The Price of Honour

“You shouldn’t be lifting these by yourself. Not in your condition,” Hannah chided as she joined Megan in the riding ring.

The diamond engagement ring on her cousin’s finger caught the sun and flashed like a strobe light as she grabbed the opposite end of the rail Megan was placing in the cup.

“I’m being careful. And you heard the doctor say I should keep up my regular activities. Except riding. Tim will help me as soon as he finishes cooling down Midnight. He’s paying for his lessons by helping me set up the courses three days a week and by exercising my horses.”

Hannah set the round pole into position and dusted off her hands. “It’s good of you to cut him a deal. You could be teaching only the highest-paying clients. Didn’t I predict someone with your qualifications would have your choice of students and a waiting list?”

“You did,” Megan conceded. “And thanks for setting that up. I help Tim because he has innate talent and a good horse. He reminds me of me when I first started out on my own—all raw talent and ambition. I’d hate to see him miss the chance to compete because his dad lost his job.” She paced off the distance to the next jump.

Hannah accompanied her. “We have a new neighbor.”

“Who?”

“No clue. Wyatt said some guy called his office and asked if he knew of any horse farms available in the area.” Her cousin’s face lit up whenever she mentioned her fiancé and she mentioned him often—in almost every sentence. It was both sweet and a painful reminder of what Megan didn’t have.

“Wyatt told him about the property down the road from us being vacant. You probably didn’t know ol’ Mr. Haithcock died two years ago. His heirs can’t come to an agreement over what to do with the property, so it’s been sitting vacant. Anyway, Wyatt gave the man the contact information. One of the heirs called to say thanks. The guy leased the farm. That’s a load off me because I’ve been keeping an unofficial eye on the place.”

“I drove past the property last week on my way to town. It’s in really bad shape.” Apprehension prickled Megan’s neck. Xavier wouldn’t …

Hannah nodded. “Mr. Haithcock’s declining health prevented him from keeping up with the maintenance. The fences are falling down, the paint is peeling on all the buildings, the pastures are overgrown and the driveway is so littered with storm debris it looks like an obstacle course. I was considering sending a crew over to mow the fields and clean up a bit just to keep the riffraff and rodents out.”

Definitely not Xavier’s kind of place. But Megan hadn’t heard a word from him in the five days since she’d kicked him out. At the time she’d been too relieved to find him gone when she’d come out of the bathroom to be suspicious. She’d never known him to back down from a challenge.

She put a hand over her belly. “When did all this happen?”

“Hmm. The guy called earlier in the week and Haithcock’s nephew called last night. I’ve noticed a lot of activity on the farm for the past couple of days, and I passed a horse hauler turning into the driveway on my way home from the wedding planner’s just now. I’ll say one thing, the new tenants’ horses travel first-class. That was an expensive rig.”

Panic trickled through Megan. She clutched the oxer’s vertical for support. No. Please no. It’s just a coincidence.

“Megan, are you okay? Did you overdo it? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Megan tucked her hair behind her ears with an unsteady hand and forced a smile that almost cracked her face. It couldn’t be Xavier. The sprawling cedar ranch home was far too rustic for his caviar tastes, and the barn wasn’t nearly as large or posh as his stable. “I’m just borrowing trouble.”

“That’s not like you. Care to explain?”

Not really. But Hannah could be stubborn. “I had a fleeting thought that Xavier might be laying siege by setting up camp outside the castle walls, so to speak, but I’m sure he’s returned to France. After all, I’m not giving him what he wants and he has a wedding to plan and a business to run.”

“I hate that I was out when he stopped by. I would have loved to meet him and tell him what a jerk he is.”

Megan wasn’t surprised by Hannah’s protectiveness. She and her cousin had been as close as sisters since the day Megan had moved into the Sutherland house after her family’s plane crash. If not for the impossible relationship with Hannah’s father nothing could have driven Megan away.

Now that Luthor had retired and moved out, the farm wasn’t a battle zone anymore. But the farm was Hannah’s and Wyatt’s now, and once more, Megan was the outsider looking in. And if Hannah and Wyatt started a family, Megan feared she’d be in the way all over again.

She pushed the unpleasant possibility aside and focused on the more pressing issue. “Hannah, you have no idea how close I came to telling Xavier about the baby. For a few moments after we made love everything seemed so perfect and I felt so close to him. I thought he’d decided to dump his fiancée. I put his hand on my stomach, and I’d taken a breath to share my news. But I just couldn’t find the words.”

“Good thing you didn’t.”

“That would have been a disaster.”

Hannah pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “I’ll call Wyatt and see if Haithcock’s heir mentioned the tenant’s name.”

“That isn’t really necessary. I’m sure I’m just being paranoid. This isn’t a feudal war, despite Xavier’s arranged marriage. Moving horses halfway across the globe in a couple of days and with no prior planning would take an act of Congress. Even if they do have all their paperwork in order.”

“We’ll both feel better once we’re sure.” Hannah smiled as she punched in the number. The love and anticipation of talking to her man written all over her face sent a tiny twinge of envy through Megan. Then disappointment replaced Hannah’s smile. “It went to voice mail. I forgot he had a conference call this afternoon. I’ll ask him tonight.”

“It’s okay. Really.”

But she wouldn’t sleep a wink until she knew for sure that Xavier hadn’t leased Haithcock’s farm. It seemed she would have to drive over to personally welcome the new neighbor.

Megan got a bad feeling as soon as she steered the pickup truck she’d borrowed from Sutherland Farm between the newly repaired and whitewashed fences flanking the Haithcock farm driveway. A fresh layer of gravel crunched beneath her tires.

Then she spotted the top-of-the-line tractor-trailer horse hauler—the kind multimillion-dollar horses rode in. Her stomach sank. This couldn’t be good.

She parked beside the luxurious transporter and climbed from the cab. The humid evening air smelled of paint, fresh shavings and recently mowed grass. When she saw the chestnut stallion being led by a groom down the truck’s ramp, she broke out in a cold sweat.

She knew that horse as well as she knew her own. His strengths. His weaknesses. His bad habits. His owner.

Xavier.

The urge to bolt for the woods and lose her lunch charged through her, but she gritted her teeth until the nausea passed. Fleeing would be futile anyway. Xavier had already proven he’d follow. With his prize stallion, her favorite mount.

She scanned the now pristine property. How like Xavier to take the old farm from derelict to showplace in just days. He had the means and the money to work miracles.

An odd mixture of hope, dread and excitement fizzed through her. Would he go to so much trouble if he didn’t feel something for her? If he didn’t want her back? Her and only her. Maybe he’d realized how stupid and anachronistic an arranged marriage was.

The stallion caught her scent. His ears flicked forward and he whickered in recognition. She closed the distance and stroked his glossy neck.

“Hello, Apollo. Where’s Mr. Alexandre?” she asked the unfamiliar groom handling the horse.

He pointed toward the freshly painted barn. “Inside.”

“Thanks.”

Her heart thumped harder as she approached the building. A black Maserati Quattroporte identical to the high-performance luxury sedan Xavier drove at home occupied a spot near the barn’s front entrance. She heard his voice before she saw him and then he came through the door with his cell phone to his ear, jolting her to a stomach-dropping halt.

His jade eyes coasted over her, giving her goose bumps. He ended his call. “Good evening, Megan.”

She waited for him to tell her he’d made a mistake and wanted her back, but the silence stretched between them. “Why are you doing this, Xavier?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “If the rider won’t come to the horse, then the horse must come to the rider.”

“What happened to the replacement rider I found for him?”

“She was inadequate.”

“She’s ranked in the top ten.”

“Apollo prefers you.”

And so do I, she waited for him to add. But he didn’t.

“You’ve put him through a transatlantic flight for nothing. I’m not riding him.”

“He and your other mounts will stay until you come to your senses.”

Another brick slid down her throat and landed with a kerthunk in her belly. “You brought all three of them?”

He inclined his head.

“Why? You’re decreasing the value of the animals by pulling them from competition midseason.”

“You did that when you abandoned them to a strange and inferior rider. They did not perform as well for her as they did for you.”

“You didn’t give them a chance to adjust to each other’s styles.” But maybe a teensy part of her was happy that the horses had performed better for her. Petty, Megs.

“It is done.” And once he made a decision, she’d learned, he stuck to it. But she hoped he’d change his mind on one—his marriage.

“How long are you going to play this game, Xavier?”

“I have signed a year’s lease.”

She smothered a groan. She had to find a way to convince him to go home and soon. She might be able to hide her condition under baggy shirts for another month, but that was it, and in six months she’d have his child. “What about Parfums Alexandre and your upcoming wedding? That’s less than a year away?”

“Cecille can plan the nuptials without me, and I will work via conference call for now. And I have the jet on standby.”

To him jetting to another country was like any normal person’s road trip. Only, he had a full crew so he worked during the flights. “Haithcock’s house is hardly up to your five-star standards.”

He shrugged. “It has a simple charm and the furnishings provided are adequate.”

“You’re wasting your time, Xavier.”

“You have mentioned competing on the American circuit. I will provide the means for you to do so until you get it out of your system. The horses and you are certainly up to the task. I understand your need to prove your worth although I am told your uncle has retired from the horse business and no longer attends the shows to witness your success.”

It shouldn’t surprise her that he’d done his homework. “Proving myself on my uncle’s turf isn’t what this is about.”

“Then what is the problem? What keeps you here?”

Had he not heard a word she’d said? “Her.”

“As I have said before, Cecille is not an issue. I will not leave until you agree to return with me.”

“Only one thing will make that happen.”

A dark eyebrow lifted.

Her palms turned clammy. “End your engagement.”

His expression darkened ominously. “You demand the one concession I cannot grant.”

His words punctured whatever remained of her balloon of hope. If he loved her he wouldn’t hurt her this way. No, they’d never spoken the words, but the closeness they’d shared, the amount of time they’d spent together, had led her to believe he cared. He allowed her to see a side of himself that others never saw—a side that was gentle instead of ruthless, considerate instead of conquering. Had that meant nothing to him at all?

“How does your fiancée feel about your extended vacation?”

“I did not ask her opinion.”

She gaped at him. Was he clueless? “I realize you didn’t have a good role model, so let me help you. Marriage is a partnership. It means always considering the feelings of your significant other before making decisions that will affect him or her. Cheating on your future wife with a mistress—even if that mistress is across an ocean—is hardly the way to earn trust and make a relationship last.”

“And you are an expert on long-term relationships? I think not. The only lasting associations you have had are with your cousin and your horses. You thrive on competition, Megan. Why are you not competing?”

She scrambled for an acceptable response. One he’d believe. One that would convince him he couldn’t change her mind. Unless he changed his first.

“I’ve chased the dream of being on top of the leaderboard for ten years. I’m tired and need a break. I miss my cousin. I want to help Hannah plan her wedding. And now that my uncle has moved away from Sutherland Farm, there’s no reason for me to avoid the place. I’m leaving the European Circuit for good, Xavier. I won’t come back. Not for you or your horses. Not if you’re married to her.”

The minute she said the words she knew they were true. She couldn’t go back if he married that woman. Megan couldn’t bear to see Xavier and his wife in the stands or at the pre- and post-show parties. They’d bump into each other constantly. And knowing Xavier’s have-his-cake-and-eat-it-too attitude, he’d probably expect her to keep riding his horses even after he said his vows.

The life she’d built in Europe was over and the friends she’d made relegated to the past. The realization hit hard, and even though she’d left a month ago a part of her had hoped to return. But that wasn’t looking likely. Her emotions, which had been close to the surface lately, threatened to mutiny. Her eyes and throat burned and her chest tightened.

She would not cry. Especially not in front of Xavier. Gritting her teeth and fighting for composure, she turned on her heel and stalked away. She kept her eyes focused on the truck and escape.

“Why are you trying to change the rules of our affair?” he called after her.

Amazed that such a brilliant man could be so obtuse, she stopped and pivoted. “For the past six months we have spent nearly every hour together when we’re not working. I thought the rules had already changed.”

“Non.”

“Do you love me, Xavier?”

Rejection stamped his face. “Love was never part of our agreement.”

“Our agreement? You make our relationship sound like a business deal sealed with a handshake.”

“Are you claiming you love me?” He didn’t sound as though the idea appealed, and the fact that he avoided answering her question was answer enough.

Disillusionment settled heavily on her shoulders. “I believed I did. But I guess I was mistaken. You aren’t the man I thought you were, because that man would never subject his wife and his children or his lover to the humiliation of the gossip we both know runs rampant on the circuit.

“You may not care about the whispers that will go on behind your future wife’s back or mine, but I do, Xavier, and I won’t embarrass her or cheapen myself. I’m going to say it one last time. Maybe this time you’ll hear me. Go home. As long as you’re planning to marry her, there’s nothing for you here.”

Three

Megan stared at the fuzzy white image on the screen, too choked up to speak. That beating heart, those little hands and feet, tiny fingers and toes, eyes and mouth belonged to her baby. Hers and Xavier’s.

As if sensing the emotion damming Megan’s throat, Hannah squeezed her hand.

The obstetrician pushed a button on the ultrasound machine and the printer started humming. She wiped the gel from Megan’s stomach and helped her sit up. “Megan, everything looks exactly as it should for twelve weeks gestation. I’d guestimate your due date is the first week of January. You should have a new baby to start the New Year.”

A new year. A new life. Alone with her baby. She’d better get used to doing things without Xavier.

“Can you tell if it’s a girl or boy yet?” Hannah asked the doctor, making Megan glad she’d brought her cousin along for moral support since her brain refused to produce the appropriate questions.

“Not yet. But since we’re unclear on the date of your last period we’ll repeat the ultrasound in eight weeks just to confirm our dates. We might get a better picture then. Any more questions?”

When Megan shook her head, the doctor handed her the printed picture, wished her well and left the small room. Megan stared at the image, a tangle of emotions weaving through her. Excitement. Happiness. Sadness. Fear. She would be responsible for this little person, for his or her health and happiness and well-being. Her and her alone. What if she messed up?

“You okay?” Hannah asked.

Megan slid off the table and straightened her clothes. “Xavier should have been here for this.”

“It’s his loss, Megs.”

What if one parent wasn’t enough? What if something happened to her? Who would care for her baby? “Maybe I should tell him.”

“Do you think telling him would make him dump her and marry you?”

“That’s the million-dollar question—one I’ve asked myself a zillion times. I don’t know. On one hand, once Xavier sets a course he never deviates. On the other, what’s his is his. He doesn’t give up easily.”

“If you told him and he dumped her and married you would you always wonder if he’d done so just because of the baby?”

Leave it to Hannah to get to the heart of the matter. “Yes. I want him to wake up and realize that what we have—what I thought we had—is too special to throw away.”

“Then postpone telling him a little longer. If he hangs around you’ll have no choice. But for now wait and see if he comes to his senses.”

“Right. For now I’ll carry on.” Alone. The way she always had since her parents’ and brother’s deaths.

After his confrontation with Megan three days ago, Xavier had been ready to say to hell with her, fly himself and his horses back to France and let her suffer for her foolishness. Replacing her would be easy enough.

But he didn’t want any other woman.

He craved Megan. She was in his blood like a narcotic. He had to make her understand that what they had—combustible sex, mutual respect and similar interests—had nothing to do with his marriage. That alliance was business, whereas they shared pure pleasure. And he wanted to drink in as much of that pleasure as he could. After his marriage he would have to suffice with duty, honor and obligation. Not that Cecille was unattractive. But she was not Megan.

If he could not get what he wanted from Megan directly, he would have to use alternative means. Targeting Wyatt Jacobs, the CEO of Triple Crown Distillery and co-owner of Sutherland Farm where Megan resided, was the only strategy Xavier could think of for getting closer to Megan. He needed to know whether her abrupt departure was simply jealousy or something more. He was beginning to suspect the latter.

She had always been strong, determined and logical. He admired that about her. But she had an inflexibility to her attitude now, and her decision to abandon the career she loved was most definitely illogical and therefore out of character.

He shook Wyatt Jacobs’s hand. “Thank you for helping me find the farm and agreeing to see me.”

“Your offer to give me the inside track on corporate sponsorship of Grand Prix events is hard to refuse. It’s something I’ve been considering for a while but other priorities have prevented me from doing the required research.”

“My sources told me that your company was preparing to launch a high-end whiskey. I have never seen your brand connected with equestrian events. It is a missed opportunity—especially given your new ties to Sutherland Farm.”

“True. The advertising information you sent me is timely.” Jacobs led Xavier through the foyer and into his study and gestured toward a leather visitor chair. He settled behind his desk. “Now that I’ve begun watching Grand Prix events on TV with my fiancée, I appreciate Parfums Alexandre’s visible presence.”

“As you can see from the numbers, we have had a good return on our investments. Our ads reach a target market that can afford our product. You could do the same.”

“I see your point. Grand Prix attendees are the right demographic. I also want to surprise Hannah by helping her horse rescue operation. The best way to do that is through public awareness—an area in which you have expertise. I won’t mention this to her until it’s a done deal, so please keep that information to yourself.”

“Certainly.” Xavier was glad he had educated himself on Hannah Sutherland’s horse rescue operation and therapeutic riding program. “Find Your Center is a worthy cause. The equestrian audience should be both sympathetic and generous.”

Jacobs sat back in his chair, his eyes shrewd and assessing. “What do you want in return for sharing your knowledge?”

Xavier appreciated a man who was smart enough to know nothing came freely and one who got to the point. “I have relocated three of my horses to the Haithcock farm. I need expert riders to exercise and show them, but I have few connections in the States.”

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