He pulled another towel from the rack and turned and went outside. He spread the towel on the sand and dropped on it, rolling over on his stomach so he could rest his face on his arms. A moment later he felt the sand move near him and he opened his eyes. Slowly he turned his head to look up at her.
She had put on a white bathing suit that did very little to conceal her lush body. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked in an annoyed voice. “And don’t give me that shit about Caroline. I know better. All New York was talking about you and Mady Schneider.”
He didn’t answer. Instead he reached out a hand, grabbing her by the ankle and tumbling her into the sand.
“What’s the idea?” she asked angrily. Then she saw the white teeth against his dark face. “Oh, Dax!”
He rolled away slightly, still smiling. “Without making a thing of it, look up at the house. The big windows near the corner on the second floor.”
She rolled over on her stomach and lay there for a moment, her face against the sand. Then she raised her head casually. There was a flash of light just behind the window. She continued raising her head until she was looking at Dax. “That’s James Hadley’s room. He’s watching us.”
Dax smiled. “And with a pair of binoculars too.” He rolled over on his back and stared up at the sky. “So you see we’re not the only ones awake.”
“The old goat!” She giggled. “So that’s how he gets his kicks.”
“He’s got more than that going for him. He just likes to know what’s going on.”
“No wonder all those boys are so horny. They get it from the old man.”
Dax laughed, getting to his feet. “It’s getting too hot. I’m going back into the water and cool off.”
He came up out of the light surf just in time to catch a glimpse of Sue Ann flying through the air at him. She crashed into him and he went over backward into the waves. He came up sputtering, but by this time she was swimming away with clean long strokes. He set out after her.
“You want to play rough!” he yelled, grabbing her with one hand.
Without a word she grabbed a mouthful of air and let herself sink into the water. He felt her slipping from his grip and turned after her, but already she was back at him under the water. He felt her hands grabbing for his trunks, pulling at them, and then one hand was inside holding him.
Her head came out of the water in front of him. “Surrender?”
He felt the heat rushing into his loins. He looked back over his shoulder. The flash of light glinted at the window. Hadley was still watching them. Well, to hell with him, he thought, they hadn’t yet invented binoculars that could see into water. He turned to Sue Ann. “A Corteguayan never surrenders!”
“No?” She tightened her grip.
He laughed, tensing himself against her fingers. Then he put his hands under the water behind her and found the seam in the crotch of the silk bathing suit. With a quick motion he ripped the light fabric then, reversing the grip, thrust two fingers inside her.
He laughed at the sudden surprise on her face. She squirmed, trying to push him away, but he held her easily. Then his feet found the bottom and she couldn’t move at all. “Best you get is a draw.”
“Let go,” she said, pushing at him. “The old man is watching!”
“Let him. He can’t see what’s happening under the water.”
Suddenly she was soft against him. “Oh, God. Oh, God!” Frantically she climbed on him. “Put it in me,” she cried wildly, “get it in there!”
He braced his legs and pushed himself into her. He felt the heat of her body close him off from the water. “Put your arms out straight and keep your upper body away from me,” he said harshly. “That way it won’t even look as if our bodies are touching.”
She leaned back in the water, her arms straight out, her legs around his hips, almost as if she were floating. “Oh, God,” she moaned, already in a paroxysm of delight. Suddenly her blue eyes were on his face. “I can’t hold it, Dax! I can’t!”
“You’ll hold it,” he replied grimly, his fingers tightening unmercifully into the flesh of her buttocks. She started to scream. Violently he thrust her head under the water. She came up sputtering and coughing, then went limp in his arms as she climaxed.
A moment later, she looked up at him smiling. “I needed that,” she gasped, “it’s been so long.” She glanced over his shoulder at the house. “You better let me go, he’s still watching.”
Dax shook his head, not letting go of her buttocks.
She looked at him in surprise. “You’re still hard!” she exclaimed, a note of wonder coming into her voice. She threw her head back in a half scream as he thrust himself into her again. “Oh, God!” she cried. “Oh, God! God!”
***
Hadley wasn’t the only person watching. Caroline turned away from the window as they came up on the beach out of the water. Something had happened between them. She was sure of it even if she hadn’t been able to see what or how. She knew Sue Ann well enough to tell just by the way she walked.
She walked back into the dimness of the room and got into bed. Despite the heat, she shivered and pulled the sheets up over her. What’s the matter with me, she thought. I’m not even jealous.
She heard the soft slap of footsteps outside, then the sound of the door opening. She closed her eyes and pretended she was asleep. When she heard Dax come over to the side of the bed, she opened her eyes as if she had just awakened.
He looked down at her. “Good morning.”
She forced a sleepy smile. “What time is it?”
“A few minutes after ten.” He looked at her carefully. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, I just felt tired.” She sat up in bed. “How is it out?”
“Beautiful. I was in the water. It’s nice and warm.” He turned and walked over to the dresser and slipped out of his bathing trunks. “Oh,” he added, as if it were an afterthought, “Sue Ann was down on the beach.”
She looked at the band of white around his hips and buttocks. She never could get over how dark he became; she knew of no one who took to the sun the way he did. He took off his wristwatch and came back to the side of the bed.
“I think we’ll go out to Hollywood. I have an invitation from Speidel. He wants me to play polo.”
A powerful male odor emanated from him. She closed her eyes so she would not see him standing over her. Something had happened with Sue Ann, now she was sure of it. “Will Giselle be there?”
He shrugged. “I suppose so. She’s starting a picture.”
Joe Speidel was the head of one of the big studios. He was also a producer, and in his own estimation a great polo player. He had organized a team that pandered to his vanity and he loved attracting important players. Dax was his prize catch, even more important than the Oscars that lined his studio mantelpiece.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. His face was impassive. A faint annoyance came into her voice. “Go put something on. You know I can’t stand your standing over me like that.”
“I’m going to take a shower.” He walked toward the bathroom, then in the doorway he turned. “What do you say?” he asked politely. “Shall we go?”
“Does it really make any difference?” Then when he didn’t answer her, she said, “Oh, all right. I suppose we might as well.”
The bathroom door closed and a moment later she heard the sound of the shower. She rolled over and got out of bed. She crossed to the dresser and picked up his swimming trunks. Then angrily she flung them back on the dresser.
She went back to the window. Sue Ann was lying on the beach, stretched out like a cat basking in the sun. She turned back into the room and threw herself across the bed. An animal, she thought, that’s all he is. He’d couple with anything.
A goddamn animal.
5
Caroline had not felt like that in the beginning. Then she had felt only gratitude and shelter in his presence. Even in Paris during the long weeks they were w
aiting for the Germans to approve her exit visa, she had felt safe living in the consulate. Eventually the approval came through. They had to let her go. They did not dare disturb their relationship with Corteguay so long as there was a chance that they might get Corteguayan beef.
They went down to Lisbon by a rickety, uncomfortable old train and waited there for a Corteguayan ship that would take them across the Atlantic. Even then she felt relatively secure; she had gained a little weight and the nightmares that tortured her sleep were beginning to stop. Until she saw the man in the restaurant while they were at dinner.
Dax paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. Her face had suddenly gone white. “What’s the matter?”
“That man!” she whispered hoarsely. “He’s come to take me back!”
“Nonsense,” Dax said sharply. “No one can take you back.”
“He can,” she insisted, sick fear knotting her stomach. “He’s come after me. He knows he can make me do anything he wants!”
Dax turned to look. The man was wearing an ordinary gray suit, not even glancing in their direction. His tightly cropped blond head was bent over his plate as he shoveled spoonsful of soup into his fleshy mouth.
“Take me upstairs!” Her voice turned him back to her. “Please, Dax!”
He got instantly to his feet, sensing her near hysteria. “Come,” he said, taking her arm.
He felt her trembling against him as they walked past the German. They crossed the lobby and went up to their room. Once the door was closed, she dissolved in a paroxysm of tears.
He held her to him closely. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered, “I won’t let him harm you.”
“He made me do such terrible things,” she sobbed. “And all the while he laughed at me because he knew I would do them.”
“Don’t think about it anymore,” he said, his voice hardening. “I promise you he’ll never bother you again.”
But it took more than his promise to calm her. It had taken three of the pills the doctor had prescribed for her insomnia. At last she was asleep and he had stood there looking down at her. Her face was flushed and glistening with self-induced fever. Gently he drew the sheets up around her and then went out silently, locking the door behind him.
She awoke in the morning with a heavy drugged feeling. She got out of bed and, putting on her robe, went into the other room. Dax had been sitting at the table having coffee, smoking one of his thin black cigars. He looked up at her. “Have some coffee.”
She sat down, glancing at the newspaper beside her plate. The photograph of the German leaped out at her from the front page, with bold black type over it.
O ALEMAO ASSASSINADO!
She looked up at Dax. “He’s dead!”
“Yes,” he answered, his eyes hidden in a veil of smoke. “I promised that he would never bother you again.”
She should have felt reassured but there was something in the matter-of-fact way in which he had spoken that suddenly gave her a new picture of him. And this, oddly enough, frightened her even more. The savage sleeping just below the polished civilized exterior needed but a word to revert to violence.
The nightmares came back, and it wasn’t until they had almost reached New York many weeks later that they began to disappear. Then another feeling for him began to take over. There was a warmth between them then. A kind of love. Not the sort she had imagined she would one day feel before the Germans had taken her off to prison. But more like what she had for her brother, Robert. A feeling that he would protect her and care for her. Or what she felt for her father, that nothing would harm her so long as he watched over her.
The baron had been at the dock to meet them. So had the Corteguayan consul, along with the reporters. There had been a great deal of noise and confusion and at the end of it she had found herself alone with her father in his limousine as they sped up Park Avenue. Dax was in another car with the consul. Something had come up and he had to go directly to the consulate. But he would join them later for dinner.
The baron leaned back in his seat and studied her. There was a strangely contemplative look in his eyes.
“What do you see, Daddy?”
Unexpectedly, tears came to his eyes. “My little girl. My baby.”
Then for some unknown reason she, too, had started to cry. Perhaps it had been the way he said it, or the realization that she would never again be his little girl.
“Robert. We haven’t heard a word from Robert.” The baron took out his handkerchief. “I’m afraid they’ve captured him.”
“No, Robert is safe.”
He looked at her. “You know? How? Where is he?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know, Daddy. But Dax says he’s safe.”
A strange look had flashed over his face. For a moment she thought it was an expression of resentment. Then it was gone, and his voice was flat and unemotional. “How does he know?”
There was an almost childlike faith in her answer. “If Dax says so, it is so.”
For a moment, the baron recalled the first time he had seen Dax—the boy, half asleep in his father’s arms, in Madame Blanchette’s parlor. It seemed almost as if he had known then how inextricably entwined their lives were to become. “Your husband,” he said, “do you love him?”
Caroline looked at him in surprise. As if it were the first time she had even thought about it. “Of course.”
The baron was silent for a moment, then he said quietly, “He is a very strong man. And you—”
“He is also a very kind man, Papa. And very understanding.”
“But you’re so frail. I mean—”
“It’s all right, Papa, Dax understands. And I won’t always be like this. Now that I am back with you I shall get my strength back. You will see. Perhaps soon there will be grandchildren for you to play with—”
“No!” The baron’s voice contained almost a note of anguish. “There must be no children!”
“Papa!”
“Don’t you understand?” he asked savagely. “They might be black! There must be no children.”
***
She had just awakened from her nap when Dax came into the room. “There must be a mistake,” he said. “My room is across the hall.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Papa thought it might be better this way for a while. Just until I’m myself again.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know—”
He had not waited for her to complete her sentence. “For this one night it won’t matter,” he said angrily. “But when I come back it will. By then I hope you will know what you want.” He started for the door.
“Dax!” she cried after him in sudden fear. “Where are you going?”
He stopped and turned. “I received word at the consulate that I’m to leave for home tomorrow. From there I’m going back to Europe.”
“But we just got here. You can’t go!”
“No?” There was an ironic smile on his face. “Does your father also say that?”
The door closed behind him and she stared at it. Slowly the tears came to her eyes. It wasn’t right. Nothing was right anymore. If only she could feel the way she had before the war.
***
He was in his robe, seated at the small desk, when she came into his room later that night. There were sheets of paper spread out on the desk before him. He looked up at her, then at his watch. “It’s almost one o’clock. You should be sleeping.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” She hesitated in the doorway. “May I come in?”
He nodded. She walked over to the bed. “What are you doing?”
“Reading reports. I am far behind in much of my work.”
For a moment she was surprised. Somehow she had never associated him with work, at least not the dull, routine kind. Then she felt foolish. She should have known better. “I didn’t realize,” she said half apologetically. “I must have been a great interference.”
He reached for a cigarette. “It doe
sn’t matter. I was due for a change.”
She looked at him. “Must you go back to Europe?”
He smiled. “I go where my president sends me. That is my life.”
“But the war—the danger.”
“My country is neutral. I am neutral.”
“For how long? Sooner or later the United States will get into it. Then all of South America, your country included.”
“If that happens, I will come back here.”
“If the Nazis let you, you mean,” she said somberly.
“There is an international law governing such matters.”
“Don’t talk to me as if I were a child! I know what the Nazis think of international law.”
“It is my work. I have no choice.”
“You could resign.”
He laughed. “What would I do then?”
“My father would be delighted to have you in the bank.”
“No, thanks. I’m afraid I wouldn’t do at all well as a banker. I’m not the type.”
“There must be something else you can do.”
“Sure.” He smiled again. “But professional polo players don’t make much money.”
“You’re treating me like a child again,” she said petulantly. “I’m not a baby anymore.”
“I know.”
She felt her face flush under his eyes. She looked down at the floor. “I haven’t been much of a wife to you, have I?”
“You have been through a great deal. It takes time to recover.”
She still did not look at him. “I want to be a good wife to you. I am very grateful for what you have done.”
He put out his cigarette and got to his feet. “Don’t be grateful. I married you because I wanted to.”
“But you weren’t in love with me.” It was more a statement than a question. “There was that girl Giselle.”
“I am a man,” he said simply. “There always have been girls.”
“She was not just a girl,” Caroline persisted, “you were in love. Even I could see that.”
“What if we were? You are the one I married.”
“Why did you marry me? Was it because there was no other way to free me from the Nazis?”
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