Master of Passion

Tilting her head, she grinned up at him.

'So I am good for something,' she jeered lightly, to hide the chaos he was creating inside her. His long legs rubbed erotically against hers as their bodies moved in perfect unison to the romantic music.

The glittering chandeliers, the band on the raised platform at one end of the elegant room, the people around them all faded into nothing, as his dark, almost black eyes burned down into hers. Parisa blinked, trying to break the spell, and saw a muscle twitch in his cheek.

'You, Parisa, are good for me. Perfect, in fact, and very soon I would like to show you just how perfect we can be together.'

His deep, smoky voice was like a caress against her skin. She knew she should object to the intimacy he was proposing, but her mouth was suddenly dry, her heart beating double speed, and she could feel beneath her fingers the heavy beat of his heart. He pulled her closer, if that were possible, his hand stroking up to her bare back and resting there.

'Relax, Parisa.' Perhaps he had seen something in her eyes. 'We have all the time in the world. It was not my intention to frighten you, cara.'

Reassured by his words, and by the unexpected sense of safety she found in his arms, Parisa did relax. Her slender body moved lazily against his in willing compliance as Luc's hand stroked lightly back and forth across her back, toying with her long hair.

His head bent. 'I knew this silk-spun hair would feel as good as it looks,' he breathed huskily against her ea

r. 'You should always wear it loose, floating around your shoulders like a silver cloud.'

Parisa lifted her head, smiling into his dark, slumberous eyes. 'Not very practical,' she murmured. But she was glad that for once she had given in to the impulse to leave her long hair loose, lifted from her face with two ornate jet combs, a legacy from her great-aunt.

'If you ever cut it, I think I would kill you,' Luc whispered with a strange fierceness that made her glance quickly up at him, catching a wave of dark emotion clouding his eyes. But before she could speak, a voice broke into their private world.

'My turn, Luc; you can't hog the lovely lady all night.'

'Oh, but I can,' Luc responded almost curtly.

The man who had cut in had been introduced to Parisa earlier as Luc's right-hand man, Aldo Gennetti. He was about the height of Parisa, and very good-looking, with black, curly hair and laughing light brown eyes. Beside him stood his wife, one of the loveliest women Parisa had ever seen: very Latin with masses of blue-black hair tumbling down her back, a perfect oval face, huge brown eyes and a wide, full mouth. Anna Gennetti was stunning in a slip of a black dress that plunged to her waist both front and back. A brilliant diamond bracelet that must have cost a bomb circled her slender wrist. In fact Parisa thought the only thing that marred her beauty was the ice in her eyes and the twist of discontent to her mouth.

Anna said something to Luc in rapid Italian and maneuvered herself between Parisa and Luc. One small red- nailed hand rested on Luc's arm like a talon, and her body pressed against his. Parisa glanced at Luc, and shivered. She hoped Luc never looked at her like that. His eyes were narrowed coldly on the other woman as he replied cynically and in English, 'How can I refuse?'

'Come on, Parisa, it is you and I,' Aldo declared, and Parisa felt herself spun around. 'We will show this lot how to dance.' The band broke into a quick disco number, and Parisa thought, Why not? She loved dancing, and threw herself whole-heartedly into the pounding beat, gyrating her supple body with a verve and subtlety few could match; but Aldo was good.

A space cleared around them and in minutes they were the only couple dancing, the rest content to watch. Parisa, laughing out loud at Aldo's outrageous compliments as he swung her around on the last note, her long hair swirling around her shoulders, suddenly caught a glimpse of Luc's face. He looked furious.

'Thank you, Parisa, you're fantastic,' Aldo said, fighting to regain his breath.

'Yes, cara. I had no idea you were such an exhibitionist,' Luc declared hardly, appearing at her side, his arm going around her waist and, holding her possessively against him, he bent his dark head, his breath warm against her cheek. 'In future I would prefer it if you keep your undoubted talent under control. I do not like my guests being given a free view of my fiancée’s lovely legs,' he hissed.

She had seen him wrapped around the seductive Anna. How dared he criticise her? And she wasn't his fiancée, in any case, she reminded herself, the resentment in her giving a mutinous set to her small jaw. 'Aren't you forgetting something?' she demanded.

'Shut up, Parisa; do you want the world to hear?' He spun her against his hard body and whispered the words against her mouth before he kissed her.

She vaguely heard the cheers but, swaying in Luc's arms as he ended the kiss, her full lips softly parted, her dazed eyes staring up into his, she didn't care. One touch, and she was putty in his hands.

'For tonight at least you are my Lady and I will not tolerate any other man muscling in, understood?' he demanded huskily, pressing a kiss on her brow.

His possessiveness was very flattering, Parisa told herself, wondering if he could possibly be jealous, and enormously pleased at the idea. She hugged the thought to herself for the rest of the evening.

They danced again and drank champagne, and Parisa felt like Cinderella at the ball. Luc stayed by her side, a hand at her waist, an arm around her shoulder, acting the loving fiancée to the hilt, until Parisa did not know where pretence ended and reality began, and she didn't care.

Signora Di Maggi left the party around midnight, and after that the guests left in a steady stream, except for four couples who were staying the night. By two in the morning Luc and herself were the only people remaining downstairs.

'Do you want another drink, a night-cap?' he asked huskily, his arm around her waist.

She leaned into his hard strength. 'No.' She yawned. 'It has been a wonderful evening.' She turned shining eyes up to his. 'It seems a shame it has to end, but '

'No buts, Parisa. It does not have to end, not yet.' She watched his tanned hand pull the bow-tie from his throat, his fingers deftly unfastening the top two buttons of his silk shirt. A frisson of excitement shot through with fear tingled down her spine. Just what was he suggesting? She should be insulted!

'I visit the observatory most nights when I am here. Watching the night sky has a somniferous effect on one. How would you like to come with me, hmm...?’