THE waiter arrived at the table to take their order and Libby hastily picked up the menu and tried to study it.
Of course she wasn’t really upset, she told herself heatedly. She was getting her emotions confused that was all…Maybe because of the passion they had shared last night… Yes, that could be it. Libby latched onto the thought like a lifeline.
‘I’ll have the Salad Nicoise, please,’ she said as she put the menu down again.
She watched as Marc ordered some pasta and then they were left alone again.
‘So what did you say to get rid of that journalist?’ she asked, trying to switch her thoughts away from her emotions.
‘I promised her an exclusive inside story, but only if she vanished straight away.’ He smirked.
‘The inside story on your reunion with your ex?’
‘I didn’t specify,’ Marc said easily. ‘It’s best that way, keeps them dangling and hungry for more.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’ She shrugged.
Libby toyed with her glass, and tried to stop herself asking any questions about him getting back with his ex. She lasted about five minutes. ‘So is there any truth in these rumours?’
‘Is there any truth in the rumour that you are getting back together with Simon?’ he prevaricated.
Libby shrugged and didn’t know what to say to that. If she said no her smokescreen would be gone…and she had her pride. ‘I don’t know what will happen between Simon and I.’
‘Why did you split up in the first place?’
The personal question made her very uncomfortable, but she answered him truthfully. ‘I suppose it was because I wanted children and he didn’t,’ she said huskily. ‘I mean, he didn’t say that or anything…but…’ She shrugged. ‘If I’m honest that problem was always there between us in the background.’
‘That’s a big problem to overcome,’ Marc said softly.
‘Yes…’ She took a sip of her wine.
‘If you want my opinion, the man is a fool.’
The gentle words made her go warm inside. She tried to ignore the glow…tried to think sensibly. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ She looked over at him. ‘But aren’t you the man who thinks I’m a gold-digger?’
The question lay between them and when Marc didn’t immediately answer her the silence turned incredibly painful. Libby took another sip of her wine and tried to tell herself she didn’t care what he thought of her. ‘See, I rest my case.’ She managed to say the words flippantly as if she didn’t care.
‘Libby, I—’ Whatever Marc was about to say was cut off by the ring of his mobile phone. ‘Excuse me.’ He took the phone out of his pocket, answered it impatiently, and then switched to speaking in French.
Their food arrived just as his conversation came to a close. ‘Sorry about that, Libby,’ Marc said as he snapped the phone closed. ‘It was Pierre, my assistant; he’s picking up one of my clients from the airport today.’
‘Which client is that?’ Libby asked idly.
Marc hesitated. ‘Rebecca Bouchet.’
‘Another A-list celebrity,’ Libby murmured. ‘You certainly mingle with the best.’
‘But of course.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘How is your salad?’
‘It’s very tasty.’ Libby toyed with the food; it was lovely, but in truth she seemed to have lost her appetite.
‘So, Libby.’ Marc reached for his glass. ‘Tell me, why is it so important to you now that you see your father again?’
The sudden question took her by surprise. ‘I thought you already knew the answer to that,’ she answered glibly. ‘For his money, of course.’
One dark eyebrow rose. ‘I was being serious.’
‘So was I.’ She held his gaze across the table.
Marc noted the shadows in her blue eyes, the vulnerable twist of her lips.
‘You see, I really can’t comprehend why you need to ask me that question,’ she said softly. ‘The simple fact is that it’s twenty years since my dad walked out. I don’t know why and I don’t know where he went. Wouldn’t you wonder about your dad? Wouldn’t you want to fill in the intervening blank years and see him?’
‘Well, my relationship with my dad is possibly a lot different to yours.’
‘Yes, it most probably is,’ Libby said quickly. ‘But I thought I had a good relationship with my dad…maybe mistakenly, but there you go…’ She shrugged. ‘And the fact remains that after all these years I’ve still got questions to ask. Obviously I know the reason my parents’ marriage broke down was because my mum fell in love with someone else, but I don’t know why. I don’t have any details about why she fell out of love with my dad…’ She trailed off. She had been going to say she didn’t know why her mum had told her her dad was dead, but such a revelation was too personal…and out of loyalty to her mum, not one to be aired.
‘You don’t know why?’ Marc prompted her gently.
Libby shook her head. ‘I don’t know why my relationship with my dad had to break down as well,’ she finished instead, her voice husky. ‘I could never have a discussion with my mother on the subject. That was always taboo. So I suppose I just want to put the past to rest now…learn by its mistakes…which probably sounds stupid but…’ she shrugged ‘…there it is.’
There was silence for a moment. ‘No, that doesn’t sound stupid,’ Marc said gently.
Libby met his gaze across the table. ‘I don’t expect anything from him apart from his time. Half an hour and I’ll walk away.’
Marc nodded. ‘I will tell him, Libby. He’s due to phone tonight.’
Libby looked over at him with a frown. ‘You could give him my phone number if you’d like?’
‘I don’t think that would help, really.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because he’s…out of the country and I think he feels a bit apprehensive about talking to you. He’d rather meet face to face.’
Libby nodded. ‘Well, I have to admit it would be easier than talking on the phone.’
‘So we will leave it like that,’ Marc said firmly.
‘Yes.’ Libby wanted to ask him if he believed now that she wasn’t a gold-digger, but she feared she might not like the answer and the question stuck in her throat. Maybe he was right and they should just leave the conversation there.
‘So what is your relationship like with your dad?’ she asked lightly instead. ‘Now that I’ve bared my soul you should tell me a little about yourself at least.’
‘There is really not much to tell. I’ve always got on extremely well with him.’ Marc smiled wryly. ‘He and my mother were married for forty years and raised three children and, although they had their occasional arguments, they were blissfully happy.’
‘That’s a big achievement in today’s age of divorce,’ Libby said wistfully.
‘Yes, tell me about it. My divorce came as a big shock. But the family rallied around and they were supportive, which meant a lot in those dark days.’
‘Why did you get divorced?’
‘Well…our romance was a whirlwind courtship. We met when Marietta came into my office to talk about my representing her. Eight weeks later we were married.’
‘That sounds romantic,’ Libby said quietly.
‘Yes, it was, and it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Marietta was pregnant, we were both very excited and…’ Marc trailed off. ‘Well, basically, I don’t think either of us had thought it through properly. We tried to make a go of it, but Marietta’s job as an actress was such that it took her away a lot. She had an affair with her leading man.’
‘Oh, Marc, I’m sorry. That must have been awful for you.’
‘It wasn’t a pleasant time. I practically had to bribe the press to shut the story down. We tried to pick up the pieces and carry on, but we couldn’t put things back together.’
‘How long is it since you divorced?’
‘Two years now.’ His lips twisted wryly. ‘There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then.’
‘And now you are thinking of giving the relationship another go?’ The question felt hollow inside her.
Marc shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, Libby. For Alice’s sake it’s enough that we’ve salvaged a good friendship. We should just have remained friends in the first place. I don’t think either of us were thinking straight when we tied the knot.’
‘I see.’ It was ridiculous to feel happy about the fact that he wasn’t getting back with his ex. It was nothing to do with her, she told herself firmly. ‘Well, it’s good that you’re friends.’
‘Yes, it is.’ Marc nodded. ‘Alice’s welfare is the most important thing to me.’
The words stirred something inside Libby. ‘I think that is really lovely,’ she said seriously.
For a moment their eyes held across the table. She really liked Marc, she thought suddenly. And his attitude towards his child seemed in such marked contrast to her father’s as she’d grown up. The thought crept in unwelcome and unwanted. That wasn’t fair; she didn’t know the truth about her dad, she reminded herself firmly. Maybe something had happened to prevent him from coming back…maybe her stepfather had threatened him? Sean had certainly been nasty enough for that, but then again maybe her dad just hadn’t really been interested enough to return.
Marc watched the sudden shadows flick through Libby’s expression.
Carl was still firmly maintaining that he had tried to get in contact with Libby, but that she hadn’t wanted to see him until now. And he was not at all happy about her turning up here; he thought the timing was appalling. The business side of Marc was bound to agree. Yet when Libby talked about the past there was a delicate vulnerability about her that touched him.
Marc frowned and tried to remember his business obligations.
‘Would you like another drink?’
Libby shook her head.
‘Well, maybe we should go.’ Marc glanced at his watch. ‘Unfortunately I have an appointment at four.’
The drive back along the coast was made mostly in silence. Libby wished she knew what Marc Clayton was thinking. He looked pensive, she thought, as if his mind was a million miles away.
When he pulled the car to a halt by the front door he turned to look at her and Libby could feel the familiar swirl of chemistry between them, it was a heavy, potent feeling and it clouded and veiled all other thoughts.
‘Well, thanks for a lovely afternoon,’ she said quietly.
‘My pleasure.’
‘Do you want to come in, or are you rushing?’
Marc glanced towards the clock on the dashboard. ‘I guess I have time to come in and have a coffee.’
As they went into the house Libby wondered if it had been a mistake inviting him in. What about acting cool? she reminded herself. Trouble was, she really didn’t want to act cool. And she was glad he had come in.
‘Now you’ll have to point me in the direction of the kitchen,’ she said, trying to cover the sudden feeling of awkwardness.
‘Second door on the left.’ He smiled at her.
‘I won’t be stepping on Marion’s toes making coffee, will I?’ she asked as she made her way down the corridor.
‘No, Marion will be over in her own part of the house and won’t be back here until it’s time to start dinner at seven.’ Marc paused by the front door. ‘I’ve forgotten my phone again. Won’t be a minute.’
Libby went on into the kitchen. It was a very large and modern room with white cupboards, dark granite work surfaces and stainless-steel accessories. At one side there was a seating area looking out towards the garden.
What she wouldn’t give to have a kitchen like this at home, Libby thought as she filled the kettle and found some cups.
She smiled over at Marc as he came in.
‘This is such a lovely house.’
‘Yes, it’s OK.’ He leaned back against the worktop and watched as she made the coffee. She looked extremely sexy, he thought idly.
‘You sound very blasé,’ she said. ‘Obviously you are used to perfection.’
‘I suppose I am.’ He caught hold of her arm as she made to walk past him. ‘You were pretty damn perfect in that dress this afternoon.’ He murmured the words in an undertone.
Libby looked up at him and felt as if she were drowning in the darkness of his eyes, could feel the twist of sexual attraction stronger than ever between them.
Marc reached out and touched the side of her face lightly. ‘Shall we forget about the coffee?’ he asked huskily.
How was it that just the slightest brush of his fingertips against her skin set her alight? she wondered hazily.
‘I thought you were in a hurry for an appointment?’ She tried desperately to hold back from him.
‘I can reschedule,’ he murmured, brushing a fingertip lightly over her lips in a teasing, provocative caress. Then his mouth covered hers; there was naked hunger in the kiss and it made her body throb with excitement.
She felt his hands move up under her top, pushing her flimsy bra away, exposing the smooth curves of her body to the demands of his touch.
For a moment Libby gave herself up to the wild and wonderful torment of his kisses, then as she felt his hands starting to pull up her skirt she drew away. ‘Not here…Marc.’
‘Why not?’ As he spoke he picked her up and sat her on the counter-top. He kissed her again, and the passion was so intense it drugged her senses. She kissed him back heatedly.
Her jacket was discarded, her top followed and a few moments later she was only wearing her skirt.
Libby had given up even trying to desist. She felt powerless in the grip of her desires; all she could think about was how much she wanted him.
‘Hold on.’ Marc was the one to pull back. ‘We’ll have to adjourn and go upstairs; I left the protection there.’
This was probably Libby’s chance to gather her senses and pull back from the situation. But she didn’t want to pull back. So she allowed him to take her hand and lead her out of the room and up the stairs.
When Libby opened her eyes she could hear the sound of the shower in the en suite bathroom. The room was in darkness and she felt disoriented, not knowing what time of the day or night it was. Shakily she reached out a hand and switched on the bedside lamp.
It was seven in the evening! Marc had missed his appointment. She smiled to herself as she remembered the heat of their passion. It had been wild and exhausting, but it had also been totally and utterly wonderful. She had thought their lovemaking last night and this morning was good…but this had been even more incredible. Her mind drifted lazily back over the events… How was it that Marc was able to turn her on like that? Why did her body respond so ardently to him, and her senses soar?
She even loved the sound of his voice, the gentle, seductive way he cradled her in his arms afterwards and murmured sweet nothings into her ear.
I’m in love with him… The thought hit her out of nowhere. I’d do anything for him.
Wildly she tried to backtrack. But the plain facts were inescapable. No other man had ever made her feel the way Marc did. She had given herself to him so completely because her emotions were completely overwhelmed by her feelings for him. She had tried to hide from them…put her behaviour down to chemistry…pure sex…told herself she didn’t even like him! But the truth was she was head over heels in love. That was the reason she had been so upset when she had thought Marc was going to get back with his ex-wife. And the reason why it hurt so badly that he thought she was a gold-digger.
Did he still think that?
Libby really didn’t know the answer to that, but, remembering how tenderly he had just held her, it was hard to imagine that he did. And suddenly she dared to hope that this might not just be a few snatched hours of bliss, but the start of something wonderful.
Libby pushed the bedclothes down and got up out of the bed. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. The situation was too precarious to hope.
She glanced around for her clothes, and then remembered how she had very nearly made love with Marc in the kitchen! Her bra and her jacket were probably still lying down there on the floor. And Marion would be going in there to make dinner!
A wave of embarrassment washed through her and hurriedly she pulled on a pair of black trousers and a white T-shirt that were sitting on the bedroom chair. ‘Marc, I won’t be a moment, I’m just going downstairs,’ she called out. But he obviously couldn’t hear her over the noise of the shower.
Libby practically ran downstairs and into the kitchen. To her relief there was no sign of Marion yet. She retrieved her jacket from the counter-top and then had to bend down and pick up her bra from beneath one of the comfortable seats under the window. As she straightened she saw a newspaper pushed under the cushion of the chair, and something made her pull it out to take a closer look.
The paper was a local one, but it was in English and the first thing she saw was a picture of her father.
CARL QUINTON ARRIVES IN CANNES FOR THE FILM FESTIVAL.
The words jumped out at Libby, and a very cold feeling gripped her as she glanced at the date. It was yesterday’s paper!
Marc had told her categorically that her father wasn’t arriving for a few days!
With a sick feeling she ran her eyes over the rest of the article.
Carl Quinton, thirty-nine…
Thirty-nine! Well that was definitely wrong, Libby thought wryly. With difficulty she read on.
…has had an exciting few years. Following his success in the Broadway show ABE his rise to fame has been meteoric. Now it seems that his romantic life is also set to soar, for it is rumoured that he and his co-star Julia Hynes have fallen in love. Ms Hynes, who is twelve years his junior, is said to be shopping for a wedding trousseau in Paris before flying down to Cannes to join him for the premiere of their film.
How much of that was true? Libby wondered. They had certainly got her father’s age wrong. He was forty-five.
Her eyes moved to the last paragraph.
Carl Quinton has been married three times and has a daughter from his first marriage. Sadly Carl’s daughter has shunned him over the years despite his numerous attempts to see her.
Had Marc Clayton fed the columnist that scurrilous piece of information? It certainly sounded like it. Libby felt her heart starting to hit against her chest with a painful momentum.
And was it true that her father was already here? Half of her wanted to believe that the paper had got that wrong. She didn’t really want to consider that Marc had lied to her like that.
But as she looked again at the photograph she noticed that it had been taken in Cannes. Her father was standing on the Croisette; she recognised the Carlton flags waving in the breeze behind him.
So Marc had lied to her! The knowledge made the cold feeling inside her intensify. No wonder he had been in such a hurry to move her out of Cannes! He’d deliberately misled her, brought her here to keep her out of the way…
Her heart beat fiercely as she remembered how easily she had allowed him to do all that. OK, she had known that he didn’t exactly think her motives for being here were wonderful, but she had thought they had transcended beyond that. She had actually believed him when he had promised to set up a meeting for her with her father.
And had imagined herself in love with him.
Her heart froze as she remembered the foolish thoughts that had flown through her mind just a few moments ago! And how she had actually dared to hope that Marc might be feeling something for her, when in reality he must be laughing at her! He was toying with her, amusing himself with her, and she had willingly gone along with it. Had given herself to him totally.
Remembering how wild and abandoned her responses had been to him, all she could think about now was what a fool she had been and the cold, numb feeling started to change into furious waves of anger.
For a moment she stood indecisively, and wondered what to do. Should she confront Marc with her knowledge, or play it cagey, see if she could glean anything out of the situation? Hearing footsteps in the hallway, she took the impulsive decision to play dumb and hastily pushed the paper back under the cushion.
Marion came into the room and looked over at her in surprise. ‘Bonsoir, madamoiselle!’
‘Bonsoir.’
Libby could see the woman’s glance moving towards the chair. ‘I was just collecting my jacket, I left it in here earlier.’ It was an effort to smile. Did Marion know that Marc was keeping her father’s presence in Cannes a secret?
‘I was just about to start preparing dinner, mademoiselle. Will Monsieur Clayton be joining you?’ the housekeeper asked.
‘Not this evening.’ Libby hesitated. ‘And actually I think I’ll skip dinner as well, Marion. Would you be so kind as to call a taxi for me?’
Marion hesitated. ‘My husband can drive you wherever you want to go.’
Libby was damn sure she didn’t want anyone spying on her, telling Marc where she was going. ‘That won’t be necessary, Marion. If you’d just call a taxi that would be great, thank you.’ Aware that Marion looked a bit disconcerted, Libby headed out into the hallway.
Taking control of the situation was making her feel a bit better. OK, Marc obviously wasn’t going to keep his promise and arrange a meeting for her with her father…but that didn’t mean she couldn’t take matters into her own hands. She would find out where her father was and she would go there herself.
Libby was about to go back into the bedroom when she heard Marc’s voice from within and paused. He was talking to someone on the phone.
She pressed her head a little closer to the door.
‘Sorry to miss our meeting,’ Marc was saying briskly. ‘I had some unfinished business to deal with.’
He was describing her as unfinished business! Libby felt herself go hot inside with hurt and with shame.
‘Yes, well, I’m running late now. I’m due to have dinner with Marietta in half an hour, so can we meet tomorrow instead, say about ten?’
Dinner with Marietta sounded cosy. Was that another lie? Libby wondered. Was he dating his ex-wife?
‘OK, Carl…I’ll see you then.’
Carl. He was talking to her father…Libby’s hands curled into fists that were so tight her nails dug deep into the softness of her flesh.
Did her father even know that she was already in town? Maybe Marc was playing them off against each other, telling her he wasn’t here and vice versa. The thought struck her suddenly and it seemed very possible. Obviously Marc was the one in control. He had replied to her email, he had picked her up from the airport…He had moved her out here and made sure she was in Nice rather than Cannes today so that there was no possibility of them bumping into each other.
And he was a sharply astute and ruthless businessman who had invested time and money into her father’s career, she reminded herself firmly. He didn’t want anything to distract from Carl’s success.
Snippets of previous conversations flitted through her mind.
‘I’m a businessman first and foremost, Libby,’ he had warned her bluntly. ‘And I suggest you bear that in mind before you play any more games. If there are to be winners and losers in this, then I have no intention of being the loser.’
She had been such an idiot, Libby thought painfully. He had even warned her up front. So how could she have allowed herself to be swept along by his lies and his deceitful games?
Libby could hear him moving around the bedroom. Any minute now he was going to walk out here and catch her loitering outside the door.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to go back in and face him.
‘I was wondering where you had got to.’ Marc looked over at her and smiled. He was fully dressed and had just sat down on the edge of the bed to put his shoes on. His eyes were warm…his manner relaxed.
‘I remembered I’d left my clothes in the kitchen.’ She tried to smile back at him. ‘And I thought I’d better pick them up before Marion is too shocked.’
‘Ah, yes. Good thinking. We wouldn’t want to shock Marion.’ For the first time she noticed the languid amusement in his tone, in his eyes. ‘I’d like to have made love to you in the kitchen. Next time I’ll remember to come prepared…’ His voice was teasing and seductive.
Libby wanted to fiercely tell him there would be no next time. But she forced herself to remain silent.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, fine.’
Marc stood up from the bed and before she could move out of his reach he pulled her closer and put a hand under her chin, tipping her face up so that she was forced to look at him. ‘Are you sure you are OK?’ he asked softly.
The concern in his tone and the warmth of his dark eyes made her heart turn over. She suddenly wished everything were OK…and she could just melt in against him again…kiss him again. But that was crazy. Marc was playing with her…using her and she couldn’t let it continue.
‘Everything is fine,’ she said shakily.
‘Good.’ He smiled and for a moment his eyes lingered on her lips. ‘You know, you’ve made me forget about my appointment and that is something I would never normally do.’
‘Work always comes first,’ she added dryly. ‘Yes, I know that about you.’
Marc stroked a hand lightly down the side of her face and she could feel her temperature rising. ‘And I’m afraid I won’t be able to get back here this evening. So I’ll have to see you in the morning.’
‘That’s fine. I didn’t expect you to come back.’ Would he be staying overnight with Marietta? she wondered. Not that she gave a damn, she told herself brusquely! She knew now how irrational she had been imagining herself in love with him. It had been stupid in the extreme.
‘You sound tense.’ He nibbled on the side of her ear. ‘Let me unwind you,’ he murmured gruffly.
The feeling of his lips against her skin made little shivers of desire instantly shoot through her. She wanted to turn and kiss him; the need was so great it was like a physical ache inside and at the same time she hated herself for the weakness. Hastily she pulled away.
‘Don’t, Marc!’
Marc smiled. ‘No, you’re right, I’d better not otherwise I will never get out of this house tonight.’ He glanced at his watch, and then turned to pick up his wallet from next to the bed.
‘By the way, I’ve left you a little something.’
Libby watched as he walked across to the wardrobe and took out a cardboard box with a designer name on it. ‘There.’ With a look of sly satisfaction he put it down on the bed. ‘You can open it when I’ve gone.’
‘What is it?’ Libby asked suspiciously.
‘I told you, open it when I leave—’
‘I’d rather open it now.’ Libby reached out and flicked the lid off, then folded back the tissue paper to look at what was inside.
‘It’s the dress you tried on today,’ Marc said when she did nothing but stare at it.
‘Yes, I can see that.’ Libby fingered the delicate material and fury licked through her body. And suddenly there was no chance that she was going to play this cool. ‘Is this my payment?’
‘Sorry?’ He turned to look at her with a frown. ‘I don’t follow you?’
‘Well, obviously gold-diggers like me want some remuneration.’ Her voice trembled with fury. ‘So I take it this is mine.’
‘I bought you the dress because you looked sensational in it and I thought you would like it,’ Marc answered coolly.
Libby put the lid back on the box. ‘Well, the thing is, Marc, that I am not quite that cheap. If you want to buy me off it will cost you a lot more than a mere designer dress.’
‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
‘Oh, don’t look so surprised, Marc. After all, you know the real truth about me, don’t you?’ Her voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘Our little fling has been all very well, but I think we can drop the pretence now, don’t you?’
‘What pretence is that?’ Marc asked, his eyes narrowed on her intently.
‘You know damn well the pretence I’m talking about.’ She pushed a hand through her hair impatiently. ‘My father is here in Cannes. You’ve lied to me.’
‘Ah, I see.’
The very calmness of his tone infuriated her. ‘Is that all you can say? You have led me down the garden path, Marc Clayton. You have lied to me and deceived me…and all you can say is, “Ah, I see.”’
‘Libby, calm down.’ He walked a step closer and she held up a hand.
‘Just stay away from me.’
‘I promised you a meeting with your father and I intend to deliver on that,’ he said smoothly.
‘When were you thinking of doing that? The year two thousand and twenty?’ Her voice grated unevenly. ‘Does my father even know I’m here?’
Marc looked suddenly uncomfortable.
‘No, I thought not!’ Libby glared at him with bright, furious eyes. ‘You bastard, Marc!’
He raked a hand through the darkness of his hair. ‘Look, Libby, this is not an easy situation.’
‘Well, it’s been easy for you. I’ve made it easy, and you’ve conned me and walked all over me.’
‘I haven’t conned you—’
‘That is a matter of opinion.’ Libby brushed past him and opened her wardrobe door and without even pausing for thought she got her canvas bag out from the top and started to throw her clothes into it. She didn’t even bother to fold anything, it all just got jammed in any old way.
‘Libby, what are you doing?’
‘I would have thought that was obvious. I’m getting out of here.’
‘You can’t go like this,’ he said quietly. ‘We need to sit down and talk properly.’
How could he sound so serene when inside she was burning up with fury?
‘I’ve done all the talking I want to do. And I have absolutely nothing more to say to you.’ She deliberately left the dress Marc had bought for her on the bed and zipped up her bag. Then she turned to look at him. As their eyes met she felt a flicker of pain deep inside for what might have been…for the old feelings he had stirred in her…the way he could kiss her and melt every sinew in her body, the way he had made her feel so special when she lay in his arms… Very quickly she squashed those emotions. It had all been a lie. Everything had been a lie.
‘I don’t want you to leave, Libby…not like this.’
‘Oh, I know you don’t.’ Her voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘You want me to stay here out of harm’s way while you control the press. Well, guess what, Marc…I don’t give one toss about what you want. I’ve enjoyed the fling, but now I’m doing things my way.’ She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and lifted her bag up.
Marc was standing by the door.
‘Please get out of my way,’ she told him coldly.
Marc hesitated. ‘Libby, I don’t know where you think you are going. This house is miles from the nearest town, you can’t walk anywhere.’
‘I said get out of my way.’ She raised her chin and fixed him with a very determined look.
For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to do as she asked. Then with a shrug he stood back.
She swept past him, her head held high.
‘So where are you going?’ he asked as he followed her out onto the landing.
‘None of your business.’ She walked down the stairs and called for Marion.
‘Oui, mademoiselle?’ The woman came out of the kitchen.
‘Did you manage to phone that taxi for me?’ Libby asked breezily.
‘Ah, non…’ Marion flicked an uncertain glance up towards Marc. ‘The line was busy, mademoiselle.’
‘Well, perhaps then your husband will drive me into town?’
Again Marion looked up towards Marc for confirmation.
‘Do as Libby asks, please, Marion,’ Marc told her calmly.
The housekeeper nodded. ‘One moment mademoiselle,’ she said politely and turned to go down the corridor towards the other side of the house.
‘Jacques will drop you anywhere you want to go, Libby,’ Marc said quietly.
Libby made no reply. She wasn’t going to say thank you.
‘Listen, why don’t we arrange to have breakfast tomorrow so we can talk things over?’ Marc said smoothly.
Libby ignored him and walked out of the front door, closing it quietly behind her.
A few moments later a long black stretched limousine crunched over the gravel drive and pulled up beside her.