Page 22 of Dimistrios's Bought Mistress
Because it really was very pleasurable to watch Arielle strolling lightly along. She’d abandoned her usual shorts and voluminous tee shirts and donned instead a flower-spriggedblue cotton dress. There was nothing special about it, it was obviously cheaply bought.
But it’s she who makes it special.
His eyes flickered over her, taking in her slenderness, her natural grace, her slim waist, from which the soft swirl of her skirt fell in gathers to calf length. It wasn’t low cut, but the sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves added to its appeal.
Added toherappeal, he mused.
She’d refrained from knotting her hair, catching it instead into a tendrilled switch with a length of blue ribbon. She still wore no make-up at all and he felt a sudden impulse to want to see her dressed to the nines, gowned in couture and with fullmaquillageandcoiffeur. En grande tenue.
Then he banished it.
She does not need it.
Certainly not here, or now.
He went back to simply enjoying the vision she now was, the pleasure it gave him to behold it. To be with her.
Because that was strange in itself. He was used to women being either self-absorbed in their own appearance, or constantly making up to him and wanting to please him.
But Arielle is nothing like that. She pays no attention to herself and certainly makes no effort to please me.
Her initial baleful hostility towards him had eased off in the days since his arrival at themas, but her attitude towards him was casual more than anything. So was his towards her. Just as he’d said that first evening, they were going with the flow.
This last week he’d done just that and wondered at it, even while he’d gone along with it. Day after peaceful unfolding day. Fitting, without effort or even decision, into the way Arielle lived her life, feeling the peace and quiet of themasenfolding him. A way of life he’d never experienced before. Never even known existed.
Just as today was a novel experience for him too. A leisurely drive through the Provençal countryside dozing in the summer heat, to reach this old walled town and mingle with the tourists, with no purpose other than to pass the day pleasantly. A tour of the castle, with Arielle regaling him with tales of the interminable wars of the Middle Ages, was followed by lunch at a littlecreperieshe took him to when he invited her to choose somewhere. Thecrepes, both savoury and sweet, had been humble, but tasty. Despite, or because of, them being nothing like his usual gourmet fare. Then they’d wandered along the narrow streets, mingling with tourists as Lycos never did, emerging into the picturesque central square that was dominated by a grand church. They’d toured the church, Arielle pausing to step aside and light a candle—for her mother, she’d told him.
Lycos had found himself strangely touched.
And envious.
To have a mother worth lighting a candle for…
He set the emotion aside. It had no place in his life.
They left the church and Lycos went back to doing what he was enjoying most in this surprisingly enjoyable day—looking at Arielle. She had become noticeably more at ease with him as the day progressed and he was glad of it. Glad of something else as well.
She is aware of me. As a woman is aware of a man. A man who is also aware of her in that way.
He was not laying it on strong. That would be crass and Arielle was not like that. And besides, the circumstances—his unwelcome presence at her home and the reason for it—meant that his first focus must be on lowering her guard against him. And that was happening. There were fewer barbed comments and less sadness in her eyes. This day out was proving a distraction for her. And that was welcome to him.
I want it gone. All that pain and stress and anger and anguish over themas. I want her to see only me, as I am. Not as the man taking her home from her. I do not want her to feel that grief over it any longer.
Yet, as they made their easy-going way across the square and his gaze returned to her once again, he could also acknowledge, as the peace and the quiet, the restful beauty of themasthese past days had shown him, how much she would grieve at its loss.
Who would not feel it? To lose a place like that.
Thoughts rose in his mind, flickering like candles. He had assumed he would turn themasover to the realtors the moment he arrived in Paris. But was there any rush to do so? Why not simple keep possession of it for a while and enjoy it?
Enjoy the woman—this beautiful, artless, beguiling woman—who came with it?
It would give her longer there. The place she loves so much.
And give me her.
It was a pleasing thought. For both reasons.
Arielle gazed at the display of beautifully arrayedpâtisseriein the glass-topped counter.
