mouth.
He kissed her more passionately than before, but without anger. A long searching kiss that explored the softness of her mouth with an exciting curiosity, then became suddenly so fierce that she would have cried out in protest if her mouth had not been so forcefully stopped. Her heart beat hard and wildly, making her head spin, and there was no strength in her legs, nor anything but fluttering appeal in the hands that plucked at his shirt.
One arm held her with irresistible strength against him while long, confident fingers opened the fastening at die neck of her dress and pushed back the cool cotton to expose soft shoulders and a slender vulnerable throat. He bent his head lower and she murmured breathlessly ^cn the
warmth of his lips pressed lingeringly to the pulse in her neck.
*Raouir
Her voice sounded to be coming from someone else and she tried hard to open her eyes and bring the moment to an end, but her senses rebelled against it ever ending. His big hands were heavy and warm on her bare shoulders and his mouth with hypnotic insistence from her throat to her neck, and from soft smooth shoulders to her mouth once more.
It was when he raised his mouth briefly from hers that she opened her eyes, but his lips lingered warmly for a second or two, light and sensual and slighdy pursed to remind her that he could still kiss her again with the minimum of effort. Easing the pressure of his arms slighdy, he allowed her to move within their circle, although her legs still felt barely able to sustain her weight.
Eyes downcast, she tried desperately to recall the conversation that had led up to this moment, and she swallowed hard as she put her hands to the arms that still enclosed her, her senses responding immediately to the suggestion of muscular power beneath the tanned skin. She could not afford to let anyone divert her from her purpose, and especially not Raoul, he was too much of a threat to her cause. Her best course lay in keeping her mind on practical matters and not on the stunningly dangerous excitement of his kiss.
An ama pressed the hard thin length of the riding crop into her back, and as she desperately snatched at the remnants of her self-control she made that her excuse. *You're hurting me with that riding crop in your hand, Raoul.'
It was incredible to realise that that small and very unsteady voice was hers, and she did not look up at him when
he direw the whip down on the ground beside hiin and immediately replaced hh arm about her. *I am not trying to hurt you, ma belief he said sofdy, and bent his head once more to press his lips to the soft, vulnerable spot at the base of her diroat. *Why should I wish to hurt you, Charlotte,
eh?'
'Because you don't trust me,' she whispered, and went on quickly when she heard him draw breadi to deny it. Her own voice was light and breathless and the words fluttered wispily against the thick black hair on the back of his bowed head. *And you don't trust me, Raoul, you've said
so!'
He raised his head and his grey eyes were narrowed as he searched her face for a second before he spoke. *And you think I should trust you, Charlotte?' he asked, soft-voiced. He held her gaze until she looked away as she was bound to, then he shook his head slowly and pressed his big hands into her waist as if he was trying to span it with his long fingers. *We have a very low opinion of one another, have we not, ma chereT
When she looked up Charlotte was unsure whether or not she meant to deny it, but there was a hint of mockery, she felt, in the gleaming greyness of his eyes and she attempted to step back, away from him, seeking widi trembling fingers to ref asten the neck of her dress as she did so.
*I have to go,' she said huskily. 'Madame Lizette will be waiting for me.'
If he resented her haste to end the situation he gave no sign of it, and it crossed her mind briefly to wonder if he was so very different from Michel after all. After a moment he let his hands drop from her waist and watched her for a second as she fumbled with the fastenings of her dress, then he brushed her hands aside and did it for her, his long fingers as sure and steady as when he had opened them.
Only very briefly she glanced up at his face, but there was nothing to be learned from his eyes because the thick black lashes concealed diem.
*Thank you.'
Her thanks in the circumstances seemed to surprise him, but she hoped she imagined the brief glint of mockery she saw in his eyes as he reached for the stallion's rein once more. She shook back her hair in an unccHiscious gesture of defiance and half-turned to go.
'Charlotte '
'I have to go!' She made it sound desperately urgent, as her senses tdd her that it was, for she was far too vukierable to the exciting sensuality of Raoul Menais. 'Madame Lizette will wwider '
*Why are you so interested in my namesake—the other Raoul Menais?'
He stood holding the stallion's rein, tall and lean against the background of new summer green, and his grey eyes had the gleaming brightness of steel as they watched her steadily, so that she flicked the tip of her tongue across her lips before she spoke, in a small husky voice that was barely audible.
*I—^I don't know that I'm interested in him particularly,' she denied. 'I'm just—a litde curious perhaps. The same name, you '
* And you are lying to me again, ma beUe !' he told her, his voice soft but vaguely menacing. Twice with me you have shown your interest!'
Too stunned to move for the moment, Charlotte watched him gather up the reins and swing himself up on to the horse's broad back once more, hdding the tossing head firmly while he looked down at her. Then just for a moment that gleaming smile showed once more in his tanned features.
1 believe I have found a weakness in your English re-
serve, ma belle Charlotte-^you enjoy being kissed!' Charlotte coloured furiously, shaking her head. 1 had
no-
*It is useful to know,' Raoul interrupted confidendy. Tor I promise you that I shall discover your secret sooner or later, and I prefer to enjoy the task!' Pulling his mount round firmly, he jabbed his heels into the glossy flanks and raised the crop he carried in a brief gesture of farewell. 'A bientot!'
Charlotte reaUsed just how late she was when she glanced at her watch as she hurried along the gallery. She should not have allowed those few moments with Raoul to go on so long, nor should she have let matters get so out of hand. A hand strayed instinctively to her mouth and it needed very little imagination to recsdl the firmness of his lips and the thrilling strength of his arms.
It had been a mistake, so the practical side of her nature told her, but another, more emotional side told her she could have stayed there for ever in Raoul's arms, and even given up her quest to discover her background if it
meant Impatientiy she shook her head as she knocked
on the door of Lizette and Michel's apartment.
It was no use waiting for someone to bid her come in, she knew from experience. Lizette seldom heard anyone knock on the door and Michel would already have gone downstairs to his office or else left for the factory. He seemed to spend as litde time as possible in his home.
The big rooms seemed curiously still somehow, and she paused after she walked in, to listen for some sound that would tell her Lizette was awake and waiting for her. But it was quiet, very quiet, so perhaps Lizette was still asleep, however late it was, and with ±at idea in mind she tiptoed to the bedroom door and knocked very hghtly.
There was no reply and after a second or two she
shrugged and turned away. No need to wake Lizette yet; sleep did her no harm and she was invariably irritable for the remainder of the day if she was woken deliberately. Instead Charlotte set about tidying up the magazines and newspapers that were always scattered about on the furniture and floor. The fact that a daily woman would be arriving shortly to attend to such things she ignored, for it kept her occupied and stopped her from dwelling on that disturbing scene with Raoul earlier.
It was nearly fifteen minutes later when she looked at her watch again, and she glanced at the bedroom door uncertainly. Lizette had never slept
this late before, and she felt she really ought to wake her whether or not she was irritable as a result. She knocked again on the bedroom door and listened.
Not even Lizette's rather heavy breathing disturbed the stillness and she experienced a curious fluttering sensation along her spine as she pushed open the door. Lizette appeared to be asleep at first glance, but then Charlotte sensed something disturbingly unreal about the position of the thin angular body as it sprawled across the bed. Clad in a wispy blue nightgown that cruelly emphasised the pallid skin and gaunt bones, she looked completely lifeless.
Charlotte's heart thudded hard as she approached the bed, then she bent her head to look closely at the colourless face, starting back with a hand to her mouth when realisation dawned with horrific suddenness. *Oh, my GodT
She stepped back hastily and almost tripped over an empty wine bottle, then stood for a second that seemed like hours, looking down at the seemingly breathless body, one hand flung outward among the rumpled bedclothes holding an empty pill botde in the curve of relaxed fingers. It was instinct alone that made her bend over again and sniff at the open mouth.
A faint flutter of warmth touched her skin and made it
crawl, but at the same time brought the only glimmer of hope she could see, for it meant there was still breath in Lizette's painfully thin body, even though it smelled sickeningly of drugs and wine.
Jerking herself upright, she ran out of the bedroom and dirough the salon to the gallery, looking left and right as she emerged from the apartment for someone close by, and praying fervently someone was there. Someone was—Raoul was coming along from his rooms as she turned her head and he spotted her at once. Changed out of riding clothes Into his more usual light business suit, he came pacing towards her with that long impatient stride, and she had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.
'Raoul i' She called to him urgendy, her hands clutched tighdy tc^ether and her face almost as pale as the woman in the bedroom, her eyes as large as a child's. 'Raoul, please come quickly; please V
He did not hesitate, she registered the fact automatically despite the stunned blankness of her brain, and he took one look at her face, then went striding past her into the apartment. Without hesitation he made for the bedroom almost as if he knew what to expect.
Charlotte had left the door wide open and he could see Lizette there, sprawled across the bed, pathetically limp and thin and completely unconscious; barely alive. Charlotte followed him, arriving in time to see him bend over Lizette as she had done herself and snifiF her breath. Then he lodged up at Charlotte standing in the doorway and spoke sharply in a voice much more strongly accented than usual.
Tetch Grand'm^re!' he ordered, *and then see if you can contact Michel. I shall call Doctor Luman from here! Hurry!'
Charlotte did as she was bid automatically, taking only a moment to decide that at this hour Madame Menais would
almost certainly be downstairs in the salon with Celine. The old lady was still the hub around which the whole menage revolved and she ran her household as it had always been run, even though she was now virtually living alone.
'Madame!' She burst straight into the big salon without pausing to knock as she usually did, and both the women looked up sharply, Celine frowning automatically at such a presumption. *Madamey please come quickly,' she begged, unaware of the tears that were miming down her face while she spoke. *Madame Lizette has—she's—oh, madame, please come quickly! Raoul is with her and he's calling the doctor, but he wanted me to fetch you! The pills are all gone, and the wine '
^Pauvre Lizette!'
There was sympathy in the soft voice but also a certain inevitability, Charlotte realised, and Madame Menais moved with surprising agility for one of her years. Cdline accompanied her, looking anxious now and murmuring in French, something that the old lady acknowledged with a wave of her hand back and forth as if in dismiss^.
Charlotte only realised she was crying when tears splashed on to her hand as she walked beside the old lady across the hall, and she brushed them aside anxiously. 'I didn't know what to do,' she whispered, appalled by her own lack of decision, in retrospect. *I just didn't know what to do when I found her, madameJ*
*No, of course you did not, child!' A thin soothing hand patted hers reassuringly as they mounted the stairs, and Charlotte already felt the steadying effect of the old lady's presence. *It is fortunate that Raoul was nearby to help you. You say he is calling Doctor Luman?'
*Yes, madame,^
*Then there is little we can do until he arrives.' Her coolness and practicality were stunning, and yet Charlotte knew as well as anyone that the air of casualness was deceptive.
for no one cared for Lizette more than Madame Menais. Especially not her husband. It was always a possibility with someone as unhappy as Lizette,* she went on, 'and it was perhaps wrong of me to have placed such a young woman in your position. But I had hopes that the company of someone like you might have helped. I actually believed she had improved lately, but now *
The old lady's expressive shrug when she broke off served to remind Charlotte that Raoul had also instructed her to contact Michel. Apparendy he was not in his home-based office or Raoul would have said so, so she would have to ring the works.
Excusing herself, she hurried downstairs to use the telephone in the hall. A female voice answered and informed her in very bad English that it was impossible to put her in touch with Monsieur Michel, but if she cared to make an appointment, then it might be possible—later.
*This is an emergency,' Charlotte insisted. *A— sl family crisis, and it's absolutely imperative that I get in touch with Monsieur Michel at once; so will you please put me through to him?'
'I am not allowed to do so, mademoiselle^^ the voice informed her smoothly, and Charlotte could visualise exacdy the kind of situation the girl at the other end was imagining. One of Michel's conquests desperate to be in touch with him; she could almost imagine the girl smiling knowingly to herself. 'If you would care to make the appointment, mademoiselle^ —'
*K you don't put me in touch with him right this minute,' Charlotte warned desperately, *I shall fetch Monsieur Raoul to the telephone to tell you himself! It was he who told me to contact Monsieur Michel immediately!'
There followed a short but very meaningful silence which suggested Jean's claim for Raoul's reputation was not exaggerated, and the possibility of being faced with
his anger was enough to decide the issue. The voice came on again, just as smooth, but slighdy less confident. ^Tres bien, mademoiselley it said. *But Monsieur Michel is not on these premises.'
Then where is he?' Charlotte asked. * Where can I get in touch with him?'
Another pause suggested that the information was parted with only grudgingly. *The number to call is 357624, mademoiselley but this is a very—private number, made-moiselUy and I am not '
*I can guess!' Qiarlotte informed her shordy, and slammed down the receiver.
She had no need to guess that the number she had been given was that of Annette Villeaux, and she doubted very much if Michel had been home at all last night. As she picked up the receiver once more to dial she hoped desperately that she would find enough self-control to deliver the news she had to impart without betraying how she felt. There was time enough to tell Michel Menais exacdy what she thought of him.
Charlotte felt strangely lost with Lizette in hospital, although it was an enormous relief to know that she would recover. Madame Menais had stayed at the hospital because it was the old lady whom Lizette would rather see when she came round. Too many pills and too much wine combined had almost ended her life, but somehow she still clung to it, whether it was worthwhile or not.
Whether or not Michel had also gone to the hospital with her, Charlotte neither knew nor cared, but she sat alone in the big salon downstairs rather than stay alcme in her own room. It was there that Raoul found her and he glanced at her still pale face when he came in, then poured a large brandy and pushed it into h
er hand.
*Drink itl' he insisted when she shook her head, and
after a momentary hesitation she sipped from it. *You have had a shock, it will do you good.'
He took a cigarette from a pocket and lit it, narrowing his eyes against the smoke and expelling a long jet from pursed lips. As if he was playing for time, Charlotte mused as she watched him while she sipped the smooth fire of the brandy into her system. It warmed her blood and brought a curious sense of unreality to the situation, she felt, sitting here alone with Raoul
*How is Madame Lizette?' she asked, snatching her wandering senses back to earth before they got out of hand. *She's going to be all right, isn't she?'
*She is going to live,' Raoul said, and somehow managed to stress the difference between the question and the answer.
He was not indifferent, she knew it in her heart, but something in his manner, some innate reserve that prevented him from showing pity for Lizette, grated on Charlotte's nerves, and she got to her feet, too resdess suddenly to stay where she was, and feeling slighdy lightheaded from the amount of brandy she had drunk. All the anger and resentment she felt at Michel's treatment of his wife welled up inside her and overflowed into fury at Raoul's apparent callousness as she stood facing him in the big sunny room. ^^
Tor what?' she demanded. *Does she want to live? With a husband who doesn't care two pins for her? Who leaves her every night to go to his—his mistress, to be polite? You none of you care about her, do you? Only Madame Menais, and she cares for everyone! But Michel—he couldn't care less what happens to her! He brought her to this!'
*Stop it, Charlotte!'
His tone as much as his words silenced her for the moment and she stood breathing hard and feeling as if she
had run hard and fast for a very long way, with Raoul's steely bright eyes daring her to go on. She knew what result his anger could have, but somehow it was almost an encouragement and the brandy fuddled her brain; she'd had nothing to eat.
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