Cursed Kiss (Paranormal Romance) Read Online Free
from the pilot and indicated she should precede him. "The château was built in the sixteenth century by King François the first for his mistress." He pointed to a small tower set apart from the main building. "That is a dovecote the king had built for his lady."
White birds fluttered in and out of the numerous holes in the brickwork. "What a lovely gift, a symbol of peace," Clare said.
Luka laughed wryly. "I'm afraid not. The young birds hatched in the dovecote were destined for the kitchen. They were a delicacy."
Clare winced. She hoped baby dove wasn't on the menu tonight.
"I hope you'll be comfortable here." Luka raised his arm in an expansive gesture. "Please feel free to explore the gardens whenever you want."
They entered the château and Luka introduced her to an elderly housekeeper called Madame Rousseau, who showed Clare to her room.
As they ambled up the wide stone staircase to the second floor, they managed to communicate with hand signals. Clare discovered the best way to keep the old woman happy was to nod vigorously and say oui every time she pointed at a painting or stopped by a window.
Finally, Clare coaxed the motherly woman out of her room and leaned back against the door, relieved to be alone. The bold paintings of large crimson flowers seemed to jump off the wall panels. The cover on the bed blazed with gold thread. This wasn't a room for sleep, it was a room designed to stimulate the senses.
As soon as she thought of stimulating senses, an image of Luka's lean body and sultry dark eyes came to mind. She shoved the thought away. He might be attractive, but he was definitely strange. And she didn't know exactly why he'd brought her here yet. He couldn't simply want her to do research for him. It must be more than that.
When she'd freshened up, she wandered across to the window and pushed back the shutters. Formal gardens around the house gave way to acres of grass sloping down to a river. In the distance, rows of vines glowed green against the sandy soil.
Clare breathed in the warm evening air. The fragrance struck her as quintessentially French, a mixture of sun-warmed foliage, the sweetness of ripening fruit, and earthiness. It resonated with her soul. Sad it had taken twenty-six years for her to visit her mother's homeland. Clare had spent her childhood across the Channel in England but never made it to France. By the time she was ten, her father's condition was so bad she couldn't leave him alone for longer than a few hours.
After doing a quick calculation on the time difference, she fetched her mobile phone from her purse and called Edward to get an update on the Faceglo production problems. His voice mail cut in. She stabbed the Off button and frowned. It was the third time she'd tried. Where was he?
A light tap sounded on the door. Clare paced across and opened it to find Pablo there. A slow grin spread across his face. "You have settled in?"
"Yes, thank you."
"May I come in?"
Clare was a little surprised by his request, but stepped aside and let him amble past. He moved around the room, running his fingers along the furniture thoughtfully. "This is a nice room, a good view. Do you not agree?"
"It's lovely. But I'll enjoy it a whole lot more when I know what I'm doing here."
"Yes, of course. Luka will tell you soon. Actually, that's why I'm here." Pablo flicked a gold tassel hanging off a lamp. "Luka asked me to fetch you."
"Then I guess we'd better go down."
He held out a hand, inviting her to precede him through the door.
"Is there somewhere I can buy a few more clothes?" she asked. "I only packed for one night's stay."
"This is taken care of. I've sent to Paris."
"Have you now. And how do you know my taste in clothes?" Not to mention her size.
He tapped the side of his nose. "You will not be disappointed."
"Okay." Clare might need more clothes, but she wasn't wild about having them chosen for her.
As she followed Pablo downstairs, she checked her watch. Her body was still
White birds fluttered in and out of the numerous holes in the brickwork. "What a lovely gift, a symbol of peace," Clare said.
Luka laughed wryly. "I'm afraid not. The young birds hatched in the dovecote were destined for the kitchen. They were a delicacy."
Clare winced. She hoped baby dove wasn't on the menu tonight.
"I hope you'll be comfortable here." Luka raised his arm in an expansive gesture. "Please feel free to explore the gardens whenever you want."
They entered the château and Luka introduced her to an elderly housekeeper called Madame Rousseau, who showed Clare to her room.
As they ambled up the wide stone staircase to the second floor, they managed to communicate with hand signals. Clare discovered the best way to keep the old woman happy was to nod vigorously and say oui every time she pointed at a painting or stopped by a window.
Finally, Clare coaxed the motherly woman out of her room and leaned back against the door, relieved to be alone. The bold paintings of large crimson flowers seemed to jump off the wall panels. The cover on the bed blazed with gold thread. This wasn't a room for sleep, it was a room designed to stimulate the senses.
As soon as she thought of stimulating senses, an image of Luka's lean body and sultry dark eyes came to mind. She shoved the thought away. He might be attractive, but he was definitely strange. And she didn't know exactly why he'd brought her here yet. He couldn't simply want her to do research for him. It must be more than that.
When she'd freshened up, she wandered across to the window and pushed back the shutters. Formal gardens around the house gave way to acres of grass sloping down to a river. In the distance, rows of vines glowed green against the sandy soil.
Clare breathed in the warm evening air. The fragrance struck her as quintessentially French, a mixture of sun-warmed foliage, the sweetness of ripening fruit, and earthiness. It resonated with her soul. Sad it had taken twenty-six years for her to visit her mother's homeland. Clare had spent her childhood across the Channel in England but never made it to France. By the time she was ten, her father's condition was so bad she couldn't leave him alone for longer than a few hours.
After doing a quick calculation on the time difference, she fetched her mobile phone from her purse and called Edward to get an update on the Faceglo production problems. His voice mail cut in. She stabbed the Off button and frowned. It was the third time she'd tried. Where was he?
A light tap sounded on the door. Clare paced across and opened it to find Pablo there. A slow grin spread across his face. "You have settled in?"
"Yes, thank you."
"May I come in?"
Clare was a little surprised by his request, but stepped aside and let him amble past. He moved around the room, running his fingers along the furniture thoughtfully. "This is a nice room, a good view. Do you not agree?"
"It's lovely. But I'll enjoy it a whole lot more when I know what I'm doing here."
"Yes, of course. Luka will tell you soon. Actually, that's why I'm here." Pablo flicked a gold tassel hanging off a lamp. "Luka asked me to fetch you."
"Then I guess we'd better go down."
He held out a hand, inviting her to precede him through the door.
"Is there somewhere I can buy a few more clothes?" she asked. "I only packed for one night's stay."
"This is taken care of. I've sent to Paris."
"Have you now. And how do you know my taste in clothes?" Not to mention her size.
He tapped the side of his nose. "You will not be disappointed."
"Okay." Clare might need more clothes, but she wasn't wild about having them chosen for her.
As she followed Pablo downstairs, she checked her watch. Her body was still
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