“Which you only achieved by stealing away my nez.”
“Raymond was never really yours, Peter. You may have found him in Paris, but I know you brought him here solely for the purpose of stealing Nightsong away from me.”
It was true, of course. Peter gave Lydia a sly grin. Lydia had taken the perfume from the Forbidden City but had no way of reproducing it. He’d never learned how she found out about Raymond Andrieux or how he found out about Nightsong and Lydia’s dilemma, but knowing Lydia’s ways, he had a good idea of how she’d seduced Raymond to join her ranks.
“Now you are stuck with him,” Peter said, motioning to where Raymond was standing in a circle of beautiful women.
“I don’t consider myself stuck with him, as you put it. Raymond is a loyal and talented man.”
“Talented, yes, but I wouldn’t lean too heavily on his loyalty if I were you. Given the least provocation, I am certain Monsieur Andrieux would walk out on you in a second and then where would you be, without your precious Nightsong?”
What he said was true, Lydia told herself. There was no way of stockpiling an exotic perfume. Large quantities deteriorated quickly, which was why smaller batches had to be developed and each had to be concocted individually by a nez—a “nose.” Men like Raymond were so called because of their rare talent of being able to smell a scent and tell its composition. They could identify not only the flowers from which the scent was made, but also how many flowers, their variety, even where and when they were grown. This was why Nightsong was so expensive and so much in demand by the women who could afford it. Without Raymond to duplicate the exact scent each time, there would be no Nightsong Perfume.
Defensively Lydia answered, “Nightsong is not the only product I sell. My chemists are constantly coming up with excellent creams and powders and lotions. If Raymond decides to move on, I am sure I will survive without Nightsong.”
“Unless, of course, he decides to go into competition. He could easily reproduce all your products and sell them at a lower price.”
“And I would have him in a law court before he had a chance to dress and shave.”
Peter chuckled. “I’ll let you have your Raymond and your Nightsong,” he said as he took her hand. “All I want is you, Lydia.”
She felt herself go warm all over as their eyes met and held. She recognized still that hard, calculating look that had always made her both weak and wary. “Me and Nightsong,” she said, trying to sound flippant. “And, if I remember correctly, Nightsong always came before me. I may have forgiven you for what you did to me in China, Peter, but you will never convince me that you want me solely for myself.”
“But I do. To hell with Nightsong.” His eyes shifted slightly when he said that. “I have a whole new concept about cosmetic sales,” he said. “I’m putting out a new line and you will never guess what I’m calling it.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Lady Lydia,” he announced.
Lydia’s eyes widened and her pleasant smile disappeared. “Good God, Peter, no.”
“Why not?”
“What will Lorna say? What will everyone say? There has been too much gossip about the Nightsongs as it is, what with me and April and your David.”
A deadness came into his eyes for a second when she mentioned his son’s name.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s all right. David’s death is something I’ve tried to put out of my mind. It was something that happened...that’s all. I’ve stopped blaming myself, or you, or anyone.”
“You blamed me?”
“In the beginning,” he admitted, then quickly added, “I blamed everyone, mostly myself. I tried to stop him. If I’d never told him how you’d acquired Nightsong, he would never have gotten the crazy notion to do the same thing.” He turned away for a moment, afraid she would see how much he hurt. When he turned back he shrugged. “We both must forget David.”
“Then you must not call your new label Lady Lydia. It will just rake up all the old stories.”
“The containers are already in production. Besides, I don’t want to change the name. I think Lady Lydia is an excellent label for a cosmetic line.”
“Lady Lorna would be just as good.”
He smiled sweetly. “Not so far as I am concerned.” After a pause he said, “Anyway, it isn’t going to be an over-the-counter item or even a mail-order item.”
Lydia looked quizzical.
“I intend selling house-to-house, starting in the east.” He grinned. “The way the Bible boys do it, letting the ladies test and decide in the privacy of their own home.”
“An interesting idea, Peter, but I can’t help feeling there is something a bit seedy about it. However, if you had female salespeople—women selling to women—it might be a unique and successful concept.”
“Women selling door-to-door.” He laughed. “You have to be joking. It’s bad enough that some ladies are going into the business world without encouraging them to take sales jobs away from veterans who know their customers and their territories.”
Lydia was not convinced. “Regardless, I still think ladies would be more apt to buy from another lady than from a man.”
He winked and whispered, “Ladies underpinnings are sold by men and their sales are booming.”
Secretly Lydia was pleased Peter did not like her suggestion; she filed it away in the back of her mind, deciding to keep an eye on Peter’s new concept for selling. If it showed any degree of success she’d train ladies to do the same work, knowing it would be a greater success.
“I’m sinking all my capital into the project,” Peter admitted.
“I’d make some tests first.”
“You always were too cautious.”
“And you always too reckless.”
“I suppose that is what attracts us to each other. Opposites and all that.” He looked lovingly down into her beautiful face. He took a step nearer and put his lips close to her ear. “Right now I’d like to tear every stitch of clothing from your gorgeous body and have you right here on the floor in front of everyone.”
Lydia’s cheeks flamed as she put her hand against his chest and averted her face. “Peter,” she breathed.
“I don’t give a damn who sees us. I want you more than I want my own life.”
“Don’t, Peter.” Her heart was fluttering and the heat in the lower part of her body was building.
“And you want me. I know you do,” he accused.
“Peter, no,” she breathed, not trusting her voice. But she was not speaking the truth. She wanted to feel the hard nakedness of him overpowering her, pressing heavily atop her own vulnerability. She wanted to writhe and twist and moan under his onslaught. Only too easily did she recall how he’d entered her, made her seethe with desire and wanton passion as he took her forcefully, manfully, pounding into her unmercifully, knowing her need matched his own.
“Lydia,” he sighed. “Isn’t there somewhere we can be alone? It’s been too long,” he reminded her.
“You mustn’t talk like this, Peter. People are looking at us.”
“Let them.” He reached for her hand but she snatched it away. “I adore you. And I promise that as soon as MacNair Cosmetics is completely on its feet again I intend divorcing Lorna so we