But the conviction that she was embarking on a fool's errand was heavy inside her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The flight went on and on endlessly. Lucie couldn't sleep, couldn't relax, but the need for sleep burned behind her eyelids. In the transit lounge at Houston she drank black coffee in case she fell asleep at last and missed her connecting flight to Grand Cayman. She needn't have worried, she was wide awake when her flight was called, and three and a half hours later she was back in the familiar Owen Roberts Airport and her nerves were at screaming-point.
Time had dragged on the flight, but now it was racing. When the taxi reached the entrance to the condo complex she nearly panicked and told the driver to turn round and take her back. She tapped him on the shoulder. 'Put me down here, please.'
The man turned good humouredly. 'No cause to walk round in the dark, miss, I can drive you.'
'Thanks, but I want to walk,' Lucie muttered, fishing in her purse for the fare.
It was indeed dark—nearly ten o'clock local time—and the sky was cloudy. No stars, no moon. Lucie picked up her bag and set off along the smooth drive leading to the group of condominiums overlooking the sea. Her legs were stiff with sitting for all those hours in the plane, her knees were shaking so much that she could hardly walk, and once she lurched sideways and nearly ended up in the bushes. Lights were shining in some of the windows of the low white buildings. She looked up at the first-floor apartment of the second building. Yes, there was a light, so Guy must be there. She went hollow inside. By the time she had circled the swimming-pool she had to summon all the will-power she had left not to turn and run as she stood before the door, her hands clammy and her heart beating in her throat. No, she told herself. You've run away twice, this time you stay and face reality.
Mercifully the bottom door was unlocked, and she climbed the stairs to the first floor and stopped before the familiar blue-painted door. What if Guy wasn't alone? He might have one of his business friends with him, and that would be horribly embarrassing. But at least she knew that Cynthia Blunt wasn't here, because Giles had said she had gone back to London with him.
Holding her breath, she pushed open the door and went into the small, square hall.
'Who's that?' Guy's voice came from the bedroom.
'It's me, Lucie,' she croaked.
He appeared in the bedroom doorway. He was wearing the crimson silk gown that she remembered so well, and it accentuated the pallor of his face. He had lost weight and he looked taller. There were great dark circles under his eyes and his hair was rumpled and spiky. One wrist was heavily bandaged.
They stared at each other, then Guy made a helpless gesture. 'You'd better come in.' He led the way into the living-room and switched on the light. 'Sit down,' he said, and she sat in one corner of the sofa.
He stood looking down at her, his face expressionless. There was a long silence, then he said, 'So you came back.'
'Yes,' said Lucie.
'Why?' He was wary, suspicious.
She had rehearsed what she would say, gone over and over it in the plane, but now she couldn't remember a word. 'I heard you'd been ill and I had to see you again,' she said in a shaking voice.
'How did you know?' he asked matter-of-factly.
'Giles Blunt came to see me. He—he told me you'd been in an accident and had been in hospital. He said he thought you needed someone to look after you.'
Guy stood up and started to pace up and down the room. 'He'd no right to do that—it was none of his bloody business!'
Lucie's heart plummeted. He didn't want her here; this was all going terribly wrong. 'I think he meant it for the best,' she faltered. 'He didn't seem to know that things had—had gone wrong between us. He said you knew I had to get on with my work and you didn't want to worry me.' She clasped her hands tightly together. 'Guy—why didn't you send word to me? I'm your wife, I should have known.'
'Would you have cared?' he said bitterly. He came and stood in front of her again, his blue eyes cold and distant.
'Of course I would.'
His lip curled disdainfully. 'After the summing up of my character that you treated me to before you made your exit I could hardly expect that you'd take the slightest interest in my welfare.'
'Oh, Guy—don't be like that, please don't. Let me explain—'
'Go on then, explain,' he said coldly. He walked away and stood staring out of the uncurtained window at the darkness outside.
She looked at the tall, uncompromising back. The crimson silk of his robe reached to his thighs; below it his legs were straight and muscular, the springy hair dark against the bronzed skin, and Lucie thought despairingly that she had never loved him so much as at this time when she had finally lost him. She wasn't a very brave person and it took all her courage to get up and stand beside him and say, 'I was wrong and unfair. I was insanely jealous of Cynthia Blunt and I just said the first thing that came into my mind. I'm sorry.'
Guy turned slowly. 'You were—jealous? Is that what you said?' He spun round, looking as if he couldn't believe what he had heard.
'Of course I was jealous,' Lucie said almost crossly. 'Wouldn't any girl be jealous when she's just seen the man she loved with another woman in his arms?'
'Did you say—the man she loved? Was that what you said? Are you saying you love me, Lucie?'
It wasn't so hard now. Something in his face, in his voice, was sending a little tremor of hope into her misery. She put a hand on his arm. 'I love you, Guy, and I don't care about anything else, and I won't give you up to Cynthia Blunt, so that's that!'
Incredibly, he was laughing, a broken sort of laugh. 'Oh, my darling, darling, fierce little Lucie, how I adore you! I've dreamed of hearing you say you loved me, and I was beginning to believe it would never happen.'
'Then—then you don't want Cynthia?'
'I want Cynthia as much as I want a flu virus. I've been trying for the last six months to get her out of my hair. That day I'd gone to see her, at my request. I wanted to plead with her to treat Giles with some decency. He still loves her, the poor old idiot. It didn't do any good, of course. She put on her usual act, even to the point of rushing out into the storm after me and throwing herself into my arms. That must have been the great dramatic climax that you witnessed.'
Suddenly his face changed. 'It's you I want, my love. It's always been you. God, Lucie, if you only knew how much I want you! I've loved you for years.'
She looked into the blue eyes that blazed with love and tenderness and she knew that, unbelievable as it seemed, it was true. She caught her breath as she leaned towards him, and then, somehow, they were together on the sofa and his good arm was round her and his heart was pounding against hers.
'Tell me,' she whispered, holding up her mouth.
Against her lips, between kisses, he told her. 'Beautiful, adorable Lucie, I love you to distraction, and I want you with me always, to the end of time. When you went away my world went black. But I'm only a man, and I could show you better than ever I could tell you.'
His kisses were driving her mad. 'I'm reeling with jet-lag and you're just out of hospital. Could we? Should we? Your wrist—?'
Guy drew her to her feet and towards the bedroom. 'We could,' he said masterfully, 'and we should. And it isn't my wrist I propose to use,' he added wickedly.
They sat on the bed together. 'You can be nurse and undress me,' he teased, his blue eyes dancing, so she did just that, and when it was done she revelled in the bronzed strength of his spare, muscular body as he lay waiting for her.
'Hurry, my lovely love,' he smiled at her as she began to pull off her own clothes, and the blaze of love and satisfaction in his face made her almost shy as the last flimsy garment was cast aside.
'I was so afraid,' she murmured as she lay down beside him and turned herself to meet him. 'I thought we'd never do this again.'
'Over and over again, I promise you,' he said triumphantly, his one good hand exploring and caressing and rousing her to a
wild, reckless response, 'and it will get better and better all the time.'
As their lips met frenziedly and they moved together to the final peak of ecstasy, Lucie cried out his name over and over. His head was pressed into the hollow of her neck and she heard him groan, 'Lucie—my darling—oh God—Lucie—'
Afterwards they lay still, and for Lucie the world slid away into a beautifully peaceful nothingness. For a little while she slept, and when she woke it was to see Guy propped on one elbow, looking down at her.
'I don't believe it,' he said. 'I'd given it up as hopeless, and suddenly—you're here. You are real, aren't you, Lucie?'
'Mm—I think so. I'm just beginning to believe it myself.' She snuggled up to him. 'The last week's been so ghastly. Did you really miss me?'
'Miss you? I bloody well did! I thought I'd lost you that day you walked out. I went a little mad, I think. I drove straight out and hit a tree.'
'Oh!' she wailed. 'That was my fault. Are you sure you're all right now? Oh, I've been so stupid, so incredibly silly!'
'Shush!' He covered her mouth with his own.
After a considerable time she said, 'Guy, we've got to talk.'
He sighed. 'Very well, but first things first. Let's have a celebration meal—I haven't had a square meal since you walked out on me.'
'Neither have I,' she admitted. 'And at this moment, I'm starving!' Suddenly she remembered. 'Did you find the duck thing I'd prepared ready to pop in the microwave?'
He nodded with a grin. 'That duck was a hostage to fortune. I tucked the whole thing away in the deep-freeze, in the remote hope that you'd come back to share it with me.'
'Marvellous! We'll have a gourmet supper ready in half an hour. I can't wait!'
Much later, they went out and strolled together dreamily along the edge of the sea, their arms round each other, as they had done every evening on their honeymoon. There was no moon yet and the sky was thick with stars. The beach was deserted except for the two of them and the only sounds were the splash of the waves and the rustle of the leaves in the pine trees, and the high-pitched twitter of night insects.
'Did you really mean it—that you'd loved me for years?' Lucie could still not quite believe it.
'Indeed I did,' said Guy, lowering his head to kiss her just above her ear. 'Three years ago, after that one and only time we met, I tried so hard to find you again, but I had to give up in the end. I even thought I'd forgotten you. But when I saw you again at your father's party it was like a blow over the heart. That night in Paris—I'd been looking at you all through dinner, fascinated. You were so incredibly beautiful, your hair like a dark cloud and your shoulders so white and that damnably seductive cleavage that I couldn't take my eyes off. And when you looked back at me I saw what I was sure was invitation in your face. It never occurred to me—stupid fool that I was—that Warren Martin's daughter could be innocent. I took you for twenty-three or four—your father was past middle age and that seemed to fit. And your dress—if you'll forgive me for saying so, sweetheart—was decidedly—er—racy.'
Lucie grimaced. 'I know. Stephanie chose it for me and I loathed it. She'd just married Father and she wanted me off the scene as quickly as possible. I suppose she thought it would be alluring and put up my stock in the marriage market. I hated that dress, it seemed to label me as one of them, and that was the very last thing I wanted. I couldn't bear Father's set. They drank too much and talked about nothing but money and deals and take-overs, and their wives were so—so bored and snooty and didn't seem to care when their husbands pawed me and—oh, they were horrid!'
She sighed. 'And I looked at you and you were so handsome and—and different. I'd never seen anyone like you at my father's parties before. I suppose I was very young for my age and quite absurdly romantic. I began to build up all sorts of fantasies about falling in love and how we would kiss chastely among the roses and how you would swear eternal devotion.'
Guy let out a groan. 'God, yes—and then I came on too strong and frightened the life out of you!'
She giggled. 'And all because my dress was so alluring! Clothes have a lot to answer for. Stephanie must have been right after all.'
He stroked her neck. 'I certainly found it alluring, any man would, but there was no thought of wedding-bells in my mind. That came later.'
'When? How much later?'
'Very soon,' he said thoughtfully. 'You see, you gave me a terrific shock when you pushed me into the rose-bed and ran off. I was seething. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. I was bigheaded about my technique with girls, and you gave my pride a very nasty jolt. I sat there and blasphemed very colourfully indeed. But after a while I got up and brushed myself down and told myself that it wasn't the end of the world. You were just a silly teenager, playing at being grown-up, and then, when it came to the crunch, too scared to accept what happens when you look at a man with those big eyes of yours in that special way.'
'Charming,' Lucie murmured. 'I really must have made an impression!'
He brushed his mouth against her hair again and drew her closer, and she felt a tremor run through him. 'Oh, you did, my darling, indeed you did. That night I couldn't sleep for thinking about you. I kept seeing you in the moonlight in that rose-garden, with your lips quivering and your lovely face raised to mine so trustingly. Hearts-and-flowers stuff. All that was lacking was a violin playing off-stage. An innocent girl was something new to me, and I wanted you quite desperately. I was disgusted with the way I'd behaved. I got out of bed and drank several stiff drinks, but they didn't help me to go to sleep and forget all about you. They only made me want you more. By the time morning came I was hearing wedding-bells loud and clear and I was aching to see you again, to touch you, to ask you to forgive me for frightening you. I was all ready to ask your father for his daughter's hand in marriage and show him my bank account, as they did in the good old days.'
Lucie chuckled. 'And when you arrived you found I'd bolted. Did Father tell you why?'
He shook his head. 'I couldn't get anything out of him. He was not in a communicative mood, to put it mildly.'
'I can guess. I'd disobeyed him for the first time in my life and he was furious. I'd run away from the finishing school he'd chosen for me and I was determined to go to art school, which he was dead against. Also he was dropping dark hints about making a suitable marriage—and that meant setting out to capture you—the son of his banker. Very useful to him!' she giggled. 'I shan't tell you all the uncomplimentary things I said about you that night! Anyway, we had a flaming row and the next day I walked out and went to James, in Birmingham. That was the last time I saw my father until he wrote and asked me to come out to the Caymans and see him— three years later.'
'And all was forgiven and forgotten?'
She nodded sadly. 'I think he really wanted to see me and make up our quarrel.'
Guy squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. They were both silent for a while and the little waves broke at their feet and the moon came up and sent a white track across the sea.
Guy said slowly, 'I think you were wrong, you know, my love. I don't believe he wanted to die. He was a fighter, he would have gone on trying.'
'Oh, I hope so,' she said. 'But we'll never know, shall we?'
He shook his head. 'Perhaps not. And now we must go back and I shall put you to bed and let you sleep. And tomorrow we'll really start our life together.'
'That sounds like heaven,' said Lucie, reaching up to kiss him softly on the lips.
The following morning they had a very late and leisurely breakfast on the verandah. Lucie had never in her life imagined such bliss—the blue of the sea, the blue canopy of the sky above and the deeper blue of her husband's eyes smiling into hers across the table.
'I've got something to show you,' he said. 'Something that really you should have shown me.'
'Sounds mysterious,' Lucie murmured pouring out the last of the coffee.
He went inside and came back with a jiffy bag. 'This,' he said.
'I found it yesterday morning in your father's desk. I had to go along to look through some papers they were asking for at the bank.'
'My book!' gasped Lucie. 'Peter brought it for my father.'
Guy smiled broadly. 'Exactly. I'm very proud to have a famous author and illustrator for my wife. It's delightful, Lucie. You're extremely talented.'
She flushed with pleasure. 'An ill-favoured thing but mine own,' she said.
'You must go on with your art,' Guy said seriously. 'I'll have a studio fixed up for you at the cottage in Dorset and you can go there and paint whenever you feel inclined. It's a very nice cottage, I think you'll like it. Tucked away in woodlands, not far from the sea. The nearest thing I could get in England to the Little Cayman shack.' His eyes twinkled. 'We'll spend lots of time there when the pressure of London gets too much. You won't object to the flat in London?' he added anxiously. 'You won't hate my business friends if they're so misguided as to talk finance?'
Lucie pulled a wry face. 'I know I've been stupidly prejudiced, don't hold it against me. I only saw a very small part of the world of big business—my father's part—and I was silly enough to judge the whole of it by that one part. But I know better now. People are individuals, and you shouldn't make sweeping judgements.'
She smiled up at him under long lashes. 'I shall be a very old-fashioned wife. Wherever you are and whatever you do will be OK with me, and I'm sure I shall like your friends. I'll do my best to preside over all the dinner-parties you care to arrange in the course of business. Who knows, I might even begin to understand the money market myself!' She sobered. 'I hope I've grown up quite a bit in the last few weeks, darling. When I think of the awful things I said to you it makes my blood run cold.'
Guy reached over and covered her hand with his. 'When I think that I let you go when I could have explained, if it hadn't been for my stiff-necked pride, it makes my blood run cold. I knew I forced you to marry me under duress, it was the only way I could think of to get you. I knew you didn't like me, you made no secret of that. So I set myself to make you fall in love with me and on our honeymoon I thought I'd succeeded. When I seemed to have failed it was the end of the world.'
Honeymoon Island Page 14