'How dare you come to my home...?' She was livid. She had waited in London five days for his call, and now, two months later, he had sauntered back into her life and had the gall to suggest she had slept with him for the sake of a bit of costume jewellery.
'Tea, Miss Parisa.' Didi walked into the hall pushing an antique wooden trolley loaded with the best family china and the silver tea service, plus a plate of homemade biscuits.
Parisa was silenced by the old lady's interruption, but the ring of the telephone, only inches from her hand on the hall table, made her jump. Automatically she picked up the receiver.
Her pale face turned scarlet and back to white in a few seconds, as she listened in horror to the ravings of a demented David, who had just read the announcement of her engagement in The Times.
'You could have told me. I deserved better than that, Parisa. No wonder you said we could only ever be friends when I was going to ask you to marry me. How could you? But then the man is filthy rich'
'You were going to marry me?' Parisa parroted, and turned scarlet as a nasty swear-word echoed down the line as the receiver was replaced at the other end. She swung around, blue eyes flashing dangerously, but the object of her anger was disappearing into the drawing- room opposite. Parisa stormed after Luc. 'Just what the...?' She stopped. Luc had sat down in a large, shabby, wing-backed chair and was smiling benignly at Didi, as the old lady proceeded to pour out two cups of tea.
'Sit down, Miss Parisa, and enjoy your tea. I know you and Mr Luc must have lots to catch up on.'
'Thank you, Didi,' Luc responded smoothly.
Parisa's mouth hung open in shock. Nobody called Mrs Trimble 'Didi' except herself, and she could not believe Luc had charmed the old lady so quickly, but one look at Didi's simpering smile and she knew yet another woman had fallen for Luc's distinctive charm.
'My pleasure, sir.' And, handing him a cup of tea, she turned to Parisa. 'After tea' she held out the cup
and saucer and Parisa automatically took it '—why don't you show Mr Luc around the house and tell him the history? As the new Lord of Hardcourt Manor, it will be fascinating for him.'
'That was David on the telephone, and he is...' Then what Didi had said registered through her anger. 'The new Lord! Oh, my God!' she exclaimed. She collapsed on the sofa and gulped down the tea, almost burning her mouth. The shock of Luc's unexpected arrival had thrown her thoughts into complete confusion. Half an hour ago she had been congratulating herself on finally beginning to get over him, on getting her life back in gear, and now... A horrible sinking sensation settled in her stomach. She had signed the title over to a company. What had Jarvis said? The company had bought it intending to use the coat of arms on the letter headings or something. Could it possibly be Luc's... ?
'Yes. You're right, Parisa.' He read her mind again.
In her own home, with generations of history to back her up, she responded with cool hauteur. 'You may have bought the title, but your lawyer should have explained that it does not give you the right to visit this house.'
'Miss Parisa, remember your manners,' Didi scolded.
Parisa could feel the anger building inside her, but she forced herself to stay calm, to think, and slowly, as she drained her cup, she began to get her thoughts into some kind of order. It infuriated her to think the sixty- thousand-pound cheque she had been ecstatic about a couple of hours ago had come from Luc. So what if his company had bought the title? It was nothing to do with her, she tried to tell herself. As far as she was concerned it was just a useless bit of parchment that, by selling, meant she was able to struggle on a bit longer in her old home. Th
ere were other such houses dotted around the country, the owners left with little money and great mansions that only the incredibly wealthy could maintain. Some were changed to hotels or retirement homes, but she had not had that option.
But why Luc had called was a mystery. And why claim he was her fiancée and tell the world in The Times newspaper? What machiavellian scheme was he plotting now? she asked herself warily. Surreptitiously, she studied him beneath lowered lashes. His long body was casually at ease in what had been her father's favourite chair, his dark eyes smiling at Didi as he accepted a biscuit from the plate she was proffering. Parisa was caught once again by the sheer animal magnetism of the man.
Once he had smiled at her that way, and pain, unexpected and quite devastating, hit her. Her stomach churned and for a second she thought she was going to be physically sick. Whatever he wanted, it didn't matter. She wanted him out of her house, out of her sight, out of her life... She despised him...
With a supreme effort of self-control she finally responded to Didi's prompting. 'Actually, the house is not very interesting, and I'm sure Luc has to get back to London,' she said politely, bravely raising her eyes to meet his. 'It was nice of you to call, but don't let me delay you,' she concluded with dry sarcasm.
But Luc was not so easily dismissal, and Didi's parting comment was no help. 'Now, Miss Parisa, that's no way to talk to the man you are going to marry. I've booked a table for the two of you at the Old Forge for dinner. Remember, this is my bingo night, so if you don't mind I'll go and get ready.'
CHAPTER SEVEN
Parisa's temper boiled over as soon as Didi closed the door behind her. 'What the hell do you think you're playing at?' She jumped to her feet, her face pale, her slender body shaking with the force of her anger. 'Coming into my home, telling my housekeeper you are the new Lord of Hardcourt and my fiancée. What kind of fable is that?' she raged.
'No fable. The announcement of our engagement was in this morning's Times and I am Savion Holdings. By a strange coincidence, the estate agent you used to sell the title happens to be part of the property company I recently acquired. When I saw the name Hardcourt I couldn't resist the temptation and purchased the title. It seemed rather fitting, I thought.'
It was true; she could tell by the triumphant glitter in his black eyes. But what about the rest? 'David... The papers...' she spluttered. Suddenly the enormity of what Luc had done hit her. Oh, my God! She realised everyone in the county would know.
She had no idea how magnificent she looked, standing in the middle of the room, her blue eyes flashing fire, the soft red wool-knit dress she wore clinging to every curve of her slender form.
'Dial You have the face of an angel, the body of a temptress, and a heart as hard as nails .'
Luc's deep voice cut into the tense silence.
Parisa flushed scarlet, then paled at his final comment. If anyone had a heart as hard as nails it was Luc, she thought bitterly. But before she could open her mouth to repudiate him, he had got to his feet and covered the distance between them. He grabbed her by her shoulders. She stiffened, shooting a furious glance at his dark countenance, and seething at the arrogant contempt she saw in his black eyes.
His cold, cynical gaze roamed her infuriated face. 'Your poor sod of a boyfriend is well rid of you. Did you bother to tell him you had already been in my bed?' She flushed even brighter. 'No. I thought not.' His sensuous mouth curved in a hard sneer. 'It is time you faced up to your selfish actions, and I am going to make sure you do.'