Visitors were coming this evening. It was Carly's goodbye dinner party. She had left the bronze dress hanging in the closet and she put a few more things in the case, then took off her dress and jacket and swallowed a couple of aspirins, and slipped into the sheets of Napoleon's bed. The nerves and muscles at the back of her neck and skull were beginning to tighten, and there was a risk of a nervous headache unless she relaxed. So she took the aspirins and waited for sleep.
She woke in plenty of time and lay still for a moment or two, then moved cautiously as though she had been badly shaken up before she slept and was testing for pain. Falling in love with Liam was the most traumatic thing that had ever happened to her. It could break her, but it had happened, she couldn't stop it now, so she put on the bronze dress, and clasped on the gilt bracelets, excited and scared.
It was a very long time since Carly had been so vulnerable. That was why she had panicked when Madame Corbe had started talking of marriage and Liam. Because his emphatic rejection and cold amusement would have cut her to the heart.
She stood back, to get the best view she could in the small mirror, and hoped she looked all right. Her customary confidence was at a low ebb tonight, and when she passed one of the maids at the top of the stairs and Renee admired the shining dress, 'Ah, tres jolie!' Carly said gratefully, 'Merci, vous etes gentille.'
Down in the hall she saw Roland through the open door of the room that was used as an office, and tapped and asked, 'May I have a word?'
She had some idea of trying to make peace. It was impulsive and from his expression unlikely to do much good. He looked up from a list he seemed to be checking and frowned, and she said, 'Sorry about this afternoon,' but before she could go on, 'You don't really want to marry me, but it wasn't true what Liam said,' Roland burst out,
'Why apologise? Most women prefer womanisers.'
'Look, I ‑'
'No harm done,' said Roland curtly. 'I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, but it's as well you're leaving tomorrow as Alison Parry's arriving the day after.'
Carly felt real pain stab through her. While she was here Liam had had phone calls. Women looked at him, and brightened when he looked at them, he had that kind of charisma, but hearing that Alison would be waiting when he came back from seeing Carly on to her plane was like a door slammed in her face. This was rejection. This told her he had no need of her.'
'Although you could have stayed, on,' said Roland, still smarting and taking his revenge. 'She wouldn't have wanted your room. She's sharing Liam's.'
Carly went into the drawing room where Madame Corbe was listening to music and waiting for her guests. Carly went straight to her, and she smiled and said, 'I looked into your room earlier, my dear. You were resting.'
'I took some headache pills,' Carly explained, 'and went to sleep for a while.'
'Oh dear, I am sorry.' Madame peered closer. 'How is the headache?'
'Quite gone.' This was a different agony, worse than a blinding migraine, although she could finish with one of those too before the evening ended. She wished now that she hadn't come down, or that she hadn't said the headache was better, then she would have had an excuse to return to her room before long.
As it was she had to sit out, and she had a wretched time. She had met all the guests before, and they greeted her like a friend and her face was stiff with smiling. As soon as he arrived the doctor made a show of asking Madame Corbe how she was feeling, and she said very well and grimaced slightly and he chuckled, looking first at her and then across at Liam.
Carly didn't follow his glance. She was afraid that if she looked at Liam her eyes would give her away. She tried to pretend he wasn't there, looking everywhere else, listening to the conversation which was part-English, part-French. She could more or less follow the French after a fortnight's practice, and she ate the delicious meal and drank several glasses of wine and tried to look happy and animated.
When Liam spoke she concentrated on her plate, and wished she could clap her hands over her ears because the sound of his voice made her ache inside, but everyone else seemed to be having a pleasant evening.
Especially a girl called Veronique, who was seated by Roland and with whom he flirted all through the meal. She dug into her purse to bring out her diary and see if she was free for two evenings next week, and decided she was so that Roland fixed up a concert somewhere and dinner somewhere else, and that made Carly smile.
Roland's ego was being restored. Carly had turned him down, but he was showing her that an even prettier girl fancied him. Her family ran the strawberry farm and she had strawberry blonde hair, a peaches and cream complexion, and looked adoringly at Roland.
Maybe it will be you, thought Carly] and rather hoped it would. Then she thought about Alison Parry with her cloud of fair hair spread out over Liam's pillow, and jealousy burned inside her rising into the back of her throat like acid so that she could eat no more.
It was late when they went. They all said goodbye to Carly and hoped to see her again, and Madame Corbe said she would be bringing a small friend next time, and Carly thought, Poor William, you would have loved it here, but at least you'll never know you were invited.
She only wanted to get to her room now and away in the morning. She would never come back, but she smiled all through the goodbyes and said, 'If any of you are ever in England ‑' and wondered what they would make of Ruth's home after this.
Perhaps she would move in with Barney, and show Liam as Roland was showing her that there were plenty more pebbles in the sea. She wouldn't, of course. She might be mixing her metaphors, but she knew with a clear inner certainty that for her there was only loneliness ahead.
She had hoped the wine might help, but all it had done was blur a few edges, and she breathed in the night air deeply as she stood at the top of the steps with Madame Corbe, watching the men directing the cars out. Roland called, 'A lundi,' presumably after Veronique, and as Liam came back Carly went into the house.
Roland must have followed Liam because Madame Corbe said, 'Veronique is a very sweet girl,' and Roland agreed, 'She certainly is.'
'Do you mind if I say goodnight?' said Carly. 'It's been a lovely evening.'
Madame kissed her cheek, and Carly smiled at Roland and said, 'I think you're right, Veronique is sweet.' She managed to answer Liam's goodnight without looking at him—it was childish, but she could not face him—and she left them in the hall and went to her room, to gather up a nightdress and get ready for bed.
In the bathroom, having stripped off her clothes and her make-up, she splashed cold water on her face, although she might have fallen asleep easier if she hadn't sobered herself. There was no one in the corridor, but her bedroom door was ajar. She was almost sure she hadn't left it like that ten minutes ago, and she stepped in warily, eyes darting, and as she reached for the switch she saw him standing at the window and her hand fell.
He was just a shadow, something tall and dark, not even moving, but she knew who it was before he said,
'You're taking Veronique in good part. She's very suitable, but it's nice to know you agree she's sweet.'
Carly was carrying clothes and toilet bag and she clutched them to her, and heard her voice like somebody else's saying, 'She looks good enough to eat. Pour cream over her and you'd have a fruit salad.'
'You shouldn't have had that fourth glass,' said Liam, but she was sober and how dared he come in here? What was he doing now? Why couldn't he leave her in peace and stop hounding her?
'You were counting?' she shrilled. 'Still watching me? Why are you still watching me?'
'Because I can't keep my eyes off you.' His voice was rough. 'Why haven't you looked at me once all night?' He was moving to a light switch and Carly croaked,
'Don't put the light on!' All she wore was a thin nightdress, but it wasn't that. She didn't want him to see her eyes, and she closed them tightly as though the electric light could burn and blind her.
Liam didn't switch it on. He reached her in dar
kness, catching her wrist, and she dropped the things she was carrying and they almost tripped her up as he drew her towards the window.
Moonlight was there. 'Look at me,' he said.
He loosed her wrist and cupped her face so that she had to look up at him, and she strained against his touch, panting, 'What for? Why do you care whether I look at you or not? Perhaps I don't want to look at you!'
His nearness was destroying her. The longing for him was in her blood and her bones, and when he turned from her she almost cried out.
He moved a little way, a silhouette, arms folded, she thought, and said, 'I had no right to say we were lovers. It was inexcusable, but my only excuse is that at the time it seemed the truth.' It had seemed the truth to her too, when they walked through that market square, fingers entwined. As though she had gone into his arms many times, giving herself over to the tenderness of his hands with such a rapture of passion. 'I couldn't let you marry him,' Liam said slowly, and she grated,
'Don't tell me that again!' That he feared for Roland because Gerald Collett had ended in jail. But she had no power. She was weak as water. Liam wanted her, that was why he was here, and once he started to make love to her she would have no defences because she wanted him. But the power would be his and never hers, because she was the one in love.
She stumbled across the room asking shakily', 'And what do you think I might have done to Roland? Killed him?'
'Not you,' said Liam. 'Me.' Carly reached for support and held on to one of the carved bedposts and he went on, very quietly, 'I changed my mind about you since I met you again. I don't know exactly when, but I do know I've no reservations now. I'd murder for you. I knew Roland had never been to your room, nor you to his. I've slept with my door open, no one would have got past me.'
She spoke in a whisper through rigid lips. 'He told me your film star was coming next week—Alison Parry. Sharing your room.'
'No.' Perhaps Roland had lied. Perhaps he had overheard a phone call and misunderstood. 'The 'no' was decisive. 'I won't be here next week,' said Liam. 'You can't ask Roland to drive you tomorrow. I'll take you, and we'll stop at Lonfleur.'
The little town. Carly gave a strangled cry and Liam said quickly, 'Let me say it all first. Then we'll talk, argue if you like, but let me tell you how it is with me.
'I want to go back there with you because it was so right there. As though wherever we went we would come back from time to time. The house that was for sale. Do you remember it?'
'I remember,' she breathed into the darkness.
'I phoned the agents and said I wanted to look at it. The key's waiting. I wanted to walk through it with you. If you liked it I'd buy it. We could stay there for the week, I thought. A hotel, or even in the house—it could be arranged. I wanted to ask you ‑'
Perhaps it was the four glasses of wine, but she was hearing voices, dreaming dreams. Liam wasn't really over there, saying incredible things in a quiet controlled voice. Then suddenly the voice changed and became ragged and harsh like a man under torture. 'What I heard you shouting, was that what you really felt, that the idea of marrying me was obscene?'
'No, oh no . . .' Carly had been gripping the bedpost with both hands so hard that the carving was cutting. She thought wildly, My legs won't carry me, if I let go I shall fall, and she whispered, 'Please come here.'
But she held her arms wide and when Liam reached her she fell against him and he said huskily, 'May I kiss you?'
'Kiss me?' She could feel his breath on her lips. 'That isn't much to ask.'
'But I can't promise when the kissing would stop.'
She laughed softly, 'I suppose I can always say— enough.'
He put an arm around her, a hand over a breast, and kissed her gently, slowly, savouring her lips, while her heartbeats quickened until the darkness whirled around her and she was falling on to the soft coverlet of Napoleon's bed, still in Liam's arms, and she knew that she could never say stop.
Flash Point Page 16