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She was dirty, and ragged, and she probably smelled since she hadn’t found anywhere to clean herself for weeks. No wonder this woman looked disgusted.
Leonie’s stomach clenched and she gripped the handle of her knife, scowling to cover the wave of vulnerability that had come over her. Never stop fighting. Never show weakness. That was the law of the streets.
‘Go with Camille,’ the duke said. ‘She will show you—’
‘No,’ Leonie said. ‘Just tell me where to go and I’ll find my own way there.’
Camille made a disapproving sound, then said something in a lilting musical language to the duke. He replied in the same language, his deep, rich voice making it sound as if he was caressing each word.
Leonie felt every one of her muscles tense in resistance. She couldn’t like the sound of his voice. She had to be on her guard at all times and not make any mistakes. And she didn’t want to go with this Camille woman and her disapproving stare.
Much to her surprise, however, with one last dark look in Leonie’s direction, the woman turned and vanished down one of the huge, echoing hallways that led off the entrance hall.
Without a word, the duke turned and headed towards the huge marble staircase. ‘Follow me,’ he said over his shoulder.
He didn’t pause and he didn’t wait, as if expecting her to follow him just as he’d said.
Leonie blinked. Why had he sent the other woman away? Was he just leaving her here? What if she somehow managed to get out through the door? What if she escaped down one of the corridors? What would he do? He wasn’t looking at her. Would he even know until she was gone?
Her heartbeat thumped wildly, adrenaline surging through her—both preludes to a very good bolt. And yet she wasn’t moving. She was standing there in this overwhelming, intimidating entrance hall, not running, watching a tall, powerful rich man go up the marble stairs.
He moved with economy and a lazy, athletic grace that reminded her even more strongly of a panther. It was mesmerising, for some reason. And when she found herself moving, it wasn’t towards the doorway or the corridor, it was towards him, following him almost helplessly.
Was this what had happened in that fairy-tale? Those children following the Pied Piper, drawn beyond their control by the music he made. Disappearing. Never to be seen again.
You’re an idiot. You have your knife. Pull yourself together.
This was true. And nothing had happened to her so far. Yes, he’d kept her locked in the car against her will, but he hadn’t hurt her. And apart from the moment when he’d grabbed her, he hadn’t touched her again.
She didn’t trust him, or his offer of a job, but it was either follow him or stay down here in the entrance hall, and that seemed cowardly. She wasn’t going to do that, either.
There was a slim possibility that he was telling the truth, and if so she needed to take advantage of it. If she was going to achieve her dream of having a little cottage of her own in the countryside, away from the city, away from danger, then he was her best chance of that happening.
Slowly Leonie moved after him, going up the winding marble staircase, trying to keep her attention on his strong back and not gawk at all the paintings on the walls, the carpets on the parquet floors, the vases of flowers on the small tables dotted here and there as they went down yet another wide and high-ceilinged corridor.
Windows let in the Parisian night and she caught glimpses of tall trees, hinting at a garden outside. She wanted to go and look through the glass, because it had been a long time since she’d seen a garden, but she didn’t dare. She had to keep the duke’s tall figure in sight.
Eventually, after leading her through a few more of those high-ceilinged corridors, he stopped outside a door and opened it, inclining his head for her to go on through.
He was standing quite near the doorway, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to get that close to him, but she didn’t want him to know it bothered her, either, so she slipped past him as quickly as she could. But not quickly enough to avoid catching a hint of his aftershave and the warmth of his powerful body as she brushed past him.
It was only an instant, but in that instant she was acutely aware of his height looming over her. Of the width of his broad shoulders and the stretch of the cotton across his muscled chest. Of the way he smelled spicy and warm and quite delicious.
A strange ripple of sensation went through her like an electric shock.
Disturbed, Leonie ignored it, concentrating instead on the room she’d stepped into.
It was very large, with tall windows that looked out on to trees. A thick pale carpet covered the floor, and up against one wall, facing the windows, was a very large bed, made up with a thick, soft-looking white quilt.
The duke moved past her, going over to the windows and drawing heavy pale silk curtains over the black glass, shutting out the night. The room was very warm, the carpet very soft under her feet, and she was conscious once again of how dirty she was.
She was going to leave stains all over this pretty pale bedroom. Surely he couldn’t mean for her to stay here? It didn’t look like a cleaner’s room. It was far too luxurious.
‘This can’t be where you put your staff,’ she said, frowning. ‘Why am I here?’
He adjusted the curtains with a small, precise movement, then turned around, putting his hands in his pockets. ‘Not usually, no. But Camille didn’t have a room ready for you, so I thought you could use one of my guest bedrooms.’
‘Why? Why are you doing this?’
