21. Iris
21
IRIS
“ I t’ll be fine,” I said to Luc. “Nobody recognised you the other night. Besides, Chloe’s a safe pair of hands. She won’t tell anyone the boss is coming to the party.”
Luc gave me a rueful look, no doubt wishing he’d never agreed to join us at the fire pit.
We had dinner together on the terrace. He actually gave the staff a night off and cooked, saying he felt responsible for my French food education. Along with a beautiful bottle of the rosé he and Thierry created, he brought out a huge croque monsieur. Its top bubbled away, coated in a delicious cheesy sauce. Damn, this man knew how to tempt me.
After polishing off our food, Luc produced an ancient-looking bottle of red wine and allowed me to “style” him ready mix with the “peasants.” I’d been the one to use the word. He just shook his head, chuckling. I mussed up his hair, like the other night, and took great delight in pulling his shirt out of his trousers. I mean, a girl could dream.
Finally, I forced him to leave his jacket behind, and right now, as we wandered through the Garden of Girth, he looked positively dreamy .
“Thanks for dinner. I feel I need to return the favour now. Treat you to a quintessential British meal. How do bangers and mash sound?”
“Dangerous.”
I giggled, running my hand over the calf of a rather strapping statue of Eros. His wings reminded me of the faery books Chloe introduced me to on our trip through Turkey. Rhysand and his friends had kept me happy on more than a few occasions.
“Did you receive the dress?” Luc asked, his voice low and hesitant.
“I did. Thank you. It turned out a little ‘showier’ than I expected, but the dressmaker assured me it was acceptable for the opera and the Moulin Rouge.”
In the dim light, Luc gripped his lip with his teeth. “I’m sure you’ll look beautiful.”
My heart skipped at the low pitch of his words, and I thought of the gift he’d pushed under my door earlier. “I wanted to say thank you for the picture you left me. It’s stunning.”
The corners of his lips lifted. “I had an easy subject to work with. Did you really like it?”
I nodded, suddenly feeling awkward, like our steps were out of sync or my body took up too much room. Time to change the subject. “Did you study art? I can’t believe you’re so talented.”
He hung back a little in the shadows, but the sparkle of his blue eyes reached me loud and clear. “I didn’t. When my mother was alive, I’d spend hours watching her paint. I learned a lot. as a young teenager, I’d sit with the men in the village square. A couple of them were artists, and they happily shared their knowledge.”
“I didn’t realise your mum painted. Do you think that’s why your father hated you doing it? It could’ve upset him. Remind him too much of his loss. ”
Luc’s jaw clamped tight and, although impossible, I swear a physical wall went up between us. “My father was a cold man. Full of conceit. I believe he loved my mother in his own way, but I never saw him cry when she died. Not even close.” He sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m terrified people think I’m just like him.”
My heart rushed into my mouth, like its pulse filled my throat. Luc wasn’t cold or conceited. He was private. Measured. Wary to trust others. And after his revelations at the river, it didn’t surprise me.
Driven by a surge of bravado, blind optimism, and a genuine need to touch him, I reached out and took his hand. “You’re not like your father. You’re lovely.” His eyes locked onto mine and heat simmered in my cheeks. “I mean, you’re delightful.” Oh, seriously. I made him sound like an ice cream on a hot day or a slice of chocolate cake. I shook my head slowly, rolling my eyes to the treetops above. “What I mean is that you’re a really nice person. I’m glad I jumped into your pool uninvited and got the chance to see it.”
He stared at me for the longest beat, before the corners of his lips curved and he gave my hand the gentlest squeeze. He didn’t say another word until we neared the clearing, but he never once let go of me.
Luc stopped at the edge of the trees, the flames from the fire casting vivid orange shadows across his face. He swept his eyes around the gathering of laughing, chatting people. There were more than before. Some new faces, and others familiar.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked, his hand tensing around mine.
“It’s fine. Besides, it’s only fair. I have to spend time with your family tomorrow.”
A small line appeared between his brows. “The pickers are hardly your family. ”
I shook my head firmly. “While I’m here, that’s exactly what they are. And I know they’ll love you. Come on.”
Someone had lit the little lanterns that hung in the trees, and the whole glade screamed “fairy tale.” Maybe my winged crew from the Night Court had flown through and weaved their influence. We ducked under branches and entered the party in a swish of leaves.
All heads turned as we approached, and I swallowed as Luc’s body stiffened next to me.
Chloe’s face erupted into a grin. “Iris! You made it. And you brought…” she hesitated, with a cheeky glint in her eye. “Hercule? Horatio? Oh, now I remember, Henri. From the dairy, right?”
Luc sucked in a breath beside me, and I held onto him for dear life. If I let go of his hand, he’d sprint straight back to the house and lock himself in his tower.
“That’s right,” I said, throwing Chloe an, “I’m gonna kill you later,” look. “Henri was at a loose end. He brought wine.”
Like a robot, Luc held the bottle out in front of him. Chloe jumped up, taking the green glass and examining it in the firelight. Her mouth dropped. “This is seriously good stuff. Henri, you can visit any time you like.”
Somebody produced a corkscrew, and as Chloe opened the bottle, Luc and I took a seat on a rickety old bench under a large tree. The seat must have been designed for the Seven Dwarves, though. The second he sat next to me, our thighs grazed together, and I’d never been so acutely aware of another person’s closeness—of their proximity to my body. I steadied the thinning breath in my throat, trying desperately to ignore the scent of his cologne.
After making its way around the circle, Luc’s bottle arrived at my hand. I took it, and bringing my lips to the finish, took a sip. As I did, a brief glow of satisfaction sparked in my chest. Thierry would be proud of me. When I’d started working with him, I’d referred to the top of the bottle as “the pointy end.” Now I used the proper term.
The complex, earthy liquid washed over my taste buds, and I closed my eyes, letting out an involuntary moan of delight. I took a second sip and turned to Luc. The corners of his lips tipped up, and something slightly primal lurked in his eyes. My cheeks heated. Had someone set this bench too close to the fire?
I passed the wine to him, and he stared at the bottle like I’d laced it with poison. “I don’t drink wine from bottles.”
I side-eyed him with a grin. “Lighten up, Henri. You’re mixing with the common folk now. Unless any of us has a communicable disease, you’ll probably survive the experience.”
Luc gave me a disparaging stare, but I pushed the neck of the bottle towards him and lifted my brows. He gave a tiny shake of his head and took it. “Fine.” He tipped the wine back and drank. When he finished, he dragged his hand across his mouth.
“See, you can mingle with anyone if you try.”
A momentary cloud of something passed over his face. “Please, don’t laugh at me.”
I nudged into him, my arm hitting the solid wall of his chest. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. I appreciate you coming down here tonight. It means a lot.”
Luc’s beautiful eyes lingered on mine before a spitting log hissed rudely on the fire, rending the early evening air. His face lit up orange in the flicker of the flames, like Lucifer. “Are you worried about tomorrow?” he asked.
How to answer his question honestly? “Absolutely terrified” wouldn’t strike much confidence, but I didn’t have the heart to pretend I didn’t feel responsible for the eventual outcome of the evening. “I wish I hadn’t made up so many complicated stories. I’ll never remember what I said. ”
He huffed a laugh beside me. “Just stay off the subject of alpacas and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
I took the bottle of wine from Luc, taking a sip. “Have you heard from your sister?”
“She’s been overseas on business, but she and my grandmother are having dinner tonight, in Paris.”
My gut pulled. “So she’ll know all about me. About us, before we arrive at the gala. Does that worry you? I can’t believe I used my real name. She’s probably run a search and found out who I really am.”
Luc pushed his knee against mine, the pressure sending a tingle of delight up my leg. “Don’t worry. My grandmother is old and loves her champagne. She won’t remember your surname. If she asks again, I’ll tell her it’s Smith. With a name that common, Delphine wouldn’t be able to trace you fast enough even if she did find out. I can handle my sister.” He lowered his voice, turning to me. “But I don’t want her to upset you.”
“What do you mean? Is she that bad? Will she strap me to a chair and shine bright lights into my face?”
Luc straightened, his eyes wide and serious. “I don’t like the thought of anything, or anyone, hurting you. And definitely not because of me.” His eyes darkened, but not with desire. It was more like someone asked him to do something really important. Like something weighed heavily on him. He took my hand, threading his fingers through mine.
I blinked, holding my breath as he lifted my knuckles to his lips.
“Iris…” he whispered.
Just then a giggling Chloe stood up, grabbing the hand of what I assume was Jacques. Looking a little worse for wear, she weaved past us, knocking into my shoulder and jolting my hand out of Luc’s grip. “I’m so sorry,” she breathed, giving me a look that screamed, “Please don’t kill me. ”
I turned back to Luc, seeking his gaze, but he just stared into the distance, his jaw pulsing.
Chloe and her partner reached the other side of the fire. They embraced, swaying together in the firelight as the picker holding the guitar strummed gently.
Chloe’s new friend moved his hand to the small of her back. When he whispered something into her ear, she smiled, peeping over his shoulder at me. She looked like a kitten who’d broken into a catnip factory. The corners of my mouth lifted, too. I loved to see her so happy.
She leaned further over Jacques’ shoulder. “You should dance with Iris, Henri. It’s a beautiful night. It’s a shame to waste such a good moon.”
I tightened my eyes in her direction. When I’d noticed the moon earlier, only a sliver shone through the trees forming a tiny crescent.
The apples of her cheeks lifted and as she and her partner completed a slow rotation on the spot. She looked directly at Luc. “Come on, Henri. The night is young and so are we.”
The mischievous gleam in her eye had me clamping my teeth together. Though I’d not turn down an opportunity to get up close and personal with Luc, the hard line of his jaw told me he was in no mood to take up Chloe’s suggestion.
“It’s okay,” I said, reaching down towards my foot. “I think I might have sprained my ankle in the bottling room earlier.”
Luc looked at me, searching my eyes.
“Nonsense,” continued Chloe, earning herself a less impressive Christmas present than I’d planned. “Henri looks big and strapping. I’m sure he’d be able to hold you up if he really had to.”
I glared at Chloe, a burn licking inside my chest. “No, it’s fine. I’d rather not.” If I danced with Luc, he wouldn’t just have to hold me up. I couldn’t guarantee my legs would even work.
With a creak of the seat, though, Luc stood, his back ramrod straight, like he was accepting a medal. He cleared his throat. “Iris. Would you dance with me?”
I looked into his face and swallowed. In the space of a few seconds, Luc had gone from a very solid but aloof “ten” to Smoulder-Town city limits. He quirked a brow at me, and my gut flipped like a pancake. I pressed my thighs tight together trying to ignore the tiniest pulse between them. “Honestly, there’s no need. You probably have to get back soon. Milk some cows.”
He didn’t let up, though. Didn’t even flinch. Just stood there, melting the surrounding air with the heat in his eyes. “Please,” he said again, only this time, low and husky. He offered me his hand, and I sighed. Stuff it. Why not? If I was going to visit Smoulder-Town, I may as well make the most of it and really take in the sights.
With unsteady legs, I took his hand, and he pulled me up as if I weighed nothing. I dared a look at Chloe and thanked the lord Luc had his back to her, because she gave me a thumbs up and puckered her lips, pretending to kiss the air like it was a person. My cheeks burned. I loved my friend dearly, but even I had limits.
I looked at my dance partner, heart thumping in my ears. How had I never noticed it could do that? Luc intertwined his fingers around mine and, in one smooth motion, pulled me close, his arm wrapping around my waist. As his fingers dragged along my side, an involuntary shiver swept over me.
Our chests met, and heat pulsed through his shirt, like my dress would burn to ashes against him. His scent swirled in my brain, and I slowly brought my eyes to meet his face.
“Are you comfortable?” he murmured, his mouth just inches from my upturned lips. “I don’t want to injure your ankle any further.”
I smiled, and his eyes softened. Instead of looking like he’d incinerate me, perhaps he’d only toast my edges. “If I get in trouble, you can always give me a piggyback.”
A few other couples joined us on the makeshift dance floor, and the guitar player renewed his efforts, strumming a tune I’d heard on the radio recently. At the flourish of strings, Luc’s earlier stiffness left his body, replaced by a newfound fluidity. A confidence. This dance wasn’t his first smooch at the rodeo. No. He was driving me like a sports car. And as his fingers pressed gently against my ribs, I was ready to submit to the test drive.
We turned slowly, moving to the music. His eyes never left mine, and the space between our bodies became smaller. Tighter. Along with my breath.
With every step, the desire, the crazy need from our first kiss resurfaced, and I wanted to press myself into his body. Pull him into mine.
Instead, I closed my eyes and rested my head on his chest. His heart thumped too, and I couldn’t resist weaving my other arm tighter around his back, his muscles passing under my fingertips like beads on an abacus. Luc met my pressure, humming gently to the music. He brought a hand to my hair, stroking it behind my ear in a hypnotic rhythm.
A woman’s giggle rang in the darkness, and I turned my head towards the noise. It wasn’t Chloe, but as Luc and I swayed together, the laugh grew louder. His hand tensed against my back, and I reluctantly peeled my eyes open. The couple dancing next to us chuckled together, rocking and swirling as if they were waltzing at a state banquet or a ball. I smiled. But then the guy executed a deep dip, his partner stumbled, and the two of them barrelled into Luc.
I wondered how he didn’t fall. Instead, the movement pushed him against me, and with the press of his body, a hint of hardness met my hip. I widened my eyes, sucking in a breath. It was more shock—more surprise—than anything. Then Luc’s eyes found mine. They were hooded, like he’d pulled a barrier down and padlocked it tight.
His mouth hung open, and even in the shadows, I swear he flushed. When we both found our footing, Luc turned away faster than a bullet train. He stepped aside, talking over his shoulder, his words tumbling out. “I should go. I’m so sorry. I can’t…. I’m sorry.”
And with that, he shook his head and charged off into the undergrowth, heading towards the house. I stood still in the clearing, missing his warmth, missing his body. Missing him. Couples swayed around me, and I searched for Chloe, but I couldn’t see her. She’d probably taken Jacques to examine her curtains.
My mind flew back to Luc, the look of mortification on his face, when he realised I must have felt his… well… his “enthusiasm.” I let out a shaky breath. I had to find him and let him know how I felt. That I wasn’t freaked out. Didn’t think any less of him. Quite the opposite.
I was under no illusion that if anything happened between us, it would only be physical. I didn’t belong in his world, and I had to focus on rescuing Stuart and starting again. But right now, all I wanted was his arms around me.
With a swirl of my dress, I took off in the same direction he left, retracing our steps past the winery, past the pool, and through the lavender.
I finally found him in the Garden of Girth, striding towards the house. “Luc! Stop!” I shouted. “Please wait.” Cursing every croissant I’d demolished in France, every slice of brie I’d consumed, I sucked in thick breaths. He stopped ahead of me on the path and brought his hands to his hips, his back forming a barricade.
“Luc, please. Listen. I don’t mind.”
He half turned towards me, and the pale light from the crescent moon accented the hard plane of his cheekbone. “What don’t you mind? That I’m unable to control myself around you? That I’m an embarrassment?”
My heart lurched at the bitterness in his voice. “No. I don’t mind if you feel that way about me. That you want me like that .” My voice dropped to a murmur. “I feel the same way.”
At my words, his shoulders sank, and he slowly turned around, eyes drilling into mine in the dim light of the chateau. “You do?”
I nodded. “Oh, hell yes.”
At my confession, he moved in a flash. He strode to me, gripped my jawbone and turned my face to his, claiming my mouth. “Yes,” I breathed against his lips, desperate to feel him against me again. Desperate to taste him. Desperate to have him.
Luc kissed me hard, our lips clashing, our tongues winding around each other. I dissolved into his heat, my pulse hammering in my ears. With a low growl, he twisted and turned me around, pushing me up against a statue. The second cold marble hit my back, I sucked in a breath and my nipples pebbled.
Backed against some pale, nameless demigod, another searing hot, real-life version ran his hands over my arms. His thumb took one strap of my sundress with it, the hem of my neckline hovering dangerously close to the peak of my breast.
“I do want you,” he ground out, his hot breath on my neck bringing a pulsing of need low in my belly.
I nodded, out of words, my breath coming in rasps. Luc pushed his fingers into mine, curling our hands together in a fist before bringing them above my head. Lost in the sensation of having him so close, I reached and found his solid length, wrapping my fingers around him.
The moment I did, he let out a thick groan and brought his teeth to my dress, tugging it away, exposing my breast. Within a beat, his mouth closed around my nipple, circling it with his tongue, gently biting down. He’d turned into an animal—a primal being who wanted to claim me. To bend me to his will. And I wouldn’t put up a fight. Instead, a wave of abandon, of letting go, washed over me. Iris Hawthorne, ex dental nurse, was about to enter her sex-goddess era, and I couldn’t be more ready.
He kept one hand above my head, his mouth on my breast. With the other, he inched up my dress, his nails chafing against my skin. With every pass of his tongue over my nipple, each graze of his teeth, the throb between my legs increased. He nudged my knees apart, his fingers climbing higher up my thigh. I sucked in a breath as he reached the very top, almost straining my hips to meet his hand. All I wanted was him inside me. I didn’t care what part.
A pressure built up in my chest, like a giant air bubble from deep down in the ocean racing to the surface. I opened my mouth, afraid of what would come out. “Luc, I… need… please… I want you.”
He pulled away from me for the longest beat, studying my face, running his eyes over my body, before he flipped a switch somewhere inside and activated the part of him that controlled his smoulder.
His eyes darkened, and one corner of his lips turned up. Damn, even without the bonfire to help, he looked like Lucifer. Like the devil had stepped out for a moonlit stroll amongst his naked cohorts and he’d found a poor, innocent maiden to deflower.
Our breath mingled as our lips hovered inches from each other, our chests pulsing in time, until he locked his gaze onto mine and sank to his knees in the dark.
I pulled in a breath, aware of what he was about to do, right here in the garden, but when I brought my hands down, maybe to pull him back up, and suggest we find somewhere less public, he took them and held my wrists tight .
“Let me,” he ground out.
“What if…?”
“I don’t care.” Still looking up at me, he let go of my wrists and nudged my dress up, slowly kissing a path from the inside of my knee to the top of my thigh. His tongue traced delicious patterns on my skin and as the scent of magnolia and lavender dizzied my senses, his unsteady breath scattered goosebumps all the way to my centre.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his warm hands resting just under my buttocks, his eyes glinting in the light from the chateau.
I brought my fingers to his forehead, pushing a lock of his dark hair away. I couldn’t remember the last time a man called me beautiful. Or made me feel this important. Special. Like the centre of his universe, and he’d do anything to please me. I gripped my bottom lip with my teeth, looking down at him in the moonlight. Luc was the only beautiful one here, and I was ready to bask in his glory. I took a breath and uttered a single word. “Now.”
With a husky rumble somewhere in the back of his throat, Luc leaned in and kissed the inside of my thigh before gently pulling my knickers away, pushing them down my legs. When they reached my ankle, he gently picked up one of my feet, and my underwear dropped away to the grass.
With his mouth on my skin, Luc brought his hands to my thighs, and I pulled in a heavy breath. Each drag of his lips, each tiny bite, sent a pulsing of need up to my core. When he reached up to touch my breast, I thought I might explode. He rolled my nipple between his fingertips, pinching and pulling gently as a rush of hunger, of pure want, swept through my body.
I reached down and threaded my fingers through his hair.
“You want this?” he growled.
I could hear the smile in his voice. Picture the hunger on his face. Damn right I wanted this. I wanted him. I wanted his mouth on me. His lips on my skin, and his tongue deep inside me.
I pulled him closer, and with a throaty chuckle, he found my centre, pushing my legs wide apart. As his tongue circled my heat, I sucked in a breath, fighting hard not to cry out.
Over and over, he teased me, gently running his mouth over my clit, dragging his tongue over my bud, before thrusting it deep inside me. With every sweep, every soft nip of my flesh, he drove me higher, sent me spinning into the stratosphere.
As I climbed, he pinched harder at my nipple, sending a rush of pure craving down low to my belly. I brought my hand down to his shoulders, digging my nails into his skin through his shirt, raking over his muscles. At the drag of my fingers, he groaned, and the vibration of his lips, the resonance of his voice, pulsed against me with the subtlety of a freight train.
I held my breath, closing my eyes tight, not daring to look at him, afraid that if I saw the longing, the need in his eyes, I’d unravel completely. That I’d fall apart around him too soon.
I pulled Luc in closer, chasing the sensation of his stubble dragging across my skin, savouring the rhythm of his breath. Until finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. Couldn’t hold off the ecstasy hovering just out of reach.
“Oh, god,” I breathed out, looking down at the man between my thighs.
The corner of his eyes crinkled, and he chuckled. “No, but I’ll take the compliment.”
With another growl, he renewed his efforts, running his tongue over, around and inside me, pulling me open until I finally admitted defeat, tangled my fingers through his hair and surrendered to his mouth. At my capitulation, my body soared, carried on sensations I never knew existed. Delicious fingers of desire wrapped around me, lifting me high before smashing me against the walls of reality .
And then, whispered words reached my ears. Words I didn’t understand, words I didn’t need to understand. But the way his lips and his breath filled my mind, and pulsed against my centre, rendered my legs useless.
“Luc… now… please.” The words left my mouth unbidden, and at my request, he gave a low growl and plunged his tongue deep inside me.
At the move, I swear my soul left my body and skimmed the top of the Cypress trees. I tugged in a breath and hung on for dear life until I came with his name on my lips.
I pulled Luc in closer, the cool of the marble soothing the hot skin on my back as I rocked into him. I held him in place, my breath coming in tiny rasps until the waves of sensation eased a little, giving the rest of my body a chance to catch up with my heart.
Finally, I let out one long, uneven breath, releasing my grip on Luc’s hair. I looked down at him, afraid of what I’d find. Would he regret the last three minutes and return to his tower? But the eyes that met mine were full of warmth, full of desire, full of something almost like awe. Wonder.
Slowly, he stood and pulled my dress over my breasts before snaking his hands around my waist. The warmth of his body enveloped me.
“What now?” My voice was quiet, small even.
He gave a deep chuckle and stroked my hair away from my face. “Well, if it’s okay with you, I’d really like to…”
Suddenly, a hesitant voice came from behind us. “Monsieur Comtois, c’est toi? Is that you?”
My heart jumped, and Luc immediately stiffened, bringing his lips to my neck. He muttered the word “merde” under his breath, and when Agnes’ voice came again, he ground out a “Yes,” between his teeth.
“Sir, your grandmother is desperately trying to get hold of you. Something to do with your sister and a matter of business. She needs to speak to you urgently. She’s called so many times.”
Luc let out a heavy sigh, trailing his lips along my jaw before pulling away. “I’m sorry.”
His eyes met mine, and I gave a half smile and what I hoped was a reassuring shrug. “Go. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you in the morning, packed and ready to leave.”
A furrow appeared between his brows, and his hands tensed around my waist.
“Sir,” came Agnes’ voice again.
This time Luc closed his eyes and shook his head, as if accepting his fate.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I repeated, trying to release him—to give him permission to leave. “I promise, I’ll be okay.”
With a final breath, Luc leaned in and touched his lips to my forehead. “Can we talk? Tomorrow, I mean.”
My stomach rolled. Did he mean to have a debrief on his skills or rake over his regrets? “Of course. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
He nodded, let go of me, and turned away, following Agnes up the path in a cloud of spicy cologne and regret. As he left, I dragged my fingers through my hair, rueing my words.
I told him I’d be okay, but I couldn’t be sure it was the truth. I’d spent so many nights alone, waiting for Nathan to come home when he’d gone clubbing with his friends. Watching Luc’s back disappearing into the darkness felt the same.
He’d laid me bare, literally, and with the way my gut churned, and my heart thumped, I didn’t know If I’d make it till morning.