Chapter 36

Why on earth was he announcing her? Did he think Luc wouldn't recognise her under all this gloop? Have her thrown out as a gatecrasher? Taking a deep breath, she launched herself over the threshold. A whole cluster of faces looked back at her, some standing, some sitting. Horror-stricken, she blinked, stage fright taking over. The outfit had been for private viewing only. Behind her, Bernardo was subduing a fit of coughing.

Now that she came to think of it—and thinking was exceedingly difficult at that moment—Luc had mentioned something casual about some close friends coming to stay the night before the wedding. The minute she had shown her nerves at the prospect, he had dropped the subject. Right now, he was undoubtedly wishing he hadn't. Right now, he was remembering that she had a head like a sieve. Right now, as his long lean stride carried him towards her, his eyes were telling her that he wanted to kill her, inch by painful inch, preferably over a lengthy period. And that he intended to enjoy every minute of it when he got the chance.

'Say, I thought it was fancy dress,' she muttered and attempted to sidle out again, but Luc snaked out a hand and cut off her escape.

'She's so avant-garde,' a youthful female voice gasped. 'Mummy, why can't I wear stuff like that?'

'Designer punk,' someone else commented. 'Very arresting.'

'And I wouldn't mind being arrested with her.' A tall, very good-looking blond man sent her a sizzling smile. 'Luc, I begin to understand why you kept this charming lady under wraps until the very last moment. I'm Christian…Christian Denning.'

Catherine shook his hand with a smile. He had bridged an awkward silence. A whirl of introductions took place. There were about thirty people present, an even mix of nationalities, fairly split between the business ;aaelite and the upper crust. It was a relief when she finally made it into a seat to catch her breath.

'You have the most fabulous legs.' Christian dropped down on to the arm of her sofa. 'Why do I have the feeling that Luc would rather have kept the view an exclusive one?'

'Have you known Luc for long?' she asked in desperation.

'About ten years. And I saw you at a distance once in Switzerland, seven years ago,' he confided in an undertone. 'That was as close as I was allowed to get.'

A wave of heat consumed her skin. This was someone who had to have a very fair idea of what her former association with Luc had been. 'Was it?' She tried to sound casual.

'Luc's very possessive,' he responded mockingly. 'But he must have snatched you right out of your cradle. I must remember to tease him about that.'

Luc strolled over. 'Enjoying yourself, Christian?'

'Immensely. There isn't a man in the room who doesn't envy me. Why did I have to wait this long to meet her?'

'Perhaps I foresaw your reaction.' Luc reached for Catherine's hand. It was time to go into dinner. 'Everybody likes you,' he breathed, pressing his mouth with fleeting brevity to her bare shoulder, fingertips skating caressingly down her taut spinal cord. 'You forgot they were coming, didn't you?' He was smiling at her, she registered dazedly. 'Cara, if you had seen your face when you realised what you had done! But in this gathering you don't look quite as shocking as you no doubt thought you would.'

On that point, he was correct. There was no conventional garb on display. At this level, the women were more interested in looking different from each other. She might look startling to her own eyes and to those of anyone who knew her, but nobody was likely to suspect that she had deliberately dressed up as some sort of pantomime hooker. Had it been her intent to embarrass Luc in company, she would not have succeeded and, since that had not been her intent, she was relieved until it occurred to her that he would endure more than embarrassment when she walked out on him at the airport. A sneaking twinge of guilt assailed her. Immediately she was furious with herself. Luc had set the rules and she was playing by his rules now. He had given her no other choice. What transpired, therefore, was of his own making.

A middle-aged woman with a beaky nose took a seat to the left of her at the dining-table and asked, 'Do you hunt?'

'Only when I lose something,' Catherine replied abstractedly.

Someone hooted with amusement as though she had said something incredibly witty. A wry smile curved Luc's mouth. 'Catherine's not into blood sports.'

'She must be planning to reform you, then,' a blonde in cerise silk said with smiling sarcasm. 'Blood sports are definitely your forte.'

'And yours, sister, dear,' Christian interposed drily.

The long meal was not the ordeal she had expected but it was impossible for her to relax. Luc was in an exceptionally good mood, which somehow had made her feel uncomfortable. She was flagging by the time the Viennese coffee was served in the salone. Christian's sister settled down beside her and she struggled to recall her name. Georgina, that was it.

'I didn't see you with Luc in Nice last week,' Georgina remarked.

'I wasn't there.'

Georgina contrived to look astonished. 'But he was with Silvana Lenzi. Naturally, I assumed…Oh, dear, have I said something I oughtn't?'

'You've said exactly what you intended to say, young lady,' the kindly woman with the beaky nose retorted crisply, and changed the subject.

Across the room, Luc was laughing with a group of men. Catching her eye, he gave her a brilliant smile. Hurriedly, she glanced away. Her nails dug into the soft flesh of her palm. She really couldn't understand why she should feel so shattered. Luc had not spent the past four and a half years without a woman in his bed. Celibacy would come no more naturally to him than losing money.

The South American film actress was notorious for her passionate affairs. He certainly hadn't been boldly going where no man had gone before, Catherine thought with a malice that shook her. She was speared by a Technicolor picture of that beautiful, lean, muscular, suntanned body of his engaged in intimate love-play with the gorgeous redhead. It made her feel sick. She felt betrayed.

Obviously she had had too much to drink. It had unsettled her stomach, confused her thoughts. If she felt betrayed, it was only because she had been the chosen one this week and the awareness was bound to distress her. Really, she didn't care if he had been throwing orgies in Nice. His womanising habits were a matter of the most supreme indifference to her.

A few minutes later, Luc interceded to conclude her evening. She was tired. He was sure everyone would excuse her. With his usual panache, he swept her out of the salone. She shook off his arm with distaste.