Beautiful Beast (Gypsy Heroes #3)(20)

I look around me and there are different reactions to them. To some, these women are cheap meat, but there are others who see what I do. All dancers are dreamers. There is no such thing as a sinful dancer.

‘I’ve never seen a belly dance in the flesh,’ I tell Shane.

‘Do you like it?’ he asks.

‘It’s simply beautiful,’ I say, watching a woman in a blue costume. Her personality and her sensuality flow through the timeless moves her body makes.

‘I agree.’

I turn to look at Shane. He is watching me. ‘The one in the blue costume is so seductive.’

‘Yes, she’s so seductive,’ he says softly, but he does not turn to look at her.

When the lamb comes, it is succulent, and the couscous could indeed have been cooked on the bosom of an angel. We eat our food and drink our wine, and slowly the beat of the Arabic music makes me tingle, and my body moves in tune with it.

‘Do you want to dance?’

I shake my head. ‘Perhaps I could dance under a moonless sky, or if I was on my own and no one could see me.’

‘Great: Moonless Sky is my chosen Red Indian name,’ he says cheekily.

‘Forget it,’ I say.

‘Never say never.’

We leave the restaurant late, our bellies full and the scent of adventure beckoning us as we drive to Shane’s chateau. In thirty minutes we arrive at a set of arched black iron gates. We drive up a road for a few minutes in total darkness and then, suddenly, we have reached our destination.

Saumur.

My mouth drops open with astonishment. This is no farmhouse or dilapidated chateau! How is it possible that Shane could own something so magnificent? Built from pink stone and trimmed in white, it rises from the ground in a truly imposing and majestic structure.

‘Wow,’ I exclaim opening the car door. ‘But this is a palace!’

‘How astute of you. It used to belong to an Iraqi prince, so it’s architecturally more royal palace than chateau.’

The gravel crunches under my feet as we walk up to the chateau. He unlocks the tall door and switches on the light and it is breathtaking. I look around in awe. My father was very rich once, but, even then, our mansion house was nothing like this. I have to seriously re-evaluate Shane’s financial worth. And to think I had been expecting a ruined chateau or a farmhouse! God, it never crossed my mind that he could afford such extraordinary splendor. This pile must be worth millions and millions of pounds.

‘All this belongs to you?’

‘Yes,’ he says staring curiously at me.

‘You’re so young. How could you be so rich?’

‘I have my brother to thank. He started us off early. He got us into the property market, investing in Internet start-ups, bought us all citizenships in Monaco, and put us into every tax saving scheme available.’

I look around in wonder. ‘It’s absolutely stunning, Shane. You’re so lucky.’

‘Come, I’ll show you the best part of the house.’ He winks at me. ‘Just in case you want a midnight swim.’

Stunned by the grandeur of the place, I follow him through the rooms with their high ceilings and the lovely marble floors. In the main salon there are stupendous art deco chandeliers and superb antiques. He leads me toward the pool, which has been uniquely situated in the center of the property.

I gasp when we reach it.

It is like suddenly finding yourself in a different world—the sumptuous, luxurious, precious, lost world of an Oriental potentate. Lit by softly glowing lamps, it must be seen to be believed. Massive and round, it is surrounded by tall double Corinthian marble columns that form a veranda around the pool. The stone columns are slightly submerged, giving the illusion that they are rising from the water.

The roof is covered in wisteria, throwing the reflection of the columns and dripping plants into the still water. There are white orchids growing in large bronze pots and loungers with cream cushions.

Made speechless by the unrivaled luxury and beauty, I walk toward the edge of the pool. There are rose petals floating in the water.

I hear him come up behind me. I turn around and look up at him. ‘Wow,’ I whisper.

His eyes are hidden by shadows. There is a slight tension in his body. ‘Feel like a midnight swim?’

I am suddenly wary. ‘I didn’t bring a swimsuit.’

‘There are swimsuits in the changing room, I believe,’ he counters.

‘I didn’t come here to sleep with you,’ I say, and my words hang between us. Both of us know that’s a lie.


‘Pity. Still, I’m only inviting you for a swim.’

I bite my lower lip. ‘OK, let’s swim.’

In the changing rooms, I find some plain black bikinis. I get into one and, after slipping on a toweling robe, nervously go back out to the pool. The air is warm and scented with the smell of the countryside. His back is to me and he is naked, but for a pair of briefs. He turns slightly when he hears my approach, and smiles.

And he takes my breath away—he’s the sexiest, most delicious thing I’ve ever seen. I gape at him like a silly teenager with a crush. The air changes between us. I feel goosebumps scatter quickly on my skin like millions of insect legs. A shiver goes through me, and between my legs a strange throbbing begins.

I breathe in deeply. What the hell am I doing?