Читать книгу Bought for His Bed: Virgin Bought and Paid For / Bought for Her Baby / Sold to the Highest Bidder! - Kate Hardy - Страница 13

TENSELY Fleur watched Luke open a safe and pull out a handful of cases. He flicked up the lids of a couple, and brought them across to her. ‘Which do you like best?’

Afraid that he might read the apprehension in her eyes, she kept them fixed on the jewels. Exquisite, lustrous with a faint golden sheen, one was a string of perfectly graduated and matched beads. The other featured a single magnificent tearshaped pearl, the gold chain fastened by a diamond clasp.

‘They’re the same colour as your skin,’ Luke said. ‘The pendant, I think, will sit better in the neckline of your dress.’ He closed one box and put it back in the safe.

‘Turn around,’ he commanded.

When she obeyed, Luke brushed her firefall of hair aside and thought that there was something oddly vulnerable about the nape of a woman’s neck. Not that he’d call Fleur defenceless, he thought with a twist to his lips as he dropped the pendant around her throat and fastened the clasp, his hands lingering a fraction of a second too long on her exquisite skin.

Far from defenceless, in fact; she stood up for herself, and had been extremely competent in two different emergencies, yet something about her made him intensely protective.

As well as aggressive and reckless and aroused.

Possibly it was her natural perfume, the faint, barely noticeable aroma that sent a surge of involuntary heat through him whenever he got close to her. Pheromones, he thought cynically, and recalled the time he’d reminded her of the primal signalling system that ensured two people would make healthy babies.

Not that he was thinking of making babies with Fleur Lyttelton! Making love—now, that had been occurring to him with more and more frequency since he’d first met her. However, he knew how to master his urges.

Usually…

Frowning, he set the clasp on her skin, charmed to see a faint blush of colour stealing through it. Luke swept the bright flood of her hair to cover the clasp and in full control of his voice said, ‘There.’

And allowed himself to turn her around so that he could see the effect.

Her blush was full-blown by now, and her lack of experience charmed him, too. An image burst full-blown into his mind—Fleur in his bed, wearing nothing but the pearl, lax and sated in a tangle of sheets, her green eyes heavy-lidded, her spectacular mouth slightly swollen from his kisses, her breasts still rosy from his caresses.

And her hair across his chest, a silken river of fire.

He released her and stepped back, his voice harsh as he said, ‘Perfect. There are earrings, too.’

She shook her head, her eyes far cooler than her skin, her mouth compressing. ‘That would be overkill,’ she said succinctly, and turned and walked out of the strongroom.

For some primitive reason it irritated him that she didn’t bother to check herself out in a mirror. Shoulders held straight, she walked beside him into the main reception room, stopping inside the door at the sound of Gabrielle’s voice from somewhere behind them.

When Luke noticed the subtle stiffening of his companion’s body, that odd protectiveness surged through him again. He rested his hand lightly in the small of her back and said crisply, ‘You look exquisite, and you have excellent manners and a talent for coping. As my indomitable French great-grandmother used to say in similar situations, en avant!’

Forward! Supported by his understanding, she turned her head and smiled at him. He was heartbreakingly attractive, his intimate, complicit smile implying that they were in this together, the arrogant framework of his face set off by faultless tailoring and the white shirt beneath his dinner jacket.

For a taut second his unsparing gaze rested on her mouth before he commanded, ‘Just smile, Fleur. That’s all you need to do.’

‘Be a good little decoration, you mean?’ she flashed back.

He grinned. ‘You’re very decorative, but, no, there’s something about your smile that makes people instinctively trust you.’ Eyes glinting, he finished, ‘In fact, that smile would make you the perfect con artist.’

Startled, she stared at him before spluttering into laughter. ‘You certainly know how to give with one hand and take away with the other!’

So when Gabrielle and her grandfather arrived it was to find their host and his presumed mistress laughing at each other. Meeting Gabrielle’s angry gaze, Fleur wondered if he’d deliberately teased her to create just that sense of spurious intimacy.

Probably.

The evening opened before her like a flower unfolding. She found herself introduced to a mixture of islanders and people from around the world—people whose names she recognised from the financial press, gossip columns and film reviews.

She’d have hated to be dismissed as Luke’s latest inamorata, but his power seemed absolute; her supposed position in his life meant that she was treated with respect.

At one stage she talked to a hot new star whose last blockbuster film had just revealed that he could really act as well as ripple his muscles; a native of Fala’isi, he turned out to be a cousin of Luke’s. He told her of his desire to play Othello some day. A short time later she was discussing books with the head of a huge investment firm and his wife.

She kept an eye on the guests, making sure no one was ever alone; it wasn’t too onerous, as they were a close-knit group who knew each other well. Even Gabrielle seemed to forget her shock at finding another woman in residence; Fleur relaxed when she saw her and the film star engaged in flirtatious banter.

Instinctively Fleur searched out Gabrielle’s grandfather; he was watching his granddaughter with a frown. He met Fleur’s quick glance and the frown deepened.

Worried, she turned back to the woman she was conversing with. Almost immediately they were joined by Luke. Overt displays of affection clearly weren’t his style, but he used the power of his personality to create an aura of sexual chemistry between them with nothing more than a few fleeting, proprietary touches and an understated possessiveness.

And when their eyes met no one within seeing distance could have missed the sizzle. Of course with him it was staged; unfortunately her responses were only too real.

Wildfire sensations clamouring through her treacherous body after another intent, steel-grey glance, Fleur no longer cared about the guests; she just hoped that Luke thought her acting was on a par with his.

After half an hour he said quietly, ‘Dinner’s ready.’

‘With or without tuna, I wonder?’

He picked her hand up and dropped a light kiss on her palm, folding her fingers over it as though to keep the kiss safe. ‘Help me get them to the table.’

Rivulets of fire ran through every nerve. The noise of conversation faded; she stared up into eyes that were half closed and gleaming with desire.

And then he put her hand down and said, ‘That should convince anyone who wasn’t already persuaded. You’re doing wonders, Fleur.’

Hoping she successfully hid the bitter chagrin that doused her, she said numbly, ‘So are you.’

But the reminder was necessary. All of this was fake, playing to an audience. She respected Luke for his chivalry towards someone who clearly meant a lot to him, but he wasn’t the one who’d have to pay the price.

The masquerade seemed likely to cost Fleur her heart.

Dinner was served on the terrace. Susi and her team had risen splendidly to the occasion, decorating the table in a flamboyant, very Pacifika style with great clusters of flowers and fruit. Wineglasses and silver sparkled in the light of candles, and the scent of night-blooming flowers permeated the air with lazy, overt sensuality.

A fountain whispered and glinted in the glow of subdued lights that glowed on great shiny leaves and flowers. And above it all rose the moon, huge and golden in a cloudless sky where unknown stars mingled with familiar ones.

Luke didn’t put her in the hostess’s position at the other end of the table; that position was reserved for the Princess. Instead Fleur sat at his right hand.

The dinner was already a success. Yet in spite of everything, she had never felt so alone in her life. Then her gaze fell onto the tuna that had miraculously arrived in time to be marinated in lime and chili with tomatoes. Lifting her lashes, she met Luke’s eyes, laughing as they exchanged silent messages, and her heart squeezed into a tight ball of pleasure mixed with foreboding.

Emotions sang through her, a seething tumble of excitement and desperate anticipation. Aware that people were covertly watching, she looked back down at her plate, and in full knowledge of the probable consequence—heartbreak—made the most reckless decision of her life.

This was something out of a dream; just this once she’d let herself enjoy everything without hedging the experience with fear. After all, broken hearts mended. Even her mother, still loving the man who’d betrayed them, had found happiness of a sort after his departure. She’d never been able to love another man, but they’d had years of contentment together until her illness struck.

‘So it arrived in time,’ Luke said beneath his breath.

She smiled radiantly at him, welcoming the swift narrowing of his eyes. ‘Thank heavens. Does he do this sort of thing regularly?’

‘He’s difficult. And of course he knows his own worth—people have been trying to tempt him away for years, and he doesn’t really like living in the tropics. Every so often he makes plans to open a café in Provence.’

Fleur swallowed her first mouthful. ‘He’s a genius,’ she said on a sigh of pure delight. ‘You have to allow geniuses their tantrums.’

‘Well, you certainly managed his superbly. But then, as I told you before, I suspect that you have a talent for coping.’ He smiled at her.

She’d rather have a talent for being a wonderful hostess, or making scintillating conversation. ‘It wasn’t really a problem. He just wanted to vent—and for someone else to take responsibility.’

Luke eyed her with something like respect. ‘You don’t miss much. That’s why the little café in Provence will never lure him away from here—he doesn’t like responsibility. Whereas you seem to know how to deal with it.’

‘It’s easy when it’s not really my affair,’ she returned coolly, reminding him that she was there on a strictly temporary basis.

He nodded. ‘Possibly, but you showed no hesitation about helping me with Sue Baxter. She sends her regards and her thanks, by the way, and her company is exceedingly grateful to you. I suspect a gift is on its way.’

Fleur frowned. ‘I did no more than anyone else would have done,’ she said crisply. ‘I don’t want anything for simple human compassion.’

‘I did suggest the surf lifesaving club,’ he said with an ironic lift of one brow, ‘and I think they’re doing something about that, but Sue wanted a more personal expression of her thanks as well.’

Without waiting for an answer he turned to the woman on his other side, leaving Fleur feeling not only ungrateful but ungracious.

Especially as a small part of her reason for accompanying Sue Baxter to hospital was that she’d felt ill at ease with the company on the beach.

Oddly enough, not so much here. Whether it was the silk dress, or the magnificent pearl that warmed her throat, or even Luke’s close company, she didn’t know, but she felt more able to deal with the situation.

‘How long have you known Luke?’ the man beside her enquired cheerfully.

Wishing he’d chosen another topic, she smiled at him. ‘Not very long.’

‘But long enough?’

He was slightly older than Luke, she guessed, and disposed to be friendly, viewing her with an approving eye. ‘Yes,’ she admitted, aware that another of her wretched blushes was heating her cheeks. ‘Are you from Fala’isi?’

‘An islander born and bred. I grew up with him here,’ he told her. ‘He was one tough kid. He could ride any horse on the island, surf any wave, jump off any cliff into any sea—just keeping up with him exhausted the rest of us. I think his mother wondered what on earth she’d given birth to.’

Fleur kept her gaze firmly away from the man under discussion. ‘I can imagine,’ she said demurely.

‘Ah, well, he learned to control those daredevil impulses—he’s a Chapman, and self-discipline is a big thing for them. But they were great times.’ He looked appreciatively at her. ‘I see you’re wearing the Goddess’s Tear.’

‘What—oh, the pendant?’ She glanced down at the exquisite thing.

‘That’s the one. I remember the day it was found—fifteen years ago. My cousin dived for it and brought it up. It’s beyond price—utterly flawless—and there’s no other thing like it in the world. The moment we saw it we knew what we’d call it. There’s a legend around the name.’

‘I suppose legends go with the territory?’

He grinned. ‘Absolutely. Luke bought the Tear. I knew he’d had it set as a pendant, but I don’t think anyone—not even his mother or his sisters—has ever worn it.’

So that was what Luke had meant when he’d said he wanted to convince everyone that this was a serious relationship. Making sure she wore something so precious would certainly do the trick in this group.

The stone around her neck seemed to grow heavier. Now that she realised its value and rarity she felt branded, as though Luke had somehow stamped her with a sign of possession.

A prop, he’d called it—an extremely expensive and precious prop!

Her companion asked, ‘What did he tell you about the local pearls, the golden pearls of Fala’isi?’

‘Not a lot.’

‘They’re completely unique. They grow in the lagoon of an atoll fifty miles or so from the main island here, and nowhere else.’

‘Nowhere in the world?’

‘Nowhere. And if you try to transplant them they die. No one knows why. They’re also extremely difficult to use for culturing—for some reason the oyster doesn’t react like others do, so their pearls are hugely valuable. Yours was found on the first day of the new year—the Polynesian new year, that is.’

‘Matariki,’ she said, nodding.

He looked surprised. ‘Oh—of course, you’re a New Zealander. Yes, the day the Pleiades rise in the east. Of course pearls with that superb lustre and soft golden colour play can only be worn by women with a certain skin tone—luckily for you, you have it.’

Intrigued, Fleur asked more questions about the pearl industry.

It transpired that he ran the local end of it, and with her encouragement he waxed eloquent about the advances that had been made in harvesting and safety and marketing.

When she turned to talk to Luke again she met eyes the burnished colour of a sword blade, cold and intimidating with a lick of blue flame in their depths. Her heart contracted into a tight ball in her chest, but she met his formidable gaze with slightly raised brows and a level glance.

His smile was cool and cynical. ‘Enjoying yourself?’

‘Very much,’ she returned with a tight smile. ‘I’ve just been hearing what an adventurous childhood you had. Your parents must have been thankful when you finally grew up still in one piece.’

‘My mother was. My father was apparently just as reckless.’ He paused, letting his gaze drift down to the pearl around her throat. ‘What else have you learned?’

‘That this pretty thing is rare and very precious.’

‘Very suitable,’ he said, his flat, lethal tone contradicting the words.

What the hell had got into him? Temper brought swift colour to her cheeks. She took a deep breath and returned sweetly, ‘How kind.’

He laughed and put his hand over her clenched one on the table. Shocked at a gesture so public, she tried to pull away, but his fingers tightened. He didn’t hurt; his cool gaze let her know that any release would be his decision.

And then she was free and he said in a different voice, ‘Did he happen to mention that I have a nasty temper?’

‘No, but I know now,’ she said sweetly, refusing to give an inch.

Luke’s laughter sounded genuinely unforced. Fleur watched him and something inside her melted and dissolved, and she realised that it was too late to worry about the state of her heart. It was already dangerously compromised.

When Luke sobered she asked quietly, ‘What was that all about?’

‘I think it must be that emotion we’re not allowed to feel,’ he said, looking at her with what must have appeared to anyone watching to be amusement mixed with a certain spice of lust and affection.

Jealousy? Fleur’s skin tightened, but he turned to his partner and the moment was over.

In the car on the way to the after-dinner function, Lauren Bagaton said, ‘Luke, that was a fabulous meal. And such fun! What a terrific way to make money for charity—a dinner with good friends in the most romantic place in the world. Well, apart from Dacia, of course!’

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, and we have Fleur to thank for saving it from disaster,’ he said dryly.

Fleur said, ‘Nonsense!’

But Lauren demanded to know what had happened, her laughter pealing out when Luke obliged.

Her husband Guy asked, ‘Where are we going?’

‘It’s a deep, dark secret,’ Luke said lightly.

‘On Fala’isi? Don’t expect us to believe that—you know everything that happens here.’

Luke smiled. ‘I’ve been sworn to discretion. You’ll just have to wait until we get there. It’s not far now.’

And although Lauren coaxed, he refused to say anything more. ‘It’s a surprise,’ he said, adding, ‘If I tell you I’ll be hung, drawn and quartered by the committee of women who’ve worked so hard to make the evening a success.’

‘You’re afraid of a committee?’ Lauren asked, laughing.

‘You don’t know these women,’ Luke told her cheerfully. ‘You’ll just have to wait until we get there.’

There turned out to be a pavilion overlooking a magnificent beach. Built and decorated just for this occasion, a dance floor shrouded by white silk walls had been looped with garlands of golden-hearted frangipani and hibiscus. Tables under the stars overlooked the lagoon, and a band tuned up for the hundred or so people who’d been brought there from dinner parties all over the island. Light from hundreds of candles warmed the moonlight.

Lauren said to Fleur, ‘We can get our make-up touched up in that tent over there. Coming?’

‘Yes,’ she said, fascinated by this intimate glimpse into social life amongst the very powerful.

In the tent several women from a famous cosmetics firm were working their esoteric magic.

One took Lauren and another whisked Fleur into a chair. ‘With skin like that you don’t need more cosmetics, but how about a little extra something to bring out the green in your eyes?’

‘Not green eyeshadow, please!’ Fleur implored.

The woman laughed. ‘I swear, no green eyeshadow.’

She worked skilfully for several minutes, and then held up a mirror. ‘There.’

Fleur stared at her reflection. Her lips were sinfully exotic in a coral that she’d never have dared to wear because it should have clashed with her hair. And her eyes—oh, her eyes were greener than she’d ever seen them, the clear, mysterious green of the wild ocean, and they seemed bigger and darker and infinitely more inviting.

‘How did you do that?’ she asked, amazed.

‘Come to the salon one day and I’ll show you.’ The woman brushed aside her thanks and turned to the next eager partygoer.

Lauren was waiting for her, looking brighter than she had before. ‘Aren’t they clever?’

‘She said she could teach me how to do this.’ Immediately after Fleur said the words she wished she hadn’t—they made her sound naïve and out of place.

But Lauren smiled and took her arm. ‘Then let her. Makeup is fun. Now, where are our men?’ Taller than Fleur, she looked around. ‘Ah, here they come.’

The two men materialised through the throng of people, both turning heads as they came. For the first time in her life Fleur was the recipient of envious looks from other women. A forbidden excitement unfurled from the tight knot of anticipation in her chest. Soon there would be dancing…

She accepted a glass of champagne and sipped it, looking around.

‘What are you thinking?’ Luke’s voice was for her ears only.

‘That it looks like a film set,’ she said without thinking.

Irony tinged his smile. ‘With us as the extras?’

She nodded. ‘It’s so…everything’s right. It’s like a romantic fantasy.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘The committee who organised it worked extremely hard to make it exactly that. Our table’s over here.’

The band struck up and the MC walked into the centre of the empty dance floor and welcomed them, telling them of the amazing amount of money the evening had earned. Everyone cheered and clapped, and then the MC announced the first dance, making a wry comment about the difference between old Europe where the tune was composed and this tropical paradise.

Fleur kept her gaze fixed on the dance floor as the band swung into a waltz.

‘May I have this dance?’ Luke asked formally.

She tried for an airy tone, but to her dismay it came out tense and somewhat forced. ‘Of course.’

Hand in the small of her back once again, he guided her onto the floor.

Fleur blessed the high school in New Zealand that had run dancing lessons before each midwinter ball; she wasn’t an expert, but at least she knew how to waltz. Luke, however, possessed both the knowledge and that intangible something that translated into grace on the dance floor.

After a few seconds he murmured, ‘We’re supposed to be lovers—soon, if not already. I’m afraid you’re not going to convince anyone if you persist in holding yourself a sedate three inches away from me.’

His smile was teasing, but his metallic eyes demanded her compliance. Reluctantly she forced herself to melt against him as his arm tightened around her waist. She kept her gaze on his white dress shirt and tried to relax, to ignore the sensuous shivers running through her as the movement of his lean, assured body worked an enchantment as old as time.

He turned his head so that his voice would reach her ears. At the soft heat of his breath on her earlobe she was assailed by a pang of sensation so sharp and fierce it shocked her into almost missing a step.

‘I hope you’re looking soulful,’ he murmured.

She said in a brittle voice, ‘I don’t think I can quite manage soulful. Would languishing do?’

Amusement deepened his voice. ‘No, too Victorian. You’re not the languishing or soulful sort anyway. Perhaps we should just try talking to each other like sensible beings. Have you enjoyed the evening so far?’

Sensible? How could she mimic being sensible, when a divine recklessness was smashing through her inhibitions and barriers as though they were matchwood?

So she found him hugely attractive. According to the magazines, lots of other women did, too. Why should she be any different?

And accepting that she was just one of many didn’t mean she had to surrender to this tantalising expectancy. She had little enough experience, but she wasn’t stupid; women as well as men could desire without wanting any sort of relationship. She’d only known Luke for a few days—far too early to form any sort of attachment.

Wrap this fierce, uncontrollable response up as prettily as you might—call it desire, fascination, need—but it was only packaging, the longing for closeness and commitment just another manifestation of hormones.

She could cope with it.