Chapter Five

Later that day, after they’d returned form one of Caroline’s boring charity lunches, André slid the tiny vibrator into her hand as he helped her out of the limousine. Caroline looked down at it, then back up at him.

“I forgot to give it back to you this morning so you could use it again …Madame,” he said, adding the last word cheekily.
”No,” she said. She slipped it into the pocket of his jacket.

“I think I mentioned that this was a deal breaker?” he teased, reaching to get it out again. Much more sure of herself where he was concerned, Caroline looked steadily back at him.

“Break the deal then,” she dared him. “You go talk to Robert and tell him you’ll pass up the opportunity to continue having sex with me for the next two years over this little matter of principle.” Enjoying herself, she reached up and patted his cheek.

“And you’ll give up the opportunity to continue having sex with me on this matter of principle?” he countered. He was grinning and looking very sure of himself.

“Definitely,” she lied. At that point, André made a tactical error. He scoffed. Caroline, who had been on the point of walking up the stairs, swung back around, her mouth open in surprise. She shut it before he saw her.
”I most certainly will,” she said, hoping she wasn’t going to be tested on it. She felt the need to prove her point. “In fact, I won’t be visiting you tonight. I have things to do.”
”Don’t be like that,” he said, recovering fast. He’d recognised his mistake and was trying to think of a way to make it up. Nothing was occurring to him, short of begging. “Twice a day,” he tried. “We have to do it twice a day. We’ve only done it once today.”

Yes, she remembered. He’d woken her up the same way as the previous day, by stroking her breasts. This time, when she was writhing around, begging him to either stop it or do more, he’d smiled at her, caught her wrists in one of his hands and pinned them over her head. And then, he’d tormented her for another lifetime or two while she pleaded and wriggled under him. Eventually, he’d laughingly capitulated and given them both satisfaction in a way that was becoming increasingly familiar and necessary. But that was not the point.

“We’re way ahead on numbers, as you know,” she said, unmoved. “See you tomorrow night. Perhaps.” Pleased with herself, she stalked away, up the stairs. For once, he didn’t have a comeback.

Of course, she regretted it that night. When eight-thirty came and went, she resolutely kept painting. She was not going to give in to the impulse to go down and see him. He was too smug by half about the arrangement, and if she did capitulate, he’d be even worse. No, he was not going to win on this one. She just wished that victory didn’t feel quite so hollow…and lonely. But a principle was a principle, and Caroline prided herself on being a woman of principle.

She waited until after eleven to leave her studio, because she didn’t want any awkward questions from Jon about why she wasn’t with André that night. Overall, having spent a couple of hours finishing off a nude painting of the man she was trying very hard not to think about hadn’t helped the situation at all.

Once the lights had been turned off downstairs, she walked quietly down the staircase, showered, pulled her nightgown on, and climbed into her big, comfortable, empty bed. She lay there, looking up at the lacy canopy of the four-poster, her hands resting on the smooth, neat sheet that was all she had over her, and wondered at how much her life had changed in such a short time. Until recently, she had been content lying alone in her pristine bed. Now, it felt strange to not have a large, warm man to curl up against, to be wrapped up in. Now the big bed felt like a wasteland, rather than a luxury. Caroline sighed. Then she stilled and listened…and sat up.

The handle on her door was turning quietly. Obviously, it wasn’t Jon. He made a point of never entering a room with anything less than a fanfare of some sort. Which meant that it was probably…

“You win,” said André, walking in and closing the door behind him. Caroline stifled her smile until the door was closed and they were in darkness. She had no intention of making this easy for him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. He laughed softly.

“You know very well what I am doing here,” he said ruefully. “I am eating humble pie.”

”Good,” she said sweetly. He laughed again, then swore in French as he walked into something.

“Can you turn a lamp on?” he asked.

“Why?”
”Because I want to put something against the door,” he replied. “I don’t want your friend Jon walking in on us during the night.”
”Why? What are we going to be doing?” Caroline persisted even as she reached to flick the switch on her bedside lamp.

“Nothing, if you don’t stop gloating,” André said darkly. She laughed at that.

“I dragged that chair over to the door last time,” she pointed it out. “It slows him down a bit.” André nodded and carried the chair over, placing it under the door handle.

“Now,” he said, turning towards the bed. Caroline brought her knees up, wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees. She was sitting right in the middle of the bed, doing her best to look very comfortable and casual.
”Now?” she repeated. André rolled his eyes.

“Give me a break,” he pleaded. “I’ve had to admit to myself – and to you, that I cannot survive a whole night without you. You think that this isn’t humiliating enough already?” Caroline did her best to look stern.

“No vibrator challenges?” she asked. He pulled his t-shirt over his head. He undid his jeans and pushed them down, taking his briefs and shoes off at the same time. He straightened up and gazed at her.

“No vibrator,” he agreed. “Just me.” She made a point of looking him up and down, delighting in the view.

“You’ll do,” she smiled and relented, holding her arms out to him. She laughed again as he climbed onto the bed, growled, and proceeded to strip her nightgown and panties off her with more speed than finesse, throwing them over his head and onto the carpet in the middle of the room.

…….

There was obviously no way he could spend the entire night in her bed. Apart from the impropriety of his staying in the main house, there was the fact that Jon made quite frequent visits to her room early in the morning. They agreed that he’d have to go back while it was still dark. As a result, it was hard to say which one of them was more surprised when the sunlight streaming in through the three bay windows woke both of them.

“I don’t believe I went to sleep,” were André’s first words. “Merde!”

“I remember enough schoolgirl French to know that’s a bad word,” Caroline grinned. “Don’t panic. It’s probably still early.”
”It’s…merde, it’s seven-thirty!” André said. Either Jon or the servant who brought Caroline’s breakfast could be coming through the door any time, and André wasn’t sure which one he would least prefer to be caught by. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, still bleary-eyed.

“Where are my clothes?” he asked himself. “I have to…” The door handle turned and he grimaced. He had time to get under the bed, but not time to retrieve his clothes as well. He quickly weighed up the relative embarrassment of being caught in bed naked or under the bed naked and decided to stay where he was. He lay back on the pillows and pulled the sheet up. Fortunately, Caroline was seeing the funny side of it. In fact, she was struggling not to laugh.

“For God’s sake, Carrie. Stop putting this damned chair here!” Jon protested. He gave it a hard shove and sent it sliding as he leaned on the door. “I don’t understand why you keep…well, perhaps I do. Heavens, this is becoming a habit, my bursting in on you when you’re being naughty. Good morning, children.”

“Morning, Father,” Caroline responded in kind. “Go away.”
”I don’t think so,” Jon grinned. “Morning, André.”
”Good morning,” André responded. He left the “sir” off this time. It didn’t seem appropriate in the circumstances, given that he was sitting up naked in Caroline’s bed. Jon sauntered over to one of the dainty little chairs near the windows and sat down, bending to pick up Caroline’s nightgown and panties from the floor on the way.

“Jon, go away,” Caroline insisted. She wasn’t as amused now. “My breakfast will be delivered at any minute and I have to go to the bathroom.”
”Dear, dear,” Jon said, enjoying himself. He showed no signs of moving from his chair.

“At least give me my nightgown,” she insisted. His green eyes gleamed.

“Come and get it,” he teased. Caroline groaned.

“There are times when I dislike you,” she said, lying back down on her pillows and looking up at the ceiling.
”Oh, you don’t mean that,” Jon said. She leaned up again to look over André to him.

“I do,” she assured him. “I really do. And I really do need to go to the bathroom.” The grin on Jon’s beautiful face told her all she needed to know. He wasn’t budging.

”It’s all right,” André said to her. He threw the sheet back and stood up. “Will you give it to me?” he asked Jon. Jon, who’d caught his breath in surprise, dragged his gaze up to André’s eyes.
”Anything,” he quipped. “I’ll give you anything at all. Oh, my.” As André walked towards him, Jon scanned his naked body several times, missing nothing on each pass. André stopped just in front of him and held his hand out. Jon looked up at him.

“May I have the nightgown?” André asked. He stood still as Jon looked down again, slowly, all the way down to his toes and back up again. He stood still even as Jon reached out and lightly touched one bare hip with his fingers, although Caroline could see from the tightening of the muscles in André’s back that he had to fight to stop himself from moving away.

“What do I get for it?” Jon asked lightly, smiling up into deliberately blank blue eyes. André didn’t even hesitate.

“I could have wrapped the sheet around me,” he pointed out. “Or covered myself with my hands.”

“There is that,” Jon conceded. He held the nightgown up. As André reached for it, Jon shifted his hand in from his hip towards his groin, but André, anticipating it, stepped back nimbly, taking the nightgown with him. Jon laughed.

“Quick, too,” he said. “Tell me, André, how…adventurous are you?” He flicked a look over at Caroline and then back at the man in front of him. There was no mistaking his meaning.

“Not at all,” André answered. “I’m very staid.” Caroline, thinking of some of the things he’d done to her, could have expressed a differing opinion, but she didn’t. It was clear that a threesome including Jon did not feature anywhere in André’s fantasies. It didn’t feature in hers either, she had to admit. Not that she thought it featured in Jon’s either. He was just teasing. Although she had no doubt that he’d be sorely tempted by the possibility of a twosome with André.

“How boring,” Jon commented. “And disappointing.” As André turned to go back to the bed, Jon whistled loudly and appreciatively at the new view. André looked up at the ceiling and kept walking. He gave Caroline her nightgown, picked up his own clothes and sat down on the bed to dress. Having had his fun, Jon stood up.

“Going out today?” he asked. Caroline was attempting to pull her nightie over her head while remaining covered by the sheet.
”No,” her muffled voice replied.

“I’ll be in the office for most of the day,” he said. “I’ll come up and see your painting later, darling. Now that I’ve seen the original, I really can’t wait to get my hands on that portrait. Bye André.”
”Good bye,” André replied. The door shut behind Jon and Caroline dived out of the bed, heading for the bathroom.

“Don’t leave yet,” she said to André. “And don’t put anything else on. Please.”

“But…” he protested to a shut bathroom door. Cursing himself again, he obediently stayed where he was, still shirtless and shoeless. He regretted it two minutes later when a blonde, uniformed man came in bearing a breakfast tray. From inside the bathroom, Caroline heard the door open and heard André groan loudly. Since she didn’t hear any words spoken, she could only assume that the servant had given him a very speaking look.

“My reputation is in ruins,” André said when she came out. He was standing by the breakfast table, lifting covers off her plates. “If Carlos had grinned any wider, his face would have split.”
”Your reputation?” Caroline’s eyebrows lifted. “I’m the married one here.”
”Good point,” he said. “This breakfast looks nice.”
”So do you,” she said. “Come back to bed.”
”And risk being caught by your friend again? I don’t think so,” André replied. “I’ve had quite enough of being looked at as if I’m made of chocolate.” Caroline laughed.

“Good analogy,” she congratulated. “And he did look hungry, didn’t he?”

“Don’t remind me,” André said, shaking his head. “You owe me for that.” He decided to exact payment, picking a fork and eating some of her omelette. “This is very good,” he said.

”Later,” she promised him. She sat down on the bed. He smiled and shook his head.

“It will be cold later,” he pointed out. Caroline matched his smile with one of her own. Then, she shifted on the bed and tugged the nightgown up…all the way up her body and over her head. She threw it back onto the floor. André looked at her, his eyes dwelling on her bare breasts. He spared a quick glance for the omelette, then looked back at her. He gave in.

“I’m sure it will still be nice cold,” he said.

……………

They fell into a pattern that suited them over the following weeks. By day, Caroline carried on with her normal life, attending her functions and meetings, occasionally visiting Dara, and often just staying home and losing herself in her paintings. Jon and Sir Robert continued their work, buying, selling, investing and whatever else they did in their big library-office. André drove the car when required, the perfect chauffeur, polite, efficient and always on time.

And at night, they talked, they drank wine together, and they made love as often as possible, almost always spending the night together. Little by little, André pushed back any boundaries Caroline had in terms of modesty and reluctance, and she delighted them both by embracing every new experience and demanding more. She kept some clothes in the cottage so she had a chance to wear back in the morning. When they could, they stole moments together during the day, but André didn’t visit her in her room again, and they didn’t have the same opportunity for a whole day together.

One afternoon, more than a month after that day, André drove her over to Dara’s, Caroline clutching a painting. It was a small seascape, a sheltered cove in which she had walked in her mind as she was painting it. She’d heard the call of a seagull, felt the sand between her toes and heard the rush and suck of the ocean waves. As with all of her paintings, it meant a lot to her, and it was a birthday gift that she gave with her heart.

Dara was overwhelmed.

“You painted this?” she asked, clutching it. Caroline nodded.

“My dear, I knew you painted, but I didn’t know you painted like this!” her friend said. “This is just marvellous. This is better than anything we have on our walls.” Since they had some extremely expensive artwork, this was saying something.

“It’s just a little landscape,” Caroline tried to talk it down. Dara was having none of it. She actually had tears in her eyes.

“Oh Caro, this is so special,” she said. She put it down and kissed her on her cheek, really kissed her, not just air-kissed. And then she hugged her as well. Caroline was laughing.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said.

“I love it,” Dara assured her. “Do you have other paintings?”
”Lots of them,” Caroline said.
”Are they as good as this?”

“They’re about the same.”
”Then you must have a show,” Dara said. Astonished, Caroline spoke without thinking.

“André said the same thing,” she said. And then she froze, breathless.

“Did he?” Dara asked. “Well he’s an astute man as well as being a gorgeous one, then.”

What surprised her most was that Dara wasn’t surprised. She seemed to blithely accept that the chauffeur would have expressed an opinion on Caroline’s paintings.

“He is,” she said, avoiding her friend’s brown eyes. There was silence. Eventually, she looked up. Dara smiled sympathetically.
”Did you honestly think I’ve missed all of the meaningful looks between you two?” she asked. “Darling, the heat is so intense I’m careful not to walk between you for fear of being burnt.” Caroline tried a polite laugh.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dara,” she said. “

“Mmmm,” Dara said, still smiling. “More tea?”

“Please,” Caroline said eagerly.

If she thought she was in the clear, she was wrong. Dara simply waited until she’d refilled their cups and then leaned back in her chair and attacked again.

“I’ve met the beautiful Jon a number of times,” she said. “Before you married Sir Robert, and since, at some local events. At first, I thought he might be involved with you, but I realised over time that it wasn’t likely.”

“You thought he was involved with me?” Caroline sought refuge in repetition. Dara nodded.

“But then of course, I realised the truth. That he was involved with Sir Robert. Which rather left you out in the cold, my dear.” She put her delicate bone-china cup and saucer down on the polished table beside her chair and leaned forward.

“So, if you are finding happiness in the arms of that handsome man in black, then good luck to you, Caro.” The look on her face was so caring and the tone of her voice so sincere that Caroline lost the ability to prevaricate.

“Thank you,” she said simply. And with that, the last reserve in her friendship with Dara just melted away. She actually felt it go.

“I wouldn’t have said anything,” Dara said. “Even with that little slip of yours. But your painting….” She looked over at it with admiration and wonder. “Anyone who can create something like that, and who cares for me enough to give it to me, deserves to know that she has someone else on her side, all the way.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that,” Caroline said. She was fighting tears.

”It must have been hard for you,” Dara said. “I’m not prying, but if you want to talk, you can.”
”It hasn’t really been hard,” Caroline said. “They’re very wrapped up in each other, but Jon is always nice to me. Well, most of the time, and Robert and I don’t have a lot to do with each other.”
”And you and André?” Dara smiled and then laughed at the look in Caroline’s eyes. “That good?”
”Better,” Caroline said. And then she smiled and shook her head. “I won’t say anything else. I really shouldn’t.”
”Oh, I wish you would,” Dara said. “I really do. He’s so good-looking.”
”He is, isn’t he?” Caroline agreed, laughing.

When the two of them walked down the stairs towards the limousine, André noticed a number of things. Dara was beaming at him, Caroline was looking a little guilty, and her mascara was smudged, as if she’d been crying. It was the latter that made him move forward in concern, without thinking.

“Are you all right?” he asked, then collected himself. “Madame?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, smiling brightly at him. Confused, he glanced sideways at Dara and then back at Caroline.

“Oh,” he said. Obviously some confidences had been shared. He found himself wondering how much detail had been gone into.

“I’m sorry,” Caroline said. “She guessed.”
”I did,” Dara said. “And she tried to deny it, but I persisted.”

”Were thumbscrews involved?” André asked.

“No, but they would have been if she hadn’t given in,” Dara said.

“Just as well that she did, then,” André said. “So, are you getting into the car, chérie, or are we going to stand here while I try to guess exactly how much your friend knows and whether I should be embarrassed?” Both women laughed, and Caroline climbed into the back of the limo. André turned to Dara.

“Good bye,” he said politely.

“Good bye,” she responded in kind, and held out her hand. He took it, brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers. She gripped his gloved hand and tugged at it, making him look at her questioningly.

“Whatever she’s paying you, I’ll double it,” she said. It was his turn to laugh along with Caroline. He detached his hand, got into the limo and drove off.

He looked in the rear view mirror as soon as they were on the road.

“How do you feel about her knowing?” he asked.

“Surprisingly good,” Caroline said. She knelt up on the seat and put her chin on his shoulder. He reached up and stroked the side of her face.

“How much does she know?” he asked.

“Nothing about the arrangement,” she said. “She just thinks we’re having an affair.”
”Are we?” he asked. Caroline thought about it.
”I suppose we are,” she said. “Although when it’s with my husband’s permission, it’s hardly an illicit affair, is it?”

“An almost open affair, then?” he suggested. She nodded.

“With lots of sex,” she added, making him laugh.

“Definitely,” he agreed. He flicked the turn indicator and moved the car over on the road, turning into a side lane that looked familiar.

“What are you doing, André?” she asked suspiciously.

“Revisiting old ground,” he said. “Last time we were here, something wonderful happened. I think there must be something in the air, so I’m just checking it out.” Caroline laughed silently. He felt it as her chin moved on his shoulder.

“That was where we stopped last time, wasn’t it?” she asked as they drove straight past the big trees.

“It was,” he said. “But I have been here since, and I know what’s at the end of the lane now.”

“A house?” she guessed. He shook his head.

“What?” she asked. He steered the car around a curve, carefully negotiated a narrow part between two trees, and then parked on the patch of gravel that the track ended in. Then he took his gloves off, pinching them at the fingers to do so. Still not answering her, he got out of the car, went round to the back and got something out, then walked back and opened her door.
”What is it?” she asked. He smiled.

“A very secluded lake,” he said, clutching two towels. “Let’s go skinny dipping, Madame.”

It was reckless and silly, but as he pointed out, from the bank beside the lake, they had a clear view of the first part of the track as it came off the road. If anyone drove down there, they’d see them and have time to get to their clothes. The gossip would still travel quickly, but there wouldn’t be anyone to personally vouch that they’d seen Lady Caroline Winthrop and her chauffeur cavorting nude in the afternoon sun.

So, they cavorted. The water was only waist-deep on André, which meant that Caroline’s breasts just breached the surface. It was also quite clear, which meant that she could see what he was doing to her with his hands.

“This is lovely,” she said, arching back to float, eyes shut and arms straight out to her sides.

“It certainly is,” he said appreciatively as her body settled in the water in front of him. He slid his arms under her and floated her closer to him.

“You float very well,” he observed.

“No comments about flotation devices are required,” she told him, opening one eye.

“Never crossed my mind,” he lied, quickly looking away from her breasts.

“I’ve always been able to float,” she said. “I used to just lie down in the pool at home and float for hours. Mother said I was strange.”
”She sounds like she’s eminently qualified to make a judgement on that,” André commented. Caroline smiled, her eyes closed again.

“Can you float even when you’re being distracted?” he asked. Her smile stayed in place.

“That depends what the distraction is,” she said. “If it’s…oh.” He kissed her, gently, so as not to push her head under the water, just a touch of his lips to hers, a quick flick of his tongue into her open mouth.

“You’ve passed the first test,” he commended her. “Now, on to stage two.”

Her breasts were cresting the water and were just too tempting. He kissed each nipple. Her eyes open now, she had guessed his intent and was prepared, so was able to stay afloat. Eyes dancing, he looked up at her.

“Very good,” he praised. “And now…the final test. The fur test.” Laughing already, Caroline squealed as he took a breath and buried his face into the water that just covered her pubic hair, burrowing into her and kissing her there. She gave in and sank.

From their perch on the riverbank, where they lay down to dry, they kept an eye on the path. Neither of them wanted the idyll spoiled.

“We don’t both need to look,” André pointed out. “Why don’t you close your eyes for a while? You’ve been a little tired lately. I’ll watch.”

“You’ll watch?” she asked, resting up on one elbow and looking down at him. He was flat on his back on the gentle slope, his nude body stretched out and tempting.

“I’ll watch,” he said.

“Good,” she replied. “You do that. Meanwhile, I’ll just find something to occupy myself with.” With that, she proceeded to kiss her way down his body, her own wet skin sliding along him as she went. André tried to catch his breath and failed.

“I won’t be able to speak if I do see a car,” he warned.

“You’ll manage something,” she said. “I have faith in you.” She nuzzled at his navel, then went lower, following the fine line of dark hair that ran down his belly. And then she found what she was looking for, and André put his head back and forgot all about looking for cars.

……………….

“Did she like the painting?” he asked, once they were back in the limousine. Caroline was combing her hair, trying to make it look as if she hadn’t been for a dip in a freshwater lake and made love on the grass.
”She loved it,” she said, still amazed at Dara’s reaction.
”I’m not surprised,” André said. “Everyone who sees your work loves it. Even Jon.” He said it straight-faced, but he grinned when Caroline laughed.

“What did you do with it?” she asked. He did his best wide-eyed innocent look, which really did not suit him at all.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Madame,” he said.

“Sure you don’t,” she said, shaking her head. She started dragging her comb through his hair.

The painting she’d done of him had disappeared just over a week after he’d posed. Jon had initially blamed Caroline for hiding it, but when she was obviously just as confused and just as upset as he was at its disappearance, he’d turned his attention to André. Naturally, André had denied all knowledge of it, and had consented to having his cottage thoroughly searched. There was no sign of the painting, and since he hadn’t been out of the estate for the full two days since he’d posed, it was hard to know what he’d done with it. Unfair dismissal laws didn’t apply in the case of illegal immigrants, but as a favour to Caroline, Jon didn’t sack him. But he did demand that Caroline create another painting immediately, and he pouted at her every now and then when the painting failed to materialise.

……….

That night, after they’d made love again, Caroline got out of bed to make them some coffee. To André’s pleasure, she remained naked, and he propped himself up on his pillows to watch her.

“Jon wants to go back to that leather warehouse,” she said, scooping coffee into a plunger. “Apparently the leather coat was a real find, and he wants to explore a bit more.” André didn’t say anything and she looked over to see him watching her intently.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

”Turn side on to me,” he said. “A little more…there.” He looked up at her face. “Tell me, Caroline. When did you stop taking the pill?”

“How did you…oh!” She looked down at her body and then up at him in shock. “You think?” He nodded, starting to smile.

“I know your body better than I know my own, chérie,” he said. “Your breasts are fuller and your belly just has the slightest hint of a curve to it. And, if I’m not mistaken, your period was due some days ago.” She counted up in her head. It was harder to keep track now she didn’t look at the little metal card every day.

“You’re right,” she said. “How did you know that?” He smiled.

“The only three nights I have not made love to you since we started were just over a month ago,” he said. “It’s not difficult for me to keep track.” She nodded and turned back to the coffee.

“So when did you stop taking it?” he asked.

“About six weeks ago,” she admitted.

“And you didn’t think you should tell me?”

“I didn’t think at all,” she said. “I missed taking it for two days in a row, and when I remembered, I looked at it and just decided on the spot not to take any more. And I put it out of my head.”
”That’s a pretty big something to put out of your head,” he said. She nodded. The kettle whistled and she poured the hot water into the plunger. Unconsciously, her hand moved down, touching her belly. André saw the movement and smiled again.

“You said that if I decided I wanted to make a baby…” she pointed out. He nodded.

“I know,” he said. He just hadn’t thought she would. Which left him in somewhat of a quandary now. Heads were going to roll, and he suspected that one of them was going to be his.

“Do you really think I am?” she asked, looking down again. He nodded.

“I really think you are,” he said. “So you can pour one cup of coffee, my sweet. You won’t be having one.” She opened her mouth to argue, then stopped.

“Caffeine isn’t good?” she asked. He shook his head.

“No alcohol either,” he said. She grimaced.

“Or smoking.”
”I don’t smoke,” she pointed out.
”Or soft cheeses or paté,” he said.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said. “I don’t want a baby after all.”

“But sex is fine,” he consoled her with a smile. He climbed out of bed and walked towards her, easing her into his arms and against his chest.

“We made a baby,” he said, kissing the top of her head. Enough waiting, he promised himself. Now, with a deadline in mind, the fun was going to start in earnest.

………….

He was undecided about when to talk to her. When she was sleeping in his arms that night, he felt so protective towards her it scared him. She was still nominally another man’s wife, even if that man didn’t want her as anything other than a beard to protect him from the petty reactions of small-minded people. But now she was carrying a baby, his baby, and he was wasn’t going to have the baby or her put in danger.

But when should he tell her? His people would say never. They wouldn’t want the risk that her loyalty might make her speak out. But his people weren’t here, and they didn’t know about this latest development. André slid his hand over her belly, flattened it there. She moved in her sleep, cuddling closer to him. He didn’t want to hurt her. She’d done nothing to deserve the hurt that was inevitable, but he wanted to postpone it if he could.

A week, he thought. He’d give himself a week, and then he’d tell her everything. To hell with the rules and the protocol. This was between him and the woman he now knew he loved, and that was more important than anything in the world.

……………

He drove Jon to the leather warehouse two days later.

“Remember what happened last time we came here?” Jon asked as they pulled up.

“I do, sir,” André said.

“I’ll bet you do,” Jon laughed. “Coming in with me? I’m told there are some delightful maroon pants in there. I think they’d suit your colouring and they’d certainly suit your shape. And I’d love to watch you wriggling into them. They only have big, open dressing sheds, but they do have baby powder to help you slide the clothes on, and I could give you a hand.”
”I’ll wait for you here, if you don’t mind, sir,” André said, determined to not give Jon an excuse to get his hands on him. He was not in any way shy about his body, but being naked in front of the man that morning in Caroline’s room had been a very uncomfortable experience for him. He got out of the car to wait, leaning on it, arms crossed over his chest. He looked around, his trained eyes taking in the details this time.

The building was one of several warehouses, all grey and bland from this side. There were some trees, but no houses, nothing but warehouses, and none of them looked occupied. Including the one Jon had gone into, in fact. André straightened up. It was an isolated area, a long way from anywhere else. He wondered. And then, he walked forward, slowly and carefully, approaching the warehouse closest to the car. When he turned the corner, he saw the sign “Hides you Seek”, with a picture of a happy looking cow who presumably hadn’t realised that it was her skin they were selling inside. He walked stealthily forward, making noise on the gravel that encircled the building. Sharp gravel, he noted.

There was the main door, a single little metal number, and one window only. Ducking under the window, André continued to the door, sniffing the air as he went. No smell. Which was odd for a warehouse supposedly containing leather goods. He stopped just short of the door, flattened himself against it, and slowly, carefully, turned his head just enough to look in.

He was on the phone to Juan as soon as he’d driven Jon back to the house and parked the car. The schedule was being moved up. Which meant he had to talk to Caroline as soon as possible.

With no more driving to do that afternoon, he went looking for her. Since her room was on the ground floor, he went there first, skirting the massive garden, admiring it as he went. Miguel and Santos put a lot of work into that garden, and it showed. He didn’t knock on the door, he just opened it and went in. He and Caroline were beyond knocking on doors these days. She walked straight into his cottage every night, and it didn’t matter whether he was in the shower, making a meal, fast asleep or getting dressed, she went straight to him, sure of her welcome.

She wasn’t in her room, and he was turning, about to leave, when he heard approaching footsteps. They weren’t Caroline’s, he knew them, and instinct kicked in. Without even thinking about it, he dropped to the floor and rolled under the four-poster bed that she almost never used these days. Flat on his stomach, he watched through the inch of space that was all there was between the floor and the fabric skirt that ran around the bottom of the bed.

A pair of black leather men’s brogues entered the room, presumably occupied by a man – almost certainly Jon, because they were small by comparison with most men’s shoes.
”You here, pet?” Jon said, confirming his identity. He walked to the bathroom door and opened it. And then he walked to the wardrobe. André watched him move, with confidence and a minimum of effort. The wardrobe door opened and there was a soft clatter of clothes hangers. Jon spoke.
”Blue, blue, blue, we have got to get you some different colours, Carrie, blue and green. So, you’ll notice if the green is gone, so that leaves me with blue. Now. Shoes. What have we got here?”

He must have decided to continue his conversation in his head, because he went quiet, but André heard some shuffling noises. Then the wardrobe door was shut and Jon walked out. André waited, counting to 300, slowly, before he rolled out and stood up. Looking down at his spotless dark uniform, he reminded himself to commend Carlos on his housekeeping skills, if only because it would annoy the hell out of him. And then he crossed to the door, looked out, and walked quickly and soundlessly to the stairs, heading up to the third floor studio.

So deep in a painting of a field of lavender that she was almost getting high on the imagined smell, Caroline didn’t at first look up when he came in. She heard the door open, but thought it was Jon, right up until André’s arms came around her and held her back close to his front.

“Are you sitting down enough?” he asked.

“You came all the way up here to check on that?” she teased.
”No,” he admitted. “I came all the way up here to invite you to come all the way down to the cottage for a while.”
”And why would I do that?” she asked, confident that she knew. Then she turned in his arms, looked at his face, and realised that she didn’t know at all.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. He looked around and shook his head.

“I can’t tell you here,” he whispered in her ear. “I probably can’t even tell you in the cottage. But if we go for a walk behind it, I can.”

“This is very cloak and dagger,” she whispered back, trying to lighten the mood. He nodded and winked.
”Follow me in about five minutes,” he said.
”Yes, Boris,” she responded, refusing to take him seriously. Shaking his head and smiling at her, he left. Unfortunately, he knew she wasn’t going to be joking for long.

…………………

He took her on a winding trail through the trees.

“Recognise this place?” he asked as they came into a clearing. Caroline turned around and smiled.

“I seem to remember it,” she said. “Wasn’t there a limousine parked here last time?”
”With a naked woman on top of it,” he agreed. “And some epicurean delights consumed in some unusual and delightful ways.”
”You really do have an amazing vocabulary for someone who has English as a second language,” Caroline marvelled.
”Fourth,” he said. “My fourth language,” he added, to clarify. “I learned Spanish after French, then German, then English and Italian at the same time.”

“Are you better at Spanish and German?” she asked. He nodded.

“Much better, although I have had several months speaking almost exclusively English, so that helps.”

“Several months?” she asked. “You’ve only been in the country several months?” He nodded. Then he lifted the blanket he’d tossed over his shoulder and spread it out on the ground. “Sit down, Caroline. I need to talk with you about something that you are going to find difficult to hear.” He was going. She knew it. She could tell by the set of his jaw that he had bad news. And there couldn’t be any worse news than that. He was going to leave her with Robert and Jon, he was going to abandon their baby and not be there to see it grow. She paled. And then she got her resolve back.

“You can’t go,” she said. André lowered his brows in consternation, then reached for her.

“Of course I’m not going, chérie,” he said, smiling reassuringly. “I am not leaving you. Come, sit down, Caroline. Please.” She sat down, curling her legs under her. He sat in front of her.

“Where to begin,” he said, more to himself than her. “Well, first of all, you need to know that I’m not supposed to be telling you any of this, and that if you choose to pass the information on, about four years of work will go down the drain and thousands of people will suffer.”

“What are you talking about?” Caroline asked. He sighed.

“I am not normally a chauffeur,” he finally admitted. “I was once a detective in the French Gendarmerie, then I was head-hunted by Interpol.” Caroline’s mouth was open in surprise, but she said nothing.

“My specialty is people smuggling and trafficking,” he said. “All over the world, wherever there is poverty or war or victimisation of races or religions, there are those who are low enough to capitalise on the misery of others, to offer them false hope and lure them into parting with what little they have in the hope of a new life. It is happening all over the world – into Spain, into Canada, into Australia, into America, into England and other parts of Europe. It reaches epidemic proportions whenever there are wars.” Caroline nodded.

“About four years ago, we realised that although the people smuggling all over the world seemed disjointed, with regional peculiarities and different personalities and nationalities and modus operandi, that there were patterns and connections between them all. It took two years of hard, painstaking work to determine that all of it was being coordinated by one central source. And that source was in this country.”

“How did you work that out?” she asked, as much to say something as anything. He smiled.
”It would take a day to explain,” he said. “And I was only one of many who worked on it. Suffice to say that we narrowed it down, little piece by little piece, like whittling a hunk of wood, until we knew the country, then the region, then the city, and then the house.”

In her heart, in her head, she knew where he was heading, but she couldn’t accept it.
”Not Robert,” she said, shaking her head. “Not Jon.” There was no way they could be dealers in the misery of people. They were nice men. Robert was standoffish and Jon could be temperamental, but they weren’t masterminds of world-wide people smuggling. It was laughable. Or would be, if it wasn’t André telling her about it.

“Oddly enough, what led us to this estate was the number of illegal immigrants working here,” he went on. “Your immigration department tracked no less than four of the people they were looking for to here, and once they did, they found another seventeen. Including a Philippino woman who was very forthcoming with information about some of the comings and goings in the house.”
”Twenty-one illegal immigrants?” Caroline was stunned. “But…when Jon told me about you, he said that we were protecting you because we were good people.”
”Good people don’t encourage other people to break the law,” André said, and she could hear the policeman in him now. “And then take advantage of them. They pay slave wages, Caroline. I could not have lived on the chauffeur salary they pay me – I even had to pay for the uniform. It is as well for me that I have alternate sources of income.” Caroline was shaking her head. It was too much to take in.

“The Philippino woman – Rose, her name was,” Caroline said. “She claimed that Jon had made sexual advances to her.” Her lips almost curved at the thought. How she and he had laughed over it.

“He raped her,” André said bluntly. “He wore a condom and he made sure to not leave any traces of himself on her. He made her shower afterwards.”

“No,” Caroline said definitely. “No. Jon wouldn’t do that. He’s gay, for heavens sake.”
”I suspect he’s actually bi-sexual,” André said. “Omni-sexual, for all I know. But I interviewed Rose, Caroline. She was not lying. He raped her. That is one of the reasons why I was so concerned that you did not have a lock on your bedroom door. But I reasoned that he would not hurt you. Because you were too important to him. And to his business.”

“I’m not involved in their business,” she said blankly. Jon had raped Rose? She could remember the times when he’d spooked her out a bit, groped her, held her against him, but she’d put them out of her mind, convinced herself that she’d read too much into them. It was too much to believe, impossible to believe.

“I know that now,” André said. “But I didn’t when I came here. Incidentally, I got the job through an underground network of illegal immigrants. I had to go undercover for a month before I could make contact with them, and they told me about a place where people like me could get a job, particularly if they were blonde and pretty or tall and dark. We already knew about that, obviously. That’s why I was given this job. Because I have an accent, and I am tall and dark.”
”And handsome, with blue eyes,” Caroline finished. “Jon’s selection criteria.”

André nodded.

“All of our investigations led us to believe that Sir Robert was the money and the brains behind the operation,” he said. “But at every meeting, every gathering of the organisers, he was not there. We had people undercover there, too. People who pretended to be setting up groups of corrupt sea captains, others who claimed to represent disenfranchised peoples in different countries. They were at the meetings, but Sir Robert was not.” He reached out and took her hand, finding it cold.
”The person who was there, was a beautiful woman,” he went on. “Slim, very curvy, with short, dark hair, unusual blue eyes, high cheekbones, a straight little nose, and an oval-shaped face.” Caroline gasped.

“You thought it was me,” she said. He nodded.

“We did,” he said. “It fitted. To everyone, you were Sir Robert’s wife. We knew that Sir Robert was homosexual and that he shared his life with a young, male lover. Foolishly, we assumed that the lover was just a companion for him and that you were his business partner. You see, none of our people were ever able to take a photograph of the beautiful woman who showed up to the meetings, did the co-ordination, put the networks together and made arrangements for payments. We only had descriptions. And you fitted them.”

“So you…you believed it was me? You, personally?” she asked.

“Initially,” he said. “Yes, for some time, I did. When I was helping you in and out of the limousine, when I was eavesdropping on your conversations with the two men, what I saw and heard was a quiet, contained woman who did not seem to engage with people very often or to be particularly pleasant to those she considered to be her social inferiors.”
”A sociopath, in fact,” she offered flatly, sarcastically.

“No, but the woman we were looking for certainly was,” André said. “So, thinking you were she, I misinterpreted some of your behaviours, your shyness and reserve and thought you fitted the profile in terms of arrogance and unconcern. And then Sir Robert approached me and asked me to sleep with you, to impregnate you.”
”Which you did,” she said. She tried to tug her hand loose, but he held on to it.

“It put me in a very difficult position,” he said. “I was working undercover, in the perfect job to see where the three of you were going, what your relationships were with each other and so on. We removed the previous chauffeur so there would be a vacancy for a driver, by the way.”
”Of course,” Caroline said. She was withdrawing more and more, becoming almost exactly like the distant, quiet woman she’d been with him when all he’d been was her chauffeur.

“I had to contact my people and work out with them how to play it,” he said. “On the one hand, it compromised my position. On the other, it was a perfect opportunity to get close to the woman we all thought was the key to the operation. And so, after a couple of days and some frantic preparations, I let Sir Robert know that I would do it.”

That was a short way to encapsulate several days of soul-searching on his part, he remembered. To whore himself, to sell his body to the enemy, to sleep with a woman he had grown to hate more with every new piece of evidence against her – it had gone against every grain in his body. To force himself to agree to it had tested his loyalty to his cause.
”What sort of preparations?” she asked. It had all been a lie. There was a hollow pain in her stomach that hurt so badly she couldn’t put her hand to it, in case it caved in.

“You will find this funny, or perhaps you won’t, but one of them was an injection,” he said. “A great big injection in my butt; a male contraceptive. They didn’t want me getting you pregnant, you see. Not if you were who we thought you were. And so I had this…what looked like a horse needle, stuck into me, and that worked for a month. So, while I was making a big show of being committed to getting you pregnant fast, there was never any likelihood that I was going to. I was supposed to go back for another injection when the month was up, but since I knew you were on the pill, I didn’t bother.” Caroline nodded, her face expressionless. André didn’t know how to get through to her, but he had to try.

“I am so happy about the baby, Caroline,” he said. “Things changed between us. So fast. It is certainly going to complicate matters, but I am happy that we are having a baby, you and I.” She nodded, dismissing his words.

“When did you change your mind about me?” she asked. Sighing his disappointment at the failure of his words to penetrate the shell she had erected around herself, he kept going.

“In reality, it was the first night you came to me. You were shy and embarrassed,” he said. “Which did not fit my image of you at all. Although aloof, you had always seemed confident, and those evening gowns you wore left little to my imagination. I expected you to be sexually experienced, adventurous and offhand about it. I thought I would be expected to get it up, get it in and get it out, twice a night. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to. Everything I knew about that woman led me to despise her, and the last thing I wanted to do was have sex with her. And then you were so scared and hesitant…and innocent. I didn’t have any trouble having sex with you, but it was very confusing.”

“I can imagine,” Caroline said politely. He felt like shaking her, but he didn’t. It wasn’t her fault.

“I pushed you those first nights,” he said. “Refusing to take my clothes off – I didn’t think I would get away with that, for example. A woman who orders pirates and dealers in human pain around, allowing a lover to dictate the rules in sex? I didn’t think so. But you let me. And I went looking for things to humiliate you and to bring out the nasty side in you – that little plug, the upside down frame, even the vibrator. I thought you were showing your true colours the day you made me show my backside to your friends, but even that was just silliness, not nastiness. It was when I saw your reaction to the plug and the other things that I started to realise, deep down, that we were wrong about you. Perhaps it was possible for you to be that innocent, that naïve, and still be the woman we thought you were – but my instincts said that it was not so. At an intellectual level, I knew that all the pieces fitted. But here, in my gut, I knew it wasn’t right. So I stopped punishing you for the sins I had thought you guilty of.” She said nothing. In the absence of anything else to do, he ploughed on.

“The day I knew for certain that we were wrong was when you offered me money to help me,” he said. “You could not have done that with the sincerity, the spontaneity you showed, if you were really the heartless bitch we were after. I rang my people that day to say that I was now sure we were on the wrong track, and to reaffirm what track I believed was now the correct way to go.”

“Jon,” she said. He nodded.

“He has a beautiful face,” he said. “Even I can see that. And the skin on his arms and chest is smooth and almost hairless. You said yourself that in a dress, he looks better than most women. And when I saw that portrait of him and was reminded in some ways of you, there was no longer any doubt in my mind.”

“So, he’s been buying women’s clothes and going out in drag?” It sounded unbelievable, regardless of which of them said it.
”Actually, I think he’s been borrowing yours,” André said. “When I came looking for you just now, I went to your bedroom first. I was hiding under the bed when he came in, took one of your dresses and, I think , a pair of your shoes.”

“So you think he’s getting ready for a meeting?” she asked.
”I know it,” he said. “Today, I took him back to that warehouse. You know, the one we got carried away at?” She almost smiled, but didn’t.

“If I’d been looking around instead of looking at you, I might have noticed what I saw today,” he said. “It is in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by other warehouses which we now know to be empty. He obviously likes to live dangerously, because if either one of us had accompanied him, we’d have known that. But he told you it was “boys only” and then scared me off by making thinly veiled threats about getting my pants off.” He smiled ruefully. “I am not homophobic, but there was no way that man was ever going to get his hands on me. Back to the point, though. It is not a leather warehouse, Caroline. It is a big, empty shed with a desk inside it and a sign out the front. Inside it, are chains and manacles, and a stage, with bright spotlights above it. Our people had a look at it as soon as it was empty today.”

”Chains and manacles?” she asked. He nodded.

“We believe they run slave auctions there,” he said. “Jon met with a man there this morning – a man who is well known to us, who I recognised instantly; a Saudi Arabian who has dealt in guns, drugs and has moved on to people. He gave Jon a leather folder. Your Jon has a sense of humour about these things. From what I saw in the bag he later carried out to the car, he had wrapped the folder in a leather jacket.”

“And what was in the folder?” Caroline asked. André shrugged.

‘We think it is possibly a ship’s manifest for a people trader, slave trader, call it what you will, that is coming off shore soon. Our beautiful, dark-haired woman doesn’t just deal in people smuggling, you see. She also helps “place” people who are brought into the country. They are placed into private homes, brothels, into factories and so on. Against their will. We’ve found many of them, but there are many more we will never find.”

His voice had become low and bitter.

“What are you going to do?” Caroline asked.
”We are going to catch them at it,” he said. “Catch Jon, at least. Sir Robert only seems to work from home, and to go to one meeting about every two months – we think it is with the Arabians, because they would be unlikely to happily deal with someone they think is a woman.”

“Jon goes as a woman to that meeting too?” she asked. André nodded.

“Our dark-haired woman was certainly at the last one,” he said. “And you were not. You were with me all day that day, here in the clearing, and later, in your studio. I was your alibi that day, Caroline. Two of our people were at the meeting to. They asked lots of questions about percentages and queried how much money Sir Robert was making from the networks. Neither Sir Robert nor the dark-haired beauty were happy when they left, apparently.”

“No, they weren’t,” Caroline said. “Jon was bitchy and Robert was sullen that night.”

He heard the difference in her voice and knew he had her. She believed. That was a relief.

“How are you going to catch them in the act?” she asked. André shook his head.

“It is best you don’t know,” he said. “But I want to get you out of the way before it happens. I want you to be safe and protected. The local police are on stand-by, and they are happy for you to go to their office. They will find a place for you to stay.” She was shaking her head.

“And what excuse do I give Robert and Jon for going away?” she asked.

“Going to visit your family, perhaps?” he asked. She snorted.
”They’d both know that wasn’t likely,” she said.
”Perhaps your brother James could write you a letter asking you to visit?” he asked. “We could arrange that.” She shook her head.

“They’d know that wasn’t true either. James calls me, but he doesn’t write. And he doesn’t need my help. He’s very capable.”

André sighed.
”We have to get you away from there,” he said. “I have to get you away from there. I will not endanger you. Or the baby.” Another thought had occurred to Caroline.

“Do you…do you think that Jon chose me for Robert because I looked enough like him for him to pass as me?” she asked. André nodded.

“I can’t imagine that he ever thought he would be caught, but he is obviously the type of man who always has several fall-back positions and safeguards. Your surface similarity to him would have been a definite benefit. Disguising himself as a woman certainly put us off his track for a long time.”

“But he’d never met me before my father died,” she said.
”He’d have seen photographs of you in your father’s office,” André said. There was no way to make this next part easy. “We believe that the two of them ruined your father,” he said gently. “They had business dealings with him in the months leading up to his death. He tried to pull out of his investments twice, and there is evidence that they talked him out of it once, and possibly forced him to leave his money there the second time.”

”How would they have done that?” she asked. He wasn’t going to answer that. He’d seen the grainy photos that had been found in the false bottom of a drawer of her father’s desk. They showed him with a very good-looking redhead, and they were compromising photographs, to say the least.

“Some sort of threat or blackmail,” he said diplomatically. “There is even a distinct possibility, I am sorry to say, that he did not kill himself, Caroline. Your father’s body was exhumed last week, and it appears that there is some other form of poison in his system. Because the money hushed up his cause of death, he was buried without an autopsy, but there is no evidence of sleeping pills in his system.”
”You exhumed my father’s body,” Caroline said steadily. He nodded.
”My mother must be distraught,” she said.
”Your mother doesn’t know,” he said. “No-one will ever know. He is back in his grave now.” She shut her eyes. They’d killed him. She’d been living for three years with the men who’d killed her father.

“They killed him to get me?” she asked. He nodded.

“With your family destitute, you were likely to grab at the lifeline they offered,” he said. It was the same way she’d thought about it at the time, she had to admit. “The fact that it was not a real marriage, that you were not going to be a real wife, was something you would overlook because of the needs of your family. That is what happened, yes?”
”Yes,” she said softly. “I married my father’s killer.” André shook his head.

“Actually, you didn’t,” he said. “You thought you did, but you didn’t. Sir Robert Winthrop already has a wife. He married her when he was eighteen years old, and he used her money to set up his first business – a brothel, incidentally. She was not a well woman, not in full possession of her faculties, she was ten years older than him, and she had been in and out of hospices and homes since childhood. But her father died, coincidentally, days before she married Sir Robert. He used a false name and false papers, which is why no-one has ever known, but apparently it is still legal.” Caroline swallowed hard.

“Where is she now?” she asked.
”In an asylum,” he said. “We don’t believe he had anything to do with that. She was genuinely troubled, with a cocktail of unpleasant and incurable conditions of which schizophrenia is just one. But she served her purpose. She gave Sir Robert the float he needed to get started. He has never divorced her.”

“So I’m not married,” she said.

“That’s right,” he said. “And that is a good thing, for two reasons. It makes it clear that you, too, were a victim. And… it means that you won’t have to divorce him before you marry me.” Caroline stared at him.

“I think that has to be the most unorthodox marriage proposal I’ve ever heard,” she said. “Tell me that you’ve made all of this up just as a lead-in?” André smiled sadly as he shook his head.

“But I do mean the proposal,” he said. “I’ll go down on one knee later, but I want you to know now that I mean it.” He was still holding her hand, and he was relieved to feel her squeeze his fingers.

“What happens now?” she asked.
”I get you away from here,” he said again. “I don’t know how, but I have to. And I have to go, too. Today. I have to brief a number of people and be in place for when the operation starts.”

“So you are going to go back now and resign?” she asked. He shook his head.
”No, I will just disappear,” he said. “I’ll come to you when it is over. Now, where will you be?”
”I’ll be here,” she said simply. “For me to be anywhere else at a time when you’ve disappeared will either make them think that I’ve run off with you, or that there’s something up. Either way, it may prevent them from doing whatever it is you expect them to do.”

He saw the logic in that, but he didn’t like it.

“I don’t think they will hurt you,” he said, taking comfort in that himself. “They haven’t yet, and I think they are genuinely fond of you – Jon, at least. And I think that from his perspective, the idea of the baby was probably just as some fun, nothing more. Sir Robert, I suspect, is the one who wants his name and title and carried on. I’m not sure that he is all that fond of you, Caroline. I don’t think, he is fond of anyone except Jon, and that seems to be more of an obsession than a fondness. Jon, incidentally, has a record as long as your arm. He is five years older than he says he is, his name is actually Conrad Schmidt, and his first criminal bust was for bashing and robbing a mark he’d picked up on the street where he was working as a male hooker. He was sixteen.” Caroline shut her eyes and shook her head.

“I can’t take this in,” she said. Only then did she allow him to draw her against him and hold her close.

“Of course you can’t,” he murmured. “I’ve had four years to get across this, four years of talking to people who’ve been tricked and robbed, been raped and seen their relatives murdered by the scum who run the people smuggling operations, and I still cannot grasp that there are people evil enough to set about making huge money from this. For you to know that those people are ones you are close to must be overwhelming. And I do not believe you are going to be able to keep your new-found knowledge out of your eyes when you are dealing with them.”
”How did you do it?” she asked, lifting her head. He half-smiled.

“It was easy for me,” he said. “I had to be the polite, impassive chauffeur. I just kept my face blank.”

“I’ll be sick,” she said. “No, I mean I’ll pretend to be sick,” she added. “How many days do I have to pretend for?”
”Two or three,” he said. “No more than that.”
”They’ll assume I’m pregnant,” she said. “Jon may be thinking that already. He generally has some idea of when my period is due, for some reason, and he’s certainly not above asking about it.”

“Will knowing that you are pregnant cause them to postpone their business plans, do you think?” he asked. He was genuinely asking her opinion, she realised. She shook her head.

“Not if I stay vague about it and say I won’t be sure for another week or so.” He nodded.

Then he hugged her tight to him again.

“I don’t want to leave you here,” he said into her hair.
”You have to,” she said. “Go do your job. I’ll be waiting for you.” He tipped her face up to his in a now familiar gesture, and kissed her deeply.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you,” he said. “They think you’ll let it out, either accidentally or otherwise.”
”I won’t,” she assured him. He nodded.

“I believe you,” he said. “And if you need help, talk to Carlos.”
”Carlos?” she asked. “Carlos the servant who brings my breakfast and cleans my room?”
”And steals very accurate nude paintings of me,” André said. “He’s one of us, too.”

She smiled just a little.
”He took the painting?” she said. André nodded and sighed.
”It’s hanging up in the situation room in the local police station, I’m told,” he said glumly. “That’s where we are working from. Interpol has no independent jurisdiction here, you understand, so we work in with the local law enforcement agencies. “ She nodded, even though she had no real idea what he was talking about.

“There was a great deal of hilarity when they found out that I was going to be performing stud services,” he went on. “And Juan tells me they were just beside themselves when they saw the painting. Two of the women who work for me insisted it be put up on the wall, the rude cows. I cannot imagine what they are going to do when they find out that we are having a baby for real. Several of them will probably have heart attacks from hysteria. We can only hope.”

“They find this funny?” she asked.

“Black humour,” he said. “It goes with the job. And the chance to laugh at me, the ranking Interpol officer, is just too good to pass up.”

“So I’ve been proposed to by a senior Interpol officer?” she asked.
”Yes,” he smiled. “But you won’t be marrying one. I’m resigning after this case. After that, you’ll be marrying a…well, I’ll get into that later. A French citizen, rather than a law enforcement and intelligence officer, anyway.”

“My family are going to crash and burn,” Caroline said. He shook his head.

“No,” he said. “One way or another, that will not happen, even though I think you should stop trying to support your reckless brother and your…your difficult mother. You have my word, Caroline. They will not suffer. But now, I have to go, and you have to go back and pretend to be sick. I will get word to Carlos that you know, and he will look out for you.” He’d helped her up solicitously and picked up the blanket as he was speaking. His hand in hers, he led her back through the trees to the cottage.