to her neck, and his fingers were stroking into her hair. She had to fight against an instinctive desire to stretch luxuriously into his touch, demanding more of it.
‘That’s exactly what I intend to do. In fact, that’s exactly what I am doing. From now on where Jules goes, I go.’
‘You can’t do that,’ Julia objected, panicking. ‘I’m working.’
The hard fingers weren’t stroking now, but pressing warningly instead.
‘Of course, but not twenty-four hours a day. And when you aren’t working…’
‘Silas, don’t you dare take her away from me until the end of the year,’ Lucy begged. ‘We’ve got so much work on I couldn’t manage without her—especially now that Dorland has asked us to organise his big summer party.’
‘You’ve got her until the end of the year,’ Silas agreed. ‘But, as I’ve just said, where Jules goes, I go—and her off-duty time is mine.’
Lucy burst out laughing. ‘Silas, you must be in love. I thought you hated parties and huge events.’
‘I do, but I love Julia more than I loathe them.’
She had had enough, Julia decided—more than enough, and in spades.
‘Darling, I can’t possibly let you make such a sacrifice. Of course you mustn’t do any such thing. You’d be bored to tears, hanging around waiting for me. And besides, we are going to spend the rest of our lives together.’ She smiled sweetly and waited. She could see the ‘I take no prisoners’ glint in Silas’s eyes, but no way was she going to back down.
‘How could being with you ever be a sacrifice?’ His arm was round her waist and he had closed the distance between them, holding her against him, his free hand resting on her hip, which he was rubbing tenderly in a gesture of supposedly subtle intimacy.
‘No, my mind is made up. Unless Lucy objects, where you go, I go.’
‘Of course I don’t object,’ Lucy assured him.
‘You’ve got the Silverwoods’ combined silver wedding and eighteenth for their son coming up next, haven’t you, Jules? That is going to be huge, I know.’ She hesitated, and then said diffidently, ‘Nick mentioned to me that you’d hinted that you’d like him to give you some support with it, and—’
‘No! I mean, there’s no need for him to do that.’ She could hardly tell Lucy that she had said no such thing, and that Nick had lied to her. ‘Nick must have misunderstood what I was saying.’
Lucy might be looking relieved and smiling, but Julia noticed that Silas certainly wasn’t mirroring Lucy’s response.
‘And don’t forget my end-of-summer bash,’ Dorland broke in.
‘Yes, you’re doing that, Jules,’ Lucy agreed. ‘And I’ll do all the smaller UK-based stuff—which will leave you with just the Sheikh’s post-Ramadan party in Dubai.’
‘Fine.’ Did her voice and face sound and look as tight as they felt? ‘But right now it’s time for the buffet to be served, plus I’ve got to organise champagne for the toast and check that everything’s set for the firework display. So if you’ll all excuse me…’
She turned to walk away and then found that she couldn’t. Silas had somehow taken her hand in his and entwined his fingers through her own in a pseudo-lover’s clasp that effectively locked her to him like a prisoner.
Indignation flashed hotly in the irate glare Jules gave him, turning the normal amber of her eyes to a brilliant speckled gold.
But Silas ignored her outrage, just as he ignored the rejecting shake of her head and the resultant shiny disorder of her blonde hair, with its streaks of dark gold.
‘Silas,’ she began, through gritted teeth, but stopped as he raised their clasped hands to his lips and then opened her palm and pressed a very deliberate and very sensual kiss into it.
Shock, heat, and a surge of lust she would never in a thousand lifetimes have associated with her true feelings towards Silas rampaged through her, leaving her in possession of the unwanted discovery that knees did go weak and that desire was a shockingly unfathomable and treacherous thing.
When Silas released her, her body felt as giddy and unstable as though she had consumed a whole bottle of Cristal champagne. She made a valiant effort not to simply stand and stare at him.
Dorland’s photographers were still swarming all over the place, chasing down celebrities for the photographs that the magazine’s readers pored over so eagerly, and so too were the legions of PRs, make-up artists, hairdressers, personal trainers, dressers, astrologers…No right-thinking superstar would dream of being without his or her entourage.
The white powder so beloved amongst the foibles of the foolish and famous had also been very much in evidence during the big event, and Julia had lost count of the number of times she had refused offers of ‘something’.
To those who loved reading celebrity magazines the lifestyle of those they read about might seem enviable and glamorous, but the reality was that beneath the glitter and excitement lay a deep and dark abyss into which today’s star could all too easily disappear and be forgotten.
‘Thank God Tiffany relented and allowed Martina to borrow that diamond necklace she’d set her heart on wearing,’ she heard Dorland remark.
‘Only thanks to you,’ Julia pointed out, determinedly not looking at Silas.
‘Well, like I told them, they’d be missing a terrific PR opportunity if they refused,’ Dorland agreed happily.
‘Perhaps they were more concerned about the possibility of missing a few million dollars’ worthy of diamond necklace,’ Silas pointed out dryly. ‘After all, it would not be the first time a star has “lost” a valuable piece of jewellery she’s only had on loan.’
‘Oooh, Silas, that is so naughty of you.’ Dorland pouted theatrically. ‘What kind of ring are you going to give our Julia? Something new and shiny? Or is it going to be a family heirloom? I heard on the grapevine that you’ve hunted down most of the stuff your mutual great-great-grandfather gambled away—and paid enough to cover the national debt of a small country for it,’ he added gleefully.
‘Silas, you haven’t?’ Julia protested.
‘The sapphire and diamond set presented to our great-great-grandmother on her betrothal is of considerable historical value, and as such reassembling it was a worthwhile project.’
Julia’s eyes widened. ‘All of it?’
A certain Indian Maharajah had presented the jewellery to the bride, with whom, as rumour had it, he had fallen passionately in love. The household records her grandfather had shown her when he had told her the story had listed the gift as comprising not just the expected necklace, earrings, bracelets and tiara, but in addition matching jewelled combs and brushes, along with perfume bottles and a gem-studded carrying case. The necklace itself had contained seven sapphires unique in colour and size.
‘All of it,’ Silas agreed.
‘Ah, Julia, my dear, you are so fortunate.
