When she realised Liam was swimming beside her she jerked her head away and when he touched her she went to dive. 'Look where you're going!' he shouted, and the rocks were just below. After that Carly kept her eyes open, but as she waded out of the water blood began to seep from a graze on her smooth brown thigh.
They always left towels and clothes in a crevice in the rocks. She dried herself hastily and sketchily and dabbed the graze, wincing as it started to smart. She hadn't noticed brushing against a rock. She could have ended up lacerated to the bone if Liam hadn't warned her, but she still had nothing to thank him for.
Roland was on the cliff path, almost at the top. Carly saw him when she looked up and said, 'I hope he pushes your face in.'
'No danger,' said Liam. 'If he'd been going to he'd have tried it right away.'
She would deny it, of course. She would insist on being heard and it was unforgivable of Liam putting her in this position. She pulled her shirt over her head and tied the thongs of her sandals. The graze was superficial, but jeans would chafe it, so she carried them with her towel, and strode off across the beach, the thin white cotton shirt showing the wet pattern of her green bikini.
Liam was barefoot, bare to the waist, wearing jeans, towel slung around his neck, and other days when he and Carly had climbed the cliff after their swim he had given her a helping hand. Nearly always they had reached the top with Liam hauling her the final stage, both of them laughing. Roland was always with them, swimming and climbing and laughing, but Carly realised now how completely Liam had overshadowed him.
'Carly,' Liam began suddenly, and she burst out, 'Just don't talk to me. I wish I'd never set eyes on you or your rotten family!' She didn't mean it about his family. Roland had done her no harm and Madame Corbe was a darling, but she meant it about him. She went ahead up the cliff path, trying to pretend she was alone but agonisingly conscious with every step of him at her back.
When they reached the Chateau she ran to her room. If she had met anyone she couldn't have spoken to them. She was breathless from climbing the cliff and choked up with emotion, and she dashed into her bedroom and locked the door.
Although she was leaving the next day she hadn't yet started packing. It wouldn't take long and she supposed she hadn't really wanted the holiday to end, but now she opened her suitcase and began to unhang clothes from the closet, as though the sooner she packed the sooner she could leave.
That was stupid, and it was stupid standing around, sticky wet, her hair in rat's tails. After her swim she always showered and washed her hair in the bathroom next door, and she had to open the bedroom door again, looking up and down the corridor before she crept out to scuttle into the bathroom.
This afternoon she didn't linger. After her shower she dabbed the graze on her leg with antiseptic cream and was back in her bedroom within minutes, blow-drying her hair, then putting on the clothes she had set aside for this afternoon. The plan had been that they should drive into a town about ten miles away where she could do her last-minute gift shopping, but she couldn't see Roland wanting to join her and Liam now, and she was going nowhere alone with Liam ever again.
She would much prefer to spend the rest of this day on her own. She didn't know whether she could trust herself yet to say her piece. That Liam had lied. He and she had never even kissed, much less slept together, night after night, in that bed over there where Napoleon had once slept, at the end of his glory without much ahead but the years of his exile.
I bet he felt no more depressed than I do, Carly thought. This hurt more than when Gerald had let her down. She could remember that well, but she knew this pain would be worse when she let herself feel it.
Her dress was straight and simple in tangerine silk, with a matching cord jacket, and a scarf in tangerine cerise and scarlet, and she wondered how she could look so colourful and feel so drained. She dabbed more blusher on to her cheeks, although the suntan hid her pallor and the added pink looked feverish. She was rubbing it off when Madame Corbe walked in.
'You've started your packing?' queried Madame. The case was open on the floor and the closet door gaped. 'I shall miss you, my dear. I suppose you can't—'
'No,' said Carly jerkily. 'Thank you, but I must go.'
'Yes, of course.' The little swinging mirror standing on the dark oak chest had been brought in for Carly and Madame Corbe blinked at it. All her life this house had probably been unchanged in any way, so that even a mirror, where no mirror had been, surprised her. 'I've just seen Roland,' she said, watching Carly in the mirror. 'He seemed very annoyed. He said he had made a fool of himself and did I know about you and Liam. What could he have meant by that?'
'Nothing,' said Carly. 'There's nothing to know. Except that Liam doesn't like me and would move heaven and earth rather than let Roland marry me.'
'But he must like you,' Madame Corbe protested, as though Carly must be mistaken. 'He's been with you all the time. Liam doesn't suffer fools, or people who bore him. If he hadn't been enjoying your company he wouldn't ‑'
'He's been chaperoning Roland,' said Carly ironically. She had dropped a dress on the bed. She picked it up and folded it to fit the case, and Madame Corbe sat down on a carved high-backed chair, her fingers, with their flashing rings, playing with the gold rope chain she wore. 'Do you want to marry Roland?' she asked Carly.
'No, thank you,' said Carly promptly. 'Nor does he want to marry me.' . . . 'Stay and marry me,' he had said, but that offer had been cancelled by Liam's lies and if Carly had wanted to marry him she would have been distraught.
'I got the impression,' Madame's bright gaze switched from Carly's reflection to Carly, 'that he believed Liam was cutting him out in your affections.'
'Then you both have the wrong impression,' said Carly crisply.
'Roland is a dear boy,' said Madame Corbe as though she hadn't heard that. 'He would probably be happy with any girl so long as she was pretty and kind and loved him. But it would take a very special girl to hold Liam.' She nodded, agreeing with herself, and Carly rammed a rolled-up pair of tights down the side of the case and, thought, Special? She'd have to be a saint! And a fool, because falling in love with him could be bitter and terrible.
'As soon as I saw you,' mused Madame, 'I knew that you were special,' and Carly looked up wordlessly. This was beyond everything. She couldn't listen to this, and if Madame ever mentioned it to him it would be the ultimate insult for Carly. She could hear him laughing, saying, 'Not a good idea, my beauty.' She gulped and said, 'Liam isn't likely to fall in love. He's probably the most heartless man I've ever met,' and Madame laughed softly.
'Oh no—oh, you're wrong there. He's hard, but he can be wonderfully protective. There's nobody quite like Liam.'
'That's something,' Carly muttered. 'One's more than enough,' but Madame Corbe was enthusiastically away.
'And he's so clever. He owns most of this estate, you know.' Carly hadn't known and she didn't care. 'And he's a very successful lawyer—well, you know that.' Now Madame seemed to be talking to herself as much as to Carly. 'Of course he's never shown the slightest sign of wanting to get married. I never thought he would, although there've always been girls, and some of them were very nice. I didn't care much for the last one, Victoria, she was altogether too gushing, but you—now it would be simply splendid if you and he ‑'
'Stop it!' Carly shrieked. 'Stop it, I can't stand it! It was bad enough you matching me up with Roland just because you thought I looked like Antoinette. But the idea of trying to foist me on to Liam is obscene! We can't stand each other. I know we've been around together, and thank you for a lovely holiday, but when I get back to England he's the one man I hope never to see again. I'm sure he's super with you, he looks after his own, but what he's been doing with me the past two weeks is making sure little brother is safe. And I wouldn't have married Roland anyway, but I'd fifty times rather have him than Liam. I'd rather have nobody any time than Liam. Do you hear me?' Her voice had stayed at shriek pitch, but she had
n't realised what a shrill performance she was giving until she stopped for breath and saw Madame Corbe looking as astonished as if a box of fireworks had gone off in front of her.
'Sorry,' Carly ran a hand through her tumbled hair, 'I'm sorry, but you do hear?'
'I should think the whole house heard,' drawled Liam from the open doorway, and Carly's face burned as she turned away.
Madame Corbe said shakily, 'Carly's packing. It would have been nice if she could have stayed a few more days.'
'Wouldn't it?' said Liam.
'Would you get me a glass of water?' The old lady sank back in her chair breathing fast, and Liam poured water from a carafe by the bed while Carly stood transfixed with remorse. She shouldn't have carried on like that. She knew Madame Corbe wasn't strong and mustn't be upset. What had she done? 'My pills,' Madame Corbe whispered, and Carly jumped.
'Where are they?'
'In my purse. On the sofa in my bedroom.'
Liam was holding her hand, his fingers on her wrist. He said conversationally, 'I had a talk with Louis the other day,' and Madame's fluttering eyelids steadied.
'My doctor?' she murmured.
'Right,' said Liam crisply. 'He's the doctor, I'm the lawyer. He'd make an honest witness under cross-examination.'
The corners of Madame Corbe's mouth went up in a small mischievous smile. 'How very indiscreet of him!' She hadn't taken a pill, nor even drunk the water, but her voice sounded stronger.
'This,' said Liam, tapping the pulse point on her wrist, 'seems all right to me.'
'I do hope,' said Madame, 'that you didn't bully Louis.'
Carly waited and Liam told her, 'My lady here has had a heart murmur for years, but under slight pressure Louis admitted it's no worse than it was ten years ago and he thinks she'll see ninety.'
Carly didn't know whether she was shocked or amused, but she knew she was relieved. She gasped, 'You haven't been playing us all up? Trying to blackmail Roland into getting married by pretending you were ill?'
'Now I never said that,' Madame protested. 'Did I ever say I felt ill? I said I was tired, and so I was. Tired of waiting for him to choose a wife so that there would be children again, to play in the nursery and brighten up the place, and whatever my doctor says I am an old woman, I don't have that much time, I am seventy-five.
'First I saw my trousseau blouse in the window and that started me thinking about weddings.' She sighed wistfully. 'And then it was my birthday. Do you have any idea how many roses make seventy-five? I had one for every year.'
'Sorry about that,' said Liam, 'but it seemed a good idea at the time,' and Carly remembered the yellow roses in Madame Corbe's bedroom in Liam's house. He must have arranged for them to be delivered, which was thoughtful, but seventy-five was a lot of years and roses.
She said gently, 'You'll see the children. They'll ride the rocking horse and rearrange , the furniture in the dolls' house, even climb the tower with someone to hold their hands, and they'll be pretty and bright.' She wondered why painting that homely picture should make her feel so lonely.
'I hope so,' sighed Madame, 'but I still think it's a pity ‑' She looked at Liam, then sighed again and got to her feet. 'Ah well, I do hope Roland won't be still sulking tonight. We've got people coming to dinner, but he did look extremely put out.'
As soon as she was out of hearing Carly said, 'I can't believe it! She was so pale, she looked so ill.'
'Lack of rouge?' Liam suggested. 'She's genuinely anxious to see some prospect of another generation, but so far the suspense isn't killing her.'
'I'm glad about that.' She moistened her dry lips. 'I'm sorry I yelled at her, but I had to make her understand.'
'And I'm sure you did.' He sounded almost bored. 'It's as well Roland wasn't up here.' To hear Carly screaming how much she preferred Roland to Liam. 'Obscene,' she had said. The idea of loving Liam was obscene.
She couldn't look at him. She picked up her case and put it on the bed so that she could keep turning away to the closet, taking out clothes, asking him, 'Why did you tell him we were lovers anyway? I thought you'd decided that I wouldn't necessarily have been the worst wife in the world for your brother.'
He said slowly, 'When I first saw you, you were in the witness stand, being questioned about the gifts and money you'd had from Gerald Collett,' and Carly stared into the dark recess of the cupboard, her back to him, reliving the moment she had looked up into the public gallery at Liam Sherrard.
'I thought then,' he said, 'that I could understand how he'd arrived where he was. You were a girl a man might do most things for, short of murder.'
'Just looking at me you thought that?' But she had looked at him, only fleetingly, and known him again years later. The impression they had made on each other in that courtroom had been searing.
'I've changed my mind slightly since,' he told her, 'but I'm still convinced you'd be disastrous for Roland.'
Disaster was a big word. Carly tried to laugh. 'You don't mean I could blight his life? If you do no wonder you didn't give me a chance to say yes when he asked me to marry him!' She picked up a small ornament that had come from the shop that sold postcards, and might be a present for someone back home, and dropped it into her case, then asked, 'How could you be sure that Roland wasn't coming to my room at night?'
Liam shrugged. 'I took a chance there. And I'm a light sleeper, I'd have heard anyone walking the corridors.'
Again she pretended to laugh, and again she failed. She said, 'As Roland said, no wonder you wanted me moved from Antoinette's room! You've put a guard on me all this holiday, haven't you? Just like you said you would. You keep your promises, don't you?'
'I try.'
He was cold and handsome and arrogant, and she wondered if she had put paid to the help that had been promised for the boutique, because she had shouted her opinion of him for anyone to hear. She asked fearfully, 'What about Ruth's business? When we get back are you still going to discuss ‑?'
'Don't worry, we won't have to meet. The arrangements will go through.'
'Thank you.' When she did look straight at him she could feel the pull like the tug of invisible cords that could have had her stumbling towards him. When she looked at him she ached for him, and he said, 'Strictly paperwork. No ex-gratia payment required,' and she thought, he knows it and he feels it, and the sooner I get away from him the better.
'One other thing,' she said. 'Please don't come with me to the airport tomorrow.'
'As you wish.' Liam closed the door behind him and Carly sank down on the bed beside the open case, her head in her hands.
Both Roland and Liam were supposed to be driving to the airport with her. She was flying back from Dinard, much nearer.
She picked up the little ornament she had just dropped into the case and balanced it on the palm of her hand. It was the small stone carving of a winged lion, a tourist souvenir that Liam had bought for her yesterday.
William would like it. Ruth had rung through the, night before and put William on the phone, because his postcard, with the sketch of the lion flying away with the rescued maiden, had arrived that morning and William had worked out the story. He wanted to know why the lady had left the nice pirate behind. William liked the pirate, who didn't want to be on his own. Wasn't the lady mean?
Carly had laughed and repeated this for Liam, and Liam had said, 'Perhaps she'll go back for him.' So Carly had told William, and yesterday Liam had produced the lion and said, 'To fly the maiden back to the pirate.'
'I'll remember that,' Carly had said.
Now she closed her fingers round the little carving and thought, I'll give it away. Not to William, I don't want to keep on seeing it. But I'll go on remembering it, and everything else that has happened these past two weeks. If I could fly back to him I would. Again and again, to wherever he is.
Her fingers opened again and she stared at the little lion. I love Liam, she thought. As well as the chemistry, the sexual attraction, I love his strength, his mind, the wa
y he can make me angry and make me laugh. I want to run to him instead of holding back. I want him to say that he's had a lousy day but that everything's all right now because he's with me.
Liam had never really needed anyone, Madame Corbe had said, but Liam had thought that Carly was a girl for whom a man might do most things, short of murder. He'd changed his mind slightly since he'd known her better. He no longer thought she was all that dangerous—to Roland maybe but not' to him. But he still found her attractive and they would be meeting in England arranging business matters. Small fry to him, but she would see that he kept involved. And tomorrow, Roland wouldn't want to spend several hours taking her to the airport, but perhaps she could say to Liam, 'I've been thinking, I think it might be better after all if you took me to Dinard. If you don't mind.'
She put the lion back in the case and took a few steps towards the door. 'I'm sorry I said the things you heard me saying,' she could tell him—if she could catch him. 'I didn't mean them, I was upset and I lost my head, and I said that I hoped I'd never set eyes on you again when we get back home, but if I don't it will be like going through the rest of my life in the dark.'
She stopped before she opened the door, twisting her hands together, biting her lip. She couldn't say that, but it was true, and she was filled with self-doubts, suddenly and painfully unsure of herself. She had never thought this could happen to her, that one man could matter so much that she was scared to death and didn't know what to do.
It was no good planning a thing. She couldn't go out and follow him because she wouldn't know what to say. She had to give herself time to adapt, because right now she could only whisper, 'I love him,' until she wasn't surprised by it any more. If she could get used to it, and accept it, then perhaps the tongue-tied shyness would go and she could act naturally and use all the seductiveness she could muster without anyone guessing that the man she smiled at had become the centre of her world.
Flash Point Page 15