Chapter 6

Rafael Girarde was a handsome man by any measure of standard. He was tall, broad shoul-dered and lean hipped, wore his well-cut, tailored clothes with a flair, smiled broadly with an open, warm expression, his discerning blue eyes spar-kling sincerely, his deep masculine, resonant voice inspiring confidence. Madeleine was particularly taken with his heavy shock of waved, greying hair, the one single tell-tale of his fifty odd years.

She was surprised at his simple, lackluster office, knowing his successful business capacity as an importer and owner of night clubs through-out the city, as well as holding a post as Ministre Of Gouvernment, say nothing of his luxurious home in Mont Royal that she had only seen, of course, from the street. But in all, she was most impressed by the way he made her feel, even after she had told him who she was and why she was there...

"Please, my dear, won't you sit down and be comfortable?" he had offered coming from behind his cluttered desk to place his hand on a chair in a gestured invitation.

Madeleine went to it and seated herself while M. Girarde returned to his place behind the desk. She felt extremely tense and had already begun to question whether she had done the right thing by exposing herself this way... but she'd not rushed into it blindly, without considering Antoine's position. Earlier, she had desperately tried to lead into the subject with her husband, prepared to cleanse her conscience once and for all and beg him to help her recover her child, but his indifferent and preoccupied attitude had finally caused her to give up the idea. Instead, she had struggled through coffee with him, kissing him at the door as she handed him his briefcase, then hurriedly dressed, knowing exactly what she was going to do. Whether Antoine had suspected something was amiss she wasn't certain, nor hardly cared any longer, but certainly their conversation had been strained and he'd acted terrible edgy...

"Well now..." M. Girarde was saying with a pleasant smile, "... you have already brightened my day to no end, Madame Poirier... for at last, I understand why Igat is such a beautiful child... her mother is a ravishing beauty."

Madeleine blushed immediately; she dropped her eyes in sincere, if, gentle embarrassment. "You're most kind, M'sieu', but I must admit that I don't feel very ravishing... coming to you with my sordid story this way..."

"Ah, ma chere, but you mustn't degrade yourself over an unfortunate affaire d'amour," said M. Girarde suavely. "How is it they say... ? It is better to have loved and lost than never to..."

"That was not the situation at all, M'sieu'," Madeleine interrupted quickly. "I assure you, it was not..."

Rafael Girarde shrugged his broad shoulders. "So... what difference," he said, his warm smile always prevalent. He leaned back in his chair, joining his hands at fingertips. "How can I help you, ma chere?"

Madeleine bit nervously at her lower lip, the ridiculousness of her proposed request suddenly dawning on her. To entertain even the remotest idea that these people would give up her baby after all this time had been insane... unreasonable... for weren't they more parents to her than she had ever been? In fact, they were the only parents Igat had ever known... ! Yet, she hadn't thought of it that way at all... and now, faced with her own irrational decision, she hardly knew what to do next.

"Well, Madame... ?" Girarde prodded gently.

"I-I don't know what to say, M'sieu'," she stammered. Suddenly, she reached into her purse and found a small hanky to dab at her nose as her dark eyes began to glisten behind her tears. "It's... it's my baby... I miss her so... want her so... Oh God, M'sieu' Girarde, what can I do... ? I-I think I'll lose my mind if I don't get her back..."

Rafael Girarde barely moved; he studied this voluptuous girl who had given birth to the child both he and his wife had come to think of as their very own, the child they had purchased from a drunken doctor without benefit of legal documents because his barren wife's past narcotic history was a matter of record, and enough to destroy any possibility of proper adoption. It'd had been little Igat's entry into their family that had made the Madame's recovery from her addiction possible, not that he really cared a tinker's damn for the Madame, but he did have a certain position to maintain as a Ministre Of Gouvernment, along with his other enterprises, and having a dope fiend for a wife did little toward enhancing that position. Now, as his keen eyes absorbed the breathtaking loveliness of the desirable young woman seated before him, his brain subconsciously registered the threat of her presence, even as another section of his mind began to plot lecherously.

"Can you believe, ma chere, that I can understand and sympathize with you?" Rafael Girarde said in gentle tones. "They say there is no bond stronger in this world than mother-love... but then, being a mother is more than just giving birth, is it not... ?"

"Please," Madeleine interrupted. "I-I realize I have no right coming to you like this, M'sieu'... but... but my God... she is my baby, don't you see... ?"

At that moment, she broke down completely and Girarde made no motion toward consoling her. The interlude gave him time to think as well as an opportunity to ogle her sensuously inspiring curvaceous body, while simultaneously he sensed a carnal stirring at his loins. He smiled to himself, a barely perceptible little gesture, while she wiped at her nose in an effort to regain her composure. Finally, he stood and went to a small cabinet to bring out glasses and a half-filled bottle of cognac. He poured lightly and approached her, a glass in either hand.