The Art of Retaliation (11 page)

Later that day they were informed a ball would be held the following
evening.
 
It was an annual ball, she
told them crossly and they couldn’t cancel it, the offence in the French
society circle would be too much too
bear
and would
cause suspicion.
 
There was no other
way for it, they would both have to attend and appear as guests.
 
That was the way
Stephane
wanted it and he had ordered the appropriate
attire which
had been left in their rooms.
 
Mara
had given the woman an impatient look as she had come bustling out into the
gardens to give them the news and then begin to retreat from them as though
they were lepers.

“I’m not going to any damn ball,” Mara said throwing her arms into
the air.
 
“I don’t believe him.”

“A ball will be fun.”

“Maxine this is not a game.
 
I’m not going and neither are you.
 
We have to make life as difficult as possible for him.
 
I won’t pander to his whims and heaven
knows what hideous outfits he is going to force us to wear.
 
I’ve got a good mind to go to the ball
in my jeans.
 
Now that would bound
to cause a stir and knock Madame off her perch.”

Maxine shook her head and ran to follow her hobbling back into the
house.
 
She stormed into her room to
find the evidence of his cruel intentions and stopped short in her tracks.

“Oh, Mara its beautiful,’ Maxine approached the bed and bent to
stroke a hand over the luxurious material of the dress that was tidily lain out
on the bed.

Mara walked over too afraid to touch.
 
The dress was exquisitely beautiful made
of
Clerici
Duchess satin from Italy, the finest in
the world Maxine told her as she picked up the dress undaunted.
 
The color was scarlet with small straps
that held up a fitting bodice in contrast to the full skirt.
 
Maxine held the dress against Mara’s
body and forced her to look in the mirror.

“You have to wear it.”

Mara smiled finding herself caught with the dress’s magic.

‘Try it on.
 
Please,’
Maxine urged.

Mara gave her a wary look but capitulated without too much
persuasion.

A few minutes later Maxine zipped the bodice up telling he that she
would have to wear a corset underneath and pushed her back towards the mirror.

Mara twirled around feeling the tulle petticoat beneath the full
skirt swish against the satin.

“Its fantastic,” she told Maxine stroking the satin.
 
‘But I can’t wear it.’

The statement was flat and final.
 
Maxine frowned and started coming out
with frustrated French expletives that Mara didn’t even want to try and
understand.
 
Instead she unzipped
the dress and stepped out of it slipping her summer dress back on.

“Don’t be an idiot, Mara, of course you can wear it.
 
Take what you can from
Stephane
Garreau
.
 
You deserve it.
 
Anyway he will only be angry if you
don’t and we can’t afford to upset him,” Maxine said raising her eyebrows,
attempting to give her friend’s guilty conscience a reason to wear the dress.

Mara looked at the garment and bit her lip.

“It is beautiful and you are right he may be angry if I don’t.
 
No.
 
I’ll think about it,” she said stubbornly.

Maxine gave up and left the room to see what her what her own dress
looked like.

Mara sat down at the dressing table and finished applying her make
up.
 
She was content to humor
Maxine’s need to dress her as though she was playing with a living doll,
secretly glad of the attention when feeling so low.
 
She heard Maxine swear in French above
her as she brushed Mara’s hair, annoyed that it wouldn’t stay behind her
ears.
 
She was actually looking
forward to the ball even though caution told her to beware.
 
They were not guests.
 
She and Maxine were forced members of an
exclusive party that could prove unpleasant at any time.

But maybe she would get lucky.
 
Someone might be willing to help them.
 
She didn’t care what
Stephane
said.
 
There had to be someone who
would believe their story, who wouldn’t believe his lies, who didn’t trust him,
someone who was willing to risk going against him.

Mara had to admit she was clutching at straws but she had to
hope.
 
Well, if all else she could
turn to tears she thought grimacing.
 
Not many men were able to resist a woman crying, including
Mr
Garreau
.
 
She smiled gleefully at herself in the
mirror.

“How did you get in here?
 
Oh never mind.
 
What do you
want?’ she asked suddenly aware that Maxine had disappeared out of the room
only to be replaced by
Stephane’s
presence.

She was covered in nothing more than a
towel which
had an annoying tendency to loosen and slide down her body.
 
Nervously she held the side and prayed
it wouldn’t do it again deciding to stay put in the chair where it was safe.

“I came to . . . I want you to wear this tonight,” the billionaire sounded
almost nervous.

Stephane
stood to
her side facing and talking to her image in the mirror.
 
He opened the red velvet box he was
carrying to reveal a diamond necklace encrusted with the rare black pearls.
 
Mara turned and gave him a confused
look.
 
For once he held her
speechless.
 
He motioned for her to
turn and face the mirror again.

“I thought it would compliment the dress,” he said stiffly.

He undid the catch and watched her lift her hair to allow him to lay
it around her neck.
 
He fastened the
clasp and cupped her naked shoulders with his hands, bending down to see the
reaction he hoped for in the mirror.
 
She didn’t disappoint him.

“Are you sure?
 
You
really want me to wear this?
 
I
shouldn’t.
 
It is gorgeous,” she
frowned.
 
“More bribes,
Mr
Garreau
?”

He ignored the comment.

“It was my Grandmother’s.
 
She left it to me for when . . .” he stopped.
 
“Well it doesn’t matter.
 
I just thought it might cheer you
up.
 
It fits really well.
 
You are very like my father’s
mother.
 
I just wish she
was
here to see you in it.
 
You would have liked her.”

He dipped his eyes to the floor.

“She wouldn’t be very happy with me for what I’ve done, neither
would my father.”

“I take it that your Grandmother meant a lot to you?”

He gently stroked her shoulders.

“Yes an awful lot.
 
I got
on better with her than my mother.”

“I shouldn’t wear it.
 
It’s not right I . . .” she stuttered suddenly uncomfortable.

Mara laughed.
 
For all of
their arguments and dueling Mara liked it when he laughed and when he
smiled.
 
That’s when he allowed her
a glimpse of the real mischievous
Stephane
.
 
The one she would like to get to know.

“Would it make you feel better if I told that you had to wear it,
that I wasn’t giving you any choice?”

“Something like that,” she answered truthfully.

“You know,
Ms
Logan you are a very
beautiful woman,” he whispered brushing against her neck and hair with the side
of his face to inhale her scent.

Her eyes returned the appreciative glance and swept over him with
words unspoken.
 
There was an intoxicating
smell of
cedarwood
and lemon inviting her to move
nearer.
 
He was so close, she wanted
to wrap her body around his own and drink him in.
 
Her thoughts shook her but however much
she tried to deny it, she wanted him to make love to her right there and then
and damn the consequences.

The shoulders that she had been holding stiff and erect loosened
under his gentle touch and her skin softened and became supple.
 
Her legs uncrossed and parted together
with her moist lips.
 
She was
sending him a coded message, slipping into enemy hands betraying her cause with
treason.
 
He lowered his lips to her
shoulder and trailed a path of warm kisses to her neck.
 
She turned to face him, to object but
his fingers against her lips silenced her protest before it was even
spoken.
 
He made her stand and then
took her mouth, invading the soft inviting wetness and tugged at the towel that
opened obediently at her back.
 
The
cool air of the room settled against her bare skin leaving her feeling
vulnerable before him but strangely undeterred by the path of his fingers down
her spine.

Stephane
watched
the progress of his hand over her shoulder in the mirror until it glided over
her contours to rest on a firm rounded buttock that pouted at him. He allowed
his hand to linger.
 
The skin was so
soft and fragile there, still pink from the shower.
 
He had an urge to slap it make it quiver
against his hand but chose instead to cup the flesh and grip it
possessively.
 
The effect was
devastating.
 
Her hips molded
against his and rose to meet his arousal that was strong and ardent sheathed
behind his trousers.

He heard Mara moan when he deepened his kiss once more after she’d
whispered his name in a gasp of pleasure.
 
He wanted to hear her gasp it again, make her scream it under him whilst
he took her pleasure to new heights that she never would have felt with Ryan or
would again.
 
He supported her with
his palm in the
centre
of her back and eased her back
over it to remove the rest of the towel.

“Mara, have you finished.
 
You have to get into your dress.”

Maxine was opening the door and barging through it.
 
Mara gave a startled cry and moved away
from
Stephane’s
hands and he was forced to let go of
her.
 
She scrabbled around for the
towel which
he gallantly helped her with before Maxine got
through the door.

“Oh I see you are busy,” Maxine grinned noticing the flush of
arousal on Mara’s cheeks and her state of undress.

“I will see you both downstairs,”
Stephane
announced formally lamenting the end of his intimate encounter with his captive
and left the room.

Maxine rushed over to Mara who was sitting back down, frantically
pretending to finish her makeup to hide her trembling hands.
 
If Maxine hadn’t come in and stopped
them she and
Stephane
would have been making
love.
 
How could she have been so
stupid? She had no control of herself or her emotions anymore. Whenever he was
near her, touching her, her body acted of its own accord.
 
Her emotions turned and betrayed her
determination not to surrender to him.
 
Unexpectedly she began to cry.

“Mara, what’s wrong?
 
Did
he say something to you?”

She shook her head and turned into her friend’s embrace, resting her
head on Maxine’s supportive shoulder.

“I’m so tired Maxine.
 
I
don’t know how long I can keep this constant warfare with
Stephane
and . . .”

“The fact that you are falling in love with him,” Maxine finished
for her.

There was no answer just more tears.
 
Maxine sought to distract her and
quizzed her about the necklace marveling at the diamonds and pearls,
speculating on their priceless value.

“It’s lovely isn’t
it.
 
It was his Grandmother’s.
 
He told me I had to wear it.”

“Of course he did,
cherie
and you are quite rightly going to oblige him.”

Mara laughed at Maxine’s mischievous tone.

“Come on we have to get that corset on.
 
The old housekeeper got me one for you
this morning.”

Mara allowed Maxine to help her dress and squealed when she pulled
the corset so tight she almost cut her circulation off.

“Are you going to try and eat something tonight,
Mara.
 
I am getting really worried.
 
You are starting to look too thin.
 
It isn’t good for you.
 
You’ll lose your sexy curves.”

“I’ll try.
 
It just seems
that I have no appetite at the moment.
 
I feel sick every time I eat.
 
It started back in London along with the
dizziness.
 
I have too much on my
mind.”

Mara stepped into the dress and waited for Maxine to zip it up.

“It fits,” she smiled swirling about in front of the
full length
mirror.

“Mara, don’t you know men? They have an eye for measurements,
especially female ones.
 
They devote
much attention to it,” Maxine chastised fiddling with the skirt.
 
“And
Stephane
certainly has an eye for what suits you.
 
You look beautiful in that dress especially with those pearls and diamonds
glittering.
 
He won’t be able to
resist you.”

Mara tightened her lip but declined to pass any comment.

“You look gorgeous in that dress, Maxine.
 
As usual the men won’t be able to resist
you.’

Her friend giggled admiring herself in the mirror.
 
Mara began to walk to the door and
stopped suddenly feeling her sore ankle wrench.

“I feel so helpless like this.
 
I wish I could get over that wall.
 
Please Maxine won’t you try?”

“Don’t start that again.”

“Lets just try and enjoy the evening.
 
Maybe we can get someone to help us.”

Stephane
was
talking to some guests who had just arrived.
 
The males in the party had suddenly
become distracted watching something moving on the stairs.
 
He turned to follow their eyes and took
a breath.
 
The vision of scarlet
satin so in tune with Mara’s fiery personality appeared before him.

He had spent a lot of time envisaging the moment.
 
With a certain pride he was aware that
every man in the room was watching Mara’s movement causing the women to frown
and purr with disapproval.
 
The two
days he had spent away from the house in Rome he had seen her everywhere, in
cafes, meetings and restaurants as though she had put a spell on him.
 
Mara was always in his thoughts.

The billionaire watched her struggle on her own with her badly
sprained ankle and holding the dress up.
 
Maxine was too busy being distracted by Leon behind her and no longer
gave her support.
 
Stephane
bounded up the stairs towards her slipping an arm
around her tiny waist and taking her small slender hand in his own.
 
He couldn’t help feeling triumphant as
he clutched her towards him like his prize possession signaling she belonged to
him to every man watching her.

“You look stunning, Mara.
 
Every man can’t resist looking at you.
 
Do you like the dress I bought for you?”
he whispered in her ear nodding to a passing guest.

“Yes of course I do,” she gushed and then frowned and stiffened her
tone a little.
 
“But then you have
forced me to wear it.
 
I’m glad that
you approve,” she said haughtily.

He laughed to cover his hurt at the jibe.

“I would love to see you dance but you must rest your ankle.
 
I don’t want to see you on your feet too
much,” he told her leading her onto the middle of the chess board floor that
covered the grand hall used for the ball room.

Before she could object to his firm instruction he led her to a dark
green velvet carver chair positioned around one of the tables covered in white
damask in the ballroom dressed in pretty white flowers and green foliage.
 
He sat next to her and took two glasses
of champagne from the Butler.
 
His
full attention was hers alone.

The billionaire was anxious to make sure his captive’s every need
was taken care of.
 
Was she
comfortable?
 
Did she need anything for
the pain in her ankle after straining it on the stairs? He would not leave her
alone, sitting as though without a partner.
 
Stephane
refused to dance with the elegant society women his mother paraded past him,
indulging in the only the barest niceties with them for the sake of appearance
and etiquette.

They sat in silence for a short while watching the small orchestra
on the stage and then Mara spoke.
 
She made conversation discussing the room, asking details of its
history.
 
He smiled Mara was a typical
English woman unable to bear silence needing to fill it with conversation to
stop herself feeling awkward.

“The traditional summer ball has been going for centuries.
 
It was started by the lady over the
fireplace in your room,” he answered.

‘The Countess of
Dufresne
?’

“Yes.
 
She met her lovers
in your room.
 
The
rumour
is that she used to select two, sometimes three
young men and take them to her chamber whilst the other guests were still
dancing and bedded all three at once,” he told Mara with a grin.

Mara’s eyes widened and she was about to speak when the Butler cut
in on them.

“I am sorry to interrupt again but your important business client
has arrived and is becoming impatient.”

Stephane
glanced
at the entrance over Mara’s shoulder for confirmation.

“Yes I will be over in a minute, thank you.”

“I’m sorry, Mara but I will have to cut our conversation short.
 
I won’t be long.
 
In the meantime I want you to rest and I
don’t want to see you dancing, however much it is a shame not to see you enjoying
yourself.”

“I think I will be the judge of whether I am fit enough to dance,”
she said obediently sitting on one of the cushioned seats.

The billionaire shook his head.

“Do as you are told, Mara,” he warned and left.