Chapter Twelve
Closing her eyes, Lia finally admitted to herself that she wanted him desperately. Oh, she had no illusions that this was going to have a happy ever after, and in some ways that thought comforted her. She didn’t believe in happy ever after, but should she deny herself this? After all, it wasn’t as if it was the first time. She wasn’t doing anything she hadn’t done already. Her mind was flooded with memories of that night, the feel of him on her, inside her. She shook herself; this was not doing any good. And she didn’t want to miss Luc’s speech—she’d never known anybody who gave speeches before.
When she entered the ballroom, the band was quiet and everyone’s attention was focused on a raised podium at one end of the room. As she slipped through the crowd, there was a ripple of applause, and Luc took his place behind the microphone.
She was finding it hard to believe she’d been kissing him only minutes before. It wasn’t only his looks; he had a presence that had everyone glued to his every word. He glanced across and caught her eyes, held them for a moment.
“Before I move on to my prepared speech,” he spoke into the microphone, “I want to make a very special announcement. I recently asked someone to marry me, and she accepted. So I would like to introduce you all to my fiancée, Olivia Brent.” He paused and held out a hand. All the eyes in the room turned toward her. Lia wanted to sink into the floor, but she forced herself to walk slowly forward and take Luc’s hand. She gripped it tight in her own and saw his flicker of surprise. He urged her up onto the podium, and Lia stood by his side. The room erupted into applause and calls of congratulations. She caught sight of Maggie’s troubled face below and Pete’s stony expression.
Luc had gone into his speech, but he still held her hand, and she was fixed firmly at his side. She didn’t take in much of what he was saying, just listened to his voice, allowed it to caress her ears. Before she knew it he was thanking everybody for their donations to the charity he was supporting, and finally, it was over, and he stepped down to another rousing round of applause.
She moved forward automatically, but they were surrounded by groups of people congratulating them, wanting to shake his hand, kiss her on the cheek. She felt like an absolute fraud, and at the first opportunity she slipped away; it was Luc they all wanted anyway.
“I’ve been trying to talk to you all night.”
Lia turned as she heard a familiar voice behind her. She smiled absently at Pete. “I’m sorry, but it’s all been a bit mad. Is everything okay at the stables? Where’s Kelly?”
“Kelly’s fine. I wanted to talk about your boyfriend—or should I say your fiancé. There are things you need to know.”
“Luc?” Lia asked warily. “What about him?”
“I did a search on the Internet. It took a bit of digging, but there’s loads of stuff about his aristocratic Italian relatives. If you dig deep enough though…” He paused.
“Get on with it, Pete. What is it you think I need to know?”
“He’s been in prison, Lia.”
Lia went cold. She glanced over to where Luc still stood among a crowd of people. He caught her glance, and gave her a warm smile.
“That’s not possible,” Lia said.
“It’s true, Lia. He killed a man.”
A wave of nausea washed over her, and she put out a hand to balance herself on the nearby wall.
“Are you okay?” Pete asked. When she didn’t answer, he grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and handed it to her. “Drink this, Lia.”
She took it almost blindly and drank it down. Glancing back at Luc, she found he was watching her, brows drawn together, his eyes glancing from her to Pete with a hint of suspicion lurking in their depths.
“Lia—” Pete’s voice brought her attention back to him. “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up tonight, but I felt you should know.”
“No, of course you needed to tell me. Look, Pete, I really need to talk to someone, okay? I’ll see you later.”
Pete obviously wanted to say more, but Lia was staring around the room searching for someone. She finally located him standing on the sidelines also watching Luc; she hurried over to him. “Mr. Watson?”
He turned to her and smiled. “Call me Harley. What is it, darling?”
“Harley, was Luc in prison?” There was no time for niceties. She had to get to the bottom of this.
Harley’s gaze shifted to somewhere over her shoulder. She peered around and was unsurprised to see Luc still watching her.