by Andrea Blake
“Noelle, are you sure—very sure? There isn’t going to be a chance for second thoughts, you know.”
“Oh, Mark...” Her answer was in the way she breathed his name, in the first adoring look she had ever been able to give him.
He pulled her into his arms and held her painfully close, his lips against her temple. “How do you expect me to be sensible when you look at me like that?” he said huskily. “Look, I can put off my sailing for one week. That means a scramble to fix all the details and a wedding by special licence. It isn’t what most girls dream about.”
She pressed her face against the hardness of his shoulder. “I’m not most girls—and it sounds sheer heaven to me,” she said in a muffled voice, beginning to laugh.
He relaxed his hold. “What’s so funny?”
Noelle lifted her face. “Nothing ... everything. Oh, Mark, aren’t you ever going to kiss me?”
Some minutes later, he put her gently away from him. “Satisfactory?” he asked huskily.
Noelle opened her eyes and looked dazedly up at him. She had imagined him making love to her, but she had never dreamed that the reality could be so shattering. Her throat burned where his mouth had pressed her smooth skin, her lips were parted and tremulous. The passionate demand of his kisses and the wildness of her own complete response had been like the unleashing of a cosmic force.
Mark raked a hand through his hair and gave a smothered laugh. He was breathing hard and his eyes were still darkly ardent.
“A little more than you bargained for?” he asked, with a tilted eyebrow, as Noelle leaned against the table, her knees weak.
It was a moment, or two before she was capable of speech. “If you felt like that, you might have given me a hint,” she said, with mild reproach.
“I did—a dozen of them. They all seemed to glance right off you.”
“They must have been terribly subtle ones. I never had a clue. What made you come up tonight?”
“Desperation—and a phone call from de Bressac. He told me the engagement was off, and why.” Mark’s mouth tightened. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth about that? You must have known how I felt.”
“I knew you were angry, but I thought it was because you disliked Alain so much.”
“Would you have gone through with it?”
“I don’t know. I was so miserable about you that it didn’t seem to matter very much what happened. It might have been better than spending the rest of my life in solitary wretchedness, except that it wouldn’t have been fair to Alain. Do you still dislike him?”
“I would have come up anyway, but it was decent of him to get in touch with me,” he said slowly. “It seems you really hit him, poor chap. All the same, I still feel justified in warning you off. It isn’t often that a leopard changes its spots.
“I only wish he hadn’t,” Noelle said wryly. “In spite of all your lectures I was never in any danger, you know. You provided all my pitfalls.”
“Would you have let me go off to Rio, or were you planning some last-minute strategy?” he asked, coming close to her again.
She rested her hands on his chest. “What could I do about it? Women are so hog-tied by convention. I’m sure you’d have hated it if I’d thrown myself into your arms.” She touched his lean brown cheek. “Mark—when did you begin to like me?”
“I never liked you. I was attracted to you, and then one day I realized I’d been hit. If you must have all the details, it was that afternoon we went on a picnic to Vincennes. You were lazing on the grass, and if Robert hadn’t been with us I’d have kissed you instead of berating you.”
“Yes, you were horrid to me,” she agreed. “I remember I could have hit you.”
“A pity you didn’t. It would have brought out the brute in me, and we’d have cut out all this time-wasting.” He captured her hand and put his lips to the palm. “By the way, if you’re not a good sailor we’d better go to Rio by air. I don’t plan to waste my honeymoon ministering to a sea-sick bride.”
Noelle came down to earth. “Oh, Mark, I don’t see how we can go together either way. What about my job? I can’t just walk out on the Tregans at a moment’s notice. I shall have to follow you later,” she said disappointedly.
“Not on your life! Having got you, I’m keeping you close. The Tregans can easily rush out another nurse. We’ll go down and break the news to them.”
“Now? So late?” Noelle exclaimed in alarm.
“Why not? The sooner the better.”
“Oh, we can’t. Ginette’s in bed and the children may wake while we’re gone,” she said hurriedly.
He guessed what was really bothering her. “You’re scared of Lady Tregan, aren’t you?” he said, smiling.
“A little,” she admitted. “But it isn’t only that. Mark, I don’t think you ought to spring this on them quite so suddenly.” She hesitated. “You may not have realized it, but Mademoiselle du Val is fond of you. I think perhaps she—”
“I’ve already handled that, and Anne-Marie’s out tonight. It probably won’t be long before she announces her engagement to one of her compatriots,” he said briskly.
Noelle looked doubtful. It was possible that what she had heard from Ginette had been nothing more than an accurate snippet of staff gossip, and that her own feeling that the French girl had been interested in Mark had had no basis. But she was not convinced.
“Are you sure?” she asked uncertainly.
“Positive. A most eligible lad has been after her for quite some time, and now that ... certain other things have been settled, she’ll undoubtedly accept him.”
“ ‘Certain other things’ being you, I suppose?”
“Look, my love, there’s nothing to worry you in this. As far as I was concerned, Anne-Marie was one of the thousands of pretty little creatures in Paris. If she had any other ideas she’ll soon put them out of her head. French girls are far more practical than the English species, you know.”
“I don’t think one can be practical with one’s emotions,” Noelle said quietly.
“It depends how, strong they are. Neither Monique nor her sister are the type to waste their time pining. Now, run and powder your nose and we’ll announce our news.”
On the way downstairs she said, “I dread telling poor little Robert. He’s going to miss you so much, and I think he’s grown fond of me. It’s awfully bad for a child to have a series of changes like this.”
Mark pressed her hand. “I was afraid that was going to upset you.”
“I’m so happy myself, I want everyone else to be too.”
They had reached the landing and he led her towards the salon.
“Don’t worry, they won’t eat you,” he said, smiling.
As it proved, both her employers took the news much more calmly than she had expected. Sir Robert was plainly very pleased, and said he had suspected an attachment for some time. Lady Tregan looked momentarily aghast, then swiftly recovered herself and was coolly congratulatory. Whatever her real reaction, she accepted Mark’s assumption that she would waive the normal period of notice.
It was nearing midnight when Mark took Noelle back to the nursery.
“Tomorrow afternoon we’ll go and find an engagement ring,” he said, drawing her into his arms again. “Any ideas what you’d like?”
“My day-dreams never reached that stage.”
He took her face in his hands and kissed the tip of her nose. “What stage did they reach?”
“Just this—just being close to you.”
His hold tightened. “Mine were more ambitious, but I’ll tell you about them later. Goodnight, my love.”
Eight days later Noelle sat in a cabin on a liner steaming out from Cherbourg. Except for having ports instead of windows, it was very much like a bedroom in a luxurious Paris hotel. There was a deep cream carpet under her feet, a bed with a quilted headboard of lustrous apricot silk, built-in wardrobes and a glass-topped dressing-table with concealed lighting.
As she admire
d her new surroundings Noelle’s thoughts went back over the past week and all that had led up to this moment. On the third finger of her left hand was the glowing crimson tourmaline that had marked her whirlwind engagement. Mark had wanted to buy her a ruby, but the less precious tourmaline in its setting of gold and pearls was the ring she had liked best of all. Now, beneath it, she wore a flat gold band set with tiny ruby and diamond chips, the unusual and charming wedding ring which Mark had kept secret until their marriage early that morning.
She was still wearing her wedding dress, a simple ivory silk tunic, as there had been no time to change between leaving their informal reception and driving to Cherbourg. Mark had been, worried about the dress. He seemed to think that a formal white wedding was something every girl dreamed about; but to Noelle nothing was as important as the rapturous discovery of being loved.
And if she had missed the full bridal finery, she had a trousseau of unlimited glamour. Sir Robert, having discovered that she had no family, had insisted on giving her a generous cheque, and she had spent a blissful afternoon in the shops round the Faubourg St. Honore choosing the enchanting fripperies that only Paris could produce. She had two pairs of sleekly-cut lounging pants in orange and sea-green Thai silk, each with a sleeveless overblouse, for when they steamed into warmer waters. There was a neglige of finest white lawn, printed with sprays of apple blossom, and a whole rainbow of filmy petticoats of pleated and lace-appliqued nylon. Lady Tregan had given her a dozen pairs of Christian Dior stockings, and a crystal flask of Guerlain’s sophisticated ‘Mitsouko’. Unknown to Noelle, she had been secretly gratified to see her sister’s infatuation terminated. While acknowledging Mark’s attraction, she did not want him as a brother-in-law.
Noelle was still musing when Mark came back from the purser’s office. “Dinner’s in half an hour, sweetheart. Like to have a shower?” he asked.
“Oh, heavens! Is that the time? I was miles away.”
“There’s no rush. We have weeks of idleness ahead of us.” He lounged on the arm of her chair and cupped her chin in his palm. “What were you doing all those miles away? I want you here with me.”
“I was only thinking what a lovely week this has been,” she said, smiling. “It still seems rather like a dream. I haven’t got used to being engaged, let alone married.”
“I expect you’ve been struck off the College register. They probably don’t approve of such rapid marriages.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter terribly. I don’t expect I shall be working again. It will seem funny, having nothing to do.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you occupied,” Mark said, grinning. “You can start by tracking down my shirts. No, not for a minute.”
As she rose from the chair, he slid into her place and pulled her back on to his knees. “How does it feel to be Mrs. Mark Fielding instead of the efficient Nurse Webster?”
“Odd—but I like it. Will everyone know we’re on our honeymoon?”
“If you look at me like that in public they’re bound to suspect something,” he said teasingly.
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “You’re always making fun of me.”
“Or making love to you. I’m told it’s an excellent recipe for a long and happy marriage.”
“Oh, Mark, I do hope I can make you happy,” she said, with sudden intensity. “Everyone must feel like this at the beginning. But look what can happen to them later—love doesn’t always last.”
His arms tightened. “It will last for us, my sweet. Did you really have any doubts?”
Noelle slid her arms round his neck, and wondered how she could ever have thought him so cold and arrogant.
“No doubts at all,” she said softly.
And in the moment before his mouth found hers and she was lost in a rapture of the senses, her thoughts went fleetingly to the unknown future before them. It would be many years before they could make a permanent home, as Mark’s work would take him all over the world. They would put down roots and have to wretch them up again. Later on—but only if it was absolutely essential—they might have to be separated from their children, or from each other. But whatever vicissitudes of fortune their way together might bring, she was confident that their love would be constant.