She nodded and he sighed faintly, turning to the door. She felt reluctant to see him go suddenly. She moved instinctively and he looked back at her over his shoulder, the turn of the dark profile making her heart turn over.
'You still haven't told me,' she said. 'What work do you do?'
'I told you the truth,' Luc shrugged drily. 'I deal in stocks and shares. I'm not a stockbroker, I'm a merchant banker. For most of the year I'm so respectable it's tedious. I break out of it to get away on the boat.'
'Banking?' she said in dazed disbelief. Whatever she had expected to hear, it had not been that.
He laughed shortly. 'Your expression! Yes, I'm afraid I'm what the newspapers call a "financier". I manage other people's money.'
Lissa glanced slowly round the room. 'And you have a lot of your own,' she muttered in grim realisation.
'I inherited it and I've increased it,' he admitted. 'I've got quite a flair for investment-I told you, it's another form of gambling. There's always an element of risk in it, but I was born with a sure instinct for the market. You can't be taught how to predict market fluctuation. You have to know by instinct and be ready to take risks.'
'What if something happened when you were away on the boat for weeks on end?' she asked, frowning. 'What if something went wrong in London?'
He laughed. 'There's a radio on the boat. I'm in constant touch with London. You don't think I leave anything to chance, do. you? And I've got a brilliant team of men managing things while I'm away. I don't believe in keeping a dog and barking myself.' His blue eyes held a wry amusement. 'Far from being a risk it's the only thing that keeps me sane. I need to get away. I love sailing. Dandy and I have fought our way through a hundred storms-it's the sort of challenge I need.' He glanced at his watch again. 'I have to go, Lissa.' 'Yes,' she said huskily, and he glanced at her quickly, then he pulled open the door and went out without saying anything.
Lissa stood in the beautiful, gracious room staring around at the brocades and fine antique furniture. This was Luc's real background and she did not belong in it. The realisation made her stomach sink and her skin feel cold.
Luc had rescued her from Chris and maybe now he felt responsible for her, because he had brought her here into an environment for which she was not yet adjusted, but any help he gave her from now on would have strings attached to it. The more she let him involve himself in her life, the less hope she would have of ever getting away from him. The longer she stayed in his house the more likely it would become that she would end up as his mistress for as long as he wanted her. That prospect made Lissa shiver.
'There you are,' said Megan from the door, beaming at her. 'Luc says you want to see London. Where shall we go first?'
Lissa pulled herself together, imposing a bright smile. 'I've no idea. Where do you suggest?'
Megan eyed her jeans. 'Shopping first,' she said. 'It's best to do that while we're still full of energy.'
Looking around her later in Oxford Street Lissa could see that Luc was right about her clothes. She was going to need something other than jeans when she was interviewed by prospective employers. She would pay him back as soon as she had the money, she told herself. It disturbed her to accept money from him, but what choice did she have?
London stores fascinated her so much that she was reluctant to turn her attention to actually choosing anything at all. Megan tried to persuade her to buy a whole wardrobe of clothes, but Lissa obstinately settled for one discreet little dress in a smooth caramel shade. She bought shoes in a darker tone and a short camelhair jacket.
Disappointed, Megan kept urging her to look at other things. Lissa smiled at her. 'Please, I honestly don't want anything else,' she insisted, and Megan shrugged in defeat.
They began their tour of London after a quick lunch. Megan was a tireless guide. She showed Lissa every tourist attraction she could think of, pointing out famous landmarks on every side until Lissa's head ached and she couldn't take anything in at all.
They returned to the Regent's Park house in a taxi. Lissa was limp with exhaustion, but Megan seemed as lively as ever. Giving her a tolerant look, Megan told her to sit down while she made some tea. Lissa drifted wearily into the drawing-room and lay back in one of the deep, brocade-upholstered chairs, her eyes closed.
Her mind swam with impressions of a city whose every corner showed new surprises. The tropical luxuriance of St Lerie seemed already a vague and distant memory.
CHAPTER TEN
After drinking the tea Megan brought her, Lissa went up to her room and took a long, leisurely bath in fragrant scented water, her tired body relaxing slowly as the heat invaded it.
She wore her new dress when she returned downstairs an hour later. Pausing at the drawing-room door, she heard the clink of glass. Luc was standing beside a table, pouring himself a glass of whisky from a decanter. He heard her movements and looked round, his glance sliding down over her with appraisal.
She flushed slightly, very aware of that cool inspection. She was waiting: for some comment but Luc made none, turning back to the decanter. 'Would you like a drink, Lissa?'
'No, thank you.' She walked over to sit down on the chair in which she had been lying so wearily earlier that afternoon and a moment later Luc strolled over to sit down on the sofa, his long legs stretched out with a sigh. He was still wearing his formal city suit, but he had loosened his tie.
'I like the dress,' he said, staring at the whisky in his glass.
'Thank you.'
He sipped his whisky, still not looking at her, and Lissa sensed that he was absorbed in private thoughts, a faint line between his dark brows.
'It occurs to me that I could give you a job,’ he said suddenly, and Lissa looked at him, her eyes bitter with pain and anger.
'No, thank you! I'll find my own job.'
'There are openings at the bank,' he began, and Lissa sat up, shaking with the rage which was filling her.
'Do you think I'm completely stupid?'
Luc drained his whisky and stood up in a violent movement, his body tense. 'Yes,' he said through his teeth. 'I think you're deaf, dumb and blind and I'm tempted to give you a beating except that I doubt if even that would bring you to your senses.' He crashed his whisky glass down on the table and strode out, slamming the door.
She put her hands over her face, trembling. Luc's hard features had been stiff with hostility and a violence barely controlled. He had looked at her as if he hated her, and she found that so painful that she had to fight to stop the tears which were burning at the back of her eyes.
Luc was frustrated and his frustration had turned to rage. She found herself recoiling from that masculine fury, her whole body shaken by the revelation of it. It was wounding to have him look at her like that. She felt chilled and alone, bereft. Outside this lovely room lay a great, unknown city filled with millions of people she did not know. The only people she knew were in this house and of them the only one who mattered to her was Luc. The day she walked out of here she realised she would never see him again, and that thought made her stomach cramp in misery.
All her brave thoughts about independence seeped out of her. She shivered in the loneliness of a life without Luc, despising herself for the dread which thoughts of losing him inspired in her.
The evening softly darkened. The room lay quiet and still around her. She didn't move, crouched in the chair like a child, staring at emptiness with desolate eyes.
'Heavens, why didn't you put on the light?' Megan spoke briskly from the door and Lissa jumped at the sound of her voice. The room flowered with light, dazzling her eyes, and Megan gave a quick, searching look which took in the faint tear-stains and the pallor.
'Are you all right, love?'
'Just tired,' Lissa lied, smiling far too brightly.