The lines of the garment were simple and elegant, showing off her figure to perfection, accenting the gentle curves Clay remembered only too well. Her hair was swept up in back, but left undisciplined around her face, giving her a very stylish, almost pagan appearance. Desire slipped through him, and his body stirred to life.
“Since you aren’t seeing her anymore,” Avery added, “I guess she wasn’t much good in bed.”
Clay bristled. “Ellie and I were ill-suited on a far different level, I assure you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe we’re being summoned to dinner.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Throughout the meal, which was as sumptuous as only Avery Whitfield and a kitchen full of chefs could make it, Ellie fought not to look at Clay.
To her surprise, Darren McKittrick had been seated beside her. She had a feeling he’d pressed Avery to accommodate him. Clay obviously disapproved, though she didn’t really understand why since he wasn’t interested himself. And since he had chosen not to invite one of his women friends—for the good of the team, she supposed—Ellie was feeling quite proud of herself.
After dinner, she danced with an endless number of handsome, available men and was pleased to find Clay scowling even harder. By midnight she was tiring, and Darren was back at her side.
“Why don’t we go for a walk?” he suggested. “You look a little weary.”
“I am. Thank you, Darren, that would be nice.”
When they reached the massive carved wooden doors that led onto the lower terrace, Ellie was surprised to see Clay appear in front of them.
“Going for a midnight stroll?”
“Ms. Fletcher would like a little air. Any objections?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
Ellie’s eyebrows shot up.
“I see.” Darren’s lips tightened and his arm settled at her waist. “And what about you, Ms. Fletcher? Do you also object?”
She straightened. “This is none of your business, Clay. I’d appreciate it if you’d take your belated concern someplace else.”
“Ellie, listen to me. You don’t know him. He’s a philanderer. He’s—"
“Like you?” she interrupted. “Excuse us.” She urged Darren through the door. Clay frowned but didn’t follow.
“What the hell’s the matter with him?” Darren grumbled.
“He’s just being Clay.”
Darren laughed at that, and they crossed the terrace, onto the sweeping lawns. Ellie took off her shoes and left them on an old stone bench as they strolled along the lake, getting farther and farther from the castle. The wet grass soaked her stockings but relieved the ache in her feet. There was a boathouse down by the water, a small sailboat bobbing at the end of a rope that moored it to a little wooden dock.
“Why don’t we go aboard?” Darren asked. “Avery said it comes with the castle.”
Ellie glanced back toward the house, now looking like a brightly jeweled toy in the distance. “I don’t think so. We’d better be getting back.”
“Relax,” Darren said, rubbing a hand along her arm and pulling her through the trees toward the boat. “It’s early. We could go for a sail if you want.”
“Maybe tomorrow.” They were standing at the water’s edge among a thicket of fir and spruce.
Ellie turned away from him, but he pressed her back against the trunk of a tree and moved closer. Before she realized his intentions, he had lowered his head and kissed her. She could taste the licorice cordial he’d been drinking. He smelled of some musky cologne. Warm fingers caressed her shoulders, but to her disappointment, Ellie felt nothing.
“Don’t, Darren.” She pressed her hands against his chest, unhappy that Clay still loomed so strongly in her thoughts. “You’ve been very nice all evening, but I really must be getting back.”
His voice turned cold. “Don’t play coy with me. I know you wanted me to kiss you.” Leaning closer, he trapped her against the tree, captured her face between his hands, and kissed her so hard she tasted blood.
Though she tried to break away, he held her easily. One hand cupped her breast while his thumb rubbed back and forth across her nipple. More angry than afraid and hoping her dress wouldn’t get in the way, Ellie kicked him in the shin.
“Get away from me!”
