there was a heady fragrance in the air which she couldn’t place at first, and then she realised it was wealth.
She was so entranced that Lucien had to take her by the elbow and lead her into the next room. This room was equally ornate, with arched windows dressed in heavy soft gold silk and a fire burning silently behind a glass screen.
‘It’s fake,’ Lucien murmured, seeing her staring at the fire.
Of course she knew that, Tara pretended, reddening as she gave a little self-conscious laugh. It was a gas flame fire; she could see that now. She turned away quickly, though how she was supposed to act nonchalant amidst all this luxury, she had had no idea. She was standing in the middle of an intimate sitting room of a type she had no idea existed in hotels. It was a home away from home for the super-rich, she surmised, with magazines on the table, books on the shelves and an assortment of fruit that looked as if it had been picked that very morning. There were pictures on the walls that might have been original works of art and, instead of wallpaper, fabric—silk—glowing softly in tones of rich bronze and…
‘Come over here and sit down before you fall over,’ Lucien prompted.
She turned to see him smiling at her. What a country bumpkin he must think her. She pulled herself together quickly and crossed the room, trying to look confident, but there were so many lamps and tables she hardly knew where to tread and, in her usual clumsy way, she managed to stumble over a chair leg. Gasping with alarm, she reached out, only to feel strong arms catching her.
‘Better now?’ Lucien commented good-naturedly, steadying her back on her feet.
She had felt so safe in his arms that perhaps she didn’t move as quickly as she ought to have done, and his next words proved it. ‘I was going to order champagne,’ he murmured against her hair, ‘but I’ve changed my mind…’
She stared up at him, and his knowing half-smile sent ribbons of seduction rippling through her. She closed her eyes and just for a moment allowed herself to believe he was as captivated by her as she was by him and that now was the moment when he would sweep her off her feet…
‘I’ve some freshly squeezed orange juice in the fridge,’ he said casually, setting her aside so he could move towards the smart built-in bar. ‘Or perhaps you would prefer me to call down for a hot drink…’ He turned at this point. ‘Cocoa, perhaps?’
Cocoa? Freya would not be pleased. Tara gulped unhappily. She could think of nothing to say. But how would she ever explain this mess to Freya?
‘Why don’t I make myself comfortable,’ Lucien suggested, ‘while you make up your mind?’
He was doing everything he could to make this easy for her, Tara realised, but she still couldn’t relax. Her throat felt so dry she couldn’t have spoken a word to him even if she could have thought of something to say. One look from Lucien was all it took to make her nipples pucker, so she crossed her arms over her chest and remained where she was, dithering in the middle of the room.
Lucien shrugged off his jacket, and his look of amusement caught her mid-gulp as she weighed up the width of his shoulders. She turned away, but not before registering the fact that his fingers were supple and capable as he deftly untied his bow-tie, and this only stirred more rebellion in her lower regions, which she could have well done without. Leaving the tie hanging, he next freed some buttons at the neck of his shirt. Sneaking glances at him, she now decided he looked exactly like a man in an advertisement for some high end luxury product, though far more handsome, of course. She went all dreamy again as she imagined touching that smooth tanned flesh and feeling it warm beneath her hands until the jangle of Lucien’s heavy gold cuff-links hitting a glass bowl on the table jerked her back to reality.
‘Won’t you at least take your shawl off?’ Lucien encouraged. ‘Here, I’ll put it somewhere safe for you…’ He held out his hand.
She stared at him foolishly. By now he was folding back his sleeves, revealing powerful forearms shaded with black hair. ‘I was just about to take it off,’ she lied, wondering how a single inch of Lucien’s fabulous suite could be called safe while he was in it. She took off her shawl, conscious that an acre of untoned naked flesh was now on show. Freya’s hours at the gym had paid dividends for her, but Tara didn’t have the time between jobs to follow suit, and would have felt too embarrassed to strip down in front of everyone, anyway.
‘Come and sit here with me,’ Lucien invited, beckoning her over to one of the sofas.
She chose the couch facing his and perched tensely on the edge of it. She was careful to sit very straight and lift her ribcage as Freya had shown her, in order to prevent herself looking too plump. But, as she did so, Lucien murmured, ‘Impressive…’
Did he mean to give her confidence? She gulped in horror, realising too late that he must think she was displaying her breasts for his approval. She quickly hunched her shoulders and lowered her gaze.
‘Do I make you so nervous, ma petite?’
Risking a glance at him, she garbled something unintelligible that made him laugh.
‘I don’t think I am succeeding at putting you at your ease, am I?’ Lucien demanded softly, ‘though I’d very much like to do so…’
By sitting next to her? By draping his arm across her shoulders? She was about as far from at ease as she had ever been. In fact, she was quivering all over, wondering what Lucien expected of her.
‘Relax,’ he murmured, making her ear tingle with his warm, minty breath.
There was something so soothing in his voice she leaned into him. It felt so good just for a moment to rest her head against his firm chest and listen to the steady beat of his heart. Lucien made her feel so secure, and just for once she longed for rock instead of shifting sand, but when he brushed some errant strands of hair from her brow with his lips, she stirred self-consciously. ‘Relax,’ Lucien insisted.
She tried so hard to do what he wanted, but all the time her inner voice was warning her that this was no dream and was far more reality than she could handle.
‘What would you like me to do next, little one?’ Lucien murmured.
Her gaze flickered up, only to discover that Lucien’s had darkened from sepia to black. Did that mean the world of wicked thoughts in her head was an open book to him? His knowing look suggested that was exactly the case, and his next words confirmed it. ‘Shall we go to the bedroom?’
As he spoke Lucien touched his forehead to hers. It was such an intimate thing to do, her dreams took flight again. Oh, yes, she wanted to say, let’s go there now, but she heard herself reply, ‘I’m quite comfortable here, thank you.’ Her voice had grown very small, and she knew that at this point she was supposed to sound breathy and provocative, as Freya had taught her.
‘Then we’ll stay here,’ Lucien agreed with a shrug.
He didn’t seem the least bit disappointed in her, Tara noticed with relief.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ he insisted, cupping her chin. ‘I won’t bite…’
Or, at least, if he did, she would enjoy it, Tara thought as Lucien’s lips tugged in a wicked half-smile. Sensation streamed through her at this thought, which he must have sensed because the hand that wasn’t caressing her jaw began trailing a path of fire down her neck to her breastbone and, from there, unbelievably,
