Epilogue
The following summer…
‘Oh, Maurice, there is no need to look like that at me! Your little ones are safe here! Mathilde can teach them to swim in the swimming pool! You know I won’t say no!’
Arielle’s voice was a mix of resignation and amusement.
Beside her, Lycos laughed. ‘They’ve timed their brood well. I’m sure Marc and Tara’s children will be enchanted to share the pool with ducklings!’
They both watched awhile as Mathilde shepherded her precious offspring bobbing about adorably in the azure water and Maurice marched protectively, and self-importantly, along the edge of the pool.
Arielle and Lycos left them to it. The Derenzes would be arriving the next day, en route to their villa on Cap Saint-Pierre, where Arielle and Lycos were invited to join them later in the month.
The couple had become friends and Arielle was glad of it, for her own sake.
She’d hit it off with the plain-speaking Tara from the start.
And for Lycos’s sake too because it drew him away from those he knew from the casino circuit.
Although those on the casino circuit were not all as repellent as she’d originally thought, she had to allow as she’d come to know them better. Some were merely wealthy and enjoyed exercising skill at cards, either casually or, like Lycos himself, more seriously.
Not that Lycos gambled seriously any longer. Now he only did it, as he had told her, to keep his skill up and for the satisfaction of pitting his wits against worthy opponents. But he was choosy about with whom he gambled—only those he was certain could afford to lose to him.
Arielle’s expression changed as they made their way across the terrace.
She and Lycos had made another couple of friends since their rapturous reunion last autumn.
Young Gervais de Lascaux, over whom Lycos was keeping an eye as he steadily repaid his loan, and his sister, Marie-Claire, had remained in touch.
They had met up socially in Paris, along with their mother, the vicomtesse, whose tearful gratitude to Lycos had touched Arielle.
As had her children’s devotion to her. They, too, would be making a visit to Mas Delfine later in the year.
Mas Delfine. Arielle’s expression softened as it always did when she thought of her beloved home. Their beloved home. Hers and Lycos’s. Lycos. Her husband. Her beloved husband. No longer, and never again, what she had once sadly called him—the Lone Wolf.
No, he was not that man any more. He had found his mate, his companion for life. As had she.
Wonder and happiness filled her.
They had married without delay. A small, private ceremony uniting them legally, just as their own hearts had already united them emotionally.
They had honeymooned in Normandy, the lush countryside resplendent in autumnal glory.
And Lycos had taken her to see what he’d told her was her second wedding present. Her eyes had widened as they’d arrived.
‘I’ve bought land for paddocks and built stabling,’ he’d told her. ‘And hired staff to run it. It’s a rescue and rehab centre for retired and discarded racehorses.’ He’d paused. ‘Come and meet the first resident.’
He’d led the way forward to a spacious loosebox where a handsome gelding whinnied in greeting.
‘I bought him from Paul Ronsard before he’d had time to have him put down. Paul thought me a fool.’ Lycos shrugged indifferently. He no longer socialised with Paul and did not miss him.
Arielle lifted her hand to the velvet muzzle. ‘Hello, boy,’ she said softly. ‘Now you can run only for pleasure, not profit.’ She turned to Lycos, her face expressive. ‘You are a good, good man, Lycos Dimistrios,’ she said. Her eyes were alight with love.
Lycos patted the steed’s neck. ‘Those we take in who can be repurposed, so to speak, for hacking can be passed on to careful owners. But the others can simply live out their lives here in comfort and safety.’
‘It must be costing you a fortune!’ Arielle said, concern in her voice.
Lycos shrugged again. ‘Now, when I gamble, all my winnings go here,’ he said.
She kissed his cheek. ‘Then I hope the Wolf never loses!’ she told him.
He cupped her face with his hands, eyes boring into hers. ‘I have won the most precious treasure of all,’ he said. ‘Your heart.’
She raised her mouth to his, brushing lightly. ‘And yours is mine,’ she said. ‘And always will be.’
Love swelled within her, as it always did, as she slipped her hand into his.
They walked together through the archway into the cobbled yard beyond.
The hens were pecking about on the rough ground beyond the gateway where Lycos’s monster car was parked up.
It had been well exercised earlier in the week, for it had been Jeanne and Claude’s petrolhead teenage son Dan’s birthday and Lycos had treated him to a thrilling track day so he could experience driving it himself.
Though insured to the eyeballs, Jeanne had confided to Arielle that she was grateful Dan could never aspire to own such an expensive, and so dangerously powerful, car.
In exchange for the track day for his son, Claude was teaching Lycos to drive a different vehicle—a tractor.
Lycos was buying one of his own. A top of the range vehicle to go with the ATV he’d purchased in the spring.
Both were to come into use as Lycos busied himself with his next preoccupation.
He was going to develop a vin Delfine from newly-planted vineyards on land he’d bought from neighbours, on the far side of the mas away from Jeanne and Claude, which had also once been part of Arielle’s family property long ago.
Lycos was not just buying back former land and involving himself in the local wine-growers association, he was also restoring the barns in the courtyard—despite the objections from drake Maurice and cockerel Jean-Paul at the disruption.
At the same time, Arielle was carefully, but assiduously, updating the mas itself.
It was a complete labour of love and she was taking great care to make sure that the restoration was an homage and not a modernisation.
The plumbing had been updated, the electrics and appliances converted to solar power supplied by out-of-view panels, but the décor, even when repainted and worn fabrics replaced, retained its old-world charm.
Her piano, too, retained its place of honour in the parlour.
Lycos had donated a fine instrument in its place to the lycée, where Arielle gave piano lessons gratis to those not able to afford them otherwise.
Here, though, she still loved to while away an evening at her own piano, her father’s gift to her, soothing Lycos with Schumann and Chopin.
Until, as always happened, she would see a glint form in his night-dark eyes and know that something more than music was drawing his attention.
Then she would close down the lid, move gracefully towards him as he got to his feet, taking her hands.
The glint in his eye telling her there was only one destination for them both then…
Until the morning light brought a new day.
Day, after day, after day. An endless succession now, for all the rest of their lives.
Gratitude and love poured through her at how happy, how blissfully happy, they were.
Every day she gave thanks that Lycos the Wolf had played that fateful game of cards with her stepbrother and had won Mas Delfine.
Or he would never have come into my life. The mas would have been sold and I would have lost it for ever.
And if Gerald hadn’t sold it, the mas might have been seized as an asset.
She gave a shiver. Not long after they’d got married Lycos told her that Naomi’s fourth husband, yet another wealthy businessman whom she had married shortly after the funeral of Arielle’s father, had been arrested on charges of fraud and corruption.
Naomi, and Gerald, had flagrantly invested Charles Frobisher’s legacy into the latest husband’s business.
As a result, not only had all their assets been frozen, but both Naomi and Gerald had been implicated in the malfeasance and would stand trial. Prison sentences for both loomed.
Arielle tried not to be glad, but Lycos was blunt.
‘Nemesis,’ he said roundly. ‘The Greek goddess of retribution. They had it coming.’
Arielle let it be. Thanks to Lycos the mas was safe. And, thanks to Lycos and the love they shared, she would be happy now and all her life. And so would he. And for yet one more reason—
She felt her heart lift as they went into the kitchen.
The dresser still held pride of place, freshly repainted, but the ancient range had been replaced by one that would see out another generation at least. The new, low-energy fridge no longer grumbled to itself.
The water gushing from the new, but old-styled brass taps over the new, but still stone sink, still came from the ancient well, but it was pumped up now using solar power.
Companionably, she and Lycos assembled their salad lunch with leaves freshly picked, tomatoes and peaches likewise and cheeses, as always, from Jeanne’s dairy.
As they did every day when the weather was clement, they took lunch out to the shaded ironwork table on the terrace.
Setting out the plates and dishes, Arielle poured out a glass of wine for Lycos, but none for herself, instead sticking to water.
Lycos, taking his place as she took hers, glanced at her.
Arielle looked at him limpidly. ‘I must be picky about cheese, too,’ she said. ‘Nothing unpasteurised.’
Lycos frowned. She met his gaze, her expression still limpid. Then, as the penny dropped, Lycos surged to his feet, coming around the table.
‘Oh, my God,’ he breathed. ‘Are you…? When did you…? I mean…’ he rambled incoherently.
Arielle took his hand. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And I found out this morning. Tested positive.’
Greek words broke from him, as they still did in times of great emotion.
And what time of greater emotion, Arielle thought fondly as Lycos hunkered down beside her, throwing his arms around her and wrapping her in a bear hug, could be more deserving than to discover the greatest blessing of all was to be bestowed upon them?
‘Next Easter, I reckon,’ Arielle said, dropping a kiss on his head.
He got to his feet, his hand crushing hers. His night-dark eyes bored into hers.
‘How is it possible to be even happier than we already are?’ he said, his heart in his voice.
She smiled, lovingly, affectionately, understandingly, for the very same question was in her own head.
‘I don’t know. But this I do know.’ She grazed his knuckle with her lips and lifted her gaze to his. ‘That we give thanks, Lycos. We give thanks.’
She heard her voice catch and Lycos heard it too. And with the same catch in his own voice, he bent to kiss her soft lips.
‘We give thanks,’ he echoed.
Arielle’s heart swelled. Yes, they would give thanks, both of them, next Easter all of them, for all that they had been blessed with.
So very, very much…
Keep reading for an excerpt from GREEK BOSS TO HATE by Michelle Smart.