Pride After Her Fall

‘What needed improving?’

‘My manners. I was a total barbarian—you have no idea.’

She crunched the cone between her teeth.

Nash grinned and she offered him his own bite.

‘Clearly still a barbarian.’ She laughed, covering her mouth. ‘I had to learn early how to behave myself in public. Grandmaman was quite well-known in our parts. She was photographed by Cecil Beaton in her day, you know. She was an amazing beauty.’

‘I see where it comes from,’ said Nash, those blue eyes scanning her face.

Lorelei shrugged off the compliment. ‘Looks fade. She would have preferred to be an artist herself, but she was a wonderful patron. She drew artists, writers, musicians to our house. Quite a circle. Her third husband, my grandpère, left her a fortune and she set up the Aviary Foundation, a gallery in town and a charity to raise money for various causes. When the accident put paid to any hopes I had of a riding career she gave me new purpose, put me on the board of the Aviary where I’ve been ever since.’

‘Your career, in effect?’

‘Ah, oui, sometimes it feels that way. Although I’ve tried to keep the charity separate from my everyday life. It’s not always easy.’

She paused, realising she’d gone wading into deeper waters. But she wanted to talk about this. She hadn’t forgotten what he’d accused her of last night, or what he’d said back in Monaco when he’d cancelled their date.

‘Despite what you think, Nash, I don’t date the men I deal with through the charity. I don’t blur those lines.’

‘Yeah...about that, Lorelei...’

He looked gratifyingly uncomfortable and it pleased a hurt little part of her.

‘About that, Nash...?’ she prompted.

‘I was out of line. I apologise.’

‘Do you?’ Suddenly their easy camaraderie seemed forced. Her insecurities backed up in her throat.

She so wanted this man’s understanding and approval, and it left her wide open to being hurt. All of a sudden she wasn’t sure she could do that. But nor was she sure she had a choice any more.

Last night everything had changed for her.

‘I was trying to work out how you lived your life. I was—’ He broke off, as if he knew the more he said the deeper he’d be digging himself a hole.

Lorelei made a gesture of cessation. ‘Perhaps we should just leave it at the apology.’

But his eyes flashed up and darkened on hers. ‘I was jealous,’ he said flatly.

Her heartbeat sped up. ‘Ah, oui?’

‘Thinking about you with another man kills me.’

He said it as if it was being ripped out of him without anaesthetic, but he looked her in the eye and Lorelei found she was swaying a little with the impact of his words.

She lowered her lashes.

‘Nothing to say, Lorelei?’

‘Why, Nash, don’t think about it, then.’ She lifted her gaze and gave him a little smile.

‘Not exactly what I was looking for,’ he responded, but his eyes were warm.

Feeling a little breathless, she reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. ‘That is nice to hear, Nash. Some not very nice things were intimated about me in the papers around the time of Raymond’s trial. I think the journalists were just looking for dirt.’

‘It sells papers,’ said Nash grimly.

Oui, he would know. She was talking to a man who had spent more than a decade dodging the paparazzi.

‘I hope I never have to go through that again. Five weeks in Paris for the trial, and every morning I opened the paper there would be another story.’ Lorelei shuddered delicately.

Nash was frowning. She wondered what he was thinking. Had he read any of those stories? She didn’t want to ask. She didn’t want to think about it any more. But she did want to clear the air.

‘All of these men I was supposed to be involved with—I was on Yurovsky’s yacht last summer with at least fifteen other women, one of them his girlfriend at the time, and as for Damiano, I’ve known him since I was a teenager. It’s never been romantic.’

‘You don’t need to explain your past to me,’ he said roughly, but she could see the satisfaction curling like smoke in his eyes.