She had always seen herself as Chris saw her. She had fluttered around him like a tropical butterfly whose wings he did not want to damage even though he longed to capture it and hold it between his hands.

Now she knew the image, the picture, had been false. She was not like that. Reality was far distant from the gaudy, fragile dream.

Her own reflection in the mirror showed her a slender girl with clear, hard green eyes and a firm mouth. Her years at the convent had given her a backbone oi' principle. Chris had never been able to dispel the influence of the nuns, however hard he mocked them. Other girls at the school had giggled over their moral teachings, but Lissa had been more open to it. She had accepted it without thinking and she knew it held good now.

The attitudes of the hotel,, the way of life Chris followed, would never have suited her. She had been protected from the full blast of them. Chris had protected her for his own reasons, but he had, all the same, protected her, sheltered her from the slow stain of his world.

She was going to have to walk away from him, from the island. She considered Luc's offer to take her with him and her skin grew taut. She did not need to guess what sort of price Luc would set on his help. He might not approve of Chris, but his own attitudes were hardly admirable. Luc wanted her too. Chris wasn't the only one whose eyes held heat and urgent desire when they looked at her.

Lissa put her hands over her eyes, shuddering. She had never felt the drag of Chris's physical nearness, but every time Luc Ferrier was anywhere near her, her body shivered with reaction.

She wasn't walking out of the frying pan into the fire.

She would have to make her own way somehow. But how? She had little money, Chris had always been very generous to her, but his generosity took the shape of presents: clothes, jewellery, ornaments. He paid her a salary, but Lissa had never saved much of it. She had not realised until now just how financially dependent she was-now she saw that Chris had her more securely than she had realised.

Her act was timed to take place half-way through the dance that evening. She ate with Chris and felt the constant glitter of his eyes as he watched her. She was wearing the black dress, at the request of the guests again. Pierre had teased her about it. 'They really fancy you in it, Liss,' he had said, and she had not had to pretend to blush.

She blushed now as she caught Chris's eye and he leaned over to whisper to her. 'Fix that date.' He was teasing, smiling, but his eyes did not hold any smile at all; they were filled with a liquid heat that dismayed her.

The pressing menace of his desire left slivers" of ice in her veins, 'I'll need a trousseau,' she parried lightly, smiling at him, and marvelling at her own new-found ability to act.

'Name it,' Chris breathed, stroking her arm with trembling fingers. 'Buy what you like tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow?' She laughed, shaking her head. 'I'll need more than one day.'

'Do you know what I need?' Chris was losing the ability to control the heat inside him and she could see it. 'Baby, it's got to be soon. Stop playing around.'

'Next month?' she suggested. It seemed a long time ahead now and by the time it came closer surely she would have thought of a way out?

'Next month,' Chris said hoarsely, nodding. He bent his fair head over her arm, kissing it moistly, 'Liss, Liss,' he groaned.

When the dancing began Lissa gave him a light, flirtatious little smile. 'Aren't you going to dance with me?'

He had been talking in a low voice to Max, out of her hearing, but he came over to smile and take her hand to lead her out on to the floor. Max and the other two men with him watched, grinning broadly.,

Held close to Chris, both his arms round her, his hands on her slender shoulderbones, she felt the pressure of his tense thighs on her body and had to resist the shiver running through her.

She leaned her cheek against his face and his arms tightened. 'God, I want you, Liss,' he muttered, nibbling her ear.

Over his shoulder her eyes met those of Luc Ferrier. He was dancing with Joanne Lucas. The woman was moving sensually against his lean body, both arms round his neck. Luc's face was hard and unreadable as Lissa looked at him.

She looked away, a very faint blush creeping into her cheeks. Chris was kissing her neck now and she felt the excitement inside him with wary alarm.

She wriggled. 'Don't,' she whispered. 'People are watching.'

He grinned and drew back a little, 'What a little rabbit you are,' he teased. 'Does it matter? Do you think I care what other people think?'

'I don't like being stared at,' she muttered.

'You'll have to get used to it,' Chris told her with a twist of the lips. 'With a body like yours you're going to be stared at whatever you do.'

She could not control the burning blush rising in her face and Chris watched the colour with half-impatient amusement.

'You've got the sexiest body I've ever seen,' he murmured into her ear, his breathing quickening again. 'Didn't you know that? When you move every man in sight goes crazy and that wide-eyed stare of yours makes you all the more exciting.' He laughed thickly. 'God, Liss, when you do wake up you're going to be something. You're going to be as sexy as hell one day.' She felt his hand sliding up and down her body, his fingers gripping her, and over his shoulder she met Luc's narrowed, flintlike eyes and could not hold them.

Max came over to tap Chris on the shoulder and whisper. Chris turned his head, listening, made a wry face. 'Okay, I'm coming.' He released Lissa and gave her a quick smile. 'Sorry, angel. I'll be back in ten minutes. Don't go away.'

He left her at their table and vanished with his men treading behind him like dogs on his heels. Lissa stared after them all and her face was cold and hard. Oh, she saw it now. She must have been blind not to see it long ago. Chris hid his nature under his charm, but she should have seen the real man in the way all those toughs from the back alleys of Ville-Royale took his orders, leapt to the soft sound of his voice, prowled at his heels.

A figure moved on the periphery of her vision. She turned and Luc leaned there casually, watching her, his features tight and cold.

'Enjoying the evening?' he asked. 'You and Brandon dance well together. 'I'm sure there are going to be other things you do well together very soon.'

The deliberate, slashing insult made her stiffen and glare at him. Luc ran his icy eyes down her body. 'I don't blame him. In that dress you're a walking invitation. You've decided to stick with the devil you know, have you?'

'I haven't decided anything,' Lissa threw back fiercely. 'It's none of your business-but then that wouldn't bother you, would it? You think you've got some God-given right to interfere and criticise and do as you please!'

His dark blue eyes held a spark of angry amusement. 'Stop spitting like a ruffled cat and dance with me,' he said, taking hold of her wrist and jerking her to her feet as though she were a child.

'No,' she refused, shaking her head.

She said it again as Luc drew her into the intimate crowd of other dancers. 'I don't want to dance,' she hissed, and he took her wrists and placed her arms round his neck.

His own arms went round her and drew her so close she felt the lithe hardness of his body against her own and a slow shiver of pleasure ran through her. Luc looked down into her eyes and Lissa knew he had felt her physical reflex reaction.

'Why did you challenge Chris?' she flung angrily. 'Are you mad?'

'No,' he drawled. 'Very sane, in fact. It distracted him.'

'Can't you see how dangerous it would be?'

'I can take him,' said Luc, and she remembered Chris saying that and her green eyes were as fierce as a cat's, angry and frightened and anxious.