Evidently the chemistry didn’t work like that. Here she was, in full possession of her senses, no longer the doormat doppelg;auanger of recent days, and still she was vulnerable. It enraged her. When he had taken that glass from her and she had thought…she had been in the act of melting down the wall in anticipation.
Pacing about the room in a temper, she helped herself to more champagne. When she had loved Luc, she had just about been able to live with the effect he had on her. When she didn’t even like him, never mind love him, it was inexcusable. And as for him—what he deserved was a cheap little tramp, the sort of female prepared to barter sexual favours for his bank balance, the sort of female he ought to understand. That was exactly what he deserved…
She was rifling the dressing-room when the banging on the door interrupted her. Opening it a crack, she found Guilia, for some reason backed by Bernardo, who was holding a large bunch of keys. Her maid looked all hot and flushed and anxious.
‘I won’t be needing any help tonight. Grazie, Guilia.’
‘But signorina—’
‘Dinner will be served in one half-hour,’ Bernardo said with a look of appeal.
‘I’m sorry, but dinner will have to wait.’ Catherine shut the door again. Didn’t they all speak great English? When she recalled the sign language she had been reduced to using several times during the week, she cursed Luc. Why had Bernardo looked so shattered at the idea of dinner’s having to be held back?
Luc would probably create. Well, so what? It would do him no harm to cool his heels for once. He would appreciate her appearance all the more when she did wander in. Dinner, she decided fiercely, would be fun…fun…fun! However, lest the staff receive the blame for her tardiness, she would be as q
uick as she possibly could be.
The shimmering tunic top of a black evening suit was extracted from the wardrobe first. It would just cover her hips and, if she wore it back to front, the neckline would be equally abbreviated. Sheer black stockings, no problem. She had every colour of the rainbow. A very high pair of black court shoes were withdrawn next and finally a pair of long black gloves.
Dressed, she walked a slightly unsteady line into the bathroom to go to town on her face. Sapphire and violet outlined her eyes dramatically. Putting on loads of blue mascara, she dabbed gold glitter on her cleavage and traced her lips with strawberry pink. She was starting to enjoy herself. Having moussed her hair into a wild, messy tangle, she went through her jewellery.
She had three diamond bracelets. One went on an ankle, the other two on her wrists over the gloves. A necklace and earrings completed the look. Sort of Christmassy. It was astonishing how cheap diamonds could look when worn to excess. And her wardrobe, shorn of Guilia, had far more adventurous possibilities than Luc could ever have dreamt. The reflection that greeted her in the mirror was satisfyingly startling.
She picked a careful passage down the staircase, aware that she had been a little free with the champagne. Bernardo literally couldn’t take his eyes from her as she crossed the hall. He froze, stared, tugged at his tie.
‘Evening, Bernardo,’ she carolled on her way past. ‘It’s a hot night, isn’t it?’
And it’s about to get hotter, she forecast with inner certainty. Abruptly, Bernardo flashed in front of her, spreading wide both doors of the salon. ‘Signorina Parrish.’
Why on earth was he announcing her? Did he think Luc wouldn’t recognise her under all this gloop? Have her thrown out as a gatecrasher? Taking a deep breath, she launched herself over the threshold. A whole cluster of faces looked back at her, some standing, some sitting. Horror-stricken, she blinked, stage fright taking over. The outfit had been for private viewing only. Behind her, Bernardo was subduing a fit of coughing.
Now that she came to think of it—and thinking was exceedingly difficult at that moment—Luc had mentioned something casual about some close friends coming to stay the night before the wedding. The minute she had shown her nerves at the prospect, he had dropped the subject. Right now, he was undoubtedly wishing he hadn’t. Right now, he was remembering that she had a head like a sieve. Right now, as his long lean stride carried him towards her, his eyes were telling her that he wanted to kill her, inch by painful inch, preferably over a lengthy period. And that he intended to enjoy every minute of it when he got the chance.
‘Say, I thought it was fancy dress,’ she muttered and attempted to sidle out again, but Luc snaked out a hand and cut off her escape.
‘She’s so avant-garde,’ a youthful female voice gasped. ‘Mummy, why can’t I wear stuff like that?’
‘Designer punk,’ someone else commented. ‘Very arresting.’
‘And I wouldn’t mind being arrested with her.’ A tall, very good-looking blond man sent her a sizzling smile. ‘Luc, I begin to understand why you kept this charming lady under wraps until the very last moment. I’m Christian…Christian Denning.’
Catherine shook his hand with a smile. He had bridged an awkward silence. A whirl of introductions took place. There were about thirty people present, an even mix of nationalities, fairly split between the business ;aaelite and the upper crust. It was a relief when she finally made it into a seat to catch her breath.
‘You have the most fabulous legs.’ Christian dropped down on to the arm of her sofa. ‘Why do I have the feeling that Luc would rather have kept the view an exclusive one?’
‘Have you known Luc for long?’ she asked in desperation.
‘About ten years. And I saw you at a distance once in Switzerland, seven years ago,’ he confided in an undertone. ‘That was as close as I was allowed to get.’
A wave of heat consumed her skin. This was someone who had to have a very fair idea of what her former association with Luc had been. ‘Was it?’ She tried to sound casual.
‘Luc’s very possessive,’ he responded mockingly. ‘But he must have snatched you right out of your cradle. I must remember to tease him about that.’
Luc strolled over. ‘Enjoying yourself, Christian?’
‘Immensely. There isn’t a man in the room who doesn’t envy me. Why did I have to wait this long to meet her?’
‘Perhaps I foresaw your reaction.’ Luc reached for Catherine’s hand. It was time to go into dinner. ‘Everybody likes you,’ he breathed, pressing his mouth with fleeting brevity to her bare shoulder, fingertips skating caressingly down her taut spinal cord. ‘You forgot they were coming, didn’t you?’ He was smiling at her, she registered dazedly. ‘Cara, if you had seen your face when you realised what you had done! But in this gathering you don’t look quite as shocking as you no doubt thought you would.’