Spell of the Island

by Hampson, Anne

  Emma said nothing; she had suddenly resolved to ignore that particular table and enjoy herself.

  However, she had not reckoned with Paul’s coming over to ask her to dance. Completely taken aback, she opened her mouth to refuse, then thought better of it, because it would be in the nature of a snub and she was disinclined to do a thing like that.

  She rose unsteadily, glad that Louise was dancing already with Jake. Emma was swung into Paul’s arms, and any fears she had concerning her own inadequacy were swiftly dispelled as she and he glided round the floor in perfect harmony, almost as if they were one.

  For a long moment Paul remained quiet, with Emma aware of a tension which profoundly affected her nerves.

  At last he spoke and his voice was harsh-edged and imperious.

  ‘Why didn’t you say you and Louise had a date?’

  ‘We hadn’t—’

  ‘Hadn’t?’ he snapped before she could continue. ‘Then who are these two?’

  She looked up into a face taut and rather frightening. This was yet another of his many moods that went to make up the complexity of his nature. Emma was beginning to think that blanc Maritians were very strange people.

  ‘We’ve only just met them—well, a short while ago—at the bar,’ she explained innocently. ‘So we decided to have dinner togeth—’

  ‘You mean—you picked them up!’ he rasped, and she had a strong suspicion that he would dearly love to shake her . . . or something worse. ‘You actually picked up two men—in a bar?’

  Count ten, Emma. . . . She wished her temper would not flare like this! But it was only with this man; no other human being had aroused in her the resentment and anger which Paul did and it suddenly occurred to her that even if—by some miracle—he fell in love with her and married her, they would without doubt lead a cat and dog life!

  She said at last, marvelling at her control, ‘It really has nothing to do with you, Paul, now has it?’

  If this mild manner surprised him he gave no evidence of it as he said, ‘You’re a guest in my home and, therefore, I have a right to expect you to behave with at least a small amount of decorum and propriety.’

  She wanted to laugh at the stiffness which was so reminiscent of his manner with her right at the beginning, when first she was introduced to him, and she wondered if he ever unbent.

  However, it behoved her to keep a straight face, and this she managed to do. Her tones were still mild when presently she answered him.

  ‘It was not picking up, Paul. We were all in a holiday spirit and after all, lots of people get talking in bars. We chatted and the result was that the young men suggested we all dine together.’

  He was silent for a space, but she had the impression that he was gritting his teeth.

  ‘I invited you both out to dinner, if you remember?’ His voice was harsh and low; he suddenly drew her close, not at all gently, as another couple glided too near to them.

  ‘Then we had a disagreement, if you remember?’ she ended, stealing his question.

  ‘About nothing, as things have turned out.’

  ‘So you take back your accusation against my sister?’

  ‘I cannot recollect accusing her of anything.’

  ‘You implied, then, that she was running after Pierre.’

  ‘I admit I was wrong.’

  ‘Good heavens!’ she could not help exclaiming. ‘You are actually admitting a thing like that! There’s hope for you, yet!’ She stopped rather abruptly, staggered by her temerity. Paul looked down into her flushed face and said in a dangerously soft voice, ‘Careful, Emma. If I had you home at this moment, I’d shake you till your teeth chattered.’

  ‘No need to tell me that,’ she returned. ‘Your expression’s enough.’

  She heard his furious intake of breath, winced as his fingers at her back pressed ruthlessly into her flesh. What a strange situation this was! Intimate, just as so many other moments had been intimate, with each saying exactly what they wanted, without any attempt at diplomacy or a sparing of the other’s feelings.

  The music stopped, and he escorted her back to her table and left her without a glance at the other three sitting there.

  It was only natural that Louise should at the first opportunity ask what was going on.

  ‘Paul’s whole manner with you when you were dancing was odd,’ she continued when, the meal finished, they went to the powder room. ‘He seemed—sort of—proprietorial, as if he were telling you off with a vengeance.’

  ‘He was annoyed that we had joined Jake and Bill.’

  ‘Annoyed!’ Louise blinked at her, lip rouge poised in midair. ‘What the devil has it to do with him?’

  Emma shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘He seemed to think it has, seeing I’m a guest in his home. He said he expected me to act with decorum.’

  Louise stared at her strangely through the mirror.

  ‘There’s something I don’t understand, isn’t there, Emma?’ she said quietly.

  ‘That makes two of us,’ was Emma’s flat response. ‘Paul’s an enigma.’

  ‘He seemed rather familiar.’ Louise’s expression was unfathomable as she added slowly and deliberately, ‘He was calling you Emma almost from the beginning which surprised me exceedingly.’

  Emma took a comb from her evening bag and drew it through her hair.

  ‘I’d rather not talk about Paul,’ she returned. ‘After Saturday we shall never see him again.’

  ‘Just what are you hiding?’ Louise used the lip rouge and put it away. ‘There’s something between you—’

  ‘No such thing!’ broke in Emma, hoping she was convincing, but she very much doubted it. ‘I don’t know how you’ve managed to get that idea.’

  ‘You’re not very clever at deceit, but then you’ve never had to practise it before—at least, not to my knowledge. Even now you’re blushing—’

  ‘Louise, please let the matter drop!’

  ‘You’ve fallen for him.’ A statement without a trace of bitterness or anger. ‘So now you see how dangerously attractive he is.’ She paused, but Emma, very pale now as, the colour having receded from her cheeks as swiftly as it had appeared, had nothing to say and her sister went on, ‘Paul isn’t totally immune, though. I’m sure he finds something attractive in you. Be careful, Emma, or he’ll have you doing something you’ll regret.’

  Emma looked at her, thinking again how mature she had become. She said quietly, ‘As we shall be leaving the chateau on Saturday there won’t be much time for me to do anything I’ll regret, will there?’

  Louise allowed that to pass without comment.

  ‘You haven’t denied anything I’ve said—oh, except you were very emphatic about there being nothing between you. But otherwise, well, you haven’t made any protest so I presume I’m right in what I’ve said?’

  ‘Once and for all, Louise, I am not talking about Paul! Come on, the men will be waiting for us; we promised to have a flutter with them in the Casino.’

  ‘Roulette? it terrifies me!’

  ‘Nonsense; you can’t possibly lose much if you put your counters on the corners. You have four chances of winning that way.’

  Louise looked at her in astonishment.

  ‘How do you know this? You’ve never yet seen the inside of a Casino.’

  ‘I learned it from a card I picked up in the lobby here. It’s in my bag if you want to read it. It tells you—wait, I’ll show it to you.’ She took it from her bag and handed it to Louise. ‘You can’t go wrong because they’ve given you a diagram, and below are the stakes and odds.’

  Louise took a cursory look and handed the card back.

  ‘That’s all very well until you get inside, and then what? We’re going to look darned silly playing with a few chips placed on the corners while the experienced gamblers use stacks.’

  ‘I daresay they are used to novices like us,’ returned Emma who was in fact looking forward to the flutter. She might have beginner’s luck, but even if sh
e didn’t, it would be an experience she might never have again.

  It was to transpire that she won almost every time, and when at last they all came away from the table, she had won rupees to the equivalent of twenty-two pounds.

  ‘Aren’t you lucky,’ commented Jake, ‘I’ve lost about five pounds.’

  ‘I’ve lost too,’ from Bill. ‘Oh, well, never mind. Lucky at gambling unlucky in love—’ He stopped and laughed. ‘Only a quotation, Emma, and I believe I have it wrong anyway.’

  Unlucky in love. . . .

  Emma felt the prick of tears and prayed that Saturday would come quickly.

  Chapter Eight

  The following morning Emma went for a swim before breakfast; the sun was already painting the tropical landscape with gold, and bright birds darted about, stealing colour, changing it.

  So peaceful! Yet Emma’s mind was in turmoil. She had lain awake, and when eventually in the early hours her restlessness had ceased, it was only because she had half made up her mind to stay in Mauritius, accepting Paul’s offer.

  But with the light of day a very different aspect presented itself, and she saw vividly the time when Paul tired of her, when the first signs would be indifference, perhaps a sharp word, or even worse, long silences. And then that dreaded moment when he would say it was all ended.

  And she would leave, her life shattered, for no other man could ever replace him.

  She entered the water, so warm and smooth around her honey-tanned flesh; she tried to forget everything and live for the moment. But fate decreed otherwise. She saw Paul swinging along, towel dangling, wrap open and belt trailing on the sand. Tall, erect, striding along with that especial athletic grace which stamped him as nobility. His head was held high, shoulders broad and square. Emma swam to the shore, hoping to get her wrap, pick up her towel, and with no more than a brief and polite ‘good morning’ make her escape.

  Paul reached the place where she had left her things before she did, and she bit her lip. His face was set and stern, eyes hard and steely dark. She guessed he was thinking of last night.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said into the silence. ‘You’re—going in for a swim. You’re early . . . I’m j-just coming out. . . .’ The disjointed sentences brought a slight relaxing of his features as the ghost of a smile touched his mouth.

  ‘Running away, as usual.’ Paul’s voice was sardonic, his eyes inscrutable as they wavered from her flushed face to the delicate outline of her breasts and then back again.

  ‘I’m not escaping, as you term it,’ denied Emma, trying to recover her composure. ‘I’ve had my swim, so naturally I want to go in and have my shower.’

  ‘Had your swim?’ The straight black brows were raised. ‘You haven’t been in the water for more than three minutes at most.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because I was at my bedroom window when you came from the chateau. It didn’t take more than three minutes for me to get into my trunks and coat, so—’

  ‘You followed me deliberately?’

  ‘It’s nice to have company on one’s early morning swim,’ was his suave response. ‘Come on—’

  ‘No! I’m going in!’

  ‘You’re the most hot-tempered woman I have ever known.’ His voice was mild and unfathomable.

  Emma said, looking down to where he stood in front of her wrap, if you’ll step aside, I can get my things.’

  At that he gave a low laugh which erased any sternness that had remained.

  ‘Afraid to get them? Afraid of coming too close?’

  Emma clenched her fists.

  ‘Just what do you get out of this game you play with me?’ she demanded.

  ‘Strangely, not very much,’ was his astonishing admission and he seemed to heave a sigh.

  The moment was tense, electric, with Emma having the strange conviction that if only she could adopt the right attitude, say the right thing, her whole future would be affected. What was this elusive thing within her? Perhaps her subconscious was urging her to accept Paul’s offer . . . perhaps if she did so, Paul, instead of tiring of her, would come to realise he could not do without her. The idea persisted, but yet, she could not produce the words she believed Paul wanted to hear.

  She spoke into the silence, asking again if he would move, and adding before he could speak, ‘If you want company on your swim, then why didn’t you ask your girl friend to come with you?’ Emma could not have explained those words, for she hated the idea that Eileen was in fact Paul’s girl friend. She saw the dark eyes flicker curiously, the slight tilt of the head as if in silent inquiry, the unfathomable set of the mouth.

  ‘And what,’ came the smooth voice at last, ‘has given you the idea that Eileen is my girl friend?’

  As there was no drawing back now, Emma found herself saying, aware now that she had referred to Eileen as his girl friend in order to note his reaction.

  ‘I took it for granted. Your mother seems to like her,’ she added, feeling somewhat specious, since she would not have said this had she not overheard that conversation between mother and son.

  ‘My mother likes her?’ with that lift of an eyebrow again. ‘I wasn’t aware that you’d had an opportunity to observe my mother’s attitude towards Eileen,’ he said with an enigmatic inflection. ‘Apart from your dining with us on one occasion, where else can your observations have been made?’

  She averted her eyes, aware of colour tinting her cheeks. How easily this man could always set her at a disadvantage!

  ‘Forget it,’ she almost snapped, more angry with herself than him, for it was she who had capriciously mentioned Eileen.

  ‘Evasion, eh?’ There was a hint of mockery in the rich voice now. He bent to pick up her wrap. ‘I wonder what made you mention Eileen in the first place?’ he murmured inscrutably. And, without affording her a chance to reply—even had she a reply ready, which of course she hadn’t—he added almost imperiously, ‘Turn around and I’ll help you into this covering. Your embarrassment is obvious to me, though I doubt if you yourself are aware of it.’ Again that mockery, tinged with amusement this time as his eyes flickered to where her hands lay clasped below her stomach, in an unconscious position of modesty. Naturally his remark made her blush, and she would have snatched the beach coat from him, but he deftly caught her wrist, jerking her to him. The kiss was brief and hard.

  ‘Pity we can be seen from the house,’ he said as with warm hands on her damp shoulders, he turned her round.

  ‘I wish I could understand you,’ said Emma in a sort of petulant, complaining voice when having put the wrap on her, he began tying the belt, his dark eyes boring into her, an impassiveness about them which was as puzzling as the almost tender curve of his mouth.

  Did he care—? No . . . was he beginning to care? If she became his mistress would he learn to love her? Was the risk too great or should she take a gamble where the result would be all or nothing?

  Paul had finished tying the belt and drew away. Emma sensed that he had been considering her words but that he had now dismissed them from his mind. His next words confirmed this.

  ‘Are you sure you want to go? Three minutes in the water’s not much.’

  ‘Yes, I want to go—’ She stopped, half wishing she hadn’t lied because in any case Paul, with his keen perception, would be well aware that, deep down, she really did want to swim with him. Again his words were a confirmation of her thoughts.

  ‘You’re a great little fighter, Emma, but it’s not very pleasant to go against your inclinations.’

  ‘You’re so smart, aren’t you!’ she flashed, that temper flaring again. ‘And swelled-headed.’

  ‘Not swelled-headed,’ he denied. ‘Just perceptive of your transparency.’ His voice was bland and faintly mocking. Emma set her teeth and flashed back at him,

  ‘I wish you were as transparent, but you’re an enigma! You seem to enjoy being mysterious! Well, I shan’t have to put up with it for much longer, thank heaven!’ and with that imp
olite remark she picked up her towel and walked swiftly away from him.

  While having breakfast with Louise and Jeremy, Emma suggested that she and Louise go into Port Louis after Jeremy was dropped at school, as Emma wanted to buy a couple more presents for friends with whom she worked.

  ‘I can’t,’ returned Louise, obviously disappointed, it’s a short day for Jeremy. The little ones finish at noon, because the older ones are having their sports’ practice this afternoon.’

  ‘Oh.’ Emma became thoughtful. ‘You could drop me in Port Louis, though, if you don’t mind going all that way, and I could get a taxi back.’

  Louise was hesitating, and just as Emma was about to say it didn’t matter, she would drop the idea, her sister spoke.

  ‘I feel I should spend this morning getting all Jeremy’s clothes in order, and the nursery looking spick-and-span, ready for the next nanny. I’d hate to think that Paul could find anything to complain about.’

  Emma nodded in agreement.

  ‘I’ll not bother, then,’ she decided. ‘I’ll help you with the nursery.’

  ‘You could go both ways by taxi,’ suggested Louise but then added that it would be expensive.

  ‘Too expensive,’ agreed Emma and gave up the idea of going into town.

  But it was to transpire that, by some strange coincidence, and just as if he had known of Emma’s desire, Paul came to her as she sat on a lounger in the sunshine, reading a book. Louise had asked if she wanted to go with her to school, for the ride, but Emma had declined. She would relax in the garden, she decided. She glanced up as Paul approached, surprised at his smile in view of the way she had spoken to him earlier. It seemed he had not taken offence by it.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to go into town?’ he asked, eyes flickering and interested as they took in the revealing sun top and brief shorts. Not difficult to see where his sensuous thoughts were! ‘Eileen and I are going into Port Louis. She has some shopping to do, and I have some business I want to attend to.’

  Yes, he had an office in Port Louis, recalled Emma, and he had an apartment there as well. . . .

  ‘I did intend going into town,’ she admitted, not too keen on going along with Eileen but at the same time knowing she would feel better if she did get the presents she wanted. ‘But Louise couldn’t come, as Jeremy finishes school at noon today.’ She had laid her book aside on the grass and was sitting upright. He could feast his eyes on less that way!