He let his gaze meet hers, saw hers soften as he did. Saw something in her beautiful blue eyes. Felt it reach out to him.
But how, and why, he did not know. He only knew that he wanted it to be so. Was content for it to be so.
A frown formed on his face, though he veiled it swiftly. There was something he was not content with. She was wearing the blue-sprigged dress again and the loop of blue beads, with no more make-up than the lightest of lip gloss and mascara. Her hair was simply drawn back into a switch. Even with the addition of the shawl he had bought her in Saint-Clément it was an underdressed look that would only do for the provinces. Not for Paris. Not for the circles he moved in.
The frown turned to a glint. Well, that would change tomorrow. For tonight…
‘So, what on the menu tempts you?’ he prompted.
As for himself, he knew exactly what tempted him. The prospect of fine dining and the pleasures of the night to come.
And all their time in Paris ahead of them.
He would ensure that it was good. For them both.
‘Lycos, I couldn’t possibly accept!’ Arielle looked at Lycos with troubled eyes.
They were standing in front of one of France’s famous fashion houses in the exclusive Faubourg Saint-Honoré and Lycos wanted to go in and buy some clothes for her.
He looked at her straightly. ‘Arielle, at themas,in the middle of rural Provence, casual was fine. Here in Paris, it’s different. To be chic isde rigeur!’
He said the last part lightly, humorously even, but for all that there was an implacable note in his voice. Arielle’s troubled expression did not change.
‘Well, not for me…’ she began. Lycos cut across her.
‘Of course for you! Why not?’
‘Because I don’t move in those circles,’ she said flatly.
‘Well I do,’ he rejoined. ‘And I would point out to you that, had your stepmother not got her claws into your father, you would too!’
She shook her head. ‘My father was nowhere near as rich as you are, Lycos.’
‘But wealthy enough to buy you expensive clothes,’ he retorted. ‘And now it’s me doing so.’
He made to guide her through the impressive double doors with their distinctive, world-famous initials stencilled on them. But still she held back. She felt his grip around her wrist tighten.
‘Arielle, here in Paris I socialise, OK? And you are with me, as my guest I told you, so I am covering all expenses! I’ll be socialising with you. I’m looking forward to it. Believe me, I can’t wait to show you off. Starting tonight. We’re dining out with Marc Derenz and his wife. He’s my banker, remember, and I’m having my annual review with him at his bank tomorrow. You’ll like his wife, by the way. She’s English.’
He paused before continuing dryly, holding Arielle’s still-troubled gaze, ‘She’s also a former model and a total knock-out. She’ll be looking incredible tonight and I do not want you feeling underdressed in comparison.’
As before, there was humour in his voice but that implacable note remained.
For a moment longer she held back, deeply reluctant to do as Lycos so obviously wanted her to do—to accept him buying her clothes that she could not afford to buy for herself.
But nor could he, once.
She felt her resistance crumble. Lycos had not always been rich. He had come from wretched beginnings and had dreamt of escaping.
And now he has. And if it gives him pleasure to indulge me, to have the wealth now to do so, why should I refuse him?
It’s something I can give to him. To let him show me off as he wants to!
So where was the harm in it?
‘OK, I give in,’ she said. Humour was evident in her voice, and fondness too. She held that image in her head of the neglected, unloved, abused boy in the backstreets of Athens.
For Lycos she would do it. And set aside her qualms.
