Sweet Pretence

by Jacqueline Gilbert

  In bed that night Freddy savoured every look, every word, alternating between despair that she was seeing too much into what was said, and incredible joy that she might be able to put things right between them. She wouldn't speculate on the future, the future could take care of itself. She would take each day as it came.

  Freddy left Beaugency, driving south, taking her time and enjoying the countryside. She reached St Julien and the Carlyons' white house with its shuttered windows in the early evening. Inside it was cool, the thick stone walls and flagged floors keeping out the heat, and was beautiful in an austere way. She chose a bedroom overlooking the meadows and the river, and opened the window to get a better view. A deep purple clematis clung to the wall outside and she breathed in the sweet evening air and thought about Joe. He had gone to Paris the day before, very early, so that she had not spoken to him and was still in no man's land, yet this did not worry her. On her return to Queens-bridge she would tell him she loved him. What happened then was up to him.

  She awoke the next morning to find brilliant sunshine streaming through the window, and after breakfasting on coffee and croissants by the side of the river she found the bicycle that Liz had said was in the shed and set off with lunch bought from the village shop-post office. Wearing shorts and a sun top, and with a cotton scarf tied round her head, she was soon bowling along the lanes in search of a local chateau.

  One particular village was her aim and she reached it just on midday. As was usual at this time the village was deserted, and Freddy could find no one to ask if she could take a look at the chateau, but the gate in the huge stone wall that encircled the gardens was unlocked. She leaned the cycle against the wall, which was at least fourteen feet high, and the door yielded to her touch. She passed through, closing it behind her.

  It was as though she had stepped into one of the fairy-tales out of Megan's book. An enchanted place! The air was still and the quiet was broken only by birdsong. Everything in the grounds was overgrown and neglected, and yet this only added to its charm. The chateau was small, rounded and turreted, encircled by a still, dark green moat over which there was a tiny bridge leading to a tall wooden door. This, as were the shutters on the windows, was firmly shut.

  Freddy walked like a sleeping person, drifting through long grass in the orchard, the trees misshapen and old, delighting in the butterflies flitting to and fro and the fish, dark streaks, darting beneath the algae lying on the surface of the water.

  It was too hot to stay in the sun for long. Freddy retraced her steps, intending to fetch her lunch and sit under the trees. Before she reached the door in the wall, however, her attention was caught by a collection of brasses hanging on the outside of a dilapidated stable. She studied them with interest and stepped in at the open door. Inside, piled high, was hay and straw. She closed her eyes and conjured up a vision of the chateau in its heyday, with horses hooves sounding on the cobbles of the yard, grooms running to obey orders, a dog barking...

  A noise outside made her jump. Had it been the door banging shut in the wall? She listened intently, suddenly unsure of her position here. Footsteps sounded on the cobbles and a shadow passed by the dusty, cobwebbed window. A man, by size and shape.

  A farmer? Another tourist? Whoever it was, she was here, on her own, which wasn't particularly clever.

  This is silly, she told herself sternly, feeling her heart thumping with nerves. You're allowing your imagination to run away with you. She frowned, listening hard. Had he, whoever he was, gone on to the chateau? Suddenly, just as she was deciding to make her escape, she heard a monotonous under-the-breath whistling and realised that there must be another door into the stables further down and that the whistling was coming nearer. Without thinking, Freddy picked up a broom handle lying handy, and stepped back behind a large wooden down-beam against which straw was piled. Then, at the last minute, she wondered what on earth she was doing, and decided to make a dash for it. She leaped for the opening, flinging away the broom handle as she went. A strangled yelp sounded from behind, followed by a suppressed oath.

  Ten strides and she was out of the stables and lunging at the door in the wall, another two and she was through, gasping for breath, and then she was staring, wide-eyed, at the bright red Tiger parked alongside her cycle.

  CHAPTER NINE

  FREDDY turned and marched back into the stables. Where was the wretch? she raged inwardly, and glanced round wildly. A movement on one of the bales of straw attracted her attention and she saw it was Joe, lying flat on his back, arms outstretched. Her mouth went dry with apprehension and she rushed forward, dropping to her knees.

  'Joe!' she cried, and shook him. 'Joe, if you're play-acting, I'll murder you!'

  A pained voice replied, 'If this headache is acting, then it's damned realistic.'

  His eyes opened and his arms came up and she was rolled over on to the straw.

  'You brute!' Relief turned to indignation. 'How could you frighten the life out of me that way! Creeping up like that! If you're not hurt you jolly well should be!' Her fists flailed his shoulders.

  Joe caught them and pinned them down. 'Dear girl, I had no idea you would be frightened. I didn't even know you were in here, I thought you'd be in the chateau ...'

  'You can't go in the chateau!'

  '... and the brasses caught my attention and I thought I'd take a look before going to find you. What on earth were you doing, skulking in here, brandishing^ blunt instrument?'

  'I was looking at the brasses, you idiot!' howled Freddy. 'Let me up, Joe, damn you,' and she struggled ineffectually to free herself.

  'I think I deserve a bit of sympathy,' Joe said reproachfully. 'After all, being knocked out by a broom handle is no fun.'

  Freddy stopped struggling and now saw a rapidly discolouring bump on his forehead, from which ran a trickle of blood.

  Remorse swept over her, but she wasn't ready to capitulate so soon. 'It didn't knock you out,' she accused.

  'Poetic licence,' explained Joe, pained.

  'You were playing on my sympathy and.. .and scaring me out of my wits!'

  The laughter died in his face and he said quietly, 'I'm sorry, Frederica, that was the last thing I intended.'

  'Oh, really?' The sarcasm was half-hearted. The look on his face was making breathing difficult. 'And just what is it that brings you here?' She waited for him to speak, feeling his heart pounding against her breast. His brows rose quizzically and his mouth turned downwards, so Joseph-like, that she wanted to touch his lips with her fingertips and smooth them out, take away their cynical curves.

  'I wanted to find you,' Joe said, 'and do this.' And his head came down, his eyes still holding hers, and he rested his mouth on her lips, gently, and sweet pleasure rushed through her. When he raised his head finally, his voice was husky. 'You can box my ears now, if you like,' he told her, releasing her wrists. When she made no move to do as he suggested, he kissed her again. This time Freddy gave in to something she had been promising herself for a long time. Her hands came up, and her fingers spread themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck and she was kissing him back, abandoning all pretence, all indifference, desire erupting like a volcano. In the space between the kisses, Joe said roughly, 'This is it, Fred, now or never. I can't concentrate on anything any more, I keep seeing your beautiful green eyes--' and here he kissed them, one at a time '—and your darling of a mouth

  ' and this, too, received like treatment '—and it's been

  hell keeping my hands off you, either to shake some sense into your cuckoo head or make love to you, or both!'

  'What a brute,' breathed Freddy, laughter in her voice.

  'I want you to give us a chance, Frederica. It's crazy not to.'

  'Yes, please, Joe.'

  'We'll take it a day at a time, but you owe it to us both to give it a try...' He stilled. 'What did you say?' he demanded.

  'I said, yes, please, Joe. I've stopped running, and there's a lethal piece of straw sticking into my rear en
d.'

  There was silence while Joe searched her face. 'Then we shall have to do something about it,' he drawled, his eyes gleaming with elation. He rolled over so that Freddy was now lying on him and he smoothed his hands all over her, brushing awa> the bits of straw, being practical at first and then indulging in the feel of the curve of her back, and the roundness of her rump.

  'Better?' he asked.

  Freddy murmured languidly, 'Much better.' She touched his face, running her fingers along his jaw, outlining his ear, and he caught the hand, and turned the palm to his mouth to kiss it.

  'I'm getting too old for playing games in the hay,' he groaned, 'so we'll find somewhere more satisfactory, mm?'

  'Is that a promise?' asked Freddy, allowing him to haul her to her feet. 'You look like the strawman from Oz,' she told him, laughing, and began to pick the straw out of his hair. Her gaze lingered on the cut on his forehead. 'Poor Joe, does it hurt?' she asked anxiously.

  'Like hell,' he replied cheerfully. He took her hand and led her out of the stable and they stood blinking in the bright sunlight. 'I've brought lunch--'

  'So have I,' broke in Freddy.

  'Shall we sit in the orchard?' he asked. 'I'm sure no one will mind, and you can tell me how much you love me.'

  'Is that an order?' she teased gently.

  Joe lifted her hand and held it against his face, his eyes darkening with feeling. 'There are some words of a song I can't get out of my head. Something like freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.' He smiled. 'People have some funny ideas about freedom, Frederica, and some day I'll tell you what I think it means. Right now I'm parched and there's some wine on ice in the Tiger. Let's fetch it.'

  'Did Lizzie say anything to you, Joe?' Freddy lay back on his chest, eating a succulent yellow plum, looking up through the trees at the blue sky.

  'What could Liz have told me?' questioned Joe, gently winding a strand of her hair round his finger.

  'Well, she guessed how I felt about you,' murmured Freddy.

  'And how could that be described?' A brow rose quizzically. She gave a muted laugh deep in her throat. 'Furiously angry, wonderfully happy, dizzy with longing, miserable with jealousy, acting my head off so that you shouldn't guess, wanting to give in, yet fearful of you leaving me...'

  'I'll not leave you,' Joe said firmly and sealed the promise with a kiss. Some very satisfying minutes later, he went on, 'Actually, it's Adam we have to thank.'

  'Adam?' Surprise coloured Freddy's voice. 'Good gracious! Why?' And she twisted round to look at him.

  'It was through Adam that I came to Queensbridge in the first place,'

  explained Joe. 'We met up in London and talk came round to Atticus. I mentioned that I knew someone who worked for that company and asked Adam if he knew you. If I'd asked Liz no doubt she would have mentioned Megan, but Adam merely told me that he understood you were divorced.'

  'But you pretended you didn't know,' Freddy protested.

  'Yes, well, it wouldn't have done to lay all my cards on the table at once,'

  teased Joe, enfolding her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. 'Patrick Tyson had been on at me for some time to let Atticus do an adaption of Wandering Man. I suddenly decided to take him up on the offer.'

  'So you came looking for me!' The idea took some getting used to.

  'It's not often a man gets to having a second chance of winning the woman he stupidly lost in the first place: And when we finally meet, what do I find? A Frederica looking more beautiful than ever, cool and poised and very able to do without me.'

  'Not true,' declared Freddy lovingly. 'When I saw you I felt as though I'd been hit on the head by a brick dropped from a great height. I was devastated by all the old longings.'

  Joe gave a short laugh. 'It didn't look that way to me. Each time I thought we were making some headway, you kept retreating.'

  Freddy rolled over, wound her arms round his neck and nuzzled him, laughing softly. 'I was scared stiff you'd make me fall in love with you all over again,' she admitted ruefully. 'I wanted to run a mile and yet be with you. Awfully uncomfortable. It's what is called being torn apart,' she added gravely.

  'I know the feeling,' he drawled. 'I didn't mind you running—so long as you stopped eventually. I just didn't want you to run into the arms of Patrick Tyson!'

  Freddy groaned. 'And what,' she demanded severely, 'was I supposed to do about Nina Welsh?'

  Joe grinned. 'How could you think there was anything between Nina and myself?'

  She poked him in the ribs with a stern finger. 'You meant me to think there was, you wretch!' She lay back on the grass and sighed deeply with satisfaction. 'Isn't it just perfect, this place? Joe, how did you know I'd be here?'

  'I knew from the Carlyons that you were going to St Julien, and the woman in the village shop told me you had asked about the way to the chateau—so here I am, bloody but unbowed.' He half sat up and studied her face. 'You knew I'd come, Fred,' he chided gently, and his fingers traced the line of her jaw.

  'Yes, I knew—well, hoped, but I thought I'd have to wait until I returned home.' Freddy paused. 'Joe, you have thought about Megan, haven't you? I mean, she's part of my life, and whatever happens in the future...'

  'She will be part of it,' finished Joe, putting a finger on her lips to stop the words. 'Meggie and I understand each other perfectly, Fred, darling, and we both love you very much.'

  'Meggie and I love you, too,' confided Freddy. She smiled sleepily, the sun warm on her face. 'This might, of course, turn out to be a dream,' she murmured. 'Lovely, lovely dream.'

  Her eyelids closed, she sighed deeply and dr:::ec into sleep. When she woke she couldn't remember where she was for a moment, and then she saw Joe lying there beside her, breathing steadily, eyes closed. Happiness coursed its way through her. She lovingly, hungrily feasted her eyes on him as he lay oblivious, one arm folded under his head, the other lying across his chest. He was wearing a cream cotton shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, with light khaki trousers, and she wondered if he would wake up if she kissed the hollow just below his Adam's apple. It was such a tempting hollow, a lovely speckled brown colour, touched with moisture. His lashes, dark and thick, fanned his cheeks, his mouth was soft and relaxed and there were tiny beads of moisture on his upper lip, too.

  'If you look at me like that, you'll get eaten,' murmured Joe, his lips barely moving, his eyes still closed.

  'What a sneaky thing to do, pretending to be asleep,' remonstrated Freddy softly. She sat up and spread an arm either side of his chest, palms flat on the ground. 'If anyone is going to be doing the eating, it's me.' She bent and gently placed her mouth in the hollow.

  Joe groaned a sigh. Freddy touched her lips to all parts of his face, ignoring his mouth, teasing him with the tip of her tongue, finally hovering over his mouth, keeping her eyes firmly on their outline, knowing that his lashes were lifted and his eyes were no longer sleepy. She lowered herself and blew softly on to his face, still not catching his eyes, and then touched his lips with the tantalising tip of her tongue.

  Joe's hands came up and caught her hair, holding her captive. His eyes were gleaming and he sat up, demanding, 'What the devil are you trying to do to me, woman, make me forget where we are?' He rolled over, sprang to his feet and softly threatened, 'I'll remember all that later and pay you back with interest.' He held out his hands and hauled her, flushed and smiling, to her feet.

  They collected their things together and walked slowly through the orchard.

  'I feel as though we're in a dream,' murmured Freddy, glancing back at the chateau, which was as deserted-looking as ever. The heat haze hung over the roof and the trees and it was almost as if time stood still, that it made no impression on this place.

  Joe opened the door in the wall and they passed through.

  Freddy said laughingly, 'I think you drive the right car, Joe. Innocuous-looking when it's sleeping, dangerous when it's moving, just like a tiger " with its prey.'

 
; Joe grinned. 'Prey usually means a helpless victim. I hardly think the term applies to you, girl-dear!' He grimaced and covered his bruised forehead with his palm, pretending pain. He dumped the cycle in the back of the Tiger, easy to do with the soft cover off, and when everything was stowed away they set off back to St Julien.

  The white house was cool and silent.

  'This time,' Joe said softly, 'we know why we're doing this, don't we?' He gently drew away the sun top from her shoulders and ran his lips slowly along their curve, his hands drifting down to clasp her waist. 'In Yorkshire, I rather felt it was a form of exorcism.'

  Freddy arched her back, gazing into his eyes which were dark and intense. She laughed low in her throat, remembering. 'If it was,' she told him breathlessly, 'it didn't work.' She undid the buttons on his shirt and spread her palms across his chest, lingering over his heart, revelling in the strong beat. Joe lifted her on to the bed and began to re-enact her lovemaking of the afternoon, beginning with her face and then trailing a random path all over her body.

  Freddy gasped with pleasure as the sneaking tip of his tongue teased and thrilled. 'I give in, Joe, please... oh!'

  She dug her fingers in his hair and they fought, laughing a little, the laughter dying, and there was no past, only the present, and everything was wonderful, triumphant and earth-shattering.

  A rapping at the front door roused them. Joe looked at Freddy with raised brows, left the bed and threw on some clothes. Freddy waited for him to return, wondering what it was.

  'Get dressed, Fred, a message has come through for you to ring home,' Joe said, coming in quickly. 'No, don't panic. Your parents were quite firm that you were not to worry.'

  While he was speaking Freddy was dressing in rapid haste. 'It's Meggie. It must be. God, what's happened to her?'

  'Hey, calm down. Let's not cross our bridges. We can use the phone at the shop.'

  'How did they find the number?' asked Freddy, as they hurried across the village square. It was nearly dusk, but the men were still playing boule. There was a chorus of 'Bonsoir, monsieur, ma dame, ' as they circled the game, and Joe replied for them both, with Freddy managing a slightly distracted smile.