She didn’t want him to hate her. Resentment she could handle, dislike, the half-excited, half-sick heat of how much she wanted him and how she knew she couldn’t let herself have him, if he even wanted her—but not hatred.
*You don’t have to—*she began, but his hands were already on her.
His fingertips brushed her neck. She was wearing a silk sheath dress, the collar buttoned high at the back. She’d almost strained her arms doing up the tiny bastard bead buttons, and they practically fell apart at his touch. Fabric parted, a whisper of air caressing her neck and upper back.
Julian’s fingers slipped down. More buttons. She held her breath. He pushed the dress down over her shoulders, sliding down her arms, and her heart leaped into her throat.
He pressed one hand against her waist.
The world disappeared.
Francine was no stranger to lust. She’d dragged men into bed and occasionally let them drag her. She made her height and her powerful frame work for her.
But nobody had ever touched her like this. With a tenderness that offered gentleness while still acknowledging her strength.
And then he stepped away, leaving a cold echo of his hand where he’d touched her.
*You’ve healed well,*he said, and she must have imagined the tenderness in his touch because there was none in his thoughts. *The marks are gone.*
*I should hope so. I’m a Delacourt. A lioness. I can’t go around letting people know I get thrown around by a dragon,*she replied, sharper than she’d intended. The barb struck. He regretted hurting her, and the reminder made ice crawl over his features.
Good,she told herself. Better he kept his distance. Better there was no chance of anything happening between them. And the best way for that to happen was to show him who she truly was. Not moody and thoughtful. Angry, and broken, and careless.
That was her.
The spa manager fed them through various treatments and facilities as though they were on a luxurious conveyer belt. Gentle massage, calming music, and chilled drinks triumphedover the hangover; a mani-pedi and facial dealt with her terrible dry skin. Eloise and the technicians put it down to the awful cold, dry air in this part of the world. Francine stayed quiet about how surviving a house exploding on her could account for some of the damage. One of the technicians massaged a deep conditioning treatment into her hair and said nothing about any singed ends she found.
“What do you think everyone else is doing right now?” she wondered out loud. Nobody else had entered the spa the whole time they were there. Now, they were lying on loungers in front of the windows, with the heating high enough they could pretend they were relaxing in the tropics instead of the sub-Antarctic.
“Killing each other?” Eloise suggested easily. “I mean, a girl can dream, right? Like, there are so many of them. It’s too exhausting to keep track. And that’s only this ship! We’ll just do a head count when we anchor next and figure it out from there.”
Killing each other.She said it like it meant nothing. “Is that awewe, or a you we?”
“Don’t worry. You’re not only here to stop me from getting bored.” Eloise reached over and squeezed her hand. “I didn’t want you to get into any trouble on your own.”
Francine’s throat tightened. She couldn’t read anything but sincere friendship in Eloise’s voice. And that was a good thing and a terrible thing both.
She couldn’t be her friend. Not if Eloise was everything she appeared to be.
“Oh.” Francine made a show of looking disappointed. “So this is all to make sureIget bored and don’t get to have any fun.”
Eloise laughed out loud. “Don’t worry. We’ll have lots of fun.” She half sat, leaning over the gap between them. “Just don’t get in my way while the others are all chasing imaginary creatures.”
Behind her, Julian flinched.
Francine couldn’t think about that, though, because Eloise was still watching her. She let her lips slide into a slow, feline smile. “Don’t tell me you pulled me onto your ship so I can fall into placebehindyou, Elly. I thought we were friends.”
“Weare.And believe me. The safest place will be behind me.”
Francine sighed and lay back. “I already have a bodyguard, Elly. That position’s filled.”
“I noticed. But you know, there’s no need to keep him soveryclose. My people will look after you. Unless … heisonly your guard, isn’t he?”
A waiter came by to refresh their drinks, which gave Francine the chance to spare a glance for Julian. He was standing against the wall behind their loungers, statue-like in his black suit.
She raised one eyebrow at Eloise. “What else would he be?”
“Entertainment? Bait?”
