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After a moment’s contemplation of the miniature dachshund’s lolling pink tongue, Bastien emptied some fruit out of a bowl and poured water into it before putting it down for the animal. Skippy lurched up and drank in noisy gulps. After trotting back indoors, he reappeared with his squeaky toy in his mouth and laid it tenderly at Bastien’s feet...where it was ignored.
* * *
Full of restive energy, Lilah paced her room. Was she supposed to be a prisoner at the chateau? She refused to sit around and wait as if she had no existence without Bastien to direct her every move.
Recalling the pretty little village of Lourmarin, which they had passed through shortly before their arrival, she decided that what she really needed was an afternoon of sightseeing. Having washed the dust off her canvas-shod feet, she pulled on a white sun dress and sandals before heading downstairs to find Stefan and ask if it was possible for her to visit the village.
Within minutes a car drew up outside to collect her, and she skipped down the steps, smiling at Ciro as he slid in beside the driver.
Bastien was disconcerted when he discovered that Delilah had left the chateau. He hadn’t expected that. Frustration at the childish avoidance tactics she was using on him coursed through him, and he had Manos check with her driver. He set out for Lourmarin in a short temper.
What was it about Delilah? She was a lot of trouble, demanding so much more effort and attention from him than other women did. Why was he allowing her to wind him up? And why did he still want her, regardless of how much she annoyed him?
It was market day in Lourmarin, and Bastien’s disposition was not improved by a lengthy search for a parking spot.
When he tracked Delilah down he heard her laughter first, and even that contrived to annoy him—because two years had passed since he had last heard her laugh. In addition, although he hated gigglers, there had always been something incredibly infectious about Delilah’s giggles. He saw her seated on a café terrace, her white dress spilling round her, black hair framing her animated face as she laughed and chattered to Ciro, at one point even touching the younger man’s arm with a familiarity that set Bastien’s teeth on edge.
Ciro, not surprisingly, wore a slack-jawed expression of masculine admiration.
‘Delilah...’
The sound of that deep, dark drawl banished the pleasure of Lilah’s sun-drenched surroundings and stiffened her spine as much as if a poker had been attached to it. She lifted her head and fell into the smouldering golden sensuality of Bastien’s intent scrutiny. His dark-fallen-angel face was grim, but nothing could detract from the sheer beauty of it, nor the mesmeric potency of his gaze.
‘Been looking for me?’ she quipped, setting down her glass of wine. ‘I doubt that your presence here is an unlucky coincidence.’
In answer, Bastien reached down to close a hand over hers and used that connection to literally lift her upright out of her chair. ‘Thanks for looking after her for me, Ciro. We’re heading home now.’
‘You’re making me feel like I shouldn’t have gone out,’ she whispered thinly as he walked her away.
‘No, what you shouldn’t have done is flirt with Ciro,’ Bastien told her drily.
‘I wasn’t flirting with him!’ Lilah snapped back in irate protest, practically running to keep up with his long stride as, with one strong hand gripping hers, he cut through the clumps of pedestrians and dragged her in his wake. It didn’t help that almost two glasses of wine had left her head swimming a little...
‘He should know better than to get that close to a woman who’s mine,’ Bastien added grittily, hanging on to his temper by a hair’s breadth and ready to grab her up into his arms and bodily carry her back to the car at the first sign of rebellion.
‘I’m not yours!’ Lilah fired back at him with ringing vehemence. ‘I simply agreed to sleep with you until you got bored...that’s all!’
As that startling statement rang out, Bastien watched curious heads swivel in their direction and compressed his sensual mouth. ‘You’re shouting. Would you like a megaphone to share that confession further afield?’ he demanded in a tone of incredulous reproof.
