Page 33 of Sacrifice
“I think I can handle it.” Who the fuck did this woman think she was?
“Whatever you say.” Celeste swung her legs so her feet touched the floor and stood up. She came to Eve’s side and ran a finger along Eve’s jaw before she could pull away. “Feisty. That might help.” She sashayed to the door. “But I doubt it.”
“Don’t let me keep you. That dinner won’t cook itself.”
“Peut-être serez-vous le dessert,” Celeste said in a low voice and closed the door.
Eve gawked after her. OK, so Lucien’s housekeeper was definitely an old lover. Hell, the way she was behaving, she might well be a current lover. Eve pushed down the green-eyed monster that was fighting its way to the surface.
Everyone had a history. Did she think he’d been a monk his whole life? A man who could fuck her like Lucien was clearly not a new kid on the block.
Get a grip, Eve.
She didn’t have any rights to him. She clenched and unclenched her fists, even so. There was something about the two of them that felt like more than just a casual fling, something extraordinary. Now she wasn’t sure if she was kidding herself.
Eve pushed Celeste to the back of her mind. She needed to freshen up and get back downstairs.
When Eve gotto the base of the stairs, it was the flicker of firelight that drew her into the room to her left. It was the dining room, and it was magnificent.
Tall windows stretched along one wall, providing elegant views of the ground’s sweeping lawn and lamplit driveway. Rich oak paneling dressed the walls while a huge jewel-colored Persian carpet covered most of the flagstone floor.
The table was long enough to accommodate twenty guests, and a series of candelabras threw golden pools of light down onto its rich mahogany. Their flames flickered on the polished surface. A fire roared in the fireplace and Lucien stood before it, basking in the heat.
The room seemed alive with heat and fire: in the reflections on the table; in the hugely oversized fireplace, even in the art above the mantle. Eve recognized it.
“The Great Dragon by William Bake,” she said, and Lucien turned to look at her.
Flames danced in the golden flecks in his eyes. “Oh, you know it?”
“You can’t work at the British Museum for five years and not learn something of the great masters.”
She walked around the table to join him on the other side. Two places had been set for dinner, at entirely opposite ends.
“Have you got your mobile on you? I think we’ll be chatting by phone.” Lucien gave her a shrug. “Celeste’s little joke.”
“She’s a card.”
Lucien poured red wine into a deeply cut crystal goblet and passed it to Eve. “She’s not used to sharing me.”
Eve raised an eyebrow at that. Lucien caught up the corner of the fabric place setting and dragged the whole lot down the table to sit by the other at the opposite end.
“I’ve been coming here for a long time.”
“Since you were a kid, right?”
Lucien shrugged. “She’s very… protective.”
“I see that.”
But she didn’t really see it at all. Celeste was around her own age. A couple of years more, tops. If Lucien had been coming here since his childhood, there was no way she could have worked here all that time - she just wasn’t old enough.
There was something weird about her. It was that vibe again. The undefinablesomethingthat she’d been feeling around Lucien too. She looked at him as he stared into the fire and tried to identify it. Light from the flames licked around his chiseled features and danced in his eyes. Darkness held the light away, somehow. A shadow hovered over his skin like a veil. She reached out to touch it and Lucien flinched to turn, whip smart, to bite her.
Eve was so surprised, she squealed. Lucien released her and laughed. “Let’s eat,” he said. “I’m so hungry, I’m almost eating you.” He guided her to the table to find that loaded plates now awaited them.
Eve scanned the room. Celeste was nowhere to be seen.
Lucien pulled out a chair for Eve to sit. “That’s some service. How about that?” She sat down and Lucien settled himself too. She laughed to cover her unease.
