“I don't want to adopt you, Marie-Ange,” he said solemnly, almost reverently, as she reached out and touched his hand. “I want to marry you. I don't think we should wait much longer. We haven't known each other for long, but we know each other better than most people who get married after five years. We have no secrets from each other, we've been together almost every instant since we met. Marie-Ange,” he looked at her tenderly, “I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my life.”

“I love you too, Bernard,” she said softly, amazed by what he was suggesting. It had all happened so quickly, but it seemed so perfectly right to her too. There was no more thought of school. Just Bernard and returning to the chateau—and having a family. He was offering her a life that seemed more like a dream.

“Let's get married this week. Here, in Mar-mouton. We can be married in the chapel, and then begin our life together. It will be a new start for both of us,” and one they both wanted more than anything or anyone else. “Will you?”

“I … yes … I will.” He held her close for a long time, and then they walked back to the house hand in hand. They made love for hours that afternoon. And he called the priest and made the arrangements the next day. And after he did, she called Billy, from the chateau this time. At first, she had no idea what to tell him, and in the end, she just blurted it out. She was worried about hurting him, although she had always discouraged him from having romantic thoughts about her. But she knew how much he cared about her.

“You're doing what}” Billy shouted at her in disbelief. “I thought you were just friends.” He sounded horrified by what she had told him, and he accused her of losing her mind since she arrived in France. She had never been impulsive before, but she was madly in love with Bernard, and he was a powerful force now in her life, a man with passion and determination and a forceful way about him. He had completely swept Marie-Ange off her feet in an incredibly short time.

“We were just friends, but things changed,” she said in a small voice. She hadn't expected him to be quite as upset as he was.

“Apparently. Look, Marie-Ange, just give it some time, and see if this is real. You just got there, it was emotional for you, going back to the chateau. It's all wrapped up in that.” He was pleading with her.

“No, it's not,” she insisted. “It's him.” He didn't want to ask her if she was sleeping with him, he had already guessed that she was. And she absolutely wouldn't listen to him. He was worried sick about her when he got off the phone, but he knew there was nothing he could do. She was marrying a perfect stranger, Billy thought, mostly because he was living in her father's chateau. And what's more, he was a count. He felt utterly helpless to change her mind.

“Who was that?” Bernard asked her when she got off the phone.

“My best friend in Iowa.” She smiled at him. “He thinks I've lost my mind.” She was sorry to have upset Billy, but she was entirely sure of Bernard, and his love for her, and hers for him.

“So have I.” Bernard smiled. “It must be contagious.”

“What did the priest say?” she asked calmly. She wasn't worried about any of the things Billy said. He was suspicious of Bernard, understandably, and only time would prove him wrong. But she had wanted him to know that she and Bernard were getting married. He was, after all, her best friend, and like a brother to her. In the end, he had said to call him if she came to her senses, or even if she didn't. And he promised her that he would always be her friend, and be there for her. But as much as she loved him, she needed him less now. She had been completely absorbed in Bernard's heady world, and she couldn't help wondering what his friends would think, but he didn't seem to care. They were both absolutely certain that they were doing the right thing.

“The priest said we will do the civil ceremony at the mairie in two days, on Friday, and he will marry us at the chapel here the next day. He's going to publish the banns today and shorten the waiting period a bit. How does that sound to you, Madame la Comtesse?” She hadn't even thought of that. She would be a countess now. It really was like a fairy tale. Four months before, she had been Aunt Carole's slave, and then a month later, she had become an heiress with an enormous fortune, and now she was marrying a count who adored her, and whom she adored, and returning to her family home in Marmouton. Her head spun as she thought about it, and it was still spinning when they went to the mairie together two days later to be civilly married. And the next day, they stood in the chapel on their property, and were married in the eyes of God. Madame Fournier and Alain were their witnesses, and the old woman cried through the entire ceremony, thanking God that Marie-Ange had come home.

“I love you, my darling,” Bernard said as he kissed her after the ceremony, and the priest smiled. They made a handsome couple, the Comte and Comtesse de Beauchamp.

And when the priest and the Fourniers left them, after drinking champagne with them, Bernard swept her into his arms and took her upstairs to the guest suite he used as his bedroom at the chateau, and he laid her gently on the bed in the pretty white silk dress she had worn. He ran a hand over her golden hair and then kissed her again. “I adore you,” he whispered, and Marie-Ange kissed him, hardly able to believe all that had happened to her, or how happy she was. And he gently took her dress off, as he peeled away his own clothes, and when he made love to her that night, all he hoped was that he would make her happy and that she would conceive his child.





Chapter 9




Their first Christmas together at the chateau was blissful. Bernard was so obviously in love with her that it made people smile to watch them together. And being back in the chateau at Christmas again brought back a million memories for her, some of them beautiful, and some of them finally less painful, because he was with her. She talked to Billy in Iowa on Christmas Eve, and he was happy for her, but still worried that she didn't know her husband well enough and had been too impulsive about getting married. And she reassured him as best she could. She had never been as happy in her life.

“Who would have thought a year ago that I'd have been living in Marmouton again this Christmas,” she said dreamily to Billy on the phone, and he smiled wistfully, remembering the time they had spent together. He was still recovering from the shock of knowing that she was married now, and not coming back to Iowa, except maybe for a visit someday. He was seeing a lot of his girlfriend Debbi, but missing Marie-Ange. Nothing was the same anymore.

“Who would have thought a year ago that you'd turn out to be an heiress, and I'd be driving a new Porsche.” In some ways it seemed fitting even to him that she would be a countess. And he hoped for her that Bernard would turn out to be everything she thought he was. But Billy was still leery of him. It had all happened so quickly.

Life continued in the same fast pace for Bernard and Marie-Ange after the holidays. They traveled back and forth to Paris and stayed at his apartment. It was small but beautiful and filled with wonderful antiques. In January, she discovered she was pregnant, and Bernard was ecstatic. He kept talking about how old he was, how much he wanted a child with her, and that he hoped it would be an heir for his title. He desperately wanted a son.

And within days of her announcing to him that their first child was on the way, the renovation on Marmouton began, and within weeks the chateau was a shambles. Suddenly, they were redoing everything, the roof, the walls, the long French windows were being enlarged, the height of the doorways. He had a spectacular new kitchen planned, a brand-new master suite for them, a nursery that he promised her would look like a fairy tale, and a movie theater in the basement. The entire electrical system was being revamped, along with the plumbing. It was a massive undertaking that far exceeded Marie-Ange's understanding of what he'd planned, and it was easy to figure out that it was going to be staggeringly expensive. He was even planting endless acres of new vineyards and orchards. But Bernard told Marie-Ange that he wanted her home to be perfect for her. The work was being designed by his architect friend from Paris. And there were dozens of workers everywhere.

And Bernard also promised her that much of the interior work would be done by the time she had the baby in September. And when she called Billy again, she told him she was pregnant.

“You sure didn't waste any time, did you?” he said, still sounding worried about her. Everything seemed to be happening to her with the speed of sound, and she told him that Bernard was anxious to start a family with her, as he was so much older than she was, and had lost his only son.

She had also written to her Aunt Carole to tell her about the changes in her life, but she had had no answer. It was as though her great-aunt had closed the door on her and moved on.

By March, the chateau was covered with scaffolding, there were workmen everywhere, and they spent more time in Paris. And although Bernard's apartment was small for both of them, it was a splendid pied-a-terre, with grand reception rooms, high ceilings, and beautiful old boiseries and wood paneling. It was filled with expensive antiques, paintings he had inherited from his family, and Aubusson carpets. It was indeed an apartment fit for a countess. But they both preferred Marmouton.

And in the summer, he told her that they needed to get away from the construction at the chateau, and their absence would allow the workmen to move faster. He had rented a villa in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat for them, and a two-hundred-foot motor yacht that went with it. And he had invited a number of his friends to visit them there.