Love and Splendor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 5 (10 page)

Kitty felt her eyes fill with tears as she whispered, “Oh, Dani, my darling, you are truly beautiful…”

Travis went to clasp her hand as she reached the foyer, and he forced his voice around the emotional lump that had risen in his throat. “God, honey, if only your mother could see you…”

When the Coltranes arrived at the Tuileries Gardens, they gazed upon a seemingly endless sea of people amid a myriad of softly blowing canopies, the entire seascape drowning in flowers of every color and kind.

Dani caught her breath, held it, then let it out slowly to speak in a quivering voice. “I never dreamed it would be like this.”

Travis smiled encouragingly. “It’s all yours, my sweet. Enjoy every minute.”

For the first hour of the gala, Dani was literally smothered by the swarm of well-wishers who pushed forward to congratulate her on the opening, and the fabulous party. She smiled, made appropriate comments, all the while feeling heady with the fragrance of the flowers, the delicious champagne, and the divine sound of music from three orchestras that filled the air.

When Cyril Arpel appeared suddenly to stand at her side, he did not leave. Dandily dressed in formal attire of red velvet and black satin, he had never felt more ebullient. After all, people were looking at
him
as he stood next to the ravishing Dani Coltrane, as though
he
were her escort.

Cyril hoped the attention would last all evening. Whenever Darn finished a conversation with someone, he would immediately start one of his own, if he considered the person important enough. Darn did not seem to mind, or notice, that, for all appearances, it looked as though they were together.

Finally, she turned to him almost in desperation and murmured, “My throat is so dry, and I haven’t seen a waiter go by with champagne in ages. Please, would you get me some?”

He was quick to oblige. “Of course.” Then he added hopefully, “And as soon as you can politely remove yourself from this impromptu receiving line, perhaps we can slip away and have our dinner. The aroma of all those delicacies is making me ravenous.”

Dani laughed and confessed, “Me too. We’ll slip away soon.”

Cyril, she decided, was a dear—pleasant, charming, quick-witted. She found him to be extremely enjoyable company.

She was staring thoughtfully after him, momentarily oblivious to what was going on around her. Then, feeling her hand grasped gently, lifted, the touch of warm lips against her fingertips, she turned back to the moment at hand…and saw the tousled dark hair of the head bent before her.

The man straightened.

Dani suddenly found herself looking up into the most beautifully sensuous blue eyes imaginable, fringed by incredibly thick black lashes…and all a part of the most handsome man she had ever seen in her entire life. His complexion was dark, as though he spent many hours lounging in the sun on the beaches in the South of France.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wore a simple but elegant, suit of maroon velvet. His shirt, ruffled and open at the throat, was of fine blue silk that complemented his fantastic eyes.

He continued to hold her hand as he gazed down at her. There was the play of a smile on his lips as he said
finally,
lazily, “Miss Coltrane, you are even lovelier in person than in reputation.”

He had addressed her in flawless English. However, she noticed that while his voice had no trace of a French or American accent, there was a light touch of British…but yet, there was another sound, one that she found intriguing, and pleasant to the ear.

As he continued to caress her fingertips and look at her in an almost intimate way, Dani felt a strange stirring within. Good Lord, she silently admonished herself, what was wrong with her? She had certainly been around men before, been held, and kissed, and caressed. She was certainly not the innocent little novice who had left the convent a year ago. She knew what it was like to feel warm rushes of longing.

But never like this…

She jerked her hand from his so abruptly that he smiled, as though he knew what she was feeling.

Dani commanded herself to remain coolly in control of herself, on the surface, at least. She was pleased with the unconstrained tone of her voice as she responded, “
Monsieur
, I do not believe we have met.”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully for an instant, then said quietly, “I am known as Drakar.”

Drakar. Where had she heard that name before? There was a familiar ring to it, yet she could not remember, knew only that had she ever met so strikingly handsome a man before, she would certainly remember him…as did every other woman who had ever had the pleasure, no doubt!

Without a word, or invitation, the tall stranger boldly took Dani’s hand once more and whispered, “Come along. I want to get to know you better, and that is impossible in this mob.”

Dani glanced wildly about, wondering fleetingly about the propriety of having a strange man spirit her away from her own party.

“Sir, I don’t think this is proper,” she protested, but her voice sounded unconvinced, even to her own ears.

He turned to give her a lopsided, devil-may-care grin. “Sorry if you’re offended, Miss Coltrane, but I just don’t take you for the sort of woman who frankly gives a damn about what’s proper and what isn’t.”

Dani gasped indignantly, pulled back. “I—I beg your pardon!” she stammered, then hated herself for sounding so…so priggish!

At the feel of her resistance, Drakar stopped, turned, and looked down at her with eyes of icy challenge. “I merely want a chance to get to know you better, Miss Coltrane. I thought we might have a dance together at the little pavilion down by the river. If you find me offensive, then I will apologize.”

Suddenly, Dani knew that she
did
want to know him better. There was something wild and reckless about him—a spirit she found refreshing…and challenging. With a smile touched with arrogance, she coolly said, “Very well, sir. I doubt I have anything to fear with so many people around.”

Cinnamon eyes met sapphire eyes in challenge.

They had paused beneath an arched trellis thick with the free-flowering vine of blue wisteria. A waiter passed by. Drakar reached out and took two glasses of sparkling champagne, gave one to Dani, and they each took a sip, eyes continuing to lock as they stared at each other over the gilt-edged rims.

Finally, Drakar nodded his head ever so slightly and whispered, “If I wanted more from you than a dance, Miss Coltrane, we would be on the way to my apartment.”

Dani was surprised to feel only amusement at such a bold remark. If it had been any other man, she would probably react in anger, indignance, but already she was well aware that this Drakar, whoever he was, was unlike any man she had ever encountered before. She found him mysterious, handsome, and, oh, yes, extremely desirable. But more than that, she found him to be the first real challenge in a man she’d ever experienced. He was not fawning, obsequious. He was, she silently acknowledged, a
real
man.

“I find you quite insolent and presumptuous, sir. Do you really believe you have only to desire a woman, and she will respond to you so easily?”

He slowly finished his champagne before casually stating, “Desire must be mutual, my dear, in order for a man and woman to achieve reciprocal enjoyment…
and
satisfaction.”

It was her turn to lift a mocking eyebrow. “And you think I desire you?” she asked.

Drakar did not hesitate to nod. “Oh, yes. I sense hunger in women, and I can see in your eyes that there is a famine for love inside you.”

Dani felt herself bristling. He was becoming a bit too presumptuous, and needed to be put in his place. “Perhaps you sense your own famine, sir, and see in women what you want to see, because you, yourself, are starved for love.”

His eyes twinkled with amusement. “No, you’re wrong. I ignore the hunger in women for whom I have no desire. As I have already told you, desire must be mutual.”

He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, then smiled and winked. “We have plenty of time to talk about
our
desire. May we have that dance now?”

Dani had to laugh. How could she be angry when she was enjoying herself so much? The man was an enigma, but she was not intimidated. She found the carefree banter refreshing.

They walked to the end of the gardens and behind the large octangular pool, pausing to admire the floating lilies, so colorful and gay, then passed the fine statues of the Orangerie.

“Your stepmother tells me you have a wonderful gallery and antique shop planned,” he said easily as they moved away from the partygoers and headed for the private wooden pavilion that had been constructed for dancing near the banks of the Seine. “I look forward to seeing it. Could I possibly persuade you to give me a private tour before you open to the public?”

Dani saw nothing wrong with his request. The same had been granted to Cyril, but then Cyril was a dealer, with shops in several countries. She could not help but wonder why this stranger, however charming and handsome he might be, would request a special, private showing.

“I will be opening the shop formally on Monday morning,” she told him, then boldly asked, “Why do you want a private tour? And how is it that you know my stepmother? Are you friends?”

A shadow crossed his eyes, Dani thought, but she could not be sure.

“I met your parents at several embassy parties in the past,” he explained. “You might say we are good acquaintances, casual friends. As for wanting a private showing, I’m like everyone else, I suppose—anxious and curious to see your new shop.”

Dani nodded. “All right. I’ll be happy to show you around the gallery Monday morning, say, a half hour before the doors officially open.”

Drakar frowned. He wanted more than half an hour to view the art from Monaco. “Are you free tomorrow afternoon? I could take you to lunch, and then we could go to your shop.”

Dani thought a moment. She had to admit she would like to see him again, but Sunday afternoon was to be a busy time, with so many last-minute details to be taken care of. Still, she was tempted to give in. “I don’t know,” she hedged. “I’d planned to work at the gallery tomorrow, and—”

“I would love to help you,” he cut in to offer amiably, then, with a flirting wink, added, “In certain situations, a man can prove quite helpful.”

To which Dani coquettishly countered, “It depends, sir, upon the situation.”

Drakar nodded in conciliation, murmured, “
Touché
,” then held out his arms to her, for they had reached the dance pavilion.

To the lilting music of Johann Strauss, he moved her through the gliding, elegant steps and slides of the waltz. Then, as the tempo became lighter, he easily led her into the rapid, whirling Viennese style of the dance.

Others on the floor, admiring the grace and beauty of the elegant couple, stepped aside to give them ample room for their gliding and dipping movements.

Dani found it hard to keep from gasping, for never had she thought she could keep up with such intricate steps, but the man was a marvel. He seemed to anticipate her reluctance in certain variances and was able to swiftly and easily maneuver her through them with style and grace. It was, she realized, as though they had danced together their entire lives.

Sapphire eyes held cinnamon eyes transfixed in a silent message of mutual desire.

Dani could not deny the pulsating emotion within. Never had she wanted a man more.

Yet, Dani felt no trepidation at the thought of being in the arms of such an obviously experienced man. No matter that she was a virgin. She knew, without a doubt, that he would lead her to untold wonders of joy with the same ease that he had led her through the intricacies of the Viennese waltz.

But would she ever allow it?

From the shadows, Cyril Arpel watched the couple as they moved together on the dance floor. From where he stood, he could even see the looks on their faces—so enraptured with each other, oblivious to everyone and everything around them.

Cyril angrily turned and tossed his glass of champagne into the Seine.

Damn Drakar!

Cyril’s teeth ground together in anger. He should have known he would turn up, that he would, somehow, hear of the discovery of the cache of paintings. There were but a few people who even knew the secret. And Drakar was one of them.

Cyril knew he had an advantage over the Russian because Drakar did not know that Cyril also knew the Secret. And he was not about to let him discover the truth. He had never let anyone know of the conversation he had heard at the Fabergé shop. So now he would be free to continue his quest to get his hands on the Alexandrovsky Palace painting.

And nothing would stand in his way.

Chapter Nine

Dani, intrigued with Drakar and his aloof yet casually flirting banter, allowed him to monopolize her time for over an hour. They danced till weary, then walked slowly along the path beside the Seine River, until the shadows of day began to lengthen in dusty gold umbras about them.

She forgot all about Cyril and her promise to have dinner with him. She was fascinated with Drakar but found she was constantly on her guard lest he regard her as merely a capricious fluff,
or worse, one of the women he was no doubt used to having fall under his charming spell. Not she, by God!