It had hurt him more than he could bear that she should think he would actually try to cheat anyone... Did her precious Lloyd know how lucky he was or how much he, Ran, would give simply to hold her in his arms and hear her telling him that she loved him? He would give everything he had, everything he was...
What a fool he was. She didn’t love him, she loathed him.
Watching her just now on his way back from checking on the fences, on the look-out for potential poachers, he had ached so badly for her, so very, very badly. There was no point in him going to bed; soon the false dawn would be lightening the night sky, and besides, there was only one reason he wanted to be in bed right now and it had nothing to do with sleeping or being alone.
Kissing her tonight had opened the floodgates on his love for her and his body still ached with the longing it had evoked. How the hell he was going to get through the next few months he had no idea. Grimly he turned away from the house and the temptation of Sylvie’s bedroom, Sylvie’s bed, Sylvie herself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘HI, HON, it’s me, Lloyd.’
Sylvie smiled warmly as she recognised her boss’s voice.
‘Lloyd,’ she responded, ‘how are you?’
‘Fine, I guess. Listen, I’ve got to come over to England on some other business and I thought whilst I was there I’d drive up to Derbyshire and see how you’re getting on with Haverton Hall.’
Sylvie laughed. She wasn’t in the least deceived. Lloyd was like a child with a new toy whenever he acquired a new property, saying every time that he wasn’t going to visit it again until all the renovation work had been complete and then being totally unable to resist checking on how things were going. Or not so much checking on how things were going, but sneaking another look, like a child sneaking a look at a hidden-away Christmas present just to check that it was still there and that he was actually going to receive it. As Sylvie well knew, no matter how many properties Lloyd acquired, he still continued to fall in love with new ones, and Haverton Hall was well worth falling in love with.
This morning she had an appointment with the firm who were going to work on the restoration of the carving and the plasterwork. Based in London, the artisans the firm employed had all completed their training at the same Italian firm that Sylvie had used when renovating the palazzo. She had seen samples and photographs of their work and knew that no matter how expensive they might be—and they would be—they were the right people to work on Haverton Hall.
‘When are you arriving?’ she asked Lloyd, still smiling.
‘I’m booked on today’s Concorde,’ he told her.
Sylvie heard the door to the small office she had organised for herself at Haverton Hall open behind her, but she didn’t turn round. She didn’t need to; she knew from the reaction of her own body that it was Ran who had walked in. Ever since the night he had kissed her and they had argued, they had treated one another with cold distance. She had gone downstairs that morning to discover a neat file of papers and bank statements awaiting her which proved conclusively that Ran had paid for the work done on the Rectory himself.
She had apologised, very formally and very curtly, and then pointed out that he wouldn’t have been the first client to take advantage of Lloyd’s generosity.
‘I haven’t taken advantage of it,’ he’d reminded her acidly, before walking away from her.