Page 48 of Sweet Siren
"I'm sorry," he said with compassion and the apology was not lost on her for the irony of it. And itssolicitude.
She caught back hottears.
He raised her hand, turned it over and dropped a kiss into her palm. Through the fabric of her glove, she recognized his earnestness. That too made her throat thick with unspenttears.
"Don't cry, Liv. Come to dinner tonight with us. We will be three morose gentlemen in need of goodcompany."
"I cannot." She inhaled and shook her head.No, enough of this delight in Killian Hanniford. Enough of his family and their unbounded support of each other. Their joy in each other and their dogged understanding of failure anddespair.
"I want to insist. Business associates do, yourealize."
She slid her hand away. "Thank you. But no. I have much to do to move to Brighton. I have my lists of items I must find in Paris shops and I need to write to my vendors and plan my visit there. Then I must go south and find a small house to rent while we finish yourhouses."
"Then you need a gooddinner."
"Killian, no. We are client and consultant. Friends atmost."
His silver eyes dimmed. He did not reach for her handagain.
And when the coach came to a stop before her townhouse door, Killian alightedfirst.
"I do not expect to come south for another two weeks or more," he said as he took her hand to help her take the step to thestreet.
"That gives me a good start. By then, the builders may have begun erecting the frame for your cliff house. Perhaps even have spruced up the foundations of the townhouse block. I'll have much prepared for you toreview."
"Do that. Thankyou."
"If you decide to go to Paris, please write to tell me the dates you're there," hesaid.
To walk the boulevards with him would bebliss.
"We'll go to theSèvresfactorytogether."
She chuckled at the absurdity of Killian Hanniford choosing dinner service. "You want new china, doyou?"
The smoldering look on his face said he wanted her. Onlyher.
She could notbreathe.
"I want everything,Liv."
She wanted his beautiful mouth. His hands on her. Hisaffections.
"I want china and fine tapestries. Good Lyon silk and your opinions on new art for the main salon. I want to drink with you, dine with you, dance. All ofit."
To drink champagne with him at the Ritz and buy paintings from the new impressionists up in Montmartre lured her like a fly to honey. "You'd want a piece of sculpture,perhaps?"
He nodded, his eyes twinkling in delight. "By Remy? Yes, if any is appropriate for a home. I'd also like at least one painting by that new female artist who's becomingpopular."
She grinned, happy for the lighter subject. "Marianne Duquesne?" Marianne Roland had not taken her famous husband's family name professionally, but used her maiden name. She said she would not trade on Remy's fame, but wished to earn her laurels on her ownmerit.
"Would you assist me with buying art in Paris,Liv?"
I shouldn't."If the timing seemsright."
Fires burned in his brilliant eyes. "It would be strictlybusiness."
"Strictlybusiness."
