‘What’s the matter with you?’ Atreus asked as they vacated the dining table.
Feeling like a total coward for having failed to raise the subject, Lindy glanced at him uneasily. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re very quiet, mali mou. It’s not like you.’
‘There was a photo of you with another woman in a gossip column this week.’ In spite of her intention to make a light, non-accusatory enquiry when it came to the point, Lindy simply blurted out the facts and then cringed at her lack of skill.
Even though he knew exactly who, when and where, and even which newspaper, Atreus was too practised at keeping his own counsel with women to admit the fact. ‘Was there?’
‘You attended a charity ball with her.’ Taut with tension and anxiety now, Lindy spun round in the drawing room, where drinks were being served and stared at him with strained eyes. ‘Who was she?’
‘A friend…I have many,’ Atreus responded smoothly.
Painful colour lit Lindy’s cheeks. ‘You don’t think I have any right to ask, do you? But I don’t expect to be one of a crowd when I’m sleeping with you,’ she shared, in an awkward rush of words.
The conscience that rarely troubled Atreus stung him in the face of that honest admission. Although he had found it safest and easiest never to define the boundaries of relationships, or make promises he might not wish to keep, her naive candour on the issue and her obvious concern pierced his emotional armour.
‘Lindy—’
‘Just tell me the truth. I have to know. To be honest, I’ve hardly slept a wink since I saw that photo,’ she confessed unevenly.
Atreus reached for her hand and used it to propel her under his arm, ignoring her taut, stiff posture. ‘I thought you would be more sensible,’ he reproved. ‘I only ever have one lover at a time, but I have many female acquaintances who act as my companions at various charitable and stuffy social engagements.’
Her heart still beating very fast with the apprehension that had built up in her since first seeing that photo, Lindy breathed easily again. She felt quite light-headed with relief. I only ever have one lover at a time. That was the one thing she had needed to hear. It shook her to appreciate that she had set no parameters at all in their relationship. Then she had fallen into it and then fallen crazily in love so fast she had never thought about rules. In any case Atreus, she recognised ruefully, was the sort of guy who would probably want to break a rule as soon as anyone was foolish enough to try and impose one on him.
In the early hours, she lay awake while he slept. Her body was heavy with tiredness, languor and sensual satisfaction. Her heart was light with love and contentment. But her mind was still racing over the conversation they had had after dinner. Although his response had given her peace of mind, she was convinced she had lost stature in his eyes by betraying her desperate need for reassurance. She could not escape the suspicion that she had ended up looking weak and insecure, which was not an impression that she wanted to give for Atreus was much more intrigued by strong, confident women. And that was what she was now, Lindy consoled herself. Strong and confident and not in need of reassurance. It was not a slip she would make a second time.
Over a year after Lindy reached that decision, Ben Halliwell made one of his increasingly frequent unannounced visits to The Lodge. Having abandoned the pot pourri she had been bagging in the cellar, Lindy invited him in for coffee. He polished off two homemade cheese scones before coming to the point.
‘If you really want to know where you stand with Atreus Dionides, you need to look at this.’ Ben settled a page torn from a magazine down on the table in front of Lindy.
Caught unawares, Lindy stared and saw an image that shot the equivalent of a flaming arrow of pain right through her heart. Her skin broke out in perspiration and nausea made her tummy lurch. Once again it was a photograph of Atreus with another woman on his arm: a very beautiful blonde with jewels at her throat and a fancy evening gown. With a clumsy hand Lindy thrust the picture back at Ben in rejection, a look of reproof in her steady gaze. After all, it was not the first time she had seen such a photo, and she reckoned that it would not be the last. But she was annoyed with Ben, who never missed an opportunity to criticise Atreus or to try and show him in a bad light.
‘Atreus was attending a charity benefit for a children’s hospice on Monday night,’ Lindy explained. ‘That woman is probably one of the organisers.’
‘Stop telling yourself whoppers and making excuses for him!’ Ben’s exasperation was unconcealed. ‘Carrie Hetherington is a wealthy, well-connected socialite, and he’s obviously not ashamed to be seen out in public with her—’