Page 57 of Signed, Sealed, Married

Had he lost enthusiasm for Fontaine’s? For her?

Yet he’d said he didn’t want to leave. Said he’d be back for the wedding.

What was the sudden crisis?

How had Adam known about it before he left the meeting? He’d had his phone off. She’d been watching him. There’d been no message passed by a staff member. No whisper, note or text.

Gisèle placed her palms on her churning belly. Was New York an excuse to get away from France and her?

It seemed impossible after last night. But she couldn’t shake the idea.

Despite what he said, maybe he was cooling on marriage. Maybe now they’d had sex the novelty had worn off. Her skin crawled and she told herself Adam wasn’t like that.

But how well do you really know him?

She tried to summon excitement at the prospect of their marriage of convenience being cancelled. But all she felt was a dull, heavy sense of anti-climax. What was wrong with her?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ADAMWASSURPRISEDat how tense he felt on his wedding night.

Outwardly, the day had gone well. His mother and sister had warmed to Gisèle, enthusiastically entering into the celebrations, as if their earlier private questions about the rush to marry had never happened.

Gisèle’s brother had been civil if standoffish, but that wasn’t surprising.

Most importantly, Gisèle had been there.

He’d wondered if she’d show up as promised. Especially as he hadn’t had a chance to see her before the ceremony.

He’d returned to Paris to find his mum and sister had arrived unexpectedly from Australia, despite his suggestion they wait for him and Gisèle to visit them in a few weeks. He should have known his mother would insist on attending, even if it was supposed to be an elopement wedding.

So he’d spent last night with his family, unable to track down his bride-to-be. His inability to contact her had unsettled him. He’d spoken to her daily while away, yet yesterday couldn’t raise her.

What if she’d decided to renege? He’d been on tenterhooks until he saw her with her brother, appearing mere moments before the short ceremony.

Adam huffed a breath out of tight lungs, remembering his relief. He lifted a hand from the car’s steering wheel and raked his scalp. Beside him in the passenger seat his bride was a silent presence.

Even in the dark he knew she wasn’t dozing after an evening convincing their families that they were, if not love’s young dream, then at least happy to marry.

He recalled the moment they’d been pronounced husband and wife and he’d leaned in for a kiss. Gisèle hadn’t exactly stiffened but her lips hadn’t moved. Her eyes, a bright accusing blue, had bored into his, and she’d stepped away as soon as possible.

Leaving him regretting his decision to go to New York, knowing he’d erred, yet annoyed that she held a grudge.

Wasn’t she glad to see him?

He’d read disdain in that formal kiss and today’s cool, distant smiles. In her refusal to carry a bouquet or wear a veil. Even in her choice of dress, not bridal white but a deep, vibrant pink his mother called fuchsia, that looked to him like a declaration of independence.

Gisèle was arresting in the colour. The fitted knee length dress with its deep V neckline was perfect on her. It was fashion as a statement.

Look at me, feminine and powerful, sexy and definitely no pushover.My own woman.

It didn’t take a genius to know she wouldn’t make this easy for him.

Even if she’d charmed his family with consummate ease. It was his mother’s first trip to Paris and Gisèle had been warm and engaging, suggesting excursions, answering endless questions about France.

It was only when she turned to Adam, beside her, that her smile grew brittle.

All evening, as they’d dined in the prestigious restaurant high in the Eiffel Tower, she’d held herself stiffly. Oh, she’d laughed with his family and her brother, but with Adam the curve of her lips was belied by the cool blue of her eyes.

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