He dropped her hand and she rubbed it as though the grip of his powerful fingers had cramped the blood.
'How long have you been engaged? When's the wedding?' He sounded politely interested, and she could think of no reason for refusing to answer, although every fibre of her being was screaming out as though she were in some deadly danger. Lissa had never thought of herself as superstitious, yet something about Luc Ferrier raised the hair on the back of her neck. She could well understand why people called him Lucifer and said he was connected with the devil. She felt exactly the same herself.
'We've been engaged for a year,' she muttered.
'A year?' He asked that sharply as though eager to hear her answer.
Lissa looked at him in nervous impatience. 'Yes.'
He stared at her fixedly, the impassive lines of his features gleaming in the sunlight. The sun struck light from his tanned skin and turned it a brilliant gold, gave depth and power to the blue eyes, so that they pierced her and made her feel more and more alarmed. She felt he was looking right through her to her backbone, that he could read her mind as though her head was made of glass.
'And when's the wedding?' he asked in a slow, thoughtful voice.
Lissa slid her eyes from the compelling stare of his and. mumbled, 'We haven't decided yet.'
He moved slightly and she looked at him in hurried wanness. He gave her a hard, cool smile. 'No hurry? How wise. One should never hurry into marriage. I'm sure the old saying is true-marry in haste, repent at leisure. I've borne it in mind all my life.' His smile was teasing, amused. 'I've no taste for repentance.'
Lissa could believe that. Looking at the sharp razor edges of his fleshless profile, she could easily believe it. Luc Ferrier wasn't a man who was likely to repent anything. She had the feeling he did just as he pleased and damn the consequences.
Looking away from him across the level sands, she asked huskily: 'Did you play last night, Mr Ferrier?'
'Of course,' he said, as though surprised she should ask. She felt him staring at her profile, the small soft outline of her face averted from him as far as possible. She had the features of a young girl, smooth-skinned and slightly delicate, her brow high and wide beneath the sleek wet blonde hair, her eyes set beneath thin brows, their slanting upward gleam hidden now by pale smooth lids fringed by darkened lashes which were naturally pale. Her nose was small and straight, her mouth tender. The rounded chin and long slender neck underlined her youth.
'Roulette?' she asked with dry nervousness.
'Poker,' he said, watching her.
She swallowed, trying to disguise it from him by keeping her face averted. 'Oh? Who did you play with?'
He was silent for a moment and she turned in a quick motion to look at him, meeting the sharp stab of his stare with alarm.
'Your fiancé,' he drawled, still watching her.
She tried to smile and it was a lamentable failure, her lips moving stiffly. 'I hope you didn't lose.'
Luc Ferrier's hard mouth twisted. 'Do you?' His eyes made it clear he did not believe that. 'Well, as it happens, I didn't.'
She fought not to show alarm, but his eyes narrowed as he watched her innocent, anxious face.
'Oh,' she said unevenly. 'Oh. Good.'
She rose and he rose with her. 'Well, I'd better have that swim,' he announced, to her relief. As she walked away she heard the splash of his entry into the water. The dog ran along ahead of her, prancing excitedly over the lawns which surrounded the hotel, delighted with his prolonged visit to the beach. A flock of birds soared up as he ran towards them, and Lissa's eyes followed their flight absently.
How much had Chris lost last night? Was he insane to play poker with a man whose face could put up shutters which hid every single thought in his head?
She showered and dressed and had a light breakfast of fruit and coffee. A few people were drifting through the foyer as she went towards the offices. They glanced at her in recognition as she passed them and she returned their smiling greetings.
'Hallo there,' one of them said, halting to detain her, his hand on her arm.
Lissa glanced up at him. She had seen him several times on the beach. He was not one of the gamblers; he was here for surfing and sunworship. His lithe brown body witnessed to that. At a guess she would say he was only a few years older than herself and from his manner she would imagine he had plenty of money. He was used to impressing the girls he dated. His light, shallow smile set her teeth on edge.
'Great act last night,' he told her. 'How about coming out for a drive with me this afternoon? Show me the island.' He gave her what he imagined would be an irresistible smile. 'We could have fun together.'
'My fiancé wouldn't like that,' Lissa said sweetly. She had had this sort of approach before from visitors. He was not going to be hard to deal with-he didn't have the dangerous control of Luc Ferrier. She found no difficulty in reading his mind at a glance. She smiled to herself. She might be alarmed by Luc Ferrier but men of this sort did not bother her an inch.
He looked disgruntled. 'Fiancé?'
'Chris Brandon,' she explained.
His hand dropped from her arm and he took a hurried step away. 'Oh.' She caught the incredulous, nervous flick of his eyes, then he was gone so fast it was laughable. Mention of Chris always seemed to make men sheer off fast. It was odd that Chris, for all his charm and lighthearted manner, somehow managed to have this effect on other men.
Although Chris employed a number of very tough men from the back streets of the town, not one of them had ever so much as looked at Lissa with anything but careful courtesy. The hotel attracted a number of pretty girls. Lissa saw Chris's men around with some of these girls and recognised that their manner to other women bore no resemblance to the way they treated her. She found it touching. Chris's men knew that if they turned those insolent, appraising glances on her she would run like a rabbit, perhaps.
Or perhaps, she thought, as one of the men let her pass through into Chris's office with a careful smile, the men knew that Chris would get very angry if any of them so much as laid a finger on her.
He was having one of his morning conferences with the men who ran the casino. As Lissa walked into the room Chris was talking in a crisp, staccato fashion. She caught the tail-end of a sentence. 'Not a penny more. Got that?' Then Chris turned and saw her and his face softened and warmed. 'Good morning, darling.'
She walked over to kiss him while the men rose. Chris held her, his arm around her slender waist.
'We'll finish later,' he told his men, and they filed out, smiling at Lissa politely.
Max was the last to leave. She caught the white gleam of his teeth. Chris shot him a look and Max vanished.
Lissa looked up at Chris, frowning. 'How much did you lose last night?'
His eyes narrowed. 'Who told you I played?' She knew from the ring of his tone that he had warned his staff not to tell her and she looked at him crossly.
'Luc Ferrier himself!'
Chris stiffened. 'How did you come to meet him?'
'He was on the beach this morning. Chris, don't play with him again. I don't trust him. He's too tough.'
She caught a flicker of something in his face, a shifting amusement, a brightness in his eyes. Sometimes Chris bothered her. She worried about that odd streak in him, the flaw which led him to run risks, to court danger.
'Honey, I'm in no danger,' he said softly. 'I only played to get his measure and I got out when I saw I was on a low streak. He's good, though. The best I've over seen-he doesn't show a thing. And he gets the cards, my God he does! I watched him for another hour and his luck is unbelievable. I had Victor keep an eye on him in case he was a sharp, but Victor says not. He says it just isn't possible'