The Greek Commands His Mistress(15)

‘Is that an apology?’

Lilah breathed in so deep that her narrow chest swelled.

‘I mean,’ Bastien mused, and his deep, dark, Greek-accented drawl was as rich as molasses, ‘I did only ask you to dine with me and spend the night. I didn’t assault you or abuse you.’

Lilah lost her battle with her temper and flung her hands up in a violent demonstration of exasperation. ‘All right...all right... I’m sorry with bells on! Are you satisfied now?’

Bastien stole an amused glance at the glittering brightness of her eyes above her pink cheeks. ‘What would a virgin know about a man whore’s lifestyle anyway?’ he derided.

Staring rigidly out through the windscreen as the vehicle turned between tall stone pillars to drive down a lane lined on both sides with very tall stately trees, Lilah rolled her eyes. ‘Maybe I read a lot of raunchy books...’

Amused against his will, Bastien bit out a rough-edged laugh. She was in the wrong and she knew it—but she still wouldn’t back down the way other women did with him. He enjoyed her stubborn streak and the challenge of making her toe the line.

Lights came on as Bastien parked and killed the engine. ‘Welcome to the Chateau Sainte-Monique.’

Wall lamps in the form of iron lanterns illuminated the old building, accentuating the warm honey-coloured stone of the façade and the very Provençal violet-blue shutters at the many windows. Gravel interspersed with formal beds of flowers and trees ornamented the frontage.

Lilah climbed out of the car and accompanied Bastien to the entrance. ‘So, when did you buy this place?’

‘About three years ago. The owner was an elderly countess, whom I met during the course of a land development deal. The first time I saw the chateau I made her an offer, but it was months before she finally agreed to sell. The renovation took another year. I come here when I want to relax and when I can work from home. I stayed here all last month,’ Bastien admitted smoothly.

A middle-aged man in a crisply ironed white shirt and bow tie opened the door and greeted them with a smile.

‘Stefan and his wife, Marie, take care of everything here,’ Bastien informed Lilah after making an introduction, and a lean hand resting at the base of her spine guided her indoors.

The interior was breathtaking. The hall had a chequerboard black-and-white marble floor and surprisingly modern furniture. A huge stone staircase curved up from the ground floor.

Their luggage was being brought in behind them, and Bastien was heading for the stairs, when Stefan opened a door and a familiar little bark of eagerness froze Lilah in place. Stefan grinned as a brown, silky little bundle of flying flapping ears and wriggling body flew at Lilah with a noisy burst of excited barking.

‘Yes...yes, I missed you too,’ Lilah admitted, crouching down to scoop up the miniature dachshund. She separated him from one of the beloved squeaky toys he liked to carry around in his mouth and attempted to calm him before she put him down again.

As the dog snatched up the toy again and hurtled across to Bastien, Lilah warned him. ‘Just ignore Skippy. He’ll get the message and leave you in peace...that’s what Vickie always did with him. She prefers cats.’

Skippy nudged the toe of Bastien’s shoe with his nose, his beady little eyes pleading. Bastien sidestepped the animal to stride on up the stairs, and Lilah watched in dismay as Skippy hurtled in his wake. Stefan moved forward to intercept the little dog, seemingly aware that his employer was not animal-friendly.

Lilah followed Bastien upstairs into a spectacular atmospheric bedroom furnished with a mixture of antique and contemporary pieces. Oyster-coloured silk festooned the windows and tumbled down in opulent swathes from the wrought-iron crown holder above the big bed.

‘This is an amazing place,’ Lilah whispered, impressed beyond words by the splendour of her surroundings.

‘The maids will unpack for you. I’ll see you downstairs for dinner in an hour,’ Bastien imparted as a man brought in her luggage and two young women in uniform arrived to move the cases into the dressing room visible through an open door.

Lilah hovered uncertainly.

‘Dress up...’ Bastien lowered his handsome dark head to murmur huskily in her ear. ‘Dress up for dinner so that I can enjoy undressing you later, glikia mou.’

Banners of self-conscious colour brightened Lilah’s porcelain-pale complexion as she turned her head to stare up at him. She collided with brilliant dark eyes that glittered like stars in the low light—stunning eyes, ringed by spiky lashes of velvet black. She was mesmerised. He curved long flexible fingers to the side of her face and brought his mouth crashing down on hers.

That kiss was a taste of heaven and a taste of hell in one package. It was heaven because she couldn’t get enough of that hot, hungry mouth on hers and hell because she hated the response she couldn’t suppress. He released her, staring down at her for a split second in silence, and then swung on his heel and walked out.

Lilah drifted into the marble bathroom, her fingers creeping up to brush her tingling swollen lips, shame and guilt rising like a dark, choking cloud inside her. It would be cruel if he made her like having sex with him, she thought wildly. Or would it? Surely that could only be foolish pride talking?

Her rational brain scolded her for the melodrama Bastien could somehow infuse into her very thoughts. Common sense told her that simply accepting that their intimacy was inevitable would make the experience much more manageable for her. After all, she wasn’t a masochist, was she?

Sex was supposed to be enjoyable, she reminded herself. But from listening to friends talk about their experiences she knew it often wasn’t that great. Once she had done the deed with Bastien she would probably wonder what all the fuss was about, she reflected wryly, because, after all, sex had to be the most ordinary pursuit in the world.

Stripping, she went for a shower, retrieved her cosmetics to do her face and finally returned to the bedroom wrapped in towels. In the dressing room she flicked through the formal wear now hung for her perusal. Dress up, Bastien had urged. Humour sparkling in her eyes, she pulled a ballgown from the rail and fanned it out on the bed. It was over the top and theatrical, rather like the chateau, and when she had modelled it she had noticed Bastien’s dark golden eyes blaze like banked-down fires.



Bastien stood in the hall, watching Delilah descend the stairs with the glossy grace and dignity of a queen. The dress was amazing—a glistening sheath in peach that hugged her slender body to just below the waist before it flared out into thousands of layers of net that swept the stone steps. Her black hair tumbled in a mane down her back, strands rippling round her triangular face to highlight her bright blue eyes. The tightening swelling at his groin was so instant he didn’t even question his reaction.

He stretched out a lean-fingered brown hand to greet Lilah as she reached the foot of the stairs, his arrogant dark head thrown back, smouldering dark golden eyes locking to the full pink pout of her lush mouth. He closed his fingers round hers.

‘In that dress you take my breath away,’ he told her.

Her mouth ran dry as she met his gaze and her small breasts swelled below the skin-tight bodice as she gulped in oxygen. She hadn’t expected that blunt compliment, didn’t know how to deal with it.

He walked her through an airy salon, with an ancient stone carved fireplace and sleek blue sofas, out on to a tiled terrace where a candlelit table awaited them.

‘I’m really hungry,’ Lilah confessed as a manservant moved forward to pull out a chair and lingered to whisk a napkin across her lap.

‘You should enjoy the meal. Stefan’s wife, Marie, is my cook, and she was a chef in a Michelin-starred restaurant in Paris before they came to work for me,’ Bastien remarked while the wine was poured.

‘You have a huge staff here...you live like a king,’ Lilah commented helplessly as soon as they were alone.

‘I do when I have the time to enjoy the chateau—which is rarely,’ Bastien qualified drily. ‘When I’m travelling on business I eat out or cook for myself.’

‘You can cook?’ Lilah said in surprise.

‘Of course I can. I’m not spoilt. I’ve never been spoilt. But I do appreciate the best things in life.’

‘Is your mother still alive?’ she asked abruptly as the first course was served.

Bastien studied her in silence, black brows drawing together in a frown. ‘You’re very curious about my life.’

Lilah shrugged her lightly clad shoulder. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

Bastien set down his glass. ‘My mother died in a car accident when I was a child and I had to go and live with my father.’

Lilah toyed with the artfully presented courgette flowers topping the tiny onion tart on her plate. ‘And how was that?’

‘Hideous,’ Bastien admitted grimly. ‘Anatole’s wife, Cleta, hated me on sight. I was the living proof of her husband’s infidelity. As for my half-brother... Leo was an adored only child and suddenly I turned up. Naturally he resented me. But there were some advantages to my new home,’ he conceded, his dark eyes veiled with mystery, his beautiful mouth compressing.

‘Such as...?’ The sliver of onion tart Lilah had selected was melting in her mouth.