‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ snapped Alain.
‘I’m not being half as ridiculous as you are!’ retorted Claire. ‘Surely you don’t honestly believe I was encouraging him?’
‘I don’t know what I believe!’ said Alain bitterly. ‘But I know what I saw and it’s every bit as bad as what I saw six years ago.’
‘Six years ago!’ exclaimed Claire. ‘That’s the whole trouble between us, isn’t it, Alain? The fact that you can never wipe out what you saw six years ago! And, if I marry you, you’ll let it spoil every minute of our future together. You know, Marie Rose told me that we had a big problem with trust and she was right. Well, I learnt to trust you, Alain, but you’ve never really learnt to trust me, have you? And that’s just not good enough for me. So, unless you apologise to me right now for your ridiculous, unfounded suspicions, I’m leaving!’
She stared at him with blazing eyes and quivering lips, fully expecting that he would sweep her into his arms and beg her forgiveness. But his face remained like an angry, suspicious mask and the silence lengthened agonisingly between them.
‘All right, then!’ said Claire hoarsely, twisting the diamond ring off her finger and setting it on the table. ‘If that’s the way you want it, goodbye, Alain, and good luck.’
Clenching her fist, she pressed it against her lips and ran into the bedroom. Out of habit she still kept her passport and traveller’s cheques in her purse and it wouldn’t be difficult to catch a plane out of Papeete. She had thought her gypsy lifestyle was finished forever, but obviously she had been wrong. It took her less than a minute to stuff a change of clothes into an overnight bag and she was ready to go. Dashing away the tears, she went back into the hall with the bag in her hand. Amazingly her voice came out clear and steady.
‘In the circumstances, I’m sure you’ll want me to leave as fast as possible,’ she said coldly. ‘But there’s no need for you to drive me this time. I’ll borrow your second car and leave it in the airport car park, unless you’ve some objection?’
He didn’t answer. He was standing with his head bowed and one hand covering his eyes. As she came closer to the hall table, she saw that his face looked drawn and haggard with torment. But he made no move to stop her as she went past him.
‘Goodbye, Alain,’ she repeated.
She was almost into Papeete when the first real shock hit her. Her hands began to tremble on the steering-wheel and she had to pull over to the kerb for fear of having an accident. As she did so, she glanced unthinkingly at her watch. It was seven forty-five p.m.
‘Oh, hell, the concert!’ she groaned.
The last thing she wanted to do at this moment was to dance the tamure before hundreds of spectators, but she couldn’t bear the thought of letting down her friends. Everyone would be waiting for her and if she really stepped on the accelerator she could still make it on time.
It was two minutes to eight when she jumped out of the car on the waterfront at the Boulevard Pomare and sprinted through the crowd to the performers’ entrance at the festival grandstand. An excited chorus greeted her.
‘Where have you been, Claire?’
‘We phoned and phoned Alain’s house, but there was no answer.’
‘What happened to your head garland? It’s ripped to shreds!’
‘We were going to send Matilde on to dance, but she’s not half as good as you.’
‘Shush, girls! We’re on next.’
Somewhere a fresh head garland was found for Claire and a moment later she found herself thrust out into the floodlit square with the tiers of darkened seats around her. Into the tense waiting silence came the low, insistent throbbing of the drums and suddenly Claire forgot all about Alain and surrendered totally to the rhythm of the dance. And yet somehow all her love and grief and anger flowed into her movements, so that when the troupe finally stamped to a halt, there was a wild outburst of cheers and whistles. Claire smiled and bowed with the others, but there was an ache in her heart as she made her way offstage. Dazzled by the floodlights, she did not even see the shadowy figure near the dressing-room door until a hand came out of the darkness and touched her. She let out a stifled shriek.
‘It’s all right, Claire. It’s only me.’
‘Alain,’ she breathed. Then recovered her poise and hastily added, ‘Leave me alone.’
‘I need to talk to you,’ he insisted.
‘There’s nothing more to be said,’ she snapped.
‘Yes, there is,’ he protested, hauling her into the centre of the passage where there was more light. ‘There’s everything to be said. Just give me five minutes, Claire. That’s all I ask.’
People were streaming around them and someone stepped on Claire’s toe.
‘Ouch!’ she said.
‘Five minutes,’ repeated Alain. ‘You might as well come, Claire, because I’ll carry you if I have to.’
She cast him a smouldering look.
‘I’m not impressed by caveman tactics,’ she muttered resentfully.
Yet when he took her arm, she allowed him to lead her out on to the docks. The air was warm and mild and the ships in the harbour were strung with lights, which sent golden reflections dancing over the water. An enticing medley of scents wafted from the take-away food vans further along the waterfront and in the distance she could hear the sound of hurdy-gurdy music from a fairground. But here, behind the dance area, it was surprisingly quiet and private. Alain led Claire across to the water’s edge.
‘Well?’ she demanded sharply.
His hand on her arm was sending unwelcome surges of emotion coursing through her and she was afraid that at any moment she might burst into tears.
‘I’ve come to say I’m sorry,’ he said.
Claire hunched her shoulder away from his touch.
‘Oh?’ she sneered. ‘Won’t Nadine object to that?’
‘Never mind Nadine!’ exclaimed Alain. ‘I’ve decided you were right about her and I’ve paid her not to do the blueprints for the new hotel. With luck we’ll never set eyes on her again.’
Claire stared at him in astonishment.
‘What brought this on?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘I’ll tell you!’ he replied, gripping her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. ‘After you’d left, I sat down and took a good look at myself and I didn’t much like what I saw.’
‘What do you mean?’ demanded Claire.
‘Do I have to spell it out?’ growled Alain. ‘All right, then. I will. There’s no way you could have been responsible for what happened tonight and I should never have accused you of it. I was arrogant, I was stupid, I was wrong!’
‘Yes, you were,’ agreed Claire fervently. ‘So why couldn’t you see all that immediately? Why did it take you this long to figure it out?’
Alain raked his fingers through his hair and let out an impatient sigh.
‘Try to understand, Claire!’ he urged. ‘When I walked in there tonight, it was like a flashback to the past. I was so shocked and furious to see Marcel that I didn’t react with my brain, I reacted with my hormones. And it took me a while to simmer down enough to realise that you were completely innocent. Can you forgive me, Claire?’
Claire’s mouth set in a mulish line.
‘Even if I do,’ she said in a shaking voice, ‘what’s going to happen next time there’s any situation that’s remotely compromising? Are you going to fly into a rage because you see me smiling at a bell boy or kissing a friend on the cheek?’
Alain swore under his breath.
‘No!’ he insisted.
‘How can I be sure of that?’ demanded Claire.
Alain took her hands in his and kissed them urgently.
‘You can be sure of it because I finally have come to terms with the past,’ he said. ‘And I’ll never misjudge you again. After you left tonight, I realised that I was being stupid, because I started to think of all the things I knew about you. I knew you gave up your own career to help out your family in times of trouble.
I knew you were loyal and kind and that everybody liked you. And I realised that you were totally incapable of doing anything heartless or deceitful. I don’t believe that you knew Marcel was married or that you slept with Danny. Whatever you choose to do now, I had to find you and tell you that.’
Claire’s lips quirked into a reluctant smile.
‘How did you find me?’ she asked.
Alain’s hands cupped her face and he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. He smiled ruefully.
‘I also knew you’d never let your friends down when they were counting on you,’ he murmured. ‘Oh, Claire. I’d trust you with my honour, my love, my life. I only wish you’d do the same with me.’
His lips touched her hair, moved down to meet hers. Arching her back, she put her arms around his neck and let her body rest trustingly against his.
‘All right,’ she said, relenting. ‘I will.’
eISBN 978-14592-7684-0
TAHITIAN WEDDING
First North American Publication 1996
Copyright © 1993 by Angela Devine.
All rights reserved Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part In any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, Including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any Information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A
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Printed in U.S.A.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Dedication
About the Author
Books by Angela Devine
Excerpt
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Copyright
Tahitian Wedding Page 18