‘Can I help you?’ she asked, speaking French.
The man’s head whipped round, focussing laser eyes on her. For a second he did not speak. Nor could she.
Arielle’s lungs seemed suddenly empty of air. Her gaze fixed on him. She could feel her fingers clutch more tightly at her lapels as she stared. Stared at the most incredible looking man she had ever seen in her life…
Lycos did not move. His gaze rested on the woman standing there. Slender, wearing nothing but a thin, pale blue cotton dressing gown with a cross-over belt that distinctly displayed her shapely figure. Her dark hair tumbled down over her shoulders and waved back from her face. A face that made his gazeeven more keen. Oval-shaped, with a tender mouth, peach soft cheeks, delicate arched eyebrows set over deep set eyes. Eyes that were wide and startled.
He started to walk towards her and saw her take a half step back. He saw her hands, with their long fingers and unvarnished nails, clutch more tightly at her lapels.
‘Can I help you?’ she said again. ‘Are you lost?’
Lost? The word echoed meaninglessly in Lycos’s head. No, he was not lost—
Or was he?
He continued to walk towards her, a purpose in his steps now. He wanted to see her up close. As he approached, stepping across the cobbled courtyard, he saw her poised more tensely yet.
‘Are you lost?’ she asked again. This time she addressed him in English, a frown of puzzlement on her face.
‘Lost?’ he echoed, matching her English. ‘No—not if this is theMas Delfine?’
He saw her eyes widen even more, alarm now evident and confusion. Absently he noticed now, closer to her as he was, that her eyes were a vivid shade of blue, fringed by smoky lashes. His own dark eyes washed over her, taking her in. Whatever he’d expected to find here, if he’d expected anything at all, it was not a woman like this.
So breathtakingly lovely…
She was speaking again and he made himself focus on what she was saying, not her loveliness as she stood there illuminated by the early morning sun that bathed her in its light.
‘What…what do you want with theMas Delfine,monsieur?’ she was saying, sticking to English. Now there was more than alarm in her voice.
Lycos let his eyes rest on her. Whoever she was and however lovely she was standing there—graceful, beautiful anddeshabillewith her dressing gown, tumbling hair and blue, blue eyes—it was time to make something clear to her.
‘I want to take possession of it,mademoiselle,’ he said echoing the formality of her address to him. ‘It happens to be mine.’
Chapter Two
Arielle heard his words. Heard them but could not comprehend them. Could not bear to. Oh, dear God, had it happened then, was Gerald finally carrying out his threat? She felt faintness drumming in her ears. Her vision blurred. Her body swayed and folded.
She heard the man mutter an oath, in a language she did not understand, but her hearing was dimming. Clouds rolled up to smother her, suffocate her, thrust her down, down, down…
And then she was steadied. An arm snaked around her waist, holding her upright by force, all but carrying her across to the bench beside the kitchen door. She was lowered gently to the bench. A hand was at the nape of her neck, pressing her head towards her knees. Slowly, slowly, the drumming in her ears faded and her senses returned. She began to lift her head and instantly the hand at her nape was lifted away. She swallowed, sitting upright slowly, turning her head towards the man sitting beside her. She blinked blindly.
‘Who…who are you?’ The faintness might be passing, but it was in her voice still, almost a stammer.
Her eyes went to him. He was close—far, far too close—and she could see his face fully now. A narrow face with a hard jaw that was rough-edged with stubble, high cheekbones, dark eyebrows and even darker eyes.
Eyes that she could have drowned in.
Eyes that were studying her with a piercing gaze.
He sat back, reaching inside his jacket pocket. He slid out a silver card case and extracted a card from it. Not once, not even for a moment, did he take his eyes from her.
She took the card in her nerveless fingers.Lycos Dimistrios.That was all it said. She lifted her head to stare at him blankly.
Greek,she thought even more blankly,he’s Greek—
He got to his feet, removed his card from her numb fingers and dropped it casually into the outer pocket of his tuxedo jacket. Arielle found herself wondering, with that same strange detachment, why he was wearing a tuxedo. Why his bow tie was undone, hanging loosely either side of his open top button of his dress shirt. Why the effect seemed to make her want to go on gazing at him as he stood there tall, dark against the sun, looking down at her with that unreadable expression on his face with his piercing dark eyes, roughened jawline, well-shaped mouth… .
Inside her chest she felt, as if from very far away, her heart starting to thud. She realised he was speaking, still in English.
