His voice twisted derisively.
‘He’ll just dip into his trust fund, that’s all. Or trot to his dotingpapa,thevicomte, to pay his debt for him! All that’s injured is his pride as he slinks off with his tail between his legs!’
‘Lycos, he looked sick and was white as a sheet. And I heard him throwing up afterwards, in the bathroom.’
He shrugged angrily. ‘So what? He was probably liquored up.’
‘He was sick with fear. He looked terrified as he left the room. And even before he joined your table I’d heard him on his phone—’
Lycos slapped his hand down on the table. Cutting her off. ‘Arielle. Enough. I am not going to repeat myself. He could have cut his losses at any time and folded. He didn’t. It was his choice, his responsibility, his problem.’
He took a scything breath.
‘I’m not discussing it any more. If I gamble again, I won’t take you with me since it obviously upsets you so much.’
He took another breath, less scything this time.
‘Now, let’s just relax, OK?’
He reached for the wine, topped up their glasses and drank from his own. He glanced across at Arielle again. She’d gone quiet, and he should be glad of it, but relaxed she was not. He wanted her relaxed.
‘So,’ he opened, deliberately moving on and away from what had so unnecessarily upset her. ‘What would you like to do tomorrow? Shall we even stay in Paris? If you’ve seen enough, we could head out to Normandy, Brittany, down to the Loire? What appeals? You choose,’ he said invitingly.
‘I don’t know,’ she said.
‘Or maybe we could head east, tour the Champagne vineyards if you prefer,’ he suggested.
‘I… I don’t know.’
‘Well, we can decide tomorrow. Right now, that tiramisu is calling!’ he said good-humouredly.
He cleared their plates, spooned out generous portions of the tiramisu and poured out the dessert wine to go with it. He tucked into both heartily. Arielle less so. As she pushed her plate aside, he reached across, drew the back of his fingers softly down her cheek. Hunger was flaring in him again for Arielle.
She drew back. Looked across at him, but with that shuttered, half look again.
‘Lycos, I… I’m sorry. I’m going to have to take some aspirin. My head just isn’t clearing. I’m sorry,’ she said again.
Lycos breathed out, subduing his own feelings. ‘No need to apologise. Do you have any? Any aspirin, or anything else?’
She stood up. ‘Yes, in my toilet bag. I won’t be a moment.’ She disappeared into the bathroom. Lycos remained sitting at the table. This wasn’t about a headache. This was about the evening that had passed. This was about the Wolf.
But it’s who I am. And if she didn’t like it…?
Impatiently, he brushed the question away. It didn’t need to be answered.
It’s got nothing to do with what there is between us.
Nor would he let it be.
Chapter Eleven
Arielle stood bythe river’s edge, leaning on the stone wall between her and the water. She’d slept heavily, thanks to the aspirin she’d taken, but sleep had not refreshed her. She’d awoken, Lycos asleep still, and despite the early hour she’d crept from the bed. She’d pulled on some random clothes, then slipped from the room and walked out of the hotel. She’d wanted to be on her own with her troubling thoughts.
She watched the river flow past her, heading to the sea. There was the slightest chill in this early morning air, reminding the city that autumn was on the way. A sudden, painful memory assailed her. At themas,at this hour, she’d be stirring, preparing to get up and head out to let out the poultry and collect any eggs.
Lycos loved those omelettes with the eggs so fresh…
The image was vivid in her mind’s eye. Sitting outside, under the faded awning, Lycos tucking into his omelette before moving on to croissants with home-made apricot jam and butter from Jeanne and Claude’s cows.
