Chapter Eight
Lycos was looking at his phone, a slight frown on his face. Out of nowhere a sliver of unease coursed through Arielle. She paused in the act of beating fresh eggs, gathered that very hour from her obliging hens, ready to make a breakfast omelette. A late breakfast, for passion had overcome them before rising—as it so often did.
He put his phone aside on the dresser, but his frown remained.
‘What is it?’ Arielle asked, eyes resting on him. A cold feeling of apprehension crept over her.
She knew what she feared. That this golden time, this sweet swan song to ease her parting from her home, was ending. Her time with Lycos was ending.
She felt a fear stab at her. Did it come from knowing she must leave her home for ever? Or from the thought of losing Lycos for ever?
Both must happen.
But must it be now, this very morning?
For a moment, the memory of standing out in the courtyard the day Lycos had arrived to take away all that she held dear burned in her head.
But now it is not just my home that I hold dear…
She felt her mind shy away, unwilling to confront that truth. Yet knowing it was there, all the same.
Because how could it not be? She could tell herself all she liked that this time with Lycos must only be transient, to ease her to the new life that must await her when he no longer wanted her and she no longer had the mas to call home.
But now, as he looked at her with his expression shuttered, she could feel the protest rise within her. Protest that this golden time with him was ending.
Not yet, oh, please, not yet!
The cry came from deep inside her. A place she dared not acknowledge but felt all the same. A dread, an anguish, a loss.
For a moment Lycos did not speak.
‘I may need to go to Paris,’ he said. His voice was clipped.
Arielle felt her face pale. It had come out of nowhere, Lycos walking out of her life. Just as he had walked into it from nowhere. Emotion clutched at her, but she would not name it. Dimly, as if from far away, she realised he was speaking still.
‘I told you I was on my way there originally for a meeting with the banker who handles my finances. He’s just texted me to say that he will need to fly to Germany shortly. Another client has need of him. That he will probably be there a while, then move on to Prague and Vienna. So, if I still want to see him, next week would be a good time.’
Arielle swallowed. It was painful, but she made herself say what had to be said.
‘Then you must go,’ she said.
He frowned again, brows drawing together. It gave him a forbidding look.
‘I don’t want to, but I think I must. I’ve delayed too long already. Except that—’
He broke off. His gaze went to the window, where the sun was filling the courtyard and the hens were wandering around pecking here and there. Then his gaze returned to her.
She waited for the words. The words she knew would come, must come. She had heard them already. Knew what they would be. He would be kind and tactful, but he would say them all the same.
‘It’s been good, Arielle, this time with you. Here at the mas, here with you. But now it’s time for me to leave, to go back to my own life. And you, for you it is time to leave too. To start your new life. I wish you well. We’ll both have good memories of this time now. Good memories.’
And memories were all that she would have. Nothing more. Memories of her home. Of Lycos.
Nothing more than memories.
‘So, what do you say?’
She blinked. What had he just said?
‘Arielle?’ He lifted a hand, waved it as though to wake her. His expression was strange. She couldn’t make it out.
He spoke again.
‘How do you feel…’ he said to her, his eyes resting on her with that strange expression in them, ‘…about coming to Paris with me?’
Lycos kept his gaze steady on her. Her expression was blank. ‘Arielle?’ he said again.
She stared at him blankly then said, ‘You’re asking me to come to Paris?’
She said it as if he’d spoken in a foreign language.
Lycos nodded. ‘Yes. Would you like to?’
Uncertainty filled her face now. It made him feel unsure too. Surely she would want to come with him. Wouldn’t she?
Abruptly, he felt doubt shape itself in his mind. Intruding. Unwelcome. He desired Arielle, of that he had no doubt at all. He had desired her from the first moment he’d seen her. Had focussed on fulfilling that desire. And now he was focussed on continuing to fulfil it. He wasn’t in the least bored or tired of her. He wanted her now as much as he had wanted her from the first. He had no idea how long that desire would last, but while it did, he did not wish to part with her.
Surely she feels the same? She is as ardent as she was that very first night. As passionate. I see it in her eyes, her face, the ecstasy of her body.
So why this hesitation now?
Unless—
He felt a sliver of cold penetrate. A thought even more unwelcome than that dart of doubt pushing into his consciousness.
Did she give herself to me because it meant I would let her stay on at the mas, here with me?
Instantly he refuted it, yet the echo remained. The intrusive corollary.
Is it me she wants? Or her precious mas?
Again, he pushed the thought aside, thrust it from him. He would not allow himself to think it. Would not even allow himself to wonder why he asked it. Why it disturbed him so.
She was speaking again. That same look of uncertainty, confusion, still on her face.
‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ she said. ‘I have to pack up my things here. Leave the mas. Go to England.’
He felt the disturbing question in his head set aside. Focussing now on driving forward towards the goal he sought—Arielle’s acquiescence to what he wanted. Taking her to Paris and having her there with him.
This time at the mas with her has been good, so very good. A relaxing escape. A pastoral idyll. But it cannot last for ever and I need to pick up my own life. My old life.
Besides, he wanted to take Arielle to Paris. Wanted to show her the bright lights and the luxury life he led. The one he had made for him himself, won for himself. He wanted to bestow it on her.
He lifted one eyebrow. ‘Why not stay with me in Paris first?’
He felt his thoughts start to run ahead. He’d wondered what Arielle’s beauty might be if she actually paid attention to it. Well, in Paris he would find out. He’d take her to the couture houses, get her properly dressed and gowned. Get her hair done, her face done. Get everything done. Buy her some jewellery.
Then take her out and about with me.
A sense of anticipation arose in him. But she was still looking uncertain. He wanted to push past that.
‘We’ll sort things out here before we set off. Tell Jeanne and Claude they can collect the poultry whenever they want. I’ll arrange for your piano to go to the lycée before I sell. As for your things, just pack what you need for Paris and for England. Everything else can stay boxed up in the barns and I’ll have it all sent to England when you’re settled there.’
She still looked confused, dazed even. He walked over to her. Took the egg whisk out of her hand. Took her hands in his and turned her towards him. He looked down into her eyes, his gaze full.
‘I want you with me in Paris, Arielle,’ he said. ‘I’ve lived your life here with you at the mas. Now come to Paris with me and live my life! You’ll enjoy it, I promise.’
Her expression became troubled.
‘I can’t afford your life, Lycos,’ she said.
He shook his head impatiently. ‘You don’t have to. It’s all on me, Arielle. Of course it is! You’ll be my…my guest, if you want to put it that way! You’ve already told me you’re my guest here at the mas, since I own it, so what’s the difference about being my guest in Paris?’
His mouth pulled at the corner with the slightest twist and a glint in his eyes. ‘I’m a rich man, Arielle. I can afford to treat you. Treat you to anything you want. To anything I want to give you!’
His expression lightened. ‘I want to show you Paris, Arielle.’ His hands pressed hers. ‘And I want to show you to Paris! I can’t wait to do so.’
There was a huskiness in his voice, a tone of anticipation. He could see her expression wavering. He bent his head and kissed her softly. Slowly and seductively. He lifted his mouth from hers.
‘Say yes, Arielle,’ he said to her. His eyes were warm, his voice warmer.
Softly, he brushed her lips once more. Teasingly, temptingly. Willing her to yield to what he wanted of her.
‘Say yes,’ he said again.
Arielle leant against the windowsill and sighed with pleasure. Their room in the smart, boutique hotel overlooked the River Seine, flowing around the exclusive Île Saint-Louis in Paris. If she looked north, she could see the dramatic bulk of Notre-Dame and across the river she could see the fabled Left Bank. In the light of the setting sun, the river’s water was turning to liquid gold. A couple of bateaux mouches glided peacefully along.
‘Like it?’ asked Lycos, his voice warm.
She turned. ‘Oh, yes!’ She sighed with pleasure.
‘I’m glad. I’ve stayed here before and I like the Île Saint-Louis. It’s exclusive, but quiet. Out of the way, yet central enough for me.’
He leant beside her on the windowsill, the window thrown open. The early evening air was warm and the sounds of the city muted.
‘Glad to be here?’ he asked.
‘How can you ask?’ she replied, her eyes glowing as she gazed at him.
Emotion turned over in her. It had been hard to leave the mas. How could it be otherwise? But knowing that she was not to lose Lycos as well, at least not yet, that she was to have this grace period with him, had eased her taking leave of her beloved home.
And a new resolve had filled her. A new strength. Lycos’s words to her had lodged within her, telling her she could make a new life for herself as he had had to do for himself.
She felt her heart clench whenever she thought of what he’d had to endure in his youth, bereft of any kind of love. Her own father had never been unkind to her and had always looked after her until Naomi had got her claws into him. Her mother had been devoted to her. And she to her mother. Their bond had been strong, close and so, so loving. Lycos had never known that, from either parent. Yet he had found the strength in himself to make a new life for himself. And so must she.
Whatever it was to be.
For a moment, dangerous and seductive, as she gazed at him, she felt a longing rise within her.
What if that new life were to be always with Lycos?
The thought hung there in her head, glowing and tempting. Like a golden apple she might reach out and take, and taste.
What if he wants me always to be with him? To make our lives together?
She could see it—as vivid and verdant as if it were real. She and Lycos, back at the mas, her home once again. Their home together…
I might never lose it. Never lose Lycos.
Emotion tightened around her heart. And a sense of longing rose in her.
She realised he was speaking again. ‘After our long drive shall we just stay local? I know a good little restaurant nearby. Small, but quiet, and the cuisine is superb.’
She smiled. ‘That sounds good.’
But then, everything about being with Lycos was good.
As he pulled out his phone to make the reservation, her eyes rested on him, her gaze softening.
Yes, being with Lycos was so very good.
If only it could last for ever…
The restaurant was just as Lycos remembered. They were shown to a table covered with a pristine linen tablecloth and set with silver cutlery and crystal glasses. Ornamented menus were bestowed upon them. As she opened hers, he heard Arielle give a low whistle.
‘Lycos, the prices are astronomical!’ she exclaimed, sounding perturbed.
‘And the cuisine well worth them,’ he assured her.
‘Yes, but even so—’
He silenced her with a lift of his hand. ‘Arielle, I told you. You are here in Paris as my guest. At my expense. For everything.’
He smiled encouragingly. For a moment he saw her hesitate then, as if giving in, she bent her head to study the menu. He was glad she wasn’t going to protest again. He wanted to indulge her. And he was glad to do so.
She is not like the women I am used to. She does not expect anything of me, which is exactly why I want to spoil her. Lavish on her the luxury I can so easily afford! I want to see her eyes glow when I give her things. I want to please her.
It warmed him to think that way. Warmed him just to think about her. Just to let his eyes rest on her.
He was not sure why. Oh, that she was so different from the women he’d become used to since he’d made his money, yes, that was one reason. And that he desired her so much. Every long, languorous night at the mas had shown him that. That was another reason.
But that was not all.
He let his gaze meet hers, saw hers soften as he did. Saw something in her beautiful blue eyes. Felt it reach out to him.
But how, and why, he did not know. He only knew that he wanted it to be so. Was content for it to be so.
A frown formed on his face, though he veiled it swiftly. There was something he was not content with. She was wearing the blue-sprigged dress again and the loop of blue beads, with no more make-up than the lightest of lip gloss and mascara. Her hair was simply drawn back into a switch. Even with the addition of the shawl he had bought her in Saint-Clément it was an underdressed look that would only do for the provinces. Not for Paris. Not for the circles he moved in.
The frown turned to a glint. Well, that would change tomorrow. For tonight…
‘So, what on the menu tempts you?’ he prompted.
As for himself, he knew exactly what tempted him. The prospect of fine dining and the pleasures of the night to come.
And all their time in Paris ahead of them.
He would ensure that it was good. For them both.
‘Lycos, I couldn’t possibly accept!’ Arielle looked at Lycos with troubled eyes.
They were standing in front of one of France’s famous fashion houses in the exclusive Faubourg Saint-Honoré and Lycos wanted to go in and buy some clothes for her.
He looked at her straightly. ‘Arielle, at the mas, in the middle of rural Provence, casual was fine. Here in Paris, it’s different. To be chic is de rigeur!’
He said the last part lightly, humorously even, but for all that there was an implacable note in his voice. Arielle’s troubled expression did not change.
‘Well, not for me…’ she began. Lycos cut across her.
‘Of course for you! Why not?’
‘Because I don’t move in those circles,’ she said flatly.
‘Well I do,’ he rejoined. ‘And I would point out to you that, had your stepmother not got her claws into your father, you would too!’
She shook her head. ‘My father was nowhere near as rich as you are, Lycos.’
‘But wealthy enough to buy you expensive clothes,’ he retorted. ‘And now it’s me doing so.’
He made to guide her through the impressive double doors with their distinctive, world-famous initials stencilled on them. But still she held back. She felt his grip around her wrist tighten.
‘Arielle, here in Paris I socialise, OK? And you are with me, as my guest I told you, so I am covering all expenses! I’ll be socialising with you. I’m looking forward to it. Believe me, I can’t wait to show you off. Starting tonight. We’re dining out with Marc Derenz and his wife. He’s my banker, remember, and I’m having my annual review with him at his bank tomorrow. You’ll like his wife, by the way. She’s English.’
He paused before continuing dryly, holding Arielle’s still-troubled gaze, ‘She’s also a former model and a total knock-out. She’ll be looking incredible tonight and I do not want you feeling underdressed in comparison.’
As before, there was humour in his voice but that implacable note remained.
For a moment longer she held back, deeply reluctant to do as Lycos so obviously wanted her to do—to accept him buying her clothes that she could not afford to buy for herself.
But nor could he, once.
She felt her resistance crumble. Lycos had not always been rich. He had come from wretched beginnings and had dreamt of escaping.
And now he has. And if it gives him pleasure to indulge me, to have the wealth now to do so, why should I refuse him?
It’s something I can give to him. To let him show me off as he wants to!
So where was the harm in it?
‘OK, I give in,’ she said. Humour was evident in her voice, and fondness too. She held that image in her head of the neglected, unloved, abused boy in the backstreets of Athens.
For Lycos she would do it. And set aside her qualms.
‘Marc, good to see you.’ Lycos gave a firm shake of the hand extended to him. He would not call Marc Derenz a friend. He would call no man a friend. That was not his way. But Marc was a man he could trust, indeed did trust, with the investment of a good deal of his money. He was, he knew, a valued client of the prestigious Banc Derenz. Marc himself moved in the first circles and was on social terms with all his clients. Including now, Lycos.
Greeting Marc’s wife, Lycos drew Arielle forward to introduce her. Tara Derenz might be a former model, and she certainly looked it in the bias-cut silver gown she was wearing, but Arielle was in no way outclassed. No way.
She looked, Lycos knew, stunning.
Superbe! Fantastique! Incroyable!
The French words formed in his head, the only ones to do justice to the vision at his side. The Grecian-style, pale blue gown followed her lovely, curvy figure from breast to ankle. Her lustrous hair was looped up, exposing the nape of her neck, enhancing the height of her cheekbones that were already contoured with skilful shading. Shading that also deepened the colour of her eyes, as mascara lengthened her lashes. Lipstick giving a wondrous sheen and lushness to her mouth.
He’d wondered, briefly, how Tara Derenz would take to a woman who could compete against her, but her smile was warm. So was Arielle’s.
‘Lycos mentioned you were English,’ Arielle said to Tara in English.
‘Scots originally,’ Tara replied. ‘Mackenzie. You sound English too. No French accent at all!’
‘My father,’ said Arielle. ‘But my mother was French.’
‘Arielle, what would you like to drink?’ Marc asked.
The four of them settled themselves down on the plush banquette in the very plush cocktail lounge of the extremely plush Viscari Paris where they were to dine. Lycos took satisfaction in knowing that Arielle looked perfect for the exclusive setting.
Champagne was mutually agreed on and, as Arielle took a sip of hers, she turned to Lycos with a smile.
‘Does it make wine taste better now, do you think, having had the experience of picking the grapes in the first place? Not champagne grapes, of course, but the principle is the same!’
‘Picking grapes?’ Marc queried, non-plussed.
Lycos turned to him. ‘Arielle and I got roped into helping with the grape harvest while staying in Provence.’
Marc’s expression was a study. ‘Quite a novelty for you,’ he said.
‘And an enjoyable one,’ Lycos said, taking an appreciative mouthful of the superb Viscari house champagne, a unique blend only available at Viscari hotels. ‘It was very…’ he sought for the right word, ‘…collaborative. I think we pitched in pretty well, didn’t we, Arielle? OK, I didn’t do nearly as well as the practised harvesters, but I wasn’t too pathetic!’
‘You were very good,’ Arielle praised him.
‘What part of Provence?’ Tara Derenz asked with interest. ‘Marc is lucky enough to have inherited an original art-deco villa on Cap Saint-Pierre, the last unspoilt cap on the Côte d’Azur. But inland is far less spoilt.’
‘Quite near Saint-Clément,’ Lycos answered. He wanted to change the subject. He did not want to bring up Arielle’s lost mas. Nor consider why he did not wish to.
‘Cap Saint-Pierre,’ he mused. ‘I must say I’ve never been there. I tend to stick to Monaco, Nice and Cannes when I’m at the coast. And, of course, the casinos.’
He made no secret of how he’d acquired his wealth, nor his reputation. Not that that meant anything to Marc Derenz. He had other acquaintances in Paris to whom it signified more. He would meet up with them while he was here, but tonight was for the Derenzes.
‘We stick to the cap,’ Tara said decisively. ‘I’m not a fan of cities. Oh, Paris is gorgeous, in its own way. I’ll allow that. But when we married we made Versailles our base. Though Marc keeps a pied-à-terre handy over the bank.’
‘Versailles sounds, well, palatial!’ Arielle smiled.
‘It is. And the palace grounds are ideal for pushchairs!’ responded Tara.
Lycos heard Arielle enquire after the occupants of the pushchairs and was glad to realise she and Marc’s wife seemed to be hitting it off. They went on chatting. An easy conversation switching in and out of French and English. He turned to Marc to ask him something about the current French political scene. Menus were bestowed upon them. Choices made, champagne consumed, they made their way into the Viscari’sMichelin-starred restaurant to take their table. The evening was going well and Lycos was glad.
His eyes were still feasting on Arielle. How fantastic she looked. En grande tenue indeed. Effortlessly holding her own in these luxury surroundings. She was relaxed and he was glad for that too.
He realised he was also relaxed. And enjoying himself. The Derenzes might be an established married couple, but he and Arielle were—
Were what?
He paused inwardly a moment, searching for the bon mot.
At ease with each other. That’s what we are.
It was a strange thought and he wondered why it should be so. He was not unused to female company after all.
But never before have I spent so much time, continuous time, with one single female. Those weeks at the mas, just being together. Living together.
At ease together.
Even as he thought it, memories flashed. ‘Ease’ had not been there between them at first—the very opposite.
The first time he’d set eyes on her, in that faded dressing gown, in the courtyard of Mas Delfine.
Staring at me as if I were the demon king arriving to dispossess her. Come to take her home from her.
He shook the accusation away. Not only was it not true, it had been her father who was to blame, not him, for her loss. But now he was not taking from Arielle. He was giving.
His eyes rested on her again, warm and appreciative. How stunning she looked in the gown he’d bought her. That was only one of their purchases today and more would follow. He would buy jewellery for her too and lavish his lifestyle on her. Just as he was doing this evening and would do throughout their stay in Paris.
I want to please her, to indulge her, because she is worth it to me. She’s valuable. She’s…
Another word formed in his head.
Precious.
It hung there a moment, like a pearl, and something moved within him. Something he did not recognise, but which kept his gaze on her arrested. Then Marc made some remark, requiring his response and the moment was gone. But as Arielle turned her head to him, her beautiful eyes smiling and meeting his for a moment, he heard the echo of that word again.
Precious.
And that strange, elusive, unrecognised emotion that came with it echoed too.
