Bought for His Bed. Kate Hardy
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were in this together, the arrogant framework of his face set off by faultless tailoring and the white shirt beneath his dinner jacket.
For a taut second his unsparing gaze rested on her mouth before he commanded, ‘Just smile, Fleur. That’s all you need to do.’
‘Be a good little decoration, you mean?’ she flashed back.
He grinned. ‘You’re very decorative, but, no, there’s something about your smile that makes people instinctively trust you.’ Eyes glinting, he finished, ‘In fact, that smile would make you the perfect con artist.’
Startled, she stared at him before spluttering into laughter. ‘You certainly know how to give with one hand and take away with the other!’
So when Gabrielle and her grandfather arrived it was to find their host and his presumed mistress laughing at each other. Meeting Gabrielle’s angry gaze, Fleur wondered if he’d deliberately teased her to create just that sense of spurious intimacy.
Probably.
The evening opened before her like a flower unfolding. She found herself introduced to a mixture of islanders and people from around the world—people whose names she recognised from the financial press, gossip columns and film reviews.
She’d have hated to be dismissed as Luke’s latest inamorata, but his power seemed absolute; her supposed position in his life meant that she was treated with respect.
At one stage she talked to a hot new star whose last blockbuster film had just revealed that he could really act as well as ripple his muscles; a native of Fala’isi, he turned out to be a cousin of Luke’s. He told her of his desire to play Othello some day. A short time later she was discussing books with the head of a huge investment firm and his wife.
She kept an eye on the guests, making sure no one was ever alone; it wasn’t too onerous, as they were a close-knit group who knew each other well. Even Gabrielle seemed to forget her shock at finding another woman in residence; Fleur relaxed when she saw her and the film star engaged in flirtatious banter.
Instinctively Fleur searched out Gabrielle’s grandfather; he was watching his granddaughter with a frown. He met Fleur’s quick glance and the frown deepened.
Worried, she turned back to the woman she was conversing with. Almost immediately they were joined by Luke. Overt displays of affection clearly weren’t his style, but he used the power of his personality to create an aura of sexual chemistry between them with nothing more than a few fleeting, proprietary touches and an understated possessiveness.
And when their eyes met no one within seeing distance could have missed the sizzle. Of course with him it was staged; unfortunately her responses were only too real.
Wildfire sensations clamouring through her treacherous body after another intent, steel-grey glance, Fleur no longer cared about the guests; she just hoped that Luke thought her acting was on a par with his.
After half an hour he said quietly, ‘Dinner’s ready.’
‘With or without tuna, I wonder?’
He picked her hand up and dropped a light kiss on her palm, folding her fingers over it as though to keep the kiss safe. ‘Help me get them to the table.’
Rivulets of fire ran through every nerve. The noise of conversation faded; she stared up into eyes that were half closed and gleaming with desire.
And then he put her hand down and said, ‘That should convince anyone who wasn’t already persuaded. You’re doing wonders, Fleur.’
Hoping she successfully hid the bitter chagrin that doused her, she said numbly, ‘So are you.’
But the reminder was necessary. All of this was fake, playing to an audience. She respected Luke for his chivalry towards someone who clearly meant a lot to him, but he wasn’t the one who’d have to pay the price.
The masquerade seemed likely to cost Fleur her heart.
Dinner was served on the terrace. Susi and her team had risen splendidly to the occasion, decorating the table in a flamboyant, very Pacifika style with great clusters of flowers and fruit. Wineglasses and silver sparkled in the light of candles, and the scent of night-blooming flowers permeated the air with lazy, overt sensuality.
A fountain whispered and glinted in the glow of subdued lights that glowed on great shiny leaves and flowers. And above it all rose the moon, huge and golden in a cloudless sky where unknown stars mingled with familiar ones.
Luke didn’t put her in the hostess’s position at the other end of the table; that position was reserved for the Princess. Instead Fleur sat at his right hand.
The dinner was already a success. Yet in spite of everything, she had never felt so alone in her life. Then her gaze fell onto the tuna that had miraculously arrived in time to be marinated in lime and chili with tomatoes. Lifting her lashes, she met Luke’s eyes, laughing as they exchanged silent messages, and her heart squeezed into a tight ball of pleasure mixed with foreboding.
Emotions sang through her, a seething tumble of excitement and desperate anticipation. Aware that people were covertly watching, she looked back down at her plate, and in full knowledge of the probable consequence—heartbreak—made the most reckless decision of her life.
This was something out of a dream; just this once she’d let herself enjoy everything without hedging the experience with fear. After all, broken hearts mended. Even her mother, still loving the man who’d betrayed them, had found happiness of a sort after his departure. She’d never been able to love another man, but they’d had years of contentment together until her illness struck.
‘So it arrived in time,’ Luke said beneath his breath.
She smiled radiantly at him, welcoming the swift narrowing of his eyes. ‘Thank heavens. Does he do this sort of thing regularly?’
‘He’s difficult. And of course he knows his own worth—people have been trying to tempt him away for years, and he doesn’t really like living in the tropics. Every so often he makes plans to open a café in Provence.’
Fleur swallowed her first mouthful. ‘He’s a genius,’ she said on a sigh of pure delight. ‘You have to allow geniuses their tantrums.’
‘Well, you certainly managed his superbly. But then, as I told you before, I suspect that you have a talent for coping.’ He smiled at her.
She’d rather have a talent for being a wonderful hostess, or making scintillating conversation. ‘It wasn’t really a problem. He just wanted to vent—and for someone else to take responsibility.’
Luke eyed her with something like respect. ‘You don’t miss much. That’s why the little café in Provence will never lure him away from here—he doesn’t like responsibility. Whereas you seem to know how to deal with it.’
‘It’s easy when it’s not really my affair,’ she returned coolly, reminding him that she was there on a strictly temporary basis.
He nodded. ‘Possibly, but you showed no hesitation about helping me with Sue Baxter. She sends her regards and her thanks, by the way, and her company is exceedingly grateful to you. I suspect a gift is on its way.’
Fleur frowned. ‘I did no more than anyone else would have done,’ she said crisply. ‘I don’t want anything for simple human compassion.’
‘I did suggest the surf lifesaving club,’ he said with an ironic lift of one brow, ‘and I think they’re doing something about that, but Sue wanted a more personal expression of her thanks as well.’
Without waiting for an answer he turned to the woman on his other side, leaving Fleur feeling not only ungrateful but ungracious.
Especially as a small part of her reason for accompanying Sue Baxter to hospital was that she’d felt ill at ease with the company on the beach.
Oddly enough, not so much here. Whether it was the silk dress, or the magnificent pearl that warmed