The Virgin's Debt to Pay

Nessa had noticed that, as they’d passed the graffiti’d high walls on the motorway on the outskirts of the city, Luc had seemed to tense and had looked resolutely out of the window at something she couldn’t see.

But was there a more beautiful city than Paris, with its distinctive wide boulevards and soaring magnificent buildings? Especially at this time of year, on the cusp of summer and when spring’s blossoms lined the ground like a multicoloured carpet. Not to mention the iconic structures of the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower that Nessa could see through the open doors of her bathroom right now.

When they’d arrived at Luc’s apartment, at the very top of one of those massive ornate buildings on a wide boulevard, he’d disappeared into a study to take some calls, and a friendly housekeeper had shown Nessa into a guest bedroom suite.

She’d shown her a dressing room that was full to the brim of a stunning array of clothes. Nessa hadn’t really known how to react to the fact that Luc was evidently always prepared for his female guests, but it had certainly been sobering. It had been just as well, she’d told herself stoutly, as she hadn’t even thought to pack a dress before leaving Ireland.

Now Nessa stood in her bathrobe on the small terrace outside the French doors, and pushed everything out of her head but this glorious magical view. Dusk was claiming the skies and the lights of the Eiffel Tower were just beginning to twinkle to life. As if someone had been waiting especially for her.

Nessa smiled and realised with a pang that it had been a long time since she’d felt such uncomplicated happiness. The minute she thought that, though, the smile slid off her face. How could she be feeling happy when her brother was still probably worried sick at the thought of ever showing his face again?

She’d tried calling him earlier but his phone had been off, as it was every other time she’d tried. And her other brother, Eoin, was equally hard to track down.

Just then there was a light knock on the main bedroom door. Nessa’s heart was pounding at the thought that it might be Luc, but when she opened the door, it was the housekeeper with two other women. Nessa breathed out.

‘Mr Barbier has arranged for these ladies to help you get ready for this evening.’

Nessa forced a smile, the thought of the function making her feel slightly ill. Dublin was one thing. This was Paris. She would definitely need help. ‘Thank you, Lucille.’

As the women set to work, Nessa tried to block out the insidious thought of all the other women Luc had had in this exact same spot, being preened especially for him.

* * *

‘Luc, it’s PR gold. They love her. The fact that she’s so naturally talented makes her even more interesting. There hasn’t been a buzz like this about a female jockey in years. The press have also discovered her family connection to Sheikh Nadim and his wife so now there’s even more heat. Invitations are flooding in—you’re officially accepted into the inner sanctum now. How does it feel?’

How did it feel? The conversation he’d just had with Pascal on the phone replayed in his head, as did that question. How did it feel to finally be experiencing a measure of the acceptance and respect he’d long since craved?

Curiously anticlimactic, if Luc was brutally honest. Even this view, which took in an exclusive slice of glittering Paris, left him feeling a little hollow.

Just then he heard a noise and turned around to see Nessa in the doorway of the room. And his heart stopped. She’d been beautiful before but now she was...stunning.

She wore a long, shimmering green gown. She was covered up from neck to toe and it had long sleeves, but it hugged every delicate curve of her body, highlighting her lithe sensuality. Her hair was up in a chignon and she wore simple diamonds in her ears.

She walked into the room looking nervous. ‘I’m ready to go.’

There was a quality to her this evening that made her seem very vulnerable. Luc could tell how out of her depth she was, and he felt a very alien need to say something to reassure her.

Far too gruffly he said, ‘You look very beautiful, Nessa.’

As she blushed and smoothed the dress at her hip, he noticed the slight tremor in her hand and it tugged on something very raw inside him. This woman could ride and master a thoroughbred horse, and yet this made her tremble?

‘I’m not beautiful. You don’t have to say that.’

He closed the distance between them in two long strides and tipped up her chin, searching her eyes. ‘If you were anyone else I’d say you’re fishing for compliments, but I think you really mean it. Who ever made you believe that?’

She pulled her chin free. ‘Growing up with two brothers makes it hard to explore your feminine side, and our mother died when I was eight, so I never really had that influence.’

‘What about your older sister, Iseult?’

Nessa shrugged. ‘She was a tomboy too. And she was always so busy.’

Luc tried to contain his surprise. He’d never known a beautiful woman to not make the most of her assets, until now. Nessa was all the more refreshing for it. He felt in serious danger of taking her by the hand and leading her back to the bedroom to undo all that pristine hair and make-up. He felt unmoored.

He stepped back. ‘We should go. The driver will be waiting for us.’

As they descended in the lift Nessa found it hard to douse the ball of warmth Luc’s words had created in her chest. He thought she was beautiful. She knew he wasn’t a man to make empty compliments, and for the first time in her life she actually felt something close to beautiful.

She took deep breaths to quell her nerves and tried not to be too aware of Luc in the small space. But he took up so much of it, effortlessly.