Page 59 of Her Inconvenient Groom (French Conquests 4)

She remained alone with that word for several moments, just listening to it echo in her mind. Love? Certainly, he was mistaken. He felt something for her because she’d been carrying his child, but that child was gone now, delivered into the arms of the angels. No longer of this Earth. Sex between them had been good too. But again, that love-sex dynamic was nothing but a chemical reaction. Little sparks firing in the brain.

Apart from that, he was making things up in his head like a schoolgirl.

“Go away, Dustin,” she insisted.

His lips brushed her cheek, and he repeated himself, “No.”

She heard the door open and close, and there were two more voices in the room, laced with forced cheerfulness, one male and one female. She recognized the first immediately: it was William. When soft lips pressed against her cheek, and she was enveloped in a cloud of expensive perfume, she knew it was Madeline, Liam, and Alex’s mother. Her mother’s old friend.

“Cherie,”the older woman said. “I came as soon as I heard. We’re here for you.”

Chantelle could sense Dustin bristling at her side, and knew he was probably miffed because their conversation and his foolish declaration had been interrupted. Desperately, she blurted, “Get him out, Liam!”

“What?” Dustin cried, stunned.

“Pardon?” Liam said, nonplussed.

Chantelle could feel the anguish, feel the tears gathering, and was determined not to let anyone see them spill. “I need you to remove my husb— remove this man from my room. I don’t wish to see him anymore.”

“Pourquoi?” Liam asked, but with her blurred vision, she could see him already moving closer to Dustin, always a loyal friend.

“Sweetheart, don’t do this?” Dustin groaned, aghast. “I love—”

The door opened again. This time, several pairs of heavy feet. Chantelle sensed this was serious.

They identified themselves as police, and things started to move fast. Too fast. She heard a declaration of arrest, first in French, and then in English. Something about attempted murder. Her murder. Madeline gasped. Dustin protested. The clack and snap of handcuffs.

And then tremors seized her body, shaking her, tossing her like she was a mere toy. She could feel her teeth clamp down on her lip, taste salty blood, but couldn’t stop herself.Help me!she screamed.Stop it!

But the screaming was all in her head. Nobody could hear her. Nobody could see her as she tumbled backwards into blackness.

Chapter 32

Well, this sucks,Dustin thought as he sat heavily down on a hard bunk. Although to be honest,suckswas understating it quite a bit, considering he was sitting in a French holding cell waiting on a state-sponsored lawyer to stand by his side during his police interview.

He was bewildered, barely understanding why they had bum-rushed him earlier that day in Chantelle’s hospital room. At first, the doctors and nurses had been giving him increasingly curious, creepy looks, and then it was as if the world had gone mad.

Men in uniforms arriving, shouting at him in French. When he had stared back at them uncomprehendingly, one of them had switched to English, but his command of the language was weak at best. His southern accent was thick, making it difficult for Dustin to grasp. He heard the words ‘arrest’ and ‘attempted murder’ and then he was on the ground with his hands being dragged behind his back. He felt the clink of metal as his wrists were clamped together.

And then, as they began dragging him to his feet and out the door, the machines surrounding Chantelle’s bed had gone mad. Beeping and shrieking. He saw movement on the bed, the sheets twisting, but his vision was cut off by a surge of doctors and nurses.

His puzzlement at being arrested for what, he didn’t know, was replaced by terror and uncertainty. What was happening to his wife? Why was everybody freaking out?

By the time they dragged him downstairs, in full view of shocked and curious visitors, and forced him into a police car, he no longer cared about himself. All he could think about was her.

There was a sound at the door, and he looked up from his cell, as did the two or three others sitting patiently in cells around him. Like lobsters in a tank, waiting to be chosen. Who had they come for now?

“Monsieur Spencer?” There was a uniformed officer standing at the grille, accompanied by a woman in a business suit and another dour-faced man who had ‘lawyer’ written all over his face.

The woman spoke, introducing herself, saying, “I’m your interpreter this evening, and this gentleman is your attorney. Are you prepared to undergo questioning at this time?”

“My wife. What happened? How is she?”

The woman looked at him blankly and then repeated, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Are you prepared to be questioned at this time?”

Dustin nodded warily. He’d do anything right now, if it would get him closer to some answers. “Yeah, whatever.”

She pressed her lips down, as if not too happy with his lack of appreciation for her presence, but nodded at the officer, who unlocked the grille and led him, still uncomfortably handcuffed, to a room down the hall.

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