{"id":488,"date":"2020-02-13T15:16:46","date_gmt":"2020-02-13T15:16:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/heidi-rice.com\/?post_type=portfolio&#038;p=488"},"modified":"2022-08-01T18:13:48","modified_gmt":"2022-08-01T17:13:48","slug":"a-forbidden-night-with-the-housekeeper","status":"publish","type":"portfolio","link":"https:\/\/heidi-rice.com\/books\/a-forbidden-night-with-the-housekeeper\/","title":{"rendered":"A Forbidden Night with the Housekeeper"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id='av_section_1'  class='avia-section av-b0aiv-e285b79aa7917100fdf2cfd828fa6bf6 main_color avia-section-default avia-no-shadow  avia-builder-el-0  el_before_av_section  avia-builder-el-first  avia-bg-style-scroll container_wrap fullsize'  ><div class='container av-section-cont-open' ><main  role=\"main\" itemprop=\"mainContentOfPage\"  class='template-page content  av-content-full alpha units'><div class='post-entry post-entry-type-page post-entry-488'><div class='entry-content-wrapper clearfix'>\n\n<style type=\"text\/css\" data-created_by=\"avia_inline_auto\" id=\"style-css-av-8x30o-426f87bbb8f718ff821b10c8c46240a5\">\n#top .av-special-heading.av-8x30o-426f87bbb8f718ff821b10c8c46240a5{\npadding-bottom:10px;\n}\nbody .av-special-heading.av-8x30o-426f87bbb8f718ff821b10c8c46240a5 .av-special-heading-tag .heading-char{\nfont-size:25px;\n}\n.av-special-heading.av-8x30o-426f87bbb8f718ff821b10c8c46240a5 .av-subheading{\nfont-size:15px;\n}\n<\/style>\n<div  class='av-special-heading av-8x30o-426f87bbb8f718ff821b10c8c46240a5 av-special-heading-h3  avia-builder-el-1  el_before_av_one_half  avia-builder-el-first  av-linked-heading'><h3 class='av-special-heading-tag'  itemprop=\"headline\"  >A Forbidden Night with the Housekeeper<\/h3><div class=\"special-heading-border\"><div class=\"special-heading-inner-border\"><\/div><\/div><\/div>\n\n<style type=\"text\/css\" data-created_by=\"avia_inline_auto\" id=\"style-css-av-2y2g1z-f1e6ce40db8d3afab0eff1dc64311b8c\">\n.flex_column.av-2y2g1z-f1e6ce40db8d3afab0eff1dc64311b8c{\n-webkit-border-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\n-moz-border-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\nborder-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\npadding:0px 0px 0px 0px;\n}\n<\/style>\n<div class='flex_column av-2y2g1z-f1e6ce40db8d3afab0eff1dc64311b8c av_one_half  avia-builder-el-2  el_after_av_heading  el_before_av_one_fourth  first flex_column_div av-zero-column-padding '     ><section  class='av_textblock_section av-jycr59r9-00c08e4c74e648155dd81590de66eaba'  itemscope=\"itemscope\" itemtype=\"https:\/\/schema.org\/CreativeWork\" ><div class='avia_textblock'  itemprop=\"text\" ><p><strong>A taste of the forbidden<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong><em>That has him craving more!<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Playboy extraordinaire Maxim Durand is the name on <em>everyone\u2019s<\/em>\u00a0lips. But the only name on Maxim\u2019s lips is Cara Evans\u2019s! He can\u2019t believe that housekeeper Cara has inherited\u00a0<em>his<\/em>\u00a0vineyard. But bartering with the English beauty isn\u2019t going to be simple\u2026<\/p>\n<p>Innocent Cara has no doubt that Maxim is trouble\u2014and\u00a0<em>totally<\/em>\u00a0off-limits! She definitely isn\u2019t going to hand over her new home to him. But as their desire explodes into passionate life, Cara has to ask: What does Maxim want? His rightful inheritance\u2026or her?<\/p>\n<p><strong>NB: Maxine and Cara appear briefly in <a href=\"https:\/\/heidi-rice.com\/books\/revealing-her-best-kept-secret\/\"><em>Revealing Her Best Kept Secret<\/em><\/a> &#8211; Out Feb 2023!<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div><\/section><\/div>\n<style type=\"text\/css\" data-created_by=\"avia_inline_auto\" id=\"style-css-av-9o71j-17d72fa88a16a96bbe2af9ada5ff0706\">\n.flex_column.av-9o71j-17d72fa88a16a96bbe2af9ada5ff0706{\n-webkit-border-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\n-moz-border-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\nborder-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\npadding:0px 0px 0px 0px;\n}\n<\/style>\n<div class='flex_column av-9o71j-17d72fa88a16a96bbe2af9ada5ff0706 av_one_fourth  avia-builder-el-4  el_after_av_one_half  el_before_av_one_fourth  flex_column_div av-zero-column-padding '     ><p>\n<style type=\"text\/css\" data-created_by=\"avia_inline_auto\" id=\"style-css-av-k3yc6w81-e7f5b9aa0ecb2bc648a1f60480541780\">\n.avia-image-container.av-k3yc6w81-e7f5b9aa0ecb2bc648a1f60480541780 img.avia_image{\nbox-shadow:none;\n}\n.avia-image-container.av-k3yc6w81-e7f5b9aa0ecb2bc648a1f60480541780 .av-image-caption-overlay-center{\ncolor:#ffffff;\n}\n<\/style>\n<div  class='avia-image-container av-k3yc6w81-e7f5b9aa0ecb2bc648a1f60480541780 av-styling- avia-align-center  avia-builder-el-5  el_before_av_button  avia-builder-el-first '   itemprop=\"image\" itemscope=\"itemscope\" itemtype=\"https:\/\/schema.org\/ImageObject\" ><div class=\"avia-image-container-inner\"><div class=\"avia-image-overlay-wrap\"><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/2HmV1p8\" class='avia_image' target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><img class='wp-image-533 avia-img-lazy-loading-not-533 avia_image ' src='https:\/\/heidi-rice.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/02\/forbidden-Night-US-web.jpg' alt='' title='forbidden Night US web'  height=\"600\" width=\"400\"  itemprop=\"thumbnailUrl\"  \/><\/a><\/div><\/div><\/div><br \/>\n<div  class='avia-button-wrap av-jycr7ya6-6a458e26900e5e7cb97ebe80f2a040f8-wrap avia-button-center  avia-builder-el-6  el_after_av_image  avia-builder-el-last '><a href='https:\/\/amzn.to\/2HmV1p8' class='avia-button av-jycr7ya6-6a458e26900e5e7cb97ebe80f2a040f8 avia-icon_select-yes-left-icon avia-size-medium avia-position-center avia-color-theme-color' target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><span class='avia_button_icon avia_button_icon_left' aria-hidden='true' data-av_icon='\ue924' data-av_iconfont='entypo-fontello'><\/span><span class='avia_iconbox_title' >Buy on Amazon<\/span><\/a><\/div><\/p><\/div>\n<style type=\"text\/css\" data-created_by=\"avia_inline_auto\" id=\"style-css-av-2lk0rz-8a10bad192eb9d8fdd0a5be8555cc45a\">\n.flex_column.av-2lk0rz-8a10bad192eb9d8fdd0a5be8555cc45a{\n-webkit-border-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\n-moz-border-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\nborder-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\npadding:0px 0px 0px 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href=\"https:\/\/heidi-rice.com\/books\/a-forbidden-night-with-the-housekeeper\/\" class='avia_image'  target=\"_blank\"  rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><img class='wp-image-541 avia-img-lazy-loading-not-541 avia_image ' src='https:\/\/heidi-rice.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/02\/Forbidden-Night-UK-web.jpg' alt='' title='Forbidden Night UK web'  height=\"600\" width=\"400\"  itemprop=\"thumbnailUrl\"  \/><\/a><\/div><\/div><\/div><br \/>\n<div  class='avia-button-wrap av-jycrafuk-789991387550b1cbf01e5c2255b49947-wrap avia-button-center  avia-builder-el-9  el_after_av_image  avia-builder-el-last '><a href='https:\/\/amzn.to\/2uzlxJr'  class='avia-button av-jycrafuk-789991387550b1cbf01e5c2255b49947 avia-icon_select-yes-left-icon avia-size-medium avia-position-center avia-color-theme-color'  ><span class='avia_button_icon avia_button_icon_left' aria-hidden='true' data-av_icon='\ue924' data-av_iconfont='entypo-fontello'><\/span><span class='avia_iconbox_title' >Buy on Amazon UK<\/span><\/a><\/div><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/main><!-- close content main element --><\/div><\/div><div id='av_section_2'  class='avia-section av-2co5cf-5ad8ef24fac48d0a19b1cffd0a308764 alternate_color avia-section-default avia-no-shadow  avia-builder-el-10  el_after_av_section  el_before_av_layout_row  avia-bg-style-scroll container_wrap fullsize'  ><div class='container av-section-cont-open' ><div class='template-page content  av-content-full alpha units'><div class='post-entry post-entry-type-page post-entry-488'><div class='entry-content-wrapper clearfix'>\n\n<style type=\"text\/css\" data-created_by=\"avia_inline_auto\" id=\"style-css-av-920hk-0214e1102d256a0551e9bf50842d45d4\">\n#top .av-special-heading.av-920hk-0214e1102d256a0551e9bf50842d45d4{\npadding-bottom:10px;\n}\nbody .av-special-heading.av-920hk-0214e1102d256a0551e9bf50842d45d4 .av-special-heading-tag .heading-char{\nfont-size:25px;\n}\n.av-special-heading.av-920hk-0214e1102d256a0551e9bf50842d45d4 .av-subheading{\nfont-size:15px;\n}\n<\/style>\n<div  class='av-special-heading av-920hk-0214e1102d256a0551e9bf50842d45d4 av-special-heading-h3 blockquote modern-quote modern-centered  avia-builder-el-11  el_before_av_textblock  avia-builder-el-first '><h3 class='av-special-heading-tag'  itemprop=\"headline\"  >Excerpt:<\/h3><div class=\"special-heading-border\"><div class=\"special-heading-inner-border\"><\/div><\/div><\/div>\n<section  class='av_textblock_section av-23cmn3-fc5d5d1a54c729d7eadd893ad174e444'  itemscope=\"itemscope\" itemtype=\"https:\/\/schema.org\/CreativeWork\" ><div class='avia_textblock'  itemprop=\"text\" ><p>Cara Evans stood at the graveside, listening to the priest drone in French, and stared at the miles of vines owned by the neighbouring Durand Corporation covering the adjacent hillside like a patchwork.<\/p>\n<p>She didn\u2019t understand all the words in the eulogy, her French wasn\u2019t fluent. But still she felt sad, and stunned, at the loss of her employer, Pierre De La Mare. The owner of the small vineyard on which they stood.<\/p>\n<p>Not just her employer, her husband, she corrected herself.<\/p>\n<p>Although it felt ridiculous to call Pierre that. He had been old enough to be her grandfather, she\u2019d only been married to him for three days\u2026 and now she was his widow.<\/p>\n<p><em>Marry me, Cara. Take pity on an old man, who does not wish to die alone.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>She could feel the eyes of the tiny group of Pierre\u2019s friends and associates who had arrived for the burial staring at her as she watched the sun dip towards the crest of the hill.<\/p>\n<p>And could hear what they were thinking.<\/p>\n<p><em>Gold-digger. Opportunist. Whore. <\/em><\/p>\n<p>But she refused to feel guilty about accepting Pierre\u2019s proposal. Pierre had told her the vineyard would have to be sold. All she stood to gain from their brief marriage was a small stipend from his will to cover the wages he had been unable to pay her for months.<\/p>\n<p>Towards the end, she\u2019d been more like a carer than a housekeeper. She\u2019d bathed Pierre, fed him, helped him dress, wheeled him into the fields he loved each morning so he could watch the vines ripen and had endless conversations each evening about everything from Simone Signoret \u2013 his favourite movie star \u2013 to the latest news of Maxim Durand, the billionaire vintner who owned all the land surrounding Pierre\u2019s much smaller vineyard. And who Pierre said had been trying to put him out of business for years.<\/p>\n<p>She had never just been Pierre\u2019s employee. She\u2019d been his companion and eventually his friend. Theirs had never been a sexual relationship, although she\u2019d be damned if she\u2019d humiliate Pierre by letting anyone know that. They\u2019d struck a deal, if she married him he would be able to pay her the wages he owed her after his death and she needed that money to help her settle somewhere new.<\/p>\n<p>The pang of loss and anxiety tightened around her chest. She would miss Pierre, but more than that, she would miss La Maison de la Lune, because the house had become her home.<\/p>\n<p>She\u2019d been living at the ramshackle old farmhouse for eleven months, scrubbing the old stone floors until they gleamed, dusting the worn furniture, learning how to work the temperamental washing machine, planting a vegetable patch to save money on their food bill.<\/p>\n<p>She\u2019d never stayed anywhere this long, never felt so settled and secure and it hurt more than it ever had before to know she would be forced to move on soon.<\/p>\n<p>She sighed. She ought to be used to it by now. So why did it feel harder this time? Was it just because she was getting older? She\u2019d turned twenty-one two weeks ago. One thing was for sure, La Maison de la Lune shared a special place in heart.<\/p>\n<p>She squinted into the setting sun, as a large black SUV appeared on the far ridge. A cloud of dust rose in its wake as it bounced over the rutted track towards the family cemetery on the edge of the De La Mare property.<\/p>\n<p>Probably another of Pierre\u2019s casual acquaintances come to judge her.<\/p>\n<p>But then she noted the Durand logo on the side of the jeep as the vehicle stopped and a man got out.<\/p>\n<p>He was tall, and muscular, wearing worn jeans, battered workboots and a grubby white T-shirt, his jaw covered in stubble.<\/p>\n<p>She recognised him instantly, even though she\u2019d never met him and never seen him in such casual attire \u2013 only in tuxedos and designer suits in snapped shots online and in tabloid magazines.<\/p>\n<p>Maxim Durand. Pierre\u2019s billionaire neighbour. And France\u2019s most eligible playboy according to <em>Paris Match<\/em>. Who else could look that ruthless and commanding \u2013 and annoyingly handsome \u2013 while dressed like a labourer? And who else would be arrogant enough to attend a funeral straight from the fields?<\/p>\n<p>Anxiety skittered up her spine. What was Pierre\u2019s business rival doing coming to his funeral? There had been no love lost between the two men, or certainly not by Pierre. Her employer had talked about Durand often, with utter contempt, and surprising venom. She had loved Pierre, he was charming and paternalistic towards her, but his hatred of Durand had shown a side of her employer she had never quite understood. Pierre had fixated on the other man \u2013 every time they had a problem at the vineyard, a small fire, a spring flood, one of the field hands leaving, Pierre had blamed Durand, as if the other man was personally responsible for everything that had gone wrong over the years. Cara had tried not to encourage it. She\u2019d thought Pierre was paranoid \u2013 yes, the Durand Corporation had bought up all the land surrounding the De La Mare estate, but Durand had never attempted to buy out Pierre \u2013 but now she wondered? Was it possible Pierre had been right? Had Durand simply been waiting for Pierre to die before making his move?<\/p>\n<p>Durand slammed the door of the jeep and marched across the dry earth to the graveside, his movements supremely confident. He certainly didn\u2019t look as if he were in mourning. A strange liquid pull worked its way through her system.<\/p>\n<p>A blush burned her neck as Durand dipped his head and she could feel his gaze, behind dark aviator sunglasses, assessing her in the retro fifties black dress she\u2019d found at the market the previous day. The dress had been too tight, but with its wide skirt, fitted bodice and hourglass shape it had looked elegant. She never wore dresses, feeling more comfortable in what Pierre had laughingly called her \u2018work uniform\u2019 of shorts and T-shirts. But she\u2019d wanted to look elegant today, for Pierre. And the dress had suited the occasion. Or so she\u2019d thought until this moment. Durand\u2019s perusal scorched her skin, insulting her and exciting her at one and the same time \u2013and making her feel more exposed than elegant.<\/p>\n<p>But he didn\u2019t speak to her, his gaze leaving her burning face as he approached the graveside and said something to Marcel Caron, Pierre\u2019s lawyer.<\/p>\n<p>The priest finally stopped talking and handed her a trowel. She bent to scoop up a shovel of earth, far too aware now of her breasts straining against the tight bodice.<\/p>\n<p>She sprinkled the chalky red earth on Pierre\u2019s coffin.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Give Simone a kiss from me, Pierre,\u2019 she whispered in English. Handing the trowel back to the priest, she said a silent goodbye to her friend.<\/p>\n<p>Swallowing to hold back the emotion closing her throat, she turned from the graveside and walked past the graves of the De La Mare ancestors, heading down the hillside to La Maison de la Lune.<\/p>\n<p>She\u2019d decided not to arrange any kind of wake. Pierre had told her he didn\u2019t want any fuss.<\/p>\n<p>Pierre\u2019s lawyer Marcel was due to come to the farmhouse after the service to give her a cheque for the money Pierre had promised her when they wed. She already had one of De La Mare\u2019s best wines open and breathing \u2013 the way Pierre had taught her to do \u2013 on the kitchen counter ready for Marcel\u2019s arrival.<\/p>\n<p>She heard some hissed whispers in French as she headed past the other mourners, but no one approached her.<\/p>\n<p>She needed to pack her rucksack and start thinking about where she was going to go next? She doubted there would be much time once the estate had been settled. And if Durand bought it, he would want her off the land quickly. She wanted to be ready to go before she was pushed. And Durand\u2019s presence here today \u2013 in his work clothes \u2013 suggested he wasn\u2019t going to stand on ceremony.<\/p>\n<p>Should she go to Paris? To London? To Madrid maybe? She\u2019d never been there before.<\/p>\n<p>But as she tried to muster some enthusiasm for her new adventure, all she felt was weary. And sad. And heartsick.<\/p>\n<p><em>Sod it.<\/em> She wasn\u2019t going to pack tonight.<\/p>\n<p>Tonight she wanted to remember her friend \u2013 a sad smile curved her lips \u2013 her husband. So once Marcel left, she would sit out on the terrace, sip Pierre\u2019s beautiful wine and enjoy the twilight magic of the vines she had come to love. The vines that had become a rare oasis of calm, and security and safety amid the chaos of her nomadic life.<\/p>\n<p>She could feel the laser-like intensity of Durand\u2019s gaze behind his sunglasses as she made her way past him to the path out of the graveyard. A disturbing prickle of need ran riot over her skin, and the hot heavy weight settled low in her belly.<\/p>\n<p>She struggled to rationalise the strange, unfamiliar sensations.<\/p>\n<p>Durand was rich and forceful, a notorious womaniser, and exuded an animal magnetism it would be hard for any woman to ignore. And she had so little experience with men. As a foster child, she had learned to hide her light under a very big bushel. It was always better not to be noticed, then you might get to stay a bit longer. And as a teenager she\u2019d been a tomboy, determined not to conform to the stereotype of an unwanted girl looking for love in all the wrong places. She was still a virgin, for goodness sake. Thanks to her rootless existence since leaving foster care she\u2019d never settled down anywhere long enough to build a meaningful relationship with a guy. Well, apart from Pierre! But Pierre \u2013 despite their last-minute marriage \u2013 had been forty years older than her and frail, not a forceful, magnetic man in his physical prime.<\/p>\n<p>Given her history, it was no surprise she found Durand\u2019s attention a bit\u2026 Disconcerting.<\/p>\n<p>But the good news was, she didn\u2019t know him, and she never had to meet him \u2013 so this weird heady feeling would pass. Eventually.<\/p>\n<p>Before too much longer Durand was probably going to own the two-hundred-year-old De La Mare vines that produced the best vintage in the region and the beautiful old stone farmhouse that had become the first real home she had ever known.<\/p>\n<p>But tonight the vines and La Maison de la Lune were hers. And she did not need to get Durand\u2019s permission \u2013 or anyone else\u2019s permission \u2013 to enjoy them.<\/p>\n<p>***<\/p>\n<p>\u2018How long before the estate goes on the market?\u2019 Maxim Durand asked Pierre De La Mare\u2019s lawyer in French as he watched the girl \u2013 De La Mare\u2019s housekeeper, or nursemaid, or whatever the hell she was \u2013 walk past him without making eye contact.<\/p>\n<p>Her curves moved sinuously in the vintage dress, the black silk shimmering gold in the sunset, the reddening dusk turning her mass of blonde hair, pinned in a haphazard chignon, to a rich gold. His pulse beat a lusty tattoo in his crotch. Infuriatingly.<\/p>\n<p>Someone had said the old man had got himself a new housekeeper a while ago. He\u2019d expected her to be young and pretty, but not young enough to be De La Mare\u2019s granddaughter. How old was she? Early twenties at the most? Which would make her up to a decade younger than his own thirty-one years. And as much as forty years younger than De La Mare.<\/p>\n<p>Did the old bastard have no shame whatsoever?<\/p>\n<p>Despite her apparent youth though, he would guess the girl had supplied more than just pastoral care for the old rou\u00e9. De La Mare would have charmed her into his bed the way he\u2019d charmed so many other women. She looked like just his type, too. Hot and available.<\/p>\n<p>But still the pulse of desire and a grudging respect, rather than the distaste he wanted to feel, persisted as she strode into the shadow of the trees, with her head held high.<\/p>\n<p>What was it about the woman that had captivated him as soon as he had arrived? Perhaps it was the flush that hit her cheeks as he checked out her impressive breasts \u2013 provocatively displayed for every man here to enjoy in the revealing dress \u2013 or the flicker of surprise in her cornflower blue eyes as they met his. Or maybe it was just that he hadn\u2019t slept with a woman in close to three months and he was fatigued after getting up before dawn this morning to assess the new yield. But whatever the reason, he didn\u2019t like it.<\/p>\n<p>Now De La Mare was finally dead, Maxim intended to claim what was rightfully his \u2013 not get distracted by the old man\u2019s leftovers.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Your haste is quite unseemly, Monsieur Durand,\u2019 the lawyer murmured. \u2018Monsieur De La Mare only died a few days ago.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u2018This is business, not personal,\u2019 he lied easily. \u2018I wish to be informed as soon as the estate is on the market.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>He\u2019d waited long enough to get hold of the De La Mare Estate. He\u2019d refused to deal with the old bastard, but had ensured that no-one else would offer for the land while the man was alive. Now De La Mare was dead, the vineyard was his for the taking.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018It is not as simple as that, we must meet tonight at La Maison de la Lune,\u2019 Marcel Caron said. \u2018For the reading of the will. Actually, it is good you are here, it will save me sending for you as Monsieur De La Mare requested you attend.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u2018What?\u2019 Maxim\u2019s attention switched to the lawyer \u2013 the girl had already disappeared anyway \u2013 as he struggled to hide his shock. He ruthlessly quashed the foolish kernel of hope. He knew there would be nothing for him in the man\u2019s will.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Monsieur De La Mare requested you attend two days before he died when he made his will.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Why did he even make a will?\u2019 Maxim said, his voice hoarse with anger. \u2018He had nothing but debts to pass on and no heirs to pass it to as I understand it.\u2019<\/p>\n<p><em>Or none he was prepared to claim<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p>Bitterness rose in his throat like bile.<\/p>\n<p>He swallowed it down as he had so many times before. Ever since he was a small boy and his mother had tied him to his bed to stop him from running through the woods to La Maison de la Lune in a desperate bid to see the man who did not want to see him.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018You have not heard?\u2019 The lawyer looked sheepish.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Heard what? I only returned from my business in Italy yesterday and I\u2019ve been in the fields all day,\u2019 Maxim demanded, as the sick dread \u2013 which had been a large part of his childhood \u2013 churned in his gut.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Mademoiselle Evans, La Maison\u2019s housekeeper, and Monsieur De La Mare were married three days ago, and she is now his widow.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>The bitterness knifed through his gut, as his mother\u2019s face seared his memory \u2013 fragile and drawn and exhausted \u2013 the way he remembered her on the morning he left Burgundy as an outraged and humiliated fifteen year old.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018<em>Merde<\/em>,\u2019 he murmured as his anger became icily cold.<\/p>\n<p>The little English whore hadn\u2019t just been screwing De La Mare, she\u2019d managed to seduce the old bastard into doing something no other woman ever had \u2013 putting his wedding ring on her finger.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/section>\n<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><!-- close content main div 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data-av_iconfont='entypo-fontello'><\/a><\/span>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p><strong>July 2020<\/strong><br \/>\n<\/br><br \/>\n<\/br><br \/>\n<\/br><\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":533,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","tags":[],"portfolio_entries":[2],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v22.5 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>A Forbidden Night with the Housekeeper - Heidi Rice<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"USA Today bestselling author Heidi Rice&#039;s billionaire accidental pregnancy romance for Harlequin Presents and Mills and Boon Modern\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/heidi-rice.com\/books\/a-forbidden-night-with-the-housekeeper\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_GB\" 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