'Still a coward!' And, lifting her hand to his mouth, he kissed it, and stopped, his fingers tightening. 'Where is your ring?' he demanded curtly.
'I left it in the bedroom.' She couldn't see that it mattered. 'I wanted to enjoy today as myself,' she explained, sure Luc would understand. 'After all, it's only costume for the act tonight.'
'If you say so,' Luc responded enigmatically. She glanced up at him, but he looked past her. For an instant she wondered if she had offended him in some way, but dismissed the thought as he grinned.
'My favourite restaurant,' he announced, and ushered her into a small, dark, typically Italian waterside cafe, where the proprietor greeted him as an old friend.
Parisa could not remember ever having enjoyed a meal so much. She had no idea what she was eating, until Luc said it was some kind of liver.
'But I hate liver,' she exclaimed, and then laughed as Luc pointedly glanced at her almost empty plate.
'So I see, cara,' he mocked, and refilled her wine glass.
By the time they had finally finished the meal, Parisa had drunk four glasses of wine to Luc's two.
'Were you trying to get me drunk in there?' she asked gaily as he led her once more to the car.
'Would I do such a thing? Me, the model of decorum?' He pointed a finger at his broad chest with a woefully injured look on his attractive face.
'Yes, but I forgive you,' she chuckled, loving this much happier easy-going Luc.
Seated in the car, Luc turned to her, his expression oddly serious.
'You know what I like most about you?'
She looked across at him, surprised and secretly touched.
'What?' she asked, and her blue eyes were trapped by the dark gleam in Luc's.
'You don't allow anything to get in the way of your enjoyment. I blackmailed you into coming here. You could have made today terrible; instead I've enjoyed every minute. I cannot think of a single one of my acquaintances who would have been so obliging.'
The serious tone and the deepening gleam in his eyes was not something she wanted to recognize, she didn't dare.
'You obviously don't meet the right kind of people,' she said lightly to break the sudden tension, and, turning, she fiddled with her seatbelt.
Luc took it from her and deftly fastened it around her. 'You're probably right, ca a. But you can judge for yourself tonight.' He started the car and drove off. 'Almost every member of my family and a load of friends are coming to the party.'
Parisa made no reply. His reminder of just why she was in Italy and in his home pretending to be his fiancée was a dampening one. She had almost forgotten his less than savoury character in the delight of the day they had spent together. But now the thought of the evening ahead was a sobering one.
CHAPTER FIVE
Parisa was adding the finishing touch to her make-up. Damn! Her hand holding the lipstick wavered on her top lip, at the knock on the bedroom door.
Quickly blotting her mouth with tissue, she deftly applied the lipstick once again, and, satisfied with the result, she went to answer the door.
The sight of Luc, one arm propped against the door frame, his huge body leaning casually towards her, momentarily robbed her of breath. The jacket of his dinner suit hung open, revealing the white silk shirt pulled taut from his waist diagonally across his massive chest. A quick flush of colour flooded her face, intensifying as his appreciative gaze lazily surveyed her from head to toe, lingering slightly on the soft curve of her full breasts outlined by the strapless black velvet bodice of her gown.
'You look exquisite, Parisa. The dress is definitely you—a touch wild,' he said softly, and gently he lifted her chin. The eyes that looked down into hers were amused and something more she didn't recognise, but it made her pulse race.
She knew the dress was a mistake. 'Wild', he had said—not at all the image she wanted to present. Under her breath she cursed the impulse that had made her buy the evening gown in the closing-down sale of a small boutique in Brighton last year. At the time it had seemed too good a chance to miss. But now, with the wild strawberry taffeta skirt falling in flounces from the neat waist to end above her knees at the front and dipping to mid calf at the back, she realised her mistake.
But reason vanished as he stooped to press his lips against her brow. The kiss was so open and friendly, and yet she felt her body weakening, the musky male scent of him, mingling with some subtle cologne, acted like a powerful aphrodisiac on her senses, one that was to last the whole night through.
His dark velvet voice breathed softly against her ear. 'Ready to join the fray, my sweet fiancée?'
She could not stop the shiver that trembled through her but, gathering her scattered wits, she responded by holding out her hand, the brilliant blue-white stoned ring glittering like fire on her third finger.
'Yes, oh, master, and I have even remembered the prop,' she teased.
Half an hour later, with Luc's arm casually flung around her bare shoulder, his mother at his other side, he said,
'That is about it, ladies. We have greeted everyone, so now I think we can enjoy ourselves. Don't drink too much champagne, Mamma,' he teased, before taking Parisa in his arms and whirling her the few steps to the polished dance-floor with all the youthful exuberance of an overgrown schoolboy.
Laughing up at him, Parisa thought she had never seen a more devastatingly handsome man, and tonight he was hers... Just this once she would throw caution to the wind and enjoy herself, she vowed. A dreamy smile lingered on her soft lips as, with his hand at the base of her spine, and his other hand holding her much smaller one close to his heart, he slanted her an amused, self- satisfied grin before glancing around the elegant, crowded room.
'So far everything has worked perfectly, cara. My mother is thoroughly enjoying her birthday; she has never looked happier. At last she can talk endlessly with her cronies at what she thinks is a very real prospect of some grandchildren before long. As for my friends, they are all madly jealous because I have captured such a beautiful lady.' His dark eyes gleamed merrily down at her.
But I bet you feel a tiny bit guilty, Luc, tricking your mother?' Parisa asked with a twinge of shame, wondering for the first time how he would explain the quick ending of the engagement.
For an answer his arm moved and tightened around her slim waist, causing her to come into more intimate contact with his hard body.
'You know exactly how to prick my conscience, Parisa, and yet until a few days ago I would have sworn I didn't have a conscience.'
Tilting her head, she grinned up at him.
'So I am good for something,' she jeered lightly, to hide the chaos he was creating inside her. His long legs rubbed erotically against hers as their bodies moved in perfect unison to the romantic music.
The glittering chandeliers, the band on the raised platform at one end of the elegant room, the people around them all faded into nothing, as his dark, almost black eyes burned down into hers. Parisa blinked, trying to break the spell, and saw a muscle twitch in his cheek.
'You, Parisa, are good for me. Perfect, in fact, and very soon I would like to show you just how perfect we can be together.'
His deep, smoky voice was like a caress against her skin. She knew she should object to the intimacy he was proposing, but her mouth was suddenly dry, her heart beating double speed, and she could feel beneath her fingers the heavy beat of his heart. He pulled her closer, if that were possible, his hand stroking up to her bare back and resting there.
'Relax, Parisa.' Perhaps he had seen something in her eyes. 'We have all the time in the world. It was not my intention to frighten you, cara.'
Reassured by his words, and by the unexpected sense of safety she found in his arms, Parisa did relax. Her slender body moved lazily against his in willing compliance as Luc's hand stroked lightly back and forth across her back, toying with her long hair.
His head bent. 'I knew this silk-spun hair would feel as good as it looks,' he breathed huskily against her ea
r. 'You should always wear it loose, floating around your shoulders like a silver cloud.'
Parisa lifted her head, smiling into his dark, slumberous eyes. 'Not very practical,' she murmured. But she was glad that for once she had given in to the impulse to leave her long hair loose, lifted from her face with two ornate jet combs, a legacy from her great-aunt.
'If you ever cut it, I think I would kill you,' Luc whispered with a strange fierceness that made her glance quickly up at him, catching a wave of dark emotion clouding his eyes. But before she could speak, a voice broke into their private world.
'My turn, Luc; you can't hog the lovely lady all night.'
'Oh, but I can,' Luc responded almost curtly.
The man who had cut in had been introduced to Parisa earlier as Luc's right-hand man, Aldo Gennetti. He was about the height of Parisa, and very good-looking, with black, curly hair and laughing light brown eyes. Beside him stood his wife, one of the loveliest women Parisa had ever seen: very Latin with masses of blue-black hair tumbling down her back, a perfect oval face, huge brown eyes and a wide, full mouth. Anna Gennetti was stunning in a slip of a black dress that plunged to her waist both front and back. A brilliant diamond bracelet that must have cost a bomb circled her slender wrist. In fact Parisa thought the only thing that marred her beauty was the ice in her eyes and the twist of discontent to her mouth.
Anna said something to Luc in rapid Italian and maneuvered herself between Parisa and Luc. One small red- nailed hand rested on Luc's arm like a talon, and her body pressed against his. Parisa glanced at Luc, and shivered. She hoped Luc never looked at her like that. His eyes were narrowed coldly on the other woman as he replied cynically and in English, 'How can I refuse?'
'Come on, Parisa, it is you and I,' Aldo declared, and Parisa felt herself spun around. 'We will show this lot how to dance.' The band broke into a quick disco number, and Parisa thought, Why not? She loved dancing, and threw herself whole-heartedly into the pounding beat, gyrating her supple body with a verve and subtlety few could match; but Aldo was good.
A space cleared around them and in minutes they were the only couple dancing, the rest content to watch. Parisa, laughing out loud at Aldo's outrageous compliments as he swung her around on the last note, her long hair swirling around her shoulders, suddenly caught a glimpse of Luc's face. He looked furious.
'Thank you, Parisa, you're fantastic,' Aldo said, fighting to regain his breath.
'Yes, cara. I had no idea you were such an exhibitionist,' Luc declared hardly, appearing at her side, his arm going around her waist and, holding her possessively against him, he bent his dark head, his breath warm against her cheek. 'In future I would prefer it if you keep your undoubted talent under control. I do not like my guests being given a free view of my fiancée’s lovely legs,' he hissed.
She had seen him wrapped around the seductive Anna. How dared he criticise her? And she wasn't his fiancée, in any case, she reminded herself, the resentment in her giving a mutinous set to her small jaw. 'Aren't you forgetting something?' she demanded.
'Shut up, Parisa; do you want the world to hear?' He spun her against his hard body and whispered the words against her mouth before he kissed her.
She vaguely heard the cheers but, swaying in Luc's arms as he ended the kiss, her full lips softly parted, her dazed eyes staring up into his, she didn't care. One touch, and she was putty in his hands.
'For tonight at least you are my Lady and I will not tolerate any other man muscling in, understood?' he demanded huskily, pressing a kiss on her brow.
His possessiveness was very flattering, Parisa told herself, wondering if he could possibly be jealous, and enormously pleased at the idea. She hugged the thought to herself for the rest of the evening.
They danced again and drank champagne, and Parisa felt like Cinderella at the ball. Luc stayed by her side, a hand at her waist, an arm around her shoulder, acting the loving fiancée to the hilt, until Parisa did not know where pretence ended and reality began, and she didn't care.
Signora Di Maggi left the party around midnight, and after that the guests left in a steady stream, except for four couples who were staying the night. By two in the morning Luc and herself were the only people remaining downstairs.
'Do you want another drink, a night-cap?' he asked huskily, his arm around her waist.
She leaned into his hard strength. 'No.' She yawned. 'It has been a wonderful evening.' She turned shining eyes up to his. 'It seems a shame it has to end, but '
'No buts, Parisa. It does not have to end, not yet.' She watched his tanned hand pull the bow-tie from his throat, his fingers deftly unfastening the top two buttons of his silk shirt. A frisson of excitement shot through with fear tingled down her spine. Just what was he suggesting? She should be insulted!
'I visit the observatory most nights when I am here. Watching the night sky has a somniferous effect on one. How would you like to come with me, hmm...?’
It was not what she had expected, and she felt ashamed of her own wanton presumption. 'Yes, please,' she agreed. Since they had spent a marvelous day together and he had behaved impeccably, it was her own wayward thoughts that were at fault, she told herself sternly.
They crept up the stairs in silence, not wanting to disturb the rest of the house. A concealed door in the paneling around the circular landing led to a narrow flight of stairs. Parisa followed Luc up the dim passageway, a sense of anticipation making her blue eyes sparkle.
'Mind the step,' Luc said softly as he opened the door at the top and stepped down into the room. Parisa followed, taking the hand he offered her in the semi- darkness, a single low-voltage bulb the only light.
She looked around with interest. A large telescope was mounted on a circular dais in the centre of the room. A desk and high leather chair at one side and, at the other, a long, low sofa-bed were the only furnishings.
'It's a bit stark and eerie,' she murmured. The smooth curved walls she found a bit claustrophobic.
'Watch,' Luc commanded, and at a touch of a switch by the door, the domed roof slid apart like a sliced orange to reveal another dome of pure glass and the night sky beyond.
'Oh! It's magical,' she gasped, as Luc extinguished the single light, and the room was illuminated solely by the clear silver light of the moon. She tilted her head back and stared in awe at the star-studded black velvet canopy above.
'We are lucky it is a fine night.' Luc's arm curved around her naked shoulders and, entranced, she walked with him to the centre of the room.
He released her, shrugged off his jacket, and made some adjustment to the telescope. Then, swinging the high chair into position, he sat down and pulled her on to his lap.
'Watch, learn.' She did not have to be told. With his strong arm around her waist, his masculine warmth enfolding her, she looked and listened in complete fascination as he pointed out the different stars and constellations.
He was a remarkable man, she thought, her glance straying from the telescope to study his handsome features. He was completely engrossed in the subject, and very knowledgeable. She laid her head against his shoulder, briefly closing her eyes, savouring the moment.
It was as if they were the only two people in the world. She would remember this night for the rest of her life.
'Sorry, cara, I tend to get carried away with my hobby, and you're tired.' She felt herself lifted in his strong arms.
'Luc...'
He was lowering her on to the long couch, his dark eyes soft, his sensuous mouth curled in a wry smile.
'Forgive me for a minute. I have to check only one more, I promise.' And he kissed the tip of her small nose. 'Rest.'
Parisa couldn't answer—or only with a tiny appreciative murmur. She watched him through half-closed eyes return to his precious telescope, his broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, firm buttocks and long, muscular legs. He was a magnificent male animal, power and virility in every line of his huge body. She smiled softly to herself, her eyelashes sweeping he
r cheeks. She had seen the respect and deference on the faces of his friends tonight. He was a large man in every way there was. His consideration for his mother, and his earlier concern for the crippled child were testament to his caring nature.
So why was he a criminal? she thought fuzzily. Perhaps he had been led into it by others. She wanted to make excuses for him, she realised, and, however much she tried to remember he was a blackmailer and a thief, one glance from those black eyes, and she went weak at the knees. She smiled. She had never actually believed in that statement until she had met Luc. 'Weak at the knees'... Good job she was lying down. Her smile widened. Too much champagne...
The pad of a finger traced the outline of her mouth and she drowsily opened her eyes, her lips parting as if to catch the finger.
'A secret smile, Parisa. What were you thinking?' Luc was sitting on the edge of the couch, one arm stretched along the back, supporting his weight as he bent over her. His other hand dropped from her lips to her throat, the back of his hand resting on her breastbone, his fingers stroking gently against her neck.
She felt the gentle caress in every cell in her body. Lazily she smiled into his dark face, and, reaching up, she placed a slender finger over his mouth. 'A gentleman does not ask such a question. A lady has to have some secrets.' She fluttered her long lashes flirtatiously, teasing him.
His answer was to open his mouth over her finger and suck it inside. The hot, slightly abrasive texture of his tongue, the tugging motion seemed to pull directly to the heart of her. She shivered at the intimacy and pulled her hand free, but only because he allowed her to.
'You're cold.' His finger found the pulse that beat madly at her throat, and rested for a moment.
He couldn't be more wrong, she thought, her whole body flushing with heat.
'Let me warm you, Parisa,' he husked.
Her breathing quickening, she reached her slender arms around his shoulders, letting her fingers curl into the black silky hair at the back of his neck, urging him down to her.
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