Tahitian Wedding

by Angela Devine

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘I said that I was coming back from Bora Bora today so that I could ask you to marry me.’

  ‘What?’

  She was so shocked that she stared at him with her mouth open. Her heart accelerated wildly.

  ‘You don’t really mean that?’ she said with an upward, questioning intonation.

  ‘Oh, yes, I do!’ vowed Alain. ‘Look, Claire, I don’t care any more what happened between you and Marcel or you and Danny. None of it matters. The only thing that matters is—’

  ‘Alain, Danny and I didn’t—’ began Claire, but he brushed her protest aside and hauled her ruthlessly into his arms.

  His lips met hers in a kiss that sent electric currents jolting through her veins. Then he looked down at her with intent blue eyes and let his fingers stray idly down her throat, playing with her tumbled dark hair.

  ‘The only thing that matters is this,’ he said fiercely. ‘I want to wed you and bed you and spend the rest of my life with you. I love you more than any woman I’ve ever known. Will you marry me, Claire?’

  For a moment she struggled to explain, to convince him, then she faltered to a stop as the meaning of his words sank in. Alain wanted to marry her. So did it even matter what he believed about Danny or Marcel?

  She looked at him with misty eyes, then, threading her fingers through his springy dark hair, she drew his head down and kissed him.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Oh, yes, my love.’

  ‘We’ll need to buy a ring,’ said Alain the following morning as they were eating breakfast. ‘What sort would you like?’

  Claire stopped gazing dreamily out over the turquoise lagoon and brought her attention back to Alain. Her cheeks coloured and she smiled.

  ‘Anything,’ she replied fervently. ‘A piece of string will do. So long as I’m marrying you, that’s all that counts.’

  Alain dropped a feather-light kiss on the back of her hand and then turned it over so that he could repeat it on her palm.

  ‘My sentiments exactly,’ he replied. ‘You know, when we were in the church at Paul’s and Marie’s wedding, I couldn’t help wondering if it would ever be us.’

  ‘Did you?’ marvelled Claire. ‘So did I! Except I didn’t really believe that it would. And when I caught Marie Rose’s bouquet and you were so hateful to me I was certain of it. I thought I’d just be nobody’s bride.’

  Alain’s eyes were shadowed with remorse. He gripped her hand so hard that it hurt.

  ‘Well, all that anger and suspicion is in the past,’ he assured her. ‘And I’m sorry if I hurt you, Claire. But let’s put it behind us and start spreading the good news. Now, who do we have to tell?’

  ‘My parents,’ replied Claire swiftly. ‘They’ll be thrilled. And Marie Rose and Paul. And your mother, I suppose.’

  ‘And Louise,’ said Alain.

  Claire felt a chill of dismay settle in her stomach.

  ‘Oh, Alain,’ she faltered. ‘I’d forgotten all about Louise. And it makes the whole thing impossible! How can she ever want to meet me when she knows I once had an affair with her husband?’

  Alain frowned at her.

  ‘Don’t be absurd,’ he said curtly, reaching for the coffee-pot. ‘Louise doesn’t know about you and Marcel. Why would she? She was in Paris when it happened.’

  Claire blinked, still feeling shocked, but no longer in the grip of that icy dismay.

  ‘B-but I thought you must have told her!’ she stammered.

  ‘Told her?’ echoed Alain incredulously. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Claire! My only concern at the time was to hush it all up to avoid hurting Louise and damaging your reputation.’

  A wave of relief washed through Claire’s entire body, but her fears would not be totally calmed.

  ‘Then why didn’t she come to Paul’s and Marie Rose’s wedding if she wasn’t trying to avoid me?’ she asked unhappily.

  Alain smiled.

  ‘Well, I had no idea at the time,’ he replied. ‘But I know now, because she’s written and told me. Louise is expecting her first baby and she was laid low by morning sickness. That’s all, Claire, I promise you. So you needn’t have any fears about meeting her. Your relationship with Marcel is safely buried in the past and that’s where it’s going to stay!’

  And with that Claire had to be content. Yet, all the same, she could not suppress a lurking sense of misgiving. Would the ripples from the past ever really stop spreading?

  The rest of the week flew by. Alain, with his usual demonic energy, was busy with a dozen different things at once. The Heiva I Tahiti, the annual July festival, was in full swing and he was involved in organising many of the events. Yet he still found time to have the Beaumonts’ wrecked car towed away and replaced, to send a plumber to mend their hot water service and remove their old bath and to take Claire out to choose an engagement ring. They went to the finest jeweller in town and Alain insisted on buying Claire not only a diamond ring, but also a magnificent black pearl necklace and matching earrings.

  ‘Are you sure you like them?’ he asked as she stood, pirouetting in front of a mirror in the shop. ‘I want you to have whatever you like now, and don’t worry about the cost.’

  ‘They’re beautiful,’ breathed Claire, raising her left hand to her ears to touch the lustrous, silvery balls. The light winked off her ring finger as she did so. ‘And so is the ring.’

  Flinging herself into his arms, she gave a little shiver.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘It all seems so much more real when I see the ring on my finger. It’s rather scary.’

  ‘You’re not getting cold feet, are you?’ he asked abruptly.

  She shook her head, clutching at his arms.

  ‘No,’ she insisted. ‘It’s only scary because I can’t believe I can possibly be so happy. I keep feeling afraid that something will go wrong.’

  Alain snorted contemptuously.

  ‘Well, if anything is going to go wrong,’ he pointed out, ‘it had better happen soon. There isn’t much time left.’

  That was true. Neither of them had seen any reason to delay their wedding. The engagement was to be publicly announced at the gala ball on the evening before Bastille Day and they were to be married a month later. Claire had already moved into Alain’s house, an action which her parents regarded with easygoing tolerance, and she was already deep in planning her wedding dress and her honeymoon. As Alain said, if anything was going to go wrong, it had better happen soon.

  On the night of the ball, Claire felt as if she had never been happier in her life. Dressed in a stunning evening frock of red silk taffeta, she clung to Alain’s arm and smiled radiantly as the mayor announced their engagement. A noisy outburst of cheering followed and, during the remainder of the evening, all Alain’s friends and business acquaintances thronged to congratulate them. All but one. As they were leaving the ball shortly after two a.m., Claire felt a cold, hard grip on her arm. She turned and saw Nadine Hugo staring at her with venomous golden eyes.

  ‘I suppose you think you’ve done very well for yourself, don’t you?’ the French girl hissed. ‘Well, let me tell you, Claire Beaumont, you’re going to regret the day you ever became engaged to Alain Charpentier!’

  That was all. But something in the tone of Nadine’s voice made Claire’s blood curdle. She twisted frantically in Nadine’s hard, pinching grip, looking for Alain over the heads of the crowd. Then suddenly she caught sight of him.

  ‘Alain!’ she exclaimed.

  In the milling crowd he had already become separated from her and was standing with his head bent chatting to someone. But at the sound of Claire’s voice, his glossy, dark head came up and his blue eyes narrowed.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked.

  With a final determined effort, Claire pulled free of Nadine’s grip. She didn’t want to make a scene in such a public place, but she couldn’t wait to escape. Turning her back on Nadine, she elbowed her way towards Alain a
nd took his arm. At once she felt safe again and was even able to give him a rather strained smile.

  ‘No, nothing’s wrong,’ she mumbled. ‘But I am rather tired. Couldn’t we go now?’

  They had to edge past Nadine again to make their way out to the car park. Alain spoke civilly to her and she stood on tiptoe to kiss him on both cheeks. Then, to Claire’s horror, she did the same thing to her.

  ‘Remember what I told you, Claire, won’t you?’ she murmured sweetly, as she retreated into the crowd.

  Claire shuddered.

  ‘What the hell did she tell you?’ demanded Alain once they were in the car.

  ‘She…she said I’d regret the day I ever became engaged to you,’ replied Claire unhappily.

  Alain snorted with laughter.

  ‘Is that all?’ he demanded. ‘I thought she’d sent you a death threat at the very least, you were looking so upset. But you shouldn’t take any notice of Nadine. Once she gets over her hurt pride, she’ll realise that it would have been a total disaster for both of us if I’d married her. Anyway, she certainly won’t do anything to hurt you.

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ said Claire doubtfully.

  Alain reached out and squeezed her hand.

  ‘Stop worrying, sweetheart,’ he ordered. ‘Or if you must worry about something, worry about whether your dance troupe is going to win a prize in the tamure competition this week.’

  ‘All right,’ promised Claire with a glimmer of a smile.

  Astonishingly they did win the tamure competition and were invited to perform at a winners’ concert the following Saturday. Claire knew that she should have been walking on air. She was engaged to a man she loved with all her heart, her father was making a good recovery from his illness and she was back on the island that she loved. Yet all week she felt an uneasy sense of disaster hanging over her like the threat of a storm. She could not help brooding over the veiled menace contained in Nadine’s words and her anxiety showed itself in an unaccustomed listlessness and loss of spirits.

  ‘Are you sure you aren’t having second thoughts about marrying me?’ Alain demanded as she was dressing in her costume on the night of the concert.

  ‘Of course not!’ retorted Claire in dismay, pausing as she adjusted her head garland in front of the mirrored dressing-table. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

  ‘You’ve seemed so gloomy all week. I wish you’d promise me that you really are happy and you really will marry me.’

  Claire’s lips curved into a joyful smile. Leaning forward, she took his face in hers and stared intently at him, as if she were memorising every detail of his features. The sardonic eyebrows, the smouldering blue eyes, the mobile, rather arrogant mouth.

  ‘I promise,’ she said huskily. And kissed him.

  As always, the potent flame of sexual longing flared between them and she heard his strangled groan as her mouth opened sweetly against his. Rising to his feet, he stood staring down at her with an expression that sent tingles of excitement chasing through her entire body.

  ‘Don’t think I’m not tempted,’ he muttered. ‘But you’ve got this wretched concert down on the waterfront in an hour’s time and I have to see the banquet manager at the hotel before I leave. I think for once we’ll have to postpone our passion, don’t you?’

  Claire ran her hand shamelessly down over the front of his shorts and moved her fingers in a caressing circle.

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured softly.

  Alain caught his breath.

  ‘Sometimes,’ he muttered through his teeth. ‘I’m not sure whether I ought to strangle you or—’

  ‘Or?’ prompted Claire wickedly.

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough, wench,’ he growled. ‘In the meantime, finish getting dressed. I’ll go over and speak to the banquet manager. I should be back in ten minutes, so be ready. OK?’

  Claire pushed away her vague feelings of disquiet and hummed softly to herself as she put the finishing touches to her costume of grass skirt, beaded top, shell necklace and floral head garland. There was no doubt about it. All she would have to do tonight was think about Alain and she would dance the erotic tamure with more sizzling intensity than ever before. Fanning her long, dark hair in a loose, swirling curtain around her shoulders, she curved her lips and applied some red lipstick. Just at that moment, the front door bell rang. With a puzzled frown, Claire dropped the lipstick and went to answer it. Perhaps Alain had forgotten his key.

  But it was not Alain who stood there on the front veranda. It was a man Claire had never expected to see again. She staggered back in disbelief as her stunned brain took in the details of the tall, swaggering figure, the brown hair brushed back from the forehead, the melting brown eyes and the calculated charm of that gleaming smile.

  ‘M-Marcel Sauvage!’ she croaked.

  He took advantage of her shock to open the door and stride into the hall, with the air of a cowboy challenging a saloon full of spectators.

  ‘Just a minute!’ protested Claire hotly. ‘Who asked you to—?’

  ‘Oh, come on, sweetheart,’ crooned Marcel in that husky, theatrical voice that she had once thought unbelievably sexy. ‘I’ve got a business proposition to put to you.’

  Claire was still staring at him in disbelief. Now that she looked more closely, she saw that he had aged a lot in the past six years. His jawline was blurred with fat and there were broken purple veins in his nose and cheeks. Within another five years he would look like an old man.

  ‘Business proposition?’ she echoed with a half hysterical laugh. ‘Don’t be a fool, Marcel! I’ve no intention of doing business with you now or ever. Anyway how did you know I was here?’

  He smiled slyly.

  ‘Nadine told me,’ he said. ‘We’re old friends, you know, from our long association with the Charpentiers. And she thought you’d be just the girl I need as anchorwoman for a new TV series I’m doing in France. I’ll pay top dollar to get you, chérie. You’ve come on a lot from the gawky little teenager I first knew a few years ago. And who knows? We might even be able to mix pleasure with business. I’m sure you’d find a partnership with me far more rewarding than throwing yourself away on that pillar of society, Alain Charpentier.’

  The venom in his tone as he spoke Alain’s name was unmistakable. Claire felt a surge of molten rage flood through her veins at his impertinence. When she replied, her voice was shaking with anger.

  ‘Don’t you dare speak to me about Alain,’ she cried. ‘Or about your slimy business propositions. I don’t want to see you again, Marcel, now or ever.’

  Marcel chuckled hoarsely.

  ‘Still playing hard to get?’ he demanded. ‘Well, I know how to deal with that, don’t I, sweetheart?’

  And before Claire could do anything more than utter a stifled shriek of outrage, he seized her in his arms, let her dangle backwards and kissed her violently.

  ‘Mmpph! You bastard…you absolute…mmmpph! Let me go…I’ll kill you!’

  She struck out wildly, trying to scratch his face or knee him in the groin. But because of the ridiculous position that he held her in, the only result was that when she raised one foot, she lost her balance completely. With a muffled scream she fell to the floor, taking Marcel with her. His full weight slammed into her and for a moment she lay dazed, unable to do anything but choke for breath. Marcel’s hands scrabbled eagerly at her beaded top and his ravenous kisses covered her throat.

  ‘Oh, you’re some passionate baby,’ he cried. ‘You drive me wild, sweetheart. And I knew you’d be just as pleased to see me as I am to see you. This ice-maiden act doesn’t fool me for a minute.’

  But before he could go any further, there was the sound of the front door being flung wide and a sudden, startled oath. Marcel was torn off her and shaken like a rat. She sat up unsteadily to see his shirt being twisted into a convenient handle before he was hurled bodily out into the garden. Letting out a long, unsteady sigh, she levered herself to her feet.

  ‘Oh, Alain,�
�� she gasped. ‘Thank heavens you came!’

  There was no answering smile on his face. Instead, he looked as if he was in a killing rage. Only once in her life had Claire ever seen him so furious before and now she had the nightmare sensation of that appalling scene being played out a second time over. Alain’s blue eyes were like narrow slits in a face dark with anger and his mouth was set in a grim line.

  ‘What exactly were you doing with Marcel?’ he asked with menacing softness.

  Claire shook her head in disbelief.

  ‘You surely don’t think—?’ she began.

  ‘What else am I supposed to think?’ he demanded furiously. ‘I came home to find you half naked rolling around on the floor with Marcel. Am I supposed to think you were offering him a cup of coffee?’

  ‘How dare you?’ cried Claire shakily.

  Coming hot on the heels of her ordeal with Marcel, this was more than she could bear. With an angry sob, she raised her hand and slapped Alain’s face with all her force. His head jerked back and four red marks leapt out on his cheek. He advanced on her with icy fury and at that moment there was the sound of delicate throatclearing from the veranda.

  ‘Sorry,’ called Nadine’s voice sweetly. ‘I do seem to have come at rather a bad time, don’t I?’

  Claire stared in horror at the chic figure on the doorstep. Every ginger hair was neatly in place, the lips were painted in a perfect Cupid’s bow and there was an unmistakable gloating look in Nadine’s eyes as if she had planned every detail of Claire’s humiliation. With a jolt of horror, Claire realised that she had.

  ‘Oh, go away!’ she choked. And slammed the door in Nadine’s face.

  Which left her alone with Alain.

  ‘What? You don’t want Nadine to see you behaving like a street walker?’ asked Alain sarcastically.

  Claire clenched her fists.

  ‘Oh, don’t be so stupid!’ she cried. ‘She must have set the whole thing up! Surely you can see that?’

  ‘Nadine?’ retorted Alain incredulously. ‘Nadine set it up?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I don’t know all the details!’ cried Claire angrily, straightening her beaded bodice, which was slipping off her breasts. ‘But Marcel said she told him I was here and suggested he offer me a job in France. If I had accepted, it would have cleared the way for her. When I didn’t, Marcel obviously jumped at the chance to humiliate me. And you.’