Chapter Four #2
Lycos dipped below the water again. His soft laugh silenced, but the reason for it still resonant within him, as he dolphin-kicked the length of the pool before surfacing.
A sense of satisfaction filled him. He knew why she had refused and he was glad of it.
He had seen the sudden flush in her cheeks as she’d turned away.
He slowed his stroke, easing back to a more leisurely, steady pace. Lapping the lengths and pondering as he did so. Any of his other women, the ones he was used to, would have instantly either accepted his invitation, eager to respond, or else would have turned it down coquettishly, flirtatiously.
Arielle had simply blushed.
And walked away.
As his pace slowed, he thought about it. Found words shaping themselves in his head. Unfamiliar words.
All I have seen from her, all day, is emotion. Shock, dismay, distress. So much emotion. Raw and uncontrolled. I have seen her as she is. Nothing hidden.
It was a strange realisation. An unfamiliar one.
What did he know of any of the women he’d consorted with?
They’d always put forward a persona, an image, a facsimile of whoever they were.
He’d never penetrated behind that persona.
Never questioned who they really were, if they were anyone at all, whether they had any existence other than the one he required them to have.
But I keep myself from them, too. I keep myself from everyone.
He knew why he did that. There’d been too much in the past for anything else. Too much that he didn’t want to think about, to remember. It was the way he operated. The way that worked for him. The way he had become over the long years that separated him from the past. The way he was familiar with.
He knew no other way to be. No other way he wanted to be.
As he reached the shallow end of the pool he halted abruptly.
He waded out of the pool using the corner steps, feeling the warmth of the late afternoon sun on his bare shoulders.
He strode to his lounger, seized the towel to pad himself dry, then, looping it around his neck, slid on his sunglasses, scooped up his polo shirt and headed back indoors.
From the cool hallway he could hear clattering coming from the kitchen and caught the aroma of garlic. He paused by the door, leaning against the jamb.
‘Dinner?’ he queried.
Arielle was by the sink, chopping onions on a wooden board.
‘Boeuf bourguignon,’ she said. She did not look at him. ‘It will take a good hour.’
‘No problem,’ Lycos returned easily. ‘I’m going up to shower and change. An aperitif would be good when I come down. Enjoy it with me.’
He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. He simply vaulted lightly up the stairs and disappeared into the bathroom, removing his dark glasses as he did.
The swim had done him good. Or something had.
In a pleasant mood he stepped inside the shower cubicle and turned on the water.
Arielle chopped the onion into smaller pieces more vigorously than was necessary. Her lips were tightened. Inside her chest she could feel her heart beating and she knew why. But she paid it no attention and instead, she focussed on cooking. She knew the reason for that too…
Onions chopped to within an inch of their life, she extracted beef steaks from the freezer.
She cubed them and then tossed them in seasoned flour, then seared them.
She then added the steak to the iron pan, along with the chopped garlic, onions and a plentiful amount of fresh thyme from the pots in the garden.
She poured in a good measure of wine and set it all to simmer.
Would her uninvited and unwelcome guest require a dessert as well?
Her mouth tightened further at the thought, for Lycos Dimistrios was no more her ‘guest’ than Genghis Khan had been a ‘guest’ of those receiving his grim visitation.
For a moment she felt an overwhelming urge to march upstairs and bawl him out. Yell at him for being demanding, entitled and obnoxious. Then she sighed. What would that get her? An order to pack her bags and get out. She took a breath to steady herself.
Stick it out this evening. He’ll leave in the morning and then, until he formally sells and evicts you, you can at least stay here. It could be weeks before a buyer wants the place. Precious weeks for you…
For that reason, and that reason alone, she would put up with his overbearing behaviour.
And certainly not because he could raise her pulse in ways that had absolutely nothing to do with the reason he was here.
She crushed that wayward, illicit and completely irrelevant-to-the-dire-situation thought way down.
What does it matter what he looks like? It’s who he is. He’s the man who won my home in a stupid, vile game of cards! So, I should totally ignore anything else about him.
She picked up a metal sieve and headed out for the walled section of the gardens that had been set aside as a kitchen garden. She would pick raspberries, soak them in liqueur and serve them with ice cream from the freezer.
Back in the kitchen she rinsed the raspberries and left them to drain.
She then topped and tailed the beans she’d also picked to go with the beef and stirred the aromatic bourguignon simmering gently in its heavy iron pan on the hob.
She felt hot and sticky from the day’s heat and from the cooking. She usually swam this time of day…
Well, why not? He’s had his swim. I can have mine.
In his pool?
Defiantly, damning him for everything he was, she headed upstairs. A moment later she ran back down again, tee shirt over her costume and towel in her hand, and made for the cooling waters of the pool.
Lycos was strolling in the gardens. He’d intended to fetch his laptop from the boot of his car, but as he’d headed outdoors, refreshed after his shower, the early evening air had drawn him into the gardens instead.
He stepped down to the lower levels of terracing, inhaled the heady scent of lavender and watched the sun lowering behind the trees.
From far away he thought he could hear cattle lowing and the faint, plaintive bleat of sheep.
As he made his way back up to the top level, he realised he could hear the sound of water lapping.
Curious, he glanced through to the pool area.
Arielle was swimming. Not as he had swum, with vigorous freestyle, but with a slow and graceful breaststroke.
Her head was up out of the water with her hair piled up on top.
All he could see of her was her shoulders and the dim outline of her body beneath the surface.
He watched her for a moment as she headed away from him, unaware of his observation, and then he let her be as he went back to exploring the grounds of his new possession.
Returning via the courtyard, he entered the house by the kitchen door, drawn by the appetising aroma of the dinner cooking. He picked up the long wooden spoon resting on a plate and lifted the heavy lid of the iron pan, starting to stir the contents.
‘What are you doing?’
The voice from the doorway was sharp.
He looked round, unperturbed. Arielle stood there in the doorframe, glaring at him.
‘Giving it a stir,’ he said.
‘It’s fine,’ came the retort.
His eyes went to her. She had a towel wrapped around her, and was dripping on the tiled kitchen floor.
‘It smells good,’ he said.
‘I’m glad you approve.’
Lycos ignored the sardonic note. ‘When you’ve showered and dressed you can share that aperitif with me,’ he said.
‘I’ve got to feed the hens first and lock them up. And the ducks,’ she retorted.
‘Well, when you’ve done that you can share that aperitif with me,’ Lycos amended. ‘I’ll give you a hand with the poultry. Mathilde and Maurice may not come quietly,’ he added, with a twist of humour.
‘No, they come with a lot of quacking and a great deal of expectation of being fed as well as locked up for the night!’
Lycos’s eyes glinted. ‘You see, you can do humour too, if you put your mind to it,’ he said.
Immediately, her expression tightened. Saying nothing, she walked past him and a moment later he heard her padding up the stairs. He went back to stirring the bourguignon. He should not have teased her, it had been unkind of him.
Today has not been good for her.
He set aside the wooden spoon, replaced the heavy lid and walked to the kitchen door.
The daylight was definitely fading now and evening was starting to gather.
So, he realised with a sudden tug at his mouth, were the hens.
He could see several pecking about near the gateway, clearly knowing it was their suppertime.
One particularly bold, or hungry, hen headed towards him making a clucking noise.
‘Not me, madame,’ he said apologetically.
He watched a while as, unwilling to believe he did not have her feed about his person, the hen pecked near his feet, at what he did not know.
Upstairs he heard the sound of shower water.
Then, moments later, it cut out. He leant against the doorframe, relaxing against it.
It really was very peaceful here, the evening air soft and warm.
His eyes went to his car, visible through the open gateway. It seemed quite out of place.
A peck at his feet distracted him. He glanced down. The hen had clearly not believed him.
‘Madame,’ he informed her apologetically. ‘That is my shoe, not your dinner!’
A voice behind him spoke. ‘That’s Hortense—she’s always first in the line.’
Arielle was coming into the kitchen, dressed now. She’d put on long cotton trousers and a light, but long-sleeved sweatshirt, both in blue. The colour matched her eyes, Lycos noted absently, making them look even bluer. Even more beautiful.
‘Their feed is kept in the barn,’ she said.