In Bed with Her Ex. Nina Harrington

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СКАЧАТЬ you have so many other lavish talents. He’s known as a man with an eye for the ladies.’

      He inclined his head slightly to where Marcel was sitting. Cassie waited for him to glance across at her, disapproving of Henri’s attention, but he didn’t. He seemed engrossed by Brigitte, sitting beside him, his eyes fixed on her as though nothing else existed in the world. Suddenly he smiled into her eyes and Cassie had to check a gasp. Surely no man smiled at a woman like that unless he meant it with all his heart?

      There was a welcome distraction in choosing the food, which was of the high standard she’d expected. While they ate Henri surprised her by talking sensibly. Her questions about Paris received knowledgeable answers and she was able to listen with such genuine interest that when Marcel spoke to her across the table she failed to hear him.

      ‘I’m sorry … what …?’ she stammered.

      ‘I was merely recommending the wine,’ he said. ‘It’s a rare vintage and a speciality of this hotel.’

      ‘Of course, yes. Thank you.’

      ‘Never mind him,’ Henri said. ‘Let me finish telling you—’

      ‘You’ve had your turn,’ Monsieur Lenoir objected. ‘I may be an old man, but I’m not too old to appreciate a beautiful woman.’ He gave a rich chuckle. Liking him, Cassie gave him her most gracious smile and they were soon deep in conversation. On the surface he was more civilised and restrained than his son, but his observations about Paris tended to linger on the shadowy romantic places. Clearly Henri wasn’t her only admirer.

      At last an orchestra struck up and dancers took to the floor. Monsieur Lenoir extended his hand and she followed him cheerfully.

      He was a reasonably good dancer for his age and weight, but what he really wanted, as she soon discovered, was to flaunt his sexy young companion, enjoying envious gazes from other men. She laughed and indulged him, careful not to go too far, and they finally left the floor, laughing together in perfect accord.

      Henri was waiting for them, looking theatrically forlorn.

      ‘I’m all alone,’ he mourned. ‘You’ve got my father. Marcel and Brigitte look like they’re set up for the night.’

      ‘Yes, they do, don’t they,’ Cassie said, observing them from a distance, dancing with eyes only for each other.

      ‘So when will it be my turn?’ Henri wanted to know.

      ‘Right now,’ she said firmly. ‘Do you mind my leaving you alone?’ This was to Monsieur Lenoir.

      ‘No, you two young things go and enjoy yourself. I’m puffed.’

      Before she knew it she was spinning around the floor. Henri was a good dancer. So was she, she suddenly remembered. How long had it been since she’d had the chance to let go and really enjoy herself?

      For a little while she gave herself up to the thrill of moving fast. Her mind seemed to be linked to Henri, so that when he waggled his hips she instinctively did the same, and heard cheers and applause from the rest of the floor. The world was spinning by in a series of visions. They came and went in her consciousness, but the one that was always there was Marcel, watching her with narrowed, furious eyes. No matter how often she turned, he always seemed to be directly in front of her. She blinked and he vanished. And yet he was still there, because he was always there.

      As the dance ended there was a mini riot, with Henri indicating that he wanted to partner her again, and at least three other men prepared to challenge for the privilege. But they all backed off when they saw Marcel, with murder in his eyes, stretching out his hand to her.

      ‘My dance, I think,’ he said.

      His voice was soft but dangerous, and tonight danger had an edge that she relished.

      ‘I don’t think so,’ she said with a challenging glance at her other suitors. ‘I think you have to wait your turn.’

      It was a crazy thing to say but she couldn’t have stopped herself for anything in the world. Suddenly she felt herself yanked fiercely against him, his arm so tight about her that she was breathless.

      ‘I wait for no man,’ he said. Then, in a voice even softer and more menacing than before, he added, ‘And no woman.’

      ‘Then I guess I have no choice,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’

      The music had slowed, enabling him to draw her onto the floor in a waltz, his body moving against hers. She tried not to feel the rising excitement. That was to be her weapon against him, not his against her. But the shocking truth was that he was equally armed and her defences were weak. Now her only hope of standing up to him was not to let him suspect her weakness.

      She reckoned a suit of armour would have been useful: something made of steel to protect her from the awareness of his body so dangerously close to hers. Lacking it, she could only assume the nearest thing to a visor, a beaming, rigid smile that should have alarmed him.

      ‘I don’t think you should hold me so tightly,’ she said.

      ‘Don’t try to fool me,’ he murmured in soft rage. ‘This is exactly what you meant to happen.’

      ‘You do me an injustice. I was going to wear something more conventional but you arrived before I could change.’

      ‘Oh, please, try to think of something better.’

      ‘Why must you always judge me so harshly?’

      ‘If you don’t know the answer to that—mon dieu, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

      ‘That’s not fair.’

      ‘When is the truth fair? I know how your deceiving little mind works—’

      ‘How can you be so sure you know about me—a woman you met only a few days ago?’

      His face was livid and she thought for a moment he would do something violent. But he only dropped his head so that his mouth was close to her ear. ‘Ne me tourmente pas ou je vais vous faire désolé. Prenez garde pendant qu’il est encore temps….’

      She drew in her breath. He’d warned her against tormenting him, telling her to take heed while there was still time.

      ‘Don’t torment me,’ he groaned again. ‘I warn you—I warn you—’

      ‘Why?’ she challenged. ‘Whatever will happen?’ ‘Wait and see.’

      ‘Suppose I can’t wait. Suppose I’m impatient. What will you do then?’

      ‘Wait and see,’ he repeated with slow, deliberate emphasis.

      She smiled. ‘I’ll look forward to that.’

      His hand had been drifting lower until it almost rested on the satin curve of her behind. Suddenly he snatched it back, as though in fear, though whether of her or himself perhaps, neither of them could have said.

      ‘Witch!’ he breathed.

      She chuckled. ‘Anything you say. After СКАЧАТЬ