and only half listened to her chatter as she reacted to each piece, holding one up in front of herself in the mirror, then laughing at the effect. There was no denying it. She was enchanting, and he was tempting fate just having her here.
But that was just how it had to be. He was strong enough to handle it. Not easy, but possible. He’d been through danger before. He grinned suddenly, laughing at himself and his preposterous comparison of this danger to those more immediate and physically damaging incidents, like being shot at by a sniper and having his car blow up in his face. He could handle one little twenty-one-year-old girl— couldn’t he?
“Shot through the heart,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.
“I am so in love with all these clothes,” she said, holding up one outfit, and then another. Suddenly her smile dimmed as she had a thought. “Do you always do this?” she asked curiously.
He looked up, surprised and not sure what she meant. “Do what?” he asked her.
She took a deep breath. “Do you always have Rolfo run down and buy clothes for your girlfriends?” she asked, her eyes dark and luminous. And then she said something kind of mean, though it came out of the flash of pain she was feeling. “I suppose you probably have him buy them nightgowns.”
“My girlfriends don’t wear nightgowns,” he said without thinking, then regretted it as she turned bright red.
“Oh, Julienne.” He started toward her, ready to take her hands in his, then stopped himself. “That was just a joke. I didn’t mean it. I couldn’t resist when you gave me such a perfect opening.”
“Okay,” she said, trying hard not to sound a bit shaky.
He shook his head, looking at her with pure affection. “Julienne, you are just too … too …”
“Young? Naive? Silly?”
Actually, he’d been thinking more along the lines of adorable, charming, refreshing, delectable … And now he had to stop, before he said something he would really wish he hadn’t—even in his own head.
“Never mind,” she said, waving him away. “Go make your phone calls. I’ll be here, having fun.”
He hesitated. “You won’t make another run for it?” he asked softly.
She flashed him a quick smile. “Not right now. I’ve got too much to do right here.”
He grinned and retreated to the bedroom, though he left the door open so that he could keep an eye on her. And when he came back out ten minutes later he found the mood had changed drastically.
No longer sorting through the rack, she was sitting on the couch, arms folded across her chest.
“What’s the matter?” he said, startled by the transformation.
She looked up at him, her gaze cloudy. “I can’t take any of these clothes.”
“What are you talking about?”
She shrugged—all tragedy, all the time. “For one thing, you’re trying to bribe me with them.”
He stopped in his tracks, looking outraged. “Bribe you? What are you talking about?”
She looked at him accusingly. “That’s what this has all been about, hasn’t it? The meal, the dessert, the clothes.”
She seemed to have a unique gift of finding the exact wording that would make him the angriest. He had to work hard at keeping his fury at bay. Bribe her, indeed!
“How much of a clothing allowance have I given you over the years?” he asked her carefully.
“Clothing allowance?” She looked blank. “I never saw any clothing allowance. I just took what you had Mathilda, the housekeeper, get for me. She would go on shopping trips and come back with the ugliest clothes you’ve ever seen.”
He stared at her, feeling a well of regret growing in the pit of his stomach. She really did have a point, didn’t she?
“Julienne,” he said softly, “I’m so sorry. I never paid enough attention….”
“No, no, it was fine.” She shook her head so hard her hair slapped her cheeks. “I had plenty of clothes. And the few times I really needed something special Mathilda found something for me at the Saturday market. Like for Christmas or my birthday.”
That wasn’t really good enough. She should have had the best. What kind of a jerk was he, anyway?
“You’ve been the perfect ward,” he said, really angry with himself. “And I’ve been the worst as a guardian. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugged. “Remember those emails I sent you?” she pointed out. “And the letters?”
He shook his head. “You deserve some clothes. I owe you.”
She began to put things back on hangers. “No thank you,” she said softly.