His Temporary Cinderella: Ordinary Girl in a Tiara / Kiss the Bridesmaid / A Bravo Homecoming

‘It doesn’t always have to be about you, you know,’ grumbled Caro. ‘Anyway, I am looking at you.’ She fixed her eyes at him. ‘There. Satisfied?’

‘You could make it look as if you adore me and can’t wait for me to drag you back to bed.’

‘Oh, that’s easy.’ Caro summoned a suitably besotted expression and batted her lashes at him.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Philippe.

‘Nothing’s the matter! I’m looking adoring!’

‘You look constipated,’ he said frankly. ‘Come on, you must be able to do better than that.’

‘You’re the expert on seduction,’ said Caro, sulking. ‘You do it.’

‘OK.’ Philippe reached across the table for her hand, turned it over and lifted it. ‘Watch and learn,’ he said, pressing a kiss into her palm.

Caro sucked in a breath as a current of warmth shot up her arm and washed through her. Her scalp was actually tingling with it. Bad sign. Willing the heat to fade, she struggled to keep her voice even.

‘Oh, that old chestnut,’ she said as lightly as she could. ‘I would have done the hand-kissing thing, but I thought it would be too boring.’

‘Kissing’s never boring,’ said Philippe. Now he was playing with her fingers, looking straight into her eyes, brushing his lips across her knuckles until she squirmed in her seat. ‘Not the way we do it, anyway. Or that’s what we want it to look like. We want everyone to think that we’ve just fallen out of bed, don’t we? They ought to be looking at us and seeing that we can’t keep our hands off each other. That we can’t wait until we get home and I can undress you, very, very slowly, until you beg me to make love to you again.’

The sound of his voice and the tantalising caress of his fingers were doing alarming things to Caro. Heat was uncoiling in the pit of her belly and her mouth was dry. She had to get herself back under control.

‘I never beg,’ she said, but not nearly as steadily as she would have liked.

Philippe looked into her eyes and smiled. ‘You do when you’re with me.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Caro, but his smile only deepened. She could see the candlelight flickering in the silver eyes, and her heart was thumping so loudly she was afraid the other diners would turn round and complain about the noise.

‘Yes, you do, because I’m the only one who knows that behind closed doors you’re a wild, passionate woman.’ His voice was a tangible thing, velvet smoothing seductively over her skin. It would be so easy to succumb to it, to the warm, sure hands and the wickedly attractive smile, and Caro had to physically brace herself against it.

‘Gosh, do women really fall for this stuff?’ she asked.

‘It’s working, isn’t it?’

For one horrible moment, Caro wondered if he could see her toes curling. ‘Working?’

‘You haven’t been looking at what’s-his-name at all.’ It was true. She had completely forgotten about George for a while there. ‘But he’s been looking at you,’ Philippe went on in the same disturbingly arousing voice, ‘and he’s very much afraid that you’ve found yourself a much, much better lover.’

Caro’s eyes flickered to George, who was looking as if he’d been stuffed. Maybe there was something in this technique of Philippe’s after all.

Philippe sat back smugly. ‘And that’s how it’s done,’ he said. ‘Now you have a go.’

Her hand was throbbing where his lips had grazed her skin. Flustered by Philippe’s abrupt transition from lover to teacher, Caro tucked the stray strands of hair behind her ears and assumed a nonchalance she wasn’t feeling.

‘Well, I would, but the food will be arriving any second and I don’t want to spoil your appetite.’

‘Coward,’ he said softly. ‘Besides, it’s good practice for you. You’re going to have to do better than screwing up your face if you’re going to convince the Dowager Blanche that we’re mad about each other.’

‘Oh, all right.’ Caro took a fortifying sip of her champagne and moistened her lips nervously while she thought, and saw Philippe’s gaze fix on her mouth. She hadn’t even started yet! Surely it couldn’t be as easy as that?

Leaning forward, she rested her arms on the table, hugged them together and tried a seductive smile. She felt a fool, but Philippe’s eyes dropped to her cleavage, and his eyes darkened unmistakably.

Encouraged, Caro felt around with her foot and managed to hook the toe of her shoe around his ankle. With a little manoeuvring, she could rub her foot tantalisingly up and down his calf. It felt awkward but it seemed to be working.

She waited for Philippe to burst out laughing, but he didn’t. There was just the suspicion of a smile around his mouth as the light gaze returned to her face.

‘How am I doing?’ she asked.

‘I think you may be a natural.’

Was he being sarcastic? Caro eyed him suspiciously but it was impossible to tell what he was really thinking.

It was a relief when their starters arrived and she could sit back. Funny, she had forgotten about how hungry she was while Philippe had been kissing her fingers. Now she picked up her fork to dig into her wild mushroom risotto and discovered that for possibly the only time in her life, her appetite had deserted her.

But Caro wasn’t going to waste her one and only opportunity to eat at the Star and Garter. She made herself savour the food and refused to let herself think about Philippe sitting opposite her with his warm hands and his warm mouth.

‘That was delicious,’ she said, putting her fork down at last.

‘Yes, it wasn’t bad,’ said Philippe indifferently. Michelin starred restaurants would be two a penny to him, of course. He held out his hand. ‘Come on, back to looking besotted.’

‘Must I?’ sighed Caro, but she took his hand and, at the feel of his strong fingers curling around hers, a shiver of pleasure snaked through her.

Clearing her throat, she said, ‘We ought to talk about practicalities.’

‘Practicalities?’

To her consternation, Philippe turned her hand over so that the soft skin of her forearm was exposed. Now he was rubbing his thumb softly over her wrist, where her vein pulsed with awareness.

Caro swallowed hard and soldiered on. ‘What’s going to happen next?’

He would go back to Montluce in the next couple of days, Philippe told her. He would break the news about their supposed relationship to the Dowager Blanche and give Lotty a chance to make her own plans to leave. Then he would escort his father to Paris for his treatment.

‘He won’t want me, but he ought to have someone other than servants there for the operation,’ he said. ‘Once he’s through that, I’ll come and pick you up, and we’ll go back to Montluce together. Will ten days or so be enough time for you to get ready?’

She nodded, desperately trying to ignore that stroking thumb, which was playing havoc with her breathing. ‘I’m only temping,’ she said unevenly. ‘I just need to give a week’s notice.’

‘Once we’re there, you won’t have to do much,’ Philippe said. ‘Hang around with me. Convince my great-aunt that you adore me. Hold my hand like this. The usual stuff.’

‘It doesn’t sound very interesting,’ said Caro austerely to cover the booming of her pulse.

‘No, but it shouldn’t be hard either.’

‘Where—’ She stopped, mortified by how high her voice sounded, and coughed. ‘Where will I stay?’ That was better, huskier, almost normal.

‘With me,’ said Philippe. ‘We’re not going to convince anyone that it’s a serious relationship if we’re not living together. I’ve got apartments in the palace in Montvivennes. Not where I’d choose to live, but it’s comfortable enough.’

Apartments, plural? That sounded big. Caro was reassured. ‘Plenty of space for both of us, then?’