Lily had decided it was easier to sacrifice the friendship than destroy the Yalesforths’ good name and reputation. After all, what hope did a working-class girl have over an upper-class moneyed family with a pedigree that went back two hundred years?
She would have been laughed out of court.
‘You should get back in the saddle,’ the stableboy said. ‘Mardi’s quiet as a mouse. You’d be lucky to get a canter out of her.’
Lily gave him another brief smile. ‘I’ll think about it.’
‘How long are you here?’
‘A week.’
The boy glanced up at the château, his forehead heavily creased when his gaze came back to hers. ‘Monsieur Caffarelli hasn’t been down to the stables since he came home from the rehab centre. I don’t think he’s even come out of the château, not even out to the gardens. He used to spend all of his time out here with his horses. They are his passion. His life. But he refuses to come down because of the chair. He is very stubborn, no?’
‘It’s a very difficult adjustment for him,’ Lily said.
‘Is he going to walk again?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You must help him, mademoiselle,’ he insisted. ‘He is like a father to me, a mentor, oui? He got me off the streets of Paris and gave me this job. He’s a good man—the very best of men. I trust him with my life. I would not have a life without him. You must make him get better. Monsieur Rafe thinks you can do it. So does Dominique.’
‘Their confidence and yours is very flattering but I’m not sure what I can do in a week,’ Lily said.
‘Then you must change his mind so you can stay longer. I, Etienne, will talk to him, oui? I will tell him he is to keep you here for as long as it takes.’
Good luck with that, Lily thought as she walked back to the château gardens. Raoul Caffarelli might be a good man but he was one hell of an obstinate one.
* * *
An hour or so before dinner Lily went to speak to Dominique who was collecting herbs from the herb garden. ‘Can I have a quick word, Dominique?’ she asked.
‘Oui, mademoiselle.’ The housekeeper straightened from where she had been picking some tarragon.
‘I was talking to Etienne down at the stables earlier,’ Lily said. ‘He said Monsieur Raoul has not been outside the château since he came home after the accident.’
Dominique gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘It is sad but true. He won’t go out until he can walk out. He is very stubborn when he puts his mind to things.’
‘I have an idea,’ Lily said. ‘What if we set out dinner on the terrace overlooking the lake this evening? It’s a lovely warm night, far too nice to be indoors. It will be a way of getting Monsieur Raoul out of the house without going too far. The fresh air will do him good and perhaps make him want to come out more.’
The housekeeper’s black button eyes shone in mutual conspiracy. ‘I have the perfect menu for alfresco dining. But how will you get him to come out?’
‘I don’t know...’ Lily chewed at her lower lip for a moment. ‘But I’ll think of something.’
* * *
Raoul was in his study going through some accounts from one of his feed suppliers half an hour before dinner when he heard a soft knock on the door. ‘Come.’
The door opened and Lily Archer stepped into the room. ‘Is this a good time for a quick chat?’
He dropped the pen he was holding and leaned back in his chair to survey her features for a moment. She was wearing her usual don’t-notice-me garb and her face was as clear and clean as a child’s.
His gaze drifted to her rosebud mouth.
Big mistake.
His groin stirred and then throbbed with a dull ache of longing. Had he ever felt a more responsive mouth? Had he ever tasted lips so full, sweet and tantalising? He could still feel the shy movement of her tongue against his. He could still feel the velvet softness of her lips as they’d played with his. What would it feel like to have those plump lips and that little cat’s tongue sucking and stroking him on other parts of his body?
Don’t even think about it.
He forced his gaze back to her blue one. ‘It’s as good a time as any, I suppose. What did you want to talk about?’
‘I met one of your stableboys today. Etienne.’
‘And?’
‘He spoke very highly of you.’
Raoul lifted one shoulder up and down dismissively. ‘I pay his wages.’
‘He said you’re like a father to him.’
‘Probably because his own father beat the living daylights out of him since he was little more than a baby. Anyone who showed the least bit of kindness towards him would be a saint in his eyes. And there is one thing I am not, Miss Archer, and that is a saint. I would’ve thought what happened in the massage room earlier today would’ve firmly established that.’
Those two delightful spots of colour appeared in her cheeks. ‘That was just as much my fault as yours.’
He gave her a levelling look. ‘Because my brother paid you to service me?’
‘No.’ Her mouth flattened for a moment before she added, ‘Because...I don’t know. It just...happened.’
‘It must not happen again,’ Raoul said. ‘Do I make myself clear?’
Her chin came up. ‘Perfectly.’
A tense silence filled the corners of the room.
‘Will that be all, Miss Archer? I have some important paperwork to see to before dinner.’
‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about—dinner, I mean.’ She twisted her hands together in front of her body, reminding him of a schoolgirl who had been summoned to the headmaster’s office and wasn’t yet sure of her fate.
‘Then please get to the point.’
She gave him a brittle glare. ‘You’re not making this easy for me. Why do you have to be so...beastly all the time? I don’t know why the papers say you’re the most charming of the Caffarelli brothers. It just goes to show you can’t believe a word you read in the press. As far as I’m concerned, you’re about as charming as a venomous viper.’
Raoul drilled his gaze into hers. ‘Have you finished?’
She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips in a sweeping motion that sent a rocket blast of lust straight to his groin. Her colour was still high, her eyes glittering brightly with antagonism. ‘I suppose it’s pointless now asking you to have dinner with me on the terrace.’
Raoul raised a brow. ‘You’re inviting me to dinner in my own house?’
‘Not in your house. Outside on the terrace. Dominique’s gone to a lot of trouble. It’s a nice evening to dine outside.’
‘Is this part of your therapy, to have me eaten alive by mosquitoes?’
She pressed her lips together for a moment. ‘I just thought it’d be nice for you to have some fresh air. But I can see you’re already made up your mind to stay inside and sulk and feel sorry for yourself. Fine. You do that. Have your own private pity party. I’ll have dinner by myself.’ She turned and stalked over to the door, her back stiff and straight as an ironing board.
‘I’ll strike a deal with you,’ Raoul said.
She turned around and looked at him warily. ‘What sort of deal?’
He ran his gaze over her primly pulled back hair. ‘I’ll have dinner with you out on the terrace if you wear your hair loose.’
Her eyes flickered with something he couldn’t identify. ‘I never wear my hair loose.’
He gave her a who-dares-wins look. ‘Deal or no deal?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
RAOUL KEPT HIS part of the bargain. He used the manual chair even though it took him twice as long because he had made a promise to himself that he would not go outside until he could get there under his own power. Sure, it was bending the rules a little bi
t, but he’d made a deal with Lily and he wanted to see if she would take him up on it.
He transferred himself to the chair at the table Dominique had set up, complete with starched tablecloth, flowers and candles, and waited for Lily to join him.
He heard the sound of her light footsteps on the flagstones and turned his head to watch her approach. Her hair was longer than he’d thought; it swung in a glossy ash-brown curtain around her shoulders and halfway down her back. It had a bouncy wave to it that her tight ponytail had suppressed, and with her face bare and loose-fitting clothes it gave her an indie-girl look that was surprisingly eye-catching.
‘You have very beautiful hair,’ he said as she took the seat to his right.
‘Thank you.’
Raoul couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was so hauntingly beautiful, like a Tolstoy or Brontë heroine—dark and yet pale, with that air of untouchable reserve. ‘When was the last time you let your hair down?’
Something shifted in her eyes before they fell away from his. ‘Not for a while.’
He felt an almost irresistible urge to reach out and thread his fingers in those silky thick tresses. He could smell the sweet summer jasmine scent of her shampoo. It teased his nostrils into a flare like one of his stud stallions taking in a new mare’s scent. ‘You should do it more often.’
‘I’ve been thinking of getting it cut off.’
‘Don’t do that.’
She shrugged as if it didn’t matter either way and picked up her water glass. He watched as she lifted it to her mouth and took a delicate sip. She was so self-contained it was fascinating to observe her. That little taste of her passion in the massage room had spoken to the primitive male in him. Her mouth had communicated what her speech and posture tried to keep hidden.
She wanted him.
He wondered how experienced she was. She certainly didn’t look the worldly, confident type. At the age of twenty-six it would be unusual for her to be a virgin, but certainly not impossible. She’d said she wasn’t interested in a relationship just now, which could mean she’d not long come out of one. Perhaps it had ended badly and she was waiting until she got over it.
Was that a broken heart she was hiding? She seemed a sensitive girl, in tune with other people’s feelings. The way she had spoken to him about his break-up had suggested she had compassion and empathy for others.
The birds in the garden chirruped as they settled for the evening. The warm air was fragrant with the clean smell of freshly mown grass. It seemed like for ever since he had been outside and yet it had only been weeks.
An ache tightened around his heart at the thought of spending the rest of his life indoors. How would he ever endure it? He didn’t feel alive unless he was challenging himself physically. He loved the adrenalin rush of fighting his most primal fears in conquering a terrifying ski slope or climbing a vertiginous precipice. He had lived life on the edge because he felt grounded when he challenged himself physically.
How would he ever settle for anything else?
‘Tell me about your life in London.’
‘It’s probably excruciatingly boring to someone like you,’ she said.
‘I don’t live the hedonistic life the papers like to portray,’ Raoul said. ‘Compared to my younger brother, Remy, I’m really rather conservative. After all, I was about to settle down and get married.’ He picked up his wine glass but didn’t raise it to his mouth. ‘You can’t get more conservative than that.’
She looked up at him with those big dark blue eyes. ‘Do you miss her?’
Right now Raoul had trouble even bringing Clarissa Moncrief’s features to mind. He realised with a jolt that he didn’t even know if her hair was naturally blond or coloured from a bottle. Had her eyes been grey or light blue? ‘I miss being in a relationship. I can’t remember being single for so long a period. But as to missing her... Not really.’ Not at all, if he were honest.
Lily’s brow was furrowed. ‘Doesn’t that strike you as rather unusual, given you were considering marrying her?’
‘I make a point of not needing people to that level. My theory of life is that people will always let you down if you give them enough room to do so. It doesn’t matter how much they profess to love or care for you, there will always be a situation or circumstances where they will bail on you to serve their own interests.’
Or die on you and leave you lost and abandoned.
‘But your brothers are always there for you, aren’t they? Rafe seemed very concerned about you. He was so insistent I come here. I got the impression Remy was right behind him in that.’
‘Rafe is distracted by his new life of love and his vision of happy-ever-after,’ Raoul said. ‘He wants me all sorted so he can get married and make babies with Poppy. But don’t be fooled by Remy. He might show up occasionally and do and say all the right things but he only does it when it’s convenient to him.’
‘What part of your family’s business does he work in?’
‘Remy does investments and shares, as well as buying and selling businesses,’ he said. ‘He searches for ailing companies, injects funds and puts corporate strategies in place to lift the profile and profit margins, and then he resells them. He got into it in a big way after our grandfather lost one of our major companies a few years ago in a business merger that turned sour. Remy’s made it his life’s mission to turn things around and get justice, or his version of it, anyway.’
‘Do you think he’ll be able to do it?’
Raoul frowned as he reached for his water glass. ‘I’m not sure, to be perfectly honest. Rafe and I worry that it’s going to blow up in his face. Henri Marchand—the man who duped my grandfather—is smart and incredibly devious when it suits him. His daughter Angelique is even smarter. There will be hell to pay and more if those two ever cross paths again. They hate each other’s guts. I can’t think of a person Remy would rather avoid than Angelique.’
‘Why does he hate her so much?’
‘I’m not sure.... Maybe he doesn’t hate her as much as he thinks, but he won’t admit it. If you think I’m stubborn, wait until you meet him.’
‘Obstinacy seems to be a common trait in your family.’
‘Yes, but in my experience it’s the stubbornly determined people who get things done. Setting goals, working towards them, not stopping until you’ve ticked them off the list is the only way to get ahead. What’s that old saying—if you aim for nothing you hit it every single time?’
‘Yes, but not every goal can or should be achieved. It’s good to set goals, but they should be realistic. Not everyone can be a Hollywood superstar or a billionaire entrepreneur no matter how much they hope or dream to be.’
He tilted his mouth at her sardonically. ‘You’re not much of a risk taker, are you, Miss Archer?’
‘I suppose compared to someone like you I must seem very circumspect.’
‘Do you ever push yourself out of your comfort zone?’
Her blue eyes moved away from his. ‘Not if I can help it.’
He studied her for a beat or two. With her long hair framing her heart-shaped face, she looked ethereally beautiful in the golden light of evening. He had never seen someone so completely unadorned look quite so achingly beautiful.
His eyes kept going to the soft, full bow of her mouth. He could still taste the warm wet sweetness of her in his mouth. He could still feel the shy play of her tongue against his.
Desire pulsed and then pounded in his groin.
She looked up and met his gaze as if he had summoned her with his errant thoughts. He saw the flare of female attraction; saw the way her cheeks were stained with a faint hint of pink and the way her soft mouth glistened after she ran her tongue over it to moisten it, as if she were remembering and revisiting the taste and feel of him against her mouth.
Lust
burned hot and strong in his blood. He felt his body swell and thicken beneath the table. He felt the current of attraction tighten the air. He wanted her and yet he couldn’t—wouldn’t—have her. His grandfather’s lifelong penchant for sleeping with the hired help had made Raoul wary of indulging his senses to that degree. He liked his relationships conducted on equal terms. That was why Clarissa Moncrieff had been such perfect wife material. She came from the same wealthy background; there had been no fears of gold-digging motives because she had just as much wealth—if not more—as he did.
The realisation that he couldn’t recall much about the last time—or any time—they had slept together troubled him. He knew he had made sure she’d been satisfied; he had some standards to uphold, after all. Mutual pleasure was the goal in all of his sexual conquests and he always stuck to it, even if some encounters were a little perfunctory in nature.
But the fact that he couldn’t remember what Clarissa’s kiss tasted like or whether she had ever looked at him with spine-tingling longing was a little disturbing if he were to be truly honest with himself. Being ruled by passion had destroyed many a man and he didn’t want to add his name to the list.
Dominique came out with their entrées. She looked rather pleased with herself and exchanged a conspiratorial look with Lily before she set the plates down. ‘Isn’t it a lovely evening? Perfect for dining outdoors. So romantic.’
Raoul raised his brows at Lily once the housekeeper had left. ‘Romantic?’
‘The goal was to get you out of the château for an hour or two. There was nothing whatsoever romantic about it.’
‘Why do I get the feeling my staff are conspiring against me?’
‘They’re not against you at all. They care about you, especially Etienne.’
Raoul looked out past the lake to the fields where his thoroughbreds were grazing. He could see his stableboy in the distance lugging a bale of hay to the feeder. That thin scrap of a kid who had come to him late at night on a Paris back street begging for food had turned into one of his biggest assets. Etienne had been brought up in filth and neglect; he had been distrustful of everyone and had hit out at every attempt to get close to him. It had taken Raoul months to get through the boy’s thick, impenetrable armour. But now the boy ran the stables like a well-oiled machine. He had an affinity with the horses that was second to none. He preferred horses to people, and to some degree Raoul felt exactly the same.
Never Underestimate a Caffarelli Page 8