Mediterranean Tycoons. Michelle Reid

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СКАЧАТЬ touched him, she noticed. The man had nerves of steel and no emotion at all. Yet she knew by the changing grip of his fingers on her waist that sometimes something violent erupted inside him, especially when they caught the edges of hushed conversations discussing Bianca and the fact that the poor jilted bride seemed to have slipped off the face of the earth.

      Was his response due to anger or pain? When she glanced up at his face, it, of course, revealed nothing.

      She caught fleeting glimpses of her father in the crowd and wanted to go and ask him if he’d heard from Matthew, but every time the thought hit, Luc was guiding her off in the opposite direction.

      The afternoon wore on with agonising slowness until she began to really feel the strain of maintaining her smile. So when Luc bent his head to tell her quietly that it was time for her to go and change out of her dress, she was so pathetically relieved to be given an excuse to escape she didn’t even bother to ask him why she needed to change.

      Carla the giggly maid was waiting for her when she reached her bedroom. She provided the answers as she helped her out of her wedding dress.

      ‘It is such a shame that you must remove this beautiful gown so soon, signora.’ Carla sighed wistfully. ‘But with your new clothes all packed in your bags and already on their way, it must be so exciting and romantic to be swept away by the signor to your secret honeymoon destination.’

      Honeymoon—?

      CHAPTER FIVE

      OH, PLEASE don’t, Lizzy thought helplessly, so horrified that Luc was intending to take this romantic stuff that far that her lips came together with a snap to stop the groaned protest from slipping out.

      But the protest glowed in her eyes as she came back downstairs dressed in a soft green wraparound dress that clung lovingly to her figure and swirled around her knees.

      Luc was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her. He had changed too, into a soft coffee-coloured linen suit and a simple tee shirt that made him look cool and casual and superbly stylish and just too darn sexy to be fair.

      He looked up at her and something flared in his eyes that made her steps falter as her heart gave a fluttering stir. Then the expression was gone and he was holding out a hand in a silent command for her to continue down the rest of the stairs.

      When she came close enough, he took hold of her hand and drew her towards him. His lips arrived at her temple; she felt the heat from his body warm against hers.

      ‘Beautiful,’ he husked.

      So are you, Lizzy thought helplessly, but she didn’t say it. ‘Where are we going?’ she whispered instead, sharply aware of all the people standing around watching them.

      ‘Where all newly married couples go.’ He took the cream jacket she had draped across her arm. ‘Somewhere we can be alone.’

      ‘But I don’t want to be alone with you.’ She frowned as he draped the jacket across her shoulders.

      ‘You don’t? I am devastated.’

      He just sounded sardonic to her. ‘I thought we would be staying here. Can’t we just stay here?’ She glanced up at him anxiously. ‘I’m used to being here now. It’s—comfortable.’

      In the process of gently releasing her hair from inside the jacket, Luc paused to look down at her, a strange expression swirling around in his dark golden eyes.

      Then the smile was back. ‘It is traditional to change venue.’

      Lizzy stepped a little closer to him, her voice a hurried confiding whisper aimed at the taut solid skin at his throat. ‘It’s silly.’

      ‘What is?’

      ‘The rest of this.’ Her eyes gave a quick restless flick of the waiting crowd. ‘If we’re supposed to be leaving, won’t they all be leaving too?’

      ‘You want me to throw our guests out?’ He sounded incredulous.

      ‘Your guests,’ Lizzy corrected.

      ‘Watch it, cara,’ he warned quietly. ‘You don’t want to talk yourself into yet another tight corner with me—especially with so many witnesses.’

      ‘All I’m saying is that we might as well stay—’

      He moved so smoothly she didn’t sense it coming. One second he was smoothing the jacket across her shoulders, the next his long fingers crushing the slender bones, and with a controlled strength he pulled her tight up against his chest and the rest of her argument was being thoroughly crushed by the kind of kiss that locked the breath in her throat.

      She was only dimly aware of the murmuring ripple that spread around the hallway as the first tense quiver to hit her in days made its fierce stroke down Lizzy’s front. Pleasure flared out from its edges, sending her hands up to press hard against his chest in an attempt to push him away. But he was going nowhere and neither was the kiss, the heated force of it sending her body into a straining arch against him. The so carefully draped jacket slithered from her shoulders to land on the ground by her feet and his arms folded her even closer—someone murmured something mocking, someone else uttered a dry laugh.

      Luc eased the pressure on her mouth by slow degrees and with tender stroking caresses. ‘The show must go on, cara,’ he murmured softly.

      Too shaken up by the whole public reminder, Lizzy just swallowed tensely and nodded. Then the slow-rolling swell of applause took off around the gathering as Luc was stepping back.

      Stooping down to recover her fallen jacket, he tossed it casually over his shoulder as he straightened again, then turned to offer their audience a wry mocking bow. Laughter joined in with the clapping. Lizzy kept her eyes lowered and hated the wild blush that burned her cheeks.

      It wasn’t until he’d captured her hand and led her outside and she saw the helicopter standing on the lawn again that she remembered her father.

      She turned quickly to Luc. ‘I can’t leave here without seeing my father.’

      He tensed beside her. ‘He has already left here to catch his flight back to Gatwick,’ he informed her coolly.

      For a whole minute Lizzy couldn’t breathe. The sense of rejection was so total she just stared blindly at Luc as the colour slowly drained from her face.

      With a soft curse, he drew her across the lawn and bundled her into the helicopter. A few minutes later and they were rising up above the temporary wall of white canvas and swinging round to face the lake where a whole armada of different sailing crafts clustered a short way out from the jetty, with their army of little media people scrambling, no doubt to get a picture of them leaving.

      Beside her Luc made a tense, restless movement with his body. ‘Ignore them,’ he rasped. ‘They will soon get tired of playing this game and move on to the next sensation.’

      Oddly enough she didn’t care any more how many silly photographs they managed to snatch.

      ‘He left without saying goodbye to me,’ she whispered.

      That was what mattered.

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