20. Iris
20
IRIS
I spun around in the mirror for the hundredth time. With each rotation, I fell more in love with my gown. The dressmaker’s assistant had delivered it earlier, and despite Chloe having worked miracles with our curtains, this dress was next level. The sea-green silk sheath clung to my body like a glove, shimmering in the light as I moved. What would Luc think? Would he find it too sexy for a society fiancée?
Luc.
I’d hardly seen him after our trip into town yesterday. He’d waited outside the dressmaker’s for me. But when I’d erupted out of the door, ready to apologise for not getting dressed fast enough to spare his blushes, he hadn’t been able to meet my gaze.
Instead, we’d endured the silent car journey from hell. Him with his pulsing jaw and me fidgeting with my hair. We’d only spoken when we pulled up outside the chateau.
Instead of coming around to open my door, he gripped the steering wheel, grim-faced. He apologised for barging into the studio and catching me in the buff. His ashen face looked ghostly, and again, he found it hard to meet my eyes. I hoped it was because of embarrassment, not because he didn’t like what he glimpsed.
I’d stayed in my room at dinner and spent my evening down in the staff accommodation, ignoring a fresh barrage of texts from Nathan.
This morning, though, Luc and I chatted at breakfast , and things between us returned to almost normal—as if any of this could be called normal. His demeanour over our croissants had been sketchier and more tentative than usual. But with no mention of calling off our engagement, at least he hadn’t considered the sight of my bottom a deal breaker.
“Holy freakin’ hell,” squealed Chloe. “You look amazing. Like a movie star. Like you’re about to pick up an Oscar.”
I nibbled at my lip. “Really?”
“Yes! Eat your heart out, Margot Robbie. You look incredible.”
I sighed and sat down on the bed. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“And I can’t believe you’re daring to sit down in a one-of-a-kind designer silk dress. Surely, you’ve heard of creasing?”
I shot back up. “Can you undo me?” I turned my back to Chloe. She stood and set about undoing the zip.
Feeling the dress loosening took me right back to the dressmaker’s studio. Luc’s look of fire the last time I’d taken it off. He may have apologised in the car, but the heat in his eyes had stayed with me. I’d thought long and hard about it, last night. And in the middle of the night. And at dawn. In fact, his fiery stare was all I could think about.
“You’re so lucky, Ris,” Chloe said. “One night of being a real-life Cinderella.” She giggled. “And just look at your Prince Charming.” She held up a picture of Luc that she’d spotted in a magazine. She’d cut it out with pinking shears, giving it a zig-zag edge, and brought it to show me .
Mercifully, he was alone in the photograph, not wearing his usual cape of hangers-on and beautiful women. He looked so handsome, so unattainable. I could hardly believe he’d seen me naked only twenty-four hours ago.
I stepped out of the gown and crossed the room to my discarded sundress, throwing it over my head. Chloe hummed lightly as she hung my gown in the wardrobe. She handled it as if I’d left her in charge of a priceless antique. “Can I show you something?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said, crossing her legs on the bed like a garden gnome, minus the fishing rod.
With my lip gripped in my teeth, I opened the top drawer of the dresser and took out the piece of paper I’d found slipped under my door after breakfast this morning. I carried it to Chloe, spreading it out on the bed.
She sucked in a breath. “Holy hell! Where did you get this?”
The corners of my lips rose. It was the sketch that Luc had made of me in the kitchen, only it wasn’t. He must have redrawn it. He’d added a wash of colour and sprinkled in my freckles. I smirked. At least he hadn’t added a chocolate moustache.
“You look beautiful,” she breathed. And I did. I saw myself in the picture, but I rarely noticed the details Luc had added. The baby hairs at my nape, the small mole on my jawline and the tiny scar on my eyebrow from when Billy Jenkins threw a Pokemon toy at me in primary school.
“Who painted this? Some guy in the village square yesterday?” She met my eyes, hers all mischief. “Have you been posing in the altogether for some swoony French artist?”
“No. Luc drew it. He paints too.”
She looked at me as if I’d just signed up to pilot a mission to Mars. “Really? He always seems a bit too grumpy to be creative. ”
I chuckled, running my hand over his painting. “A person can be grumpy and talented.”
Chloe reclined across the bed, stretching her arms over her head with a grin. “Really? Does he have other talents I should know about?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he couldn’t leave the fire pit fast enough the other night and the tension in the air between you was disgusting.”
I picked up my portrait and popped it back in the drawer, my pulse jumping. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, although it wasn’t strictly true. Every time I went within ten paces of Luc the air crackled between us.
“Oh, come on! Even the looks you two throw at each other should get a room.”
“Chloe!”
“I’m not blind. He couldn’t take his eyes off you at the fire, Ris.”
I joined her on the bed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, he looked dewy-eyed.”
I huffed a laugh. “Likely from the smoke.”
My best friend let out a series of little tuts. “I don’t know. Handholding, walks by the river, dress shopping, portraits. I’d say your fake fiancé may have a few distinctly un-fake feelings about you.”
Heat invaded my cheeks. “Stop! There’s nothing going on between Luc and I. Our arrangement…”
“Is purely business, I know. But I’ll tell you one thing. When he sees you in that dress, he may have a complete change of heart.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. Would it disappoint me if he did? He wasn’t about to marry me, but would I really say no to a repeat of yesterday, if we were alone at Marsan?
I could deny any indecent feelings to Chloe, but not to myself. I was feeling all kinds of indecent about Luc. Last night I’d imagined him striding around his studio above me, feverishly painting, wearing his low-slung tracksuit bottoms. And I touched myself, wishing it was his hand instead.
But then, this morning, I remembered the reality of the situation and brought myself back to earth. Even if, in some amazing dreamworld, Luc did desire me, it couldn’t go anywhere. He had so much to lose, and I had to stay focused on my plans.
“Earth to Iris? Can I take a bath?”
“Oh, sorry. Sure. Just don’t leave a puddle of water on the floor this time. I had to ask Agnes for a mop. Lord knows what she thought I’d been up to.”
Chloe grimaced. “Sorry. Oh, we’re having drinks again tonight. Down by the fire. There’ll be music, and I swear Jacques is warming up to me. Will you come? Be my wing woman?” Her eyes glittered. “You could always bring ‘Henri.’”
It seems she knew my Achilles’ heel before I did. My cheeks burned.
“Okay. But I can’t promise he’ll come.”
Chloe wiggled her eyebrows at me. “I’m sure if anyone can persuade him to come , it’s you.”
I opened my mouth, about to squeal a defence, but with a little wave, she disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door.
I pushed out a breath, my mouth forming an “o.” Heading to the window, I gazed out at the garden, at the riot of flowers and the distant hint of the snow-white statues in the Garden of Girth. Thoughts of Luc, downstairs in the kitchen, barged uninvited into my brain. His beautiful body and the way his blue eyes seared into me as he worked with his pencil. Then there were the flashes of kindness, of humour and of vulnerability I’d seen in him in the last few days. The Luc I knew now was a far cry from the haughty playboy I’d met by the pool.
I stepped back to pull the curtain across the window, but as I did, Apollo charged across the lawn with something hanging in his mouth. I tightened my eyes. It looked like a boot or a shoe. I stood on my tip-toes, about to open the window and whistle to him, but a second later, Luc came around the corner, hot on Apollo’s heels. He was laughing, almost uncontrollably. He had dishevelled hair and wore his shirt half undone. I’d never seen him look so carefree or so happy. So beautiful. I grinned, and a fizzing started in the pit of my stomach.
But as soon as I smiled, my heart tugged. I only had forty-eight more hours left with him. Two days until I had to return to the staff accommodations and out of his life. A few days after that, I’d be on my way home.
I let out a shuddering sigh. I didn’t know about dewy-eyes or fire pit seductions, but I did know I’d give anything to buy myself more time with the man I was well on my way to falling for.