Lilah breathed tautly. ‘Otherwise my father would have loved my mother and stayed faithful to her...’
‘He wasn’t?’ Bastien shot her a disconcerted look from frowning dark eyes. ‘You’re very close to your father. I naturally assumed...’
‘My parents weren’t happily married. There were always other women in my father’s life, and constant upsetting scenes in my home. He didn’t love my mother. They’d been together since they were teenagers, though, and everyone expected him to marry her—so eventually he did,’ she proffered ruefully. ‘It was a long time before I understood that succumbing to that social pressure had made him feel trapped in their marriage. He’s a different man with my stepmother.’
‘Did your father’s infidelity contribute to your judgemental view of me as a “shameless man whore”?’ Bastien shot at her, throwing her completely off balance.
Lilah flushed to the roots of her hair at having her own insult flung back at her two years after the event and when she’d least expected it. ‘Of course not... However, you are a womaniser, Bastien.’
‘But not a man whore. I have never been unfaithful to a lover,’ Bastien asserted levelly. ‘I have never taken indiscriminate sexual partners either. While my values may not be the same as yours, I do have standards.’
Mortification had claimed Lilah and it was eating her alive. She closed her hands together tightly on her lap. ‘I lost my temper that night. I shouldn’t have made such personal and disparaging comments to someone I barely knew,’ she conceded, hoping that her admission would close the subject.
‘Is that an apology?’
Lilah breathed in so deep that her narrow chest swelled.
‘I mean,’ Bastien mused, and his deep, dark, Greek-accented drawl was as rich as molasses, ‘I did only ask you to dine with me and spend the night. I didn’t assault you or abuse you.’
Lilah lost her battle with her temper and flung her hands up in a violent demonstration of exasperation. ‘All right...all right... I’m sorry with bells on! Are you satisfied now?’
Bastien stole an amused glance at the glittering brightness of her eyes above her pink cheeks. ‘What would a virgin know about a man whore’s lifestyle anyway?’ he derided.
Staring rigidly out through the windscreen as the vehicle turned between tall stone pillars to drive down a lane lined on both sides with very tall stately trees, Lilah rolled her eyes. ‘Maybe I read a lot of raunchy books...’
Amused against his will, Bastien bit out a rough-edged laugh. She was in the wrong and she knew it—but she still wouldn’t back down the way other women did with him. He enjoyed her stubborn streak and the challenge of making her toe the line.
Lights came on as Bastien parked and killed the engine. ‘Welcome to the Chateau Sainte-Monique.’
Wall lamps in the form of iron lanterns illuminated the old building, accentuating the warm honey-coloured stone of the façade and the very Provençal violet-blue shutters at the many windows. Gravel interspersed with formal beds of flowers and trees ornamented the frontage.
Lilah climbed out of the car and accompanied Bastien to the entrance. ‘So, when did you buy this place?’
‘About three years ago. The owner was an elderly countess, whom I met during the course of a land development deal. The first time I saw the chateau I made her an offer, but it was months before she finally agreed to sell. The renovation took another year. I come here when I want to relax and when I can work from home. I stayed here all last month,’ Bastien admitted smoothly.
A middle-aged man in a crisply ironed white shirt and bow tie opened the door and greeted them with a smile.
‘Stefan and his wife, Marie, take care of everything here,’ Bastien informed Lilah after making an introduction, and a lean hand resting at the base of her spine guided her indoors.
The interior was breathtaking. The hall had a chequerboard black-and-white marble floor and surprisingly modern furniture. A huge stone staircase curved up from the ground floor.
Their luggage was being brought in behind them, and Bastien was heading for the stairs, when Stefan opened a door and a familiar little bark of eagerness froze Lilah in place. Stefan grinned as a brown, silky little bundle of flying flapping ears and wriggling body flew at Lilah with a noisy burst of excited barking.
‘Yes...yes, I missed you too,’ Lilah admitted, crouching down to scoop up the miniature dachshund. She separated him from one of the beloved squeaky toys he liked to carry around in his mouth and attempted to calm him before she put him down again.
As the dog snatched up the toy again and hurtled across to Bastien, Lilah warned him. ‘Just ignore Skippy. He’ll get the message and leave you in peace...that’s what Vickie always did with him. She prefers cats.’
Skippy nudged the toe of Bastien’s shoe with his nose, his beady little eyes pleading. Bastien sidestepped the animal to stride on up the stairs, and Lilah watched in dismay as Skippy hurtled in his wake. Stefan moved forward to intercept the little dog, seemingly aware that his employer was not animal-friendly.
Lilah followed Bastien upstairs into a spectacular atmospheric bedroom furnished with a mixture of antique and contemporary pieces. Oyster-coloured silk festooned the windows and tumbled down in opulent swathes from the wrought-iron crown holder above the big bed.
‘This is an amazing place,’ Lilah whispered, impressed beyond words by the splendour of her surroundings.
‘The maids will unpack for you. I’ll see you downstairs for dinner in an hour,’ Bastien imparted as a man brought in her luggage and two young women in uniform arrived to move the cases into the dressing room visible through an open door.
Lilah hovered uncertainly.
‘Dress up...’ Bastien lowered his handsome dark head to murmur huskily in her ear. ‘Dress up for dinner so that I can enjoy undressing you later, glikia mou.’
Banners of self-conscious colour brightened Lilah’s porcelain-pale complexion as she turned her head to stare up at him. She collided with brilliant dark eyes that glittered like stars in the low light—stunning eyes, ringed by spiky lashes of velvet black. She was mesmerised. He curved long flexible fingers to the side of her face and brought his mouth crashing down on hers.
That kiss was a taste of heaven and a taste of hell in one package. It was heaven because she couldn’t get enough of that hot, hungry mouth on hers and hell because she hated the response she couldn’t suppress. He released her, staring down at her for a split second in silence, and then swung on his heel and walked out.
Lilah drifted into the marble bathroom, her fingers creeping up to brush her tingling swollen lips, shame and guilt rising like a dark, choking cloud inside her. It would be cruel if he made her like having sex with him, she thought wildly. Or would it? Surely that could only be foolish pride talking?
Her rational brain scolded her for the melodrama Bastien could somehow infuse into her very thoughts. Common sense told her that simply accepting that their intimacy was inevitable would make the experience much more manageable for her. After all, she wasn’t a masochist, was she?
Sex was supposed to be enjoyable, she
