Mistress on Loan (7 page)

Adrien gave him a mutinous glare. 'It's this way.'

She started towards the sitting room, pausing to touch base with the wall and the hall table as she went. Chay caught up with her and took her arm. 'Let me help.' But she pulled away.

'Leave me alone. I can walk round my own house.' She frowned, drew a breath, and enunciated 'house' with great clarity.

She gestured towards the wine bottle. 'Would you like a glass of wine?' Pleased with herself, she repeated, 'A glass of wine?' She picked up the bottle and held it up to the light. 'Oh,' she said. 'There's none left.'

'Now, why does that not surprise me?' Chay gave her another long look. 'When did you last eat?'

She gave the matter frowning consideration. 'I don't remember. And what hash it to do with you, anyway?'

'Just kindly concern for your well-being, Adie.'

'Kindly concern?' Adrien repeated. 'Isn't that a little out of character?'

He laughed. 'Prompted entirely by self-interest, darling, I assure you. After all, I've no wish for you to die of malnutrition before we've had the chance to consummate our bargain.' He paused. 'Tell me, were you in this condition when you called the hotel?'

She said with dignity, 'I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have a condition.'

'No?' He looked amused. 'Now, I'd have said you'd been drowning your sorrows, and to some measure.'

'Well, I'm not likely to be celebrating.' She frowned. 'I mean...'

'It's all right,' he said. 'I get the idea. I think I'll continue the funereal theme with some black coffee. I presume the kitchen's through here?'

Adrien followed, watching with a kind of mute indignation as he deftly filled the kettle, and set it to boil, then found the coffee jar and two beakers. She said freezingly, 'Make yourself at home.'

'Thanks.' He remained calmly unfrozen. Even slanted a smile at her.

'What exactly are you doing here?' Adrien demanded.

'I felt we'd better sort a few important details. When you're sober enough to deal with them, that is. ''I'm not drunk,' she denied with emphasis.

'No,' he said soothingly. 'Just a little fuzzy round the edges. And I'd really prefer you to be thinking straight.'

She drew a stormy breath. 'And your wishes, of course, are paramount.'

He said softly, 'So you've come to terms with that already. Excellent. I thought you'd find it far more of a hurdle.'

'Actually, I was being—' She considered 'sarcastic' then opted for safety with 'ironic'.

'I'd never have guessed.' He poured boiling water on to granules, and handed her a beaker. 'Try this. Have you got any eggs?'

'No,' she said blandly. 'The cupboard is bare. Don't forget, I've been staying at the Grange.'

'How could I forget?' Chay said softly. 'It's fragrant with your presence.' He shrugged. 'But it doesn't matter about the food. I'll ring that French place in Market Street and get them to send us something.'

'If you mean Ma Maison,' Adrien said sharply,

'they don't do takeaway.'

He smiled at her. 'Then I'll just have to talk them round.'

The coffee was strong and scalding, and one mouthful cleared her head and steadied her tongue. The second put new heart into her. She lifted her chin. 'Has it occurred to you that I might not want to have dinner with you?'

'Yes,' he said. 'But I dismissed the idea. We have to take that first step together some time, and it might as well be sooner rather than later.'

She put the beaker down on the worktop. She said carefully, 'When you say "first step"...?'

'I mean dinner,' he said. 'Just that. Only that What, in other circumstances, might be termed a date.'

Adrien raised her eyebrows. 'Except that I would never go on a date with you. Under any circumstances.'

'Then I'm glad I never asked you.' He grinned at her. 'Imagine the dent to my pride.'

She said with sudden fierceness, 'And the role you have planned for me? The fact that you're—buying me, when you know I'm in love with someone else?

Do you have pride in that?'

'Upon which I'm supposed to hang my head in shame and slink back into the night?' Chay's smile widened. 'Nice try, darling.'

'Don't you have any scruples?'

He gave a negligent shrug. 'I've managed pretty well without them up to now. And I didn't think they were a priority with you, either, if your ex-boyfriend is anything to go by.'

'Don't you dare criticise Piers,' she said thickly.

'At least he's not a rapist.'

'And nor am I,' he said softly. 'As I shall have exquisite pleasure in demonstrating to you before too long.' He paused, to allow his words to be assimilated. 'And now I'll order us some food. I hear their lemon chicken is good.'

'I don't want any bloody chicken.'

'You'd prefer the cassoulet?'

'No.' Her voice rose. 'Don't you care that I still love Piers?'

'I admit it doesn't say much for your critical faculties,' he said. 'But look on it as an illness. Something childish and unpleasant, like measles. You'll get over it.'

'Perhaps I don't want to,' she hurled back recklessly. He said quietly, 'Now you're being ridiculous. You were always blinkered where he was concerned, but that's carrying things too far.' He paused.

'However, if that's really how you feel, why did you call me?'

'Self-interest,' she said. 'I hear there's a lot of it about.

Besides, you didn't leave me much choice.' She squared her shoulders defensively. 'I decided I wasn't prepared to lose everything I've worked for, particularly when there are other people involved who'd go down with me, and you were die only person to offer a solution. But that doesn't mean I have to like it.'

'"Like" is a pallid word,' he said musingly. 'I prefer— "enjoy".' He smiled at her. 'As you will.'

'Never.' Her voice was passionate. 'Never in this world.'

He sent her a meditative look. 'I strongly advise you to try. You'll find it much easier that way.' He paused again. 'Anyway,' he added softly, 'I don't think you know what you like.'

Her heart missed a beat. 'What,' she said 'is that supposed to mean?'

'I'm sure you can work it out.' His tone was dry.

'Now, get your coat. I've decided that we'll eat at the restaurant instead.'

'I don't want to go out,' she said defiantly.

'You'll find it safer.' The winter eyes swept her, stripping her naked with one devastating glance.

'The urge to take you to bed and teach you several much needed lessons is becoming almost overwhelming.' He watched the rush of hot colour into her face and nodded. 'Besides, it's good policy for us to be seen in public together,' he went on. 'It may stop your creditors beating the door down.'

Adrien bit her lip. 'Yes,' she said unevenly, angry to find she was trembling. 'Yes, I—I can see that.'

The room seemed suddenly to have shrunk to claustrophobic proportions, making it difficult for her to breathe properly.

She took another gulp of coffee, steadying herself. She said, 'Does it—have to be Ma Maison?'

'You don't like it there?'

'I—used to go there a lot.'

He sighed. 'With Piers?'

'Naturally.'

'And now you're going with me,' he said. 'And soon that will seem equally natural.'

'There's an Italian place in the Square...'

'Adie,' he said. 'I'm not going to waste time avoiding places you might have visited with your ex-lover. Life is too short. Now, fetch your jacket.'

She said bitterly. 'Yes, my lord. To hear is to obey.'

He laughed. 'Now you're getting the idea. And hurry, please. It's a long time since I ate, too.'

She glanced down at her creased blouse and rumpled skirt. T really should change.' She made it tentative.

'Fine.' His tone was equable. 'I'll wait for you here.'

She walked past him, across the hall to the stairs, turning on the bottom step and posing, hand on hip, her whole body a deliberate challenge.

'You mean you're not planning to watch?' She mimicked astonishment, her eyes flashing contempt.

'Why, yes,' he said. 'But only when I choose to do so. I'm setting the scenario here, darling. Not you. Try and remember that.' He paused. 'So, don't keep me waiting or make me fetch you, because you could seriously regret it.'

'Don't worry,' Adrien threw over her shoulder. 'I already have all the regrets I can handle.'

'I shouldn't count on that,' Chay sent grimly after her.

Reaching her bedroom, Adrien was /Sorely tempted to lock the door, but she knew it would be a waste of time. Chay's body might be lean, but it was strong and muscular. Any physical contest between them he would win effortlessly, even if there was an elderly door in the way.

She looked at herself in the mirror, swallowing convulsively as she saw the pale face and hunted eyes.

Her decision to change her clothes had been purely an excuse—a temporary escape route from the ordeal of confrontation. She'd begun to feel stifled downstairs—totally trapped. Yet she had no one but herself to blame. Finding herself alone with Chay had brought the true implications of her decision forcibly home to her. So far he had barely laid a hand on her, but all too soon that would change. And she would have to accept it.

Although something warned her that Chay would not settle for mere acceptance. She had agreed, after all, to be his mistress—his partner in passion. Which was almost funny under the circumstances, except that she didn't feel like laughing. And if Chay came upstairs and found her, in her underwear, staring into space, she might have even less to be amused about, she thought drearily, treading across to the wardrobe. Most of her things were working gear. The few play clothes she possessed she'd bought for Piers, loving to dress up for him and hear his voice murmur in approval.

None of them seemed—appropriate for this occasion. Except for one outfit, which she'd bought but never worn. She'd been saving it for Piers's next visit, she realised, wincing.

She took it out and surveyed it. It was a top and skirt in silvery grey voile, overlaid with a pattern in black. The filmy skirt was knee-length, and fluted at the hem, and the top had tiny cap sleeves and a deep vee neck. Too deep for the workaday bra she was wearing, she decided, rooting through her drawer for the only one she possessed with sufficient plunge. But it wasn't there, and she thought, To hell with it, and slid the top over her head.

It was a good choice, she decided, the lines discreetly fluid, the skirt flowing round her slim body. She used blusher and eyeshadow swiftly and deftly, then ran a brush through her hair, tying it at the nape of her neck with a black silk scarf. She thrust her feet into low-heeled black kid shoes, grabbed up a matching purse and a black silk-knit jacket.

When she got downstairs, Chay was standing in the sitting room doorway, leaning one shoulder against its frame.

'I was just starting to get impatient,' he commented, his brows lifting as he surveyed her. 'Now I'm impressed.'

'Don't be,' Adrien said brusquely. 'I haven't dressed for you. I'm certain that tongues will already be wagging about my financial problems. So, whatever the outcome of tonight's negotiations, I don't intend to look like a loser.'

'You doubt that our deal will be concluded to our— mutual satisfaction?' The mockery in his tone scratched across her nerve-endings.

'It takes two to make a bargain,' she returned coolly. 'And I have certain stipulations of my own.'

'I'm sure you have,' he murmured, straightening.

'Shall we go?'

Ma Maison wasn't very large, but the intimate ambience and the quality of its food ensured that it was always busy.

Adrien had secretly hoped that they'd be politely but regretfully turned away. It would be good, she thought vengefully, to see Chay thwarted, even in such a minor way. But instead they were met with smiles and shown to a secluded corner table, sheltered from the rest of the room by a large weeping fig tree.

There was also an ice bucket, containing a bottle of Moet et Chandon and two champagne flutes. Adrien took her seat and looked at her companion across the table. She said, tight-lipped, 'When did you actually make this reservation?'

'Not long after you made your outraged departure from the Grange. I'm glad I judged the situation correctly,' he added silkily. She said between her teeth, 'My God, you're sure of yourself.'

'No,' he said. 'Just good at assessing the variables. That's why I've prospered, whilst Piers is in Brazil with a woman who'll soon tire of him, even though she is pregnant.'

She looked down at the immaculate white cloth. 'I don't want to hear about that.'

'Rubbish,' Chay said briskly. 'You're only sorry I haven't got photographs. Now you can tell me I'm totally insensitive—or are you still slurring your words?'

Adrien stared at him. She said, 'You bastard.'

'Well, that was clear enough.' The grey eyes glinted at her. 'But smile when you say it. We're being watched.' He handed her a menu. 'And don't tell me you're not hungry,' he added. 'You need something to soak up that bottle of wine.'

'Thank you,' Adrien said, putting down the menu without a glance. 'I'll have fillet steak and a green salad.'

'Just as you wish,' he said equably. 'It's your loss, not mine. But, as you've come here to negotiate, a degree of co-operation might serve you better.'

There was a silence, then Adrien, biting her lip, reached for the menu.

He was right about them being the centre of attention, she realised, sheltering behind the dark brown leather covers. Although, if she was honest, it was Chay who was attracting the sideways glances and murmured comments, not herself. Because it was the other women in the restaurant who were looking, their eyes lingering and speculative, and, in some cases, envious.

If only they knew, she thought bitterly.

And yet—and yet—if she was seeing him for the first time—encountering him as a stranger, with no past or hidden agenda—what would she think?

He had a powerful physical presence, she admitted unwillingly. The silent, rather shy boy had been left behind long ago. And the cool eyes now held a world of experience in their mocking gaze. Perhaps this was what those other women sensed. He might be wealthy, but he would never need money as an aphrodisiac because he already possessed a potent sexual charisma.