The Virgin's Debt to Pay

It had meant nothing. He’d been on a trip down memory lane and she’d happened to be there.

It hit her then, with a cold, clammy sense of panic. She really was falling for him, and it was already too late. She had stood up for him in front of Celeste Fouret the way she would stand up for any of her loved ones. The thought that Luc might have interpreted her defence as devotion, and that had been why he’d sent her back to her own room, made her feel nauseous.

She knew now, with an awful sense of impending doom, that whatever emotional pain she thought she’d ever felt before would pale into insignificance once this man cast her aside. As surely he would.

Because Celeste Fouret had been right, after all. Luc Barbier would never belong to anyone. And certainly not Nessa. She was a brief interlude. A novelty for a cynical and jaded man, and she knew now that she had to protect herself before she got in any deeper.

* * *

The following morning Nessa got washed, dressed and packed before going in search of Luc. She heard movement coming from the main living area and walked into the room to see the dining table set and the housekeeper serving breakfast.

Sunlight streamed through the huge windows but it all paled into insignificance next to the image of Luc wearing a dark suit, sipping coffee and reading a newspaper, clean shaven. He looked every inch a titan of industry, and as remote as a rock in the middle of the ocean.

His dark glance barely skimmed over her, and Nessa was glad as it would give her the strength to do what she knew she had to for her own self-preservation.

Lucille told her to take a seat and that she’d bring her some breakfast. Nessa smiled her thanks, relieved that she wasn’t entirely alone with Luc.

He put down the paper as she sat down. She felt self-conscious in her daily uniform of jeans and a T-shirt. She’d hung the glittering dress back up in the closet and had pushed down the dangerous spurt of emotion when she remembered Luc telling her she was beautiful.

‘Did you sleep well?’

She looked at him and it almost hurt, he was so gorgeous. She nodded and told a white lie. ‘Very well, thank you. Your apartment is beautiful. You’re very lucky.’

Lucille came back and placed a plate down in front of Nessa with perfectly fluffy scrambled eggs with spring onions, salmon and buttered toast. Ordinarily her mouth would have watered but for some reason she felt nauseous. Not wanting to insult the Frenchwoman, she spooned a mouthful and ate, murmuring her appreciation to the beaming woman. When they were alone again Nessa put down her fork and took a sip of coffee, willing the faint nausea away.

Luc said, ‘Luck had nothing to do with me having this apartment. It was success born out of hard work.’

Nessa shouldn’t have been surprised that Luc didn’t believe in things like luck, or chance. She hadn’t either for a long time after their mother’s death had rent their world apart. Until fate had stepped in, bringing Nadim into her sister’s life, transforming their fortunes.

The hurt she still felt made her want to pierce a little of Luc’s stark black and white attitude. ‘Well, I do believe in luck. I believe there’s always a moment when fate intervenes and you can choose to take advantage of it or not. Not everything is within our control.’

Luc’s mouth tightened. ‘Apparently not.’

Nessa wasn’t s

ure what that meant. Incensed now, she said, ‘Don’t you consider Pierre Fortin to have been fateful for you?’

Luc looked at her. ‘He gave me an opportunity and I made the most of it.’

Nessa resisted making a face at Luc’s obduracy and made a stab at eating some more of the delicious breakfast, and tried to ignore the churning of her stomach.

Luc said, ‘I have some meetings to attend in Paris today. My driver will take you to my stables just outside the city this morning, where you’ll meet with François, my head trainer. He’s expecting you. He’ll see how you go on Sur La Mer and, depending on what he thinks, you’ll ride him in the race next week. Or not.’

Nessa put down her fork. ‘What if I don’t perform well on Sur La Mer?’

Luc shrugged minutely. ‘Then you’ll go back to the stables in Ireland.’

She felt like a pawn being moved about at Luc’s will. Into his bed, out of it...it was time to claim back her independence. She took a deep breath.

‘Luc, I—’

‘Look, Nessa—’

They both spoke at the same moment and stopped. Luc said, ‘You go.’

Nessa’s heart hammered. She swallowed. ‘I just wanted to say that I don’t think we should sleep together again. I’m here to do a job. I’d like to focus on that.’

Luc looked at her, eyes glittering like two black unreadable jewels. She’d never know what this man was thinking in a million years. He was too well protected. As she should be.