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He chose his words with care. ‘Because otherwise, I think you might feel out of place. And that would draw attention to you, which I know you don’t like.’
She went very quiet then, as if she were weighing up her options. ‘I’m not going into one of those fancy stores where the assistants look you up and down as if you’re a nasty smell,’ she said eventually.
A smile touched his lips, because this felt something close to triumph. ‘That isn’t going to happen. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Marnie.’
CHAPTER TEN
THE PILE OF glossy merchandise was piled high on the floor of Leon’s dressing room and Marnie came to a sudden halt when she saw it. Taking off her coat, she draped it over the back of a chair, conscious of his bright blue gaze boring into her. ‘What’s all this?’ she asked slowly.
‘Why don’t you take a look?’
She regarded the boxes and upmarket carrier bags as warily as if they contained a set of unexploded bombs, but really it had been a disingenuous question. She knew exactly what would be inside—outfits for her to wear to his father’s wedding, which she had grudgingly agreed to accept. She’d told herself that such a move made sense because if she turned up looking like a poor relation, wouldn’t that make her stand out even more? But now the moment had arrived, her heart was thumping and she couldn’t seem to shake off a gnawing feeling of anxiety. Was that because accepting his gifts seemed to signify a subtle shift of power between them? Or was she being delusional in denying that Leon had always possessed the powe
r in their relationship? She wasn’t sure—all she did know was that she felt as if she had crossed a line and the boundaries between them were becoming blurred.
Leon had suggested she choose the clothes herself but she had refused—citing busyness at work making it impossible for her to find the time. But the truth—which she didn’t tell him—was that she wouldn’t have known where to start looking. What if she’d broken some fundamental style rule and turned up wearing something horribly unsuitable? More than that, she couldn’t bear the thought of walking into an intimidating store brandishing a rich man’s credit card because that would have made her feel like...like a cliché.
She bit her lip.
Like a kept woman.
Perhaps if she’d been able to get hold of her sister she might have asked her to accompany her, because Pansy was super-confident, even if their taste in clothes clashed. But her twin wasn’t answering her phone and, besides, Marnie couldn’t bear to endure another lecture on Leon’s unsuitability as a lover.
The upshot was that Leon had announced he would sort it out himself—and it appeared he had done just that. Was there anything a rich man couldn’t do? she marvelled silently.
She walked across the room towards the goodies, telling herself she didn’t particularly care what he’d bought her, but that certainty was fading by the second and suddenly Marnie was back to being that little girl at Christmas time. The one who never got any decent presents, even though she’d never stopped hoping. Even when she and Pansy were being considered for adoption, the gifts they received were always second-rate. It was as if their prospective parents didn’t want to waste any money in case it didn’t work out, which, of course, it never did—which meant that her mistrust of generosity ran deep. But Leon was looking at her questioningly as she stood in front of all the designer-store bounty—and surely it would be rude not to take a peek...
Crouching down, she began to untie the silken ribbons, delving between rustling layers of tissue paper to pull out the kind of clothes she’d only ever seen her most upmarket clients wearing. Several filmy day dresses, a couple of delicate blouses and butter-soft T-shirts. Pale jeans and a beautifully-cut skirt, as well as a kaftan, sandals and swimwear—all with co-ordinating accessories. There was underwear, too. Flimsy little scraps of fine lace and satin. High-cut panties designed to flatter a woman’s legs and bras whose sole purpose, she suspected, would be to accentuate cleavage. Yet instinctively she knew that all these colours were her colours and that everything would flatter her and fit her perfectly. They were exactly the kind of clothes she might have chosen if she had lived a different life and been a different person.
But it was the dress which had obviously been chosen for the ceremony itself which commanded centre stage. In the softest scarlet silk imaginable, it was the loveliest thing she had ever seen. Marnie swallowed as she ran her fingertips over the slippery fabric, slightly scared by just how much she longed to wear it, but her natural suspicion was never far from the surface.
‘Where did all these things come from?’ she questioned, forcing herself to let the garment slide from her fingers. ‘Did the good fairy drop them by?’
‘The stylist delivered them this afternoon.’
‘A stylist who’s never met me?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘She must be very perceptive.’
‘Actually, the stylist was a he.’
‘Oh. Right. And how did he know my size?’
‘I gave him your measurements.’
‘I wasn’t aware you knew my measurements, Leon!’
He gave a slow smile. ‘Let’s just say I have a good eye for dimensions.’
The ugly twist of jealousy inside her made Marnie unable to hold back her feelings, even though caution advised her against expressing them. ‘I suppose you’ve kitted out countless women like this in the past?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ he negated silkily. ‘And I’ve certainly never gone to the trouble of finding the best stylist in the business and telling him exactly what I thought you needed.’
Her voice was cautious. ‘And what was that?’
His gaze swept over her. ‘Beautiful things which weren’t too revealing, because you have an essential modesty about you, Marnie, and I like that. In fact, I like it a lot. Call me old-fashioned but the possession of virtue is a dying art and it’s seriously underrated.’ His voice deepened. ‘Though I can’t understand why you insist on covering up so much, when you have the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen.’
It was a rare compliment, which made her heart stab with joy and apprehension, and Marnie busied herself with scouring through another bag, hoping the movement would hide the sudden hotness in her cheeks. He was making her sound like the personification of all that was good and innocent, but the woman he was talking about was nothing but a fiction. Yes, she had been a virgin, but he was making her sound like some kind of saint and she definitely did not have a saint’s pedigree.
Worry began to gnaw away at the pit of her stomach as she wondered just where this affair of theirs was going.
