by Andrea Barry
"But, Armand, most men want to see their wives tucked away at home, with no other ambition than to spend their whole lives pleasing their husbands and raising a family." There!
She had mentioned marriage, even if he hadn't. The words had popped out before she could check herself.
"I find such an attitude not only archaic, but totally unreasonable—and one that would lead inevitably to dullness. Husbands and wives should be equal partners." He held Patricia's eyes with his.
"If a woman loves a man, Patrice," he continued, his voice very clear, "she would, of course, aim to please him. I daresay the husband would do the same for his beloved. These actions have to come naturally, not as a result of requests."
Patricia was fascinated to hear him voice opinions she totally agreed with.
"As to being tucked away at home, it sounds medieval to me. The woman I share my life with will remain her own person. I would never pinion her wings."
Patricia had finished the last of her breakfast and Armand got up and removed the tray from her lap, placing it on the windowsill. He returned to sit on the side of the bed, beside her, and touched her face with his hand. The feel of his fingers as they caressed her cheek filled Patricia with tenderness. She inhaled the familiar scent of him and rested her head on his shoulder. His hand now moved to touch her hair, playing with it.
"I love your hair, Patrice. It's so soft and fragrant, as you are."
Patricia was happy and at peace. A man like Armand didn't cross one's path more than once in a lifetime. She would rethink her future plans. Surely he was offering her marriage, even if he hadn't spelled it out.
Patricia remembered how fatherly Armand had been to his sister's children. She had enjoyed her time with the Vincent family.
"How is Marinette?" she asked. "And how are the children?" She left her head where it was, on his chest, enjoying' the feel of his fingers as he stroked her.
"They are fine," he said. "They miss you. We all hope you will be back in Abidjan soon."
"I was hoping they would come with you here, to the lodge."
"They wanted to, but they couldn't this time. Actually for a very happy reason. Marinette and Albert, the man she has been seeing for a year, have decided to get married. This week she and the children are visiting his family."
"Where are they going to live?" Patricia asked.
"They are looking at houses just now."
"You mean Marinette and the children will move out of the family villa?" Patricia had come to associate them with the lovely, spacious house.
"Oh, yes. I shall soon be all alone there," Armand said wistfully. "That is unless I can persuade a certain beautiful woman to share it with me…"
"I'm sure there are plenty of willing ladies, Armand."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
"It has to be a special lady, my dear…"
There was no doubt that she was that special lady. Patricia raised her mouth to him, her hands reaching to hold him. She would fight him no longer. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. What was the point of playing cat-and-mouse?
There was a knock at the door. "Stay there and don't move." Armand got up to open the door. Patricia could see Madame Ariel, the secretary whom she had met earlier.
"Sorry to disturb you, Monsieur le Comte," she said. "A message just came in from Miss Brigitte Duval. She radioed from Mombasa to find out if you'd be picking her up. What shall I tell her?"
"Tell her I'll be there in about a half hour. I'll leave shortly. Have the plane fueled up, would you, Madame Ariel?"
Although the conversation took place in hushed tones, and the door had been only slightly opened, Patricia heard every word.
She braced herself against the bed, hardly believing what she had heard. Armand was about to bring his paramour, the French actress Brigitte Duval, here to the lodge!
Armand returned to Patricia's side as though nothing of importance had transpired.
"I have to leave now, chérie, to pick up another guest," he said, his tone as velvety as it had been before they were interrupted. "But I'll be back shortly to take you on our very own safari." He took her hand in his, smiling with complete innocence, and kissed it.
He walked over to the door where Madame Ariel still waited, and was gone.
Patricia's blood boiled. Truly Armand had no shame! He expected her to stay here, with his mistress in residence too. What was she to do?
She coldly considered the situation in order to select the appropriate strategy.
She had known Armand for three short weeks. She was still the same person, well integrated and happy with her status quo, except for the hurt inflicted on her by Armand. The remedy then would be to cut—like a surgeon would—all memory of Armand de Vincent. Surely she was capable of this! She would not let herself dwell on what she had learned just now.
Patricia fingered the gold and silver bracelet Armand had given her. She would throw it away, regardless of its value. She wanted no part of Armand. She began pulling off the delicate bangle that fit her wrist so perfectly.
"It is meant to be liked and enjoyed by you, that's all," Armand had said when he gave it to her. Had he foreseen their parting? "Let it remind you of Abidjan," he had added. Patricia still really wanted the twin to the bangle Armand's sister wore. She enjoyed having it. Why throw it away?
"How silly can I be?" Patricia became annoyed at herself and pushed the lovely bracelet back on. "If I threw the bangle away I wouldn't be punishing Armand, but myself! Ridiculous!" She would enjoy the bracelet for what it was, a delicate piece of jewelry that suited her. She need not remember the giver!
The important thing now was to leave the Vincent lodge as soon as possible. She considered herself lucky to have seen Armand's true colors before it was too late to back out of a relationship that would surely bring her nothing but misery. And wasn't it providential that she had been flown here not by Armand, but Derek, who was always ready to do her bidding!
Patricia dressed slowly, waiting to hear Armand's plane take off. She did not need another encounter with him just now. The airstrip was close enough to the lodge so that she could tell he was already revving up his engines. When she was sure he was airborne, she made her way to the living room.
"You look much better, Patricia, did you enjoy your breakfast?" Derek was his usual solicitous self.
"I'm just fine," Patricia said. "You were right, I should have eaten. I'm sure I fainted because I had no breakfast."
"Do you feel up to another game drive?" he asked. "You missed seeing some lions further down the bush."
"I'd love to go for another drive." Patricia felt a small lie was necessary. "But just now I would rather get back to Keekoroti."
He looked at her quizzically then shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, all right. When would you like to leave, Patricia?"
She had known she could count on Derek to do her bidding! How agreeable he was! She would try to be more appreciative of him.
"I'd love to leave right now, Derek," she said, giving him one of the beguiling smiles Armand had called irresistible.
"Whatever you say," Derek said gallantly.
They would be out of the lodge long before Armand and his mistress had a chance to arrive. Meeting Brigitte Duval was the last thing Patricia wished to do.
It took Patricia only a few minutes to gather up her clothes and pack them.
She walked back to the pleasant living room to wait for Derek, who had also gone to pack. The lodge seemed deserted. It was very quiet, just as it was when Patricia had arrived the previous day. Other guests had gone out on game drives, and Armand, Patricia assumed, was almost in Mombasa by now, where he would pick up his paramour.
Patricia looked wistfully around the room that only the night before seemed so gay. So much had transpired! It was right here, in the thick of the African wilderness, where Patricia's heart had broken—she realized she loved Armand, and he did not love her in return.
"Ar
e you ready?" Derek returned and reached for Patricia's bag.
"Yes, quite," she answered.
"What a shame you're leaving so soon, Miss Wells," Armand's secretary, Madame Ariel, came out of the communications room to say goodbye. "I'm sure Count Armand will be disappointed not to find you here when he returns from Mombasa."
"I wouldn't bet on it," Patricia said under her breath, following Derek out of the door.
Chapter Eight
Patricia sat quietly in the cockpit of the small airplane beside Derek, as they took off smoothly into a cloudless sky.
This wasn't the first time she was in an aircraft, fleeing from Armand, promising herself to forget him. Their relationship had been a stormy one from the beginning, but this time it was different. This time she knew she was in love with him, even as she was running away.
The escape was a matter of saving her own respect. It had become plain to Patricia that Armand didn't return her love. He obviously was still seeing the notorious French movie star. He had been cruelly playing with her feelings, toying with her affections. Patricia's gaze lost itself in the blueness of the African sky, so like the color of Armand's eyes—azure, tinged with a bit of violet.
The memory of his eyes brought uncontrollable shivers to her body, every inch of her still thrilled by the touch of his fingers, the feel of him. A fire began spreading inside Patricia and she was helpless to put it out. Tears came to her eyes, as though only their wetness could quench the spreading flames. She wanted Armand. Her body wanted Armand. Somewhere along the line he had taught her to need him.
"Do you feel all right, Patricia?" Derek inquired, his eyes on the plane's control panel. Good thing he wasn't looking at her, Patricia thought, moving her head away and brushing away her tears with the back of her hand.
"You're so silent," he continued, "as though you were miles away."
"I was just looking at the sky," she said. "It's such an iridescent blue. I've never seen a sky so bright anywhere else."
"It's our special African sky. How do you like Africa, Patricia?"
Just now she wanted to say she didn't like it at all, but she realized that basing her judgment of a whole continent on the strength of her love affair with Armand would be ridiculous.
"I like it very much—what I've seen so far."
"If you stayed longer, I'm certain you would like it even better and might never wish to leave. That's been the case with Aunt Pat, and my case, too."
And Armand's? Patricia stopped herself in time from voicing her comment. "I guess I won't have the chance to find out. Anyway, not on this trip. I'll be returning to New York next week," she said.
"So soon? That's a shame. I had hoped we would have more time available to—to get to know each other better." Derek spoke very tentatively.
She had no curiosity about Derek. He just wasn't the type of man who attracted her. They had nothing to talk about. Just as Aunt Pat had predicted, Derek didn't challenge her.
"The opposite of Armand," Aunt Pat had said. However, at this point, Patricia decided, brushing away a stray tear that clung to her long lashes, she would be very nice to Derek. She had noticed that since the unfortunate incident when he had passed out in her room, Derek had not been drinking at all and his manners were impeccable. And mercifully, he never mentioned any conversations he might have had about her with Armand, nor did he seem to suspect what had transpired between the two of them. Above all, he was a pleasant man to have around—one who caused her no emotional upsets.
Patricia watched him pilot the plane. She made up her mind right there and then she would have a good time with Derek.
At Keekoroti, preparations for the annual masked ball were underway. During the next few days Patricia was caught up in a hundred pleasant chores, helping her aunt organize the ball. A large colorful tent was erected in the garden, complete with a dance floor. Over a hundred guests were expected from near and far. All guest rooms would be occupied, and Aunt Pat had rented extra space at the fashionable Hotel Inter-Continental in Nairobi to accommodate the overflow of visitors.
"The best part of the ball this year is that it is a celebration for both of us," Aunt Pat said to Patricia. "Your twenty-seventh birthday! Think of that! You must tell me if there's anything special you wish as a birthday gift, dear child."
There was only one wish Patricia could think of; she wished she could have Armand's love. But she knew this was impossible, as Armand loved someone else.
"You have given me the most fantastic present I could ever wish for, Aunt Pat. My trip to Nairobi, my visit with you—getting to know you—I couldn't ask for more," she said truthfully.
"It's just as much of a present for me, Patricia. I can't tell you how happy I am that you're here. Now… what about your costume for the ball? Are you going to tell me what it will be?"
"I'm going to be a Flamenco dancer," Patricia said. "And I'd better go back to working on the costume, so I can finish it."
"A Flamenco dancer—that's lovely." Aunt Pat smiled. "What color is your dress?"
"Bright red."
"How striking. It should contrast beautifully with the lacy black mantilla you'll no doubt wear on your head. How will you fix your hair?"
"I've gotten a black wig. I want to be totally unrecognizable."
"Good. That's the spirit of the party. I'll bet Armand will never know you. He's coming as a medieval knight," she added.
Patricia couldn't tell if her aunt had given her this information purposely, or if it had just slipped out. She didn't want to give a thought to Armand. It was too painful. She returned to her suite, where a seamstress was hard at work on the beautiful red satin dress, its skirt fanning out below the hipline with tiers of heavy ruffles.
"I think I'll ask Aunt Pat to come and have a look at the mantilla," Patricia said, fingering the head covering of black lace.
Aunt Pat was at her desk when Patricia made her way to the study. With her at the desk was Armand.
Patricia was, by now, used to the fact that he was a frequent guest who often arrived without warning. She would have to be civil to him, she knew, at least in the presence of Aunt Pat.
"Come right in, Patricia." Aunt Pat was first to speak. "Armand and I were just finishing up some business matters."
"Hello Armand, how are you?" Patricia tried to sound casual and pleasant, extending her hand to him. Armand rose politely, shook her hand, and, in his customary way, he brought it to his lips. Patricia made a supreme effort to control the powerful vibrations the touch of his mouth sparked throughout her whole body. She noticed immediately that the penetrating gaze that had always accompanied this gesture was absent. Neither did his lips linger on her hand, as they had in the past. He dropped her hand quickly, as though it had been an object he had picked up out of habit.
"I'm fine, Patrice," he replied, smiling to show his beautiful strong teeth, but already turning his gaze away and looking past her, seemingly nowhere. "You've been engaged in pleasant activities, I hear. I hope you're having a good time."
Why shouldn't she? Just because she had left him was he suggesting she might be unhappy?
"Oh yes, I've been having a marvelous time." Patricia projected each word slowly, her smile obviously as forced as his had been. "I've taken some great excursions. Driving around in a Jeep is a wonderful way to visit some of the remotest parts of the African bush." Might as well let him know she hasn't been sitting around moping. . "Did you ever get to see the family of lions near the game lodge?" It was very annoying, the way he did not look straight at her when he talked.
Patricia winced, remembering how much she had looked forward to having Armand take her to see the lions. But that was before she had run away, before she heard he was still seeing Brigitte Duval.
"Oh, yes, Derek took me to see them." She emphasized Derek's name. It was Patricia's turn to avert her eyes from him, as he turned toward her, his own eyes dancing blue coals, mocking her, yet igniting Patricia's very soul.
"Derek
knows so much about nature," she continued, even though this wasn't quite true. She found his explanations uninspiring; but why should she let Armand think she wasn't enjoying herself with Derek?
"There are so many things to learn, here in Africa." She tried to keep on talking, just to free herself from his eyes.
"That's because of your insatiable thirst for knowledge, Patrice." He now turned toward Aunt Pat. "It is an admirable trait, don't you think so?" he said.
"Oh, yes," Aunt Pat agreed enthusiastically. "And so refreshing in a young girl. That is one of the many reasons I enjoy Patricia's company. But if you two will excuse me, I'll go and make the business calls you suggested earlier, Armand."
She got up slowly from her chair and made her way to the door.
"It's heartwarming to see how much Aunt Pat has improved," Armand said. His tone was one that would be used with a formal acquaintance rather than an intimate friend. "She can already walk without the aid of a cane."
"Yes. When I first arrived in Keekoroti, Aunt Pat wasn't able to get around by herself," Patricia said. She found it difficult to be alone with Armand, but it would be bad manners to leave the room just now.
"Her quick recovery, I'm certain, was speeded up by your presence. Your soothing ways, gentle disposition, and patience, I am sure, have a healing effect… Yes," he continued in a velvety fashion, "I'm told you're a very sweet person—and a very reliable one."
He shifted his legs and his sinewy muscles rippled under the thin fabric of his slacks. "How strange that you should run out on a man with whom you'd made a definite appointment, a date. And with another man at that. Or do you use the woman's prerogative to change your mind—and perhaps even your principles, when —what should I say?—when it suits you?"
He was throwing a dueling gauntlet right at her.
"Better that, than be exposed to humiliation…" To think he had brought his mistress to the very place where she had hoped he would declare his love for her! Where she'd been ready to love him without any restraint!
"Humiliation? Whatever do you mean, Patrice? You are being obscure. Won't you explain?"