famished. You?”

“Um, that would be nice. Thank you. Or should I say,merci?”

He put his hand over mine where I held onto his arm andstopped abruptly at the exit to the room.“Parlez-vousfrançais?” Do you speak French?

“Unpeu.”A little,I answered.

Christophe beamed at my response. “I am doubly pleased. Aonce-in-a-lifetime beauty who speaks French walked right into my life today.And I had the honor of making her my wife. I am a lucky man.”

He led us down the long hallway and to a bank of elevators.His words pinged around within the confines of my mind. He thought he was a luckyman to have made me his. Perhaps in this scenario, I was the lucky one.

Only time would tell.

Chapter 4

HisMuse

Christophe kept me close to his side from the moment we leftthe ceremony room. So close, in fact, that I could feel the shift of his suitjacket against my side as we moved through the hotel and into the elevators. Iheld my breath, not knowing what to say to my new husband, preferring to keepquiet and listen. That philosophy had kept me alivemoreoften than notand was a good tactic in most scenarios.

The elevator was stifling hot, the air buzzing with anenergy that pressed against me at every angle. Not knowing what was going tohappen next put me into a state of high anxiety.

Christophe suddenly patted the hand I had around his elbow.

“Relax,cheri.The hard part is over,oui?”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and nodded.

He left his hand over mine as the doors to the elevatoropened onto the casino floor. Flashing lights and rock music blasted into theonce quiet space, jolting me to attention. I’d let his calm demeanor and gentleway lull me into a sense of calm, in direct opposition to the chaos of thecasino.

“Do you want to try your hand at gambling?” Christophegestured with his chin to one of the gaming tables.

I frowned and looked up at him. “I don’t have money of myown yet,” I answered truthfully. “And I would never waste a single dollar onsomething so frivolous as a game of chance.”

His lips twitched. “That is a very interesting responseindeed. Says a lot about you,” he murmured, his tone expressing pride.

“Oh? What does it say about me?” I asked, genuinely curiouswhat this man thought of me.

He led us through a series of slot machines at a quick pace.I crunched my toesin order tokeep my too-large shoesfrom slipping from side to side.

“Okay, I’ll play along.” He smiled. “You respect monetarysecurity which likely means you are frugal. A good personality trait, to besure.”

“Frugality can be a necessity, not just a personalitytrait,” I countered.

“Noted. Let’s see…” He tapped his bottom lip with a finger.“You’re not inherently a risk taker. Because if you were to gamble a dollar andwin, you could have two in its place. The possibility of losing the initialdollar is too high of a risk to you.”

I simply stared at him as he accurately described my exactlogic back to me.

“And you’re disadvantaged, so you know the value of adollar. You wouldn’t waste one on playing a game when that dollar could providesomething more important to you, such as food, clothing, or shelter. How did Ido?” He grinned wide, obviously proud of his deductions.

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