Rachel Lindsay - Moonlight and Magic

by Rachel Lindsay

  'Merely that men don't mind living it up themselves, but expect the woman they marry to have lived the life of a nun.'

  He nodded. "You're right, of course. The act of love doesn't mean to a man what it does to a woman. For him it's a necessary physical outlet, but for her it means the accepting of life itself.' They walked in silence for a few yards. 'One's attitude to women,' he went on quietly, 'is often governed by one's upbringing and childhood. My mother was a proud woman and suffered a great deal from my father. He didn't know the meaning of faithfulness, and I grew up determined never to treat any woman the way he treated her. If I marry I want my wife to regard me with as much respect as I'd want to regard her?

  'I understand,' she said gently and, turning, smiled at him. The sun was behind her head, turning her hair into a nimbus of gold and shadowing her blue eyes so that they glowed dark as sapphires. She heard him catch his breath and stare at her intently.

  'You look so innocent, Jane. I find it hard to believe that…'

  His voice trailed away, and she tilted her head inquiringly.

  'Find it hard to believe what?'

  'Nothing,' he said abruptly, and quickening his pace led the way to the car.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was late afternoon when they reached Cannes again and drove slowly through the crowded streets towards the harbour.

  'Do you want to go straight back on board,' Stephen asked, 'or would you like to stroll along the Croisette?'

  'A stroll, please.'

  He signalled the driver to stop, and while he paid him off, Jane jumped out and walked across the promenade to look at the beach.

  'You've forgotten your bag,' Stephen called after her, and held it out, his fingers pressing against its bulky sides. The rustle of paper was audible and he smiled. 'Hm, you must be writing a long letter to someone.'

  Jane's heart thumped. Her copy to the Morning Star! How awful if the bag had opened and he had seen the closely written sheets of paper. She almost snatched the bag from him and tucked it under her arm. 'I must find a post office. I've some cards to send off.'

  'Why don't you give them to the Purser? Foreign post offices are the devil.'

  'I'll feel safer if I post them myself.'

  'Very well. We'll go and find a post office and you can make yourself happy buying stamps.'

  He guided her over the road, no mean feat considering the speed and number of the cars dashing past, and they walked up one of the turnings towards the town. Her mind was filled with the problem of how she could go into the post office alone and send off her copy to Frank Preston, and she looked up with a start as Stephen indicated a large building and began to walk up the steps.

  'You needn't come in,' she said quickly.

  'I might as well get some stamps for myself.'

  'No, honestly, I won't be a moment.' She pulled her arm out of his grasp and dashed up the rest of the stairs, disappearing into the building like a rabbit to its hole.

  Once inside she glanced fearfully behind to make sure he had not followed and, finding herself on her own, hurried to the nearest counter. With trembling hands she took out the bulky envelope and slid it over to the assistant, her fear not abating until she saw the envelope disappear into one of the chutes.

  When she went outside again Stephen was leaning against the wall, his face unsmiling. Silently they returned to the Croisette and he set off in the direction of the harbour.

  'We might as well get back,' he muttered. 'I feel tired.'

  Gone was the ease between them, and in its place was a stiff formality. Try as she would she could see no reason why he should be so annoyed because she had wanted to go into the post office alone. Taken at its face value it was simply a desire not to have him wait in a stuffy atmosphere while she did some necessary chores. He had no right to stride along beside her with such an angry scowl. It was an unfortunate end to what had otherwise been a happy day, and unaccustomed tears pricked her eyes. 'Fancy crying over a thing like this,' she thought angrily, and blinked her lids. No doubt it was because she was miles away from home, in a foreign country surrounded by strangers. If only she could be herself, if only there was no need for pretence! She could not bear to have Stephen angry with her, and she caught his arm.

  'Stephen, I'm sorry. I didn't think you wanted to wait inside the post office for me. I know you thought me childish not giving my letters to the Purser, and I wanted to be as quick as I could.'

  He looked at her without expression. 'There's no need to apologize. If you had letters to post that you didn't want me to see…'

  'Why should you think that?'

  'It seemed obvious. Apart from which you have a repu tation for unwise romantic entanglements.'

  She raised her eyes and looked at him steadily. 'The letter was to a man, but he's middle-aged and devoted to his wife and four children. I swear that's true.'

  He said nothing and continued to walk, but Jane saw that the scowl was no longer on his face, although it still held an expression she could not fathom. Only when they were in a little boat chugging across the water to the Cambrian did she understand fully what else was in his mind.

  'All those stories about you,' he said abruptly. 'For a young girl you've led a pretty hectic life.'

  "Newspaper stories,' she answered, crossing her fingers surreptitiously.

  'There must have been some truth in them.' He groped in his pocket for a cigarette. 'What about the time you eloped with that Italian painter?'

  Jane caught her breath and stared at the sea as if she could find her answer on the waves. 'All girls get crushes on someone. It was just bad luck that some - some horrible reporter got hold of it and blew it up into a seven-day wonder.' She swung round and looked at him, determined to make him see she was telling the truth. 'It meant absolutely nothing to me. Why, he never even kissed me!'

  Without realizing it, by the very ingenuousness of her remark she had convinced Stephen she was speaking the truth. He threw back his head and laughed.

  'That's a Janey remark,' he said as he recovered his composure. 'But I'm glad you're Jane now.'

  They were the last passengers to board the ship and as the motor-boat sped back to the shore they heard the anchor being wound up.

  'It's been a wonderful day,' she said happily, and held out her hand to him. 'The first time I saw you, you were so stand-offish I never expected us to be spending the whole day together like this.'

  'I'd no intention of it either,' he said. 'But I've enjoyed every moment. I'll see you later this evening.'

  Although tired from her day's excursion, Jane was too excited to rest and spent the intervening hour before changing for dinner carefully examining the clothes in her wardrobe. On close inspection they were breath takingly beautiful, though a couple of them were not to her particular taste. What should she wear tonight?

  Staring at herself some time later, she could not hold back an exclamation of pleasure. A blue silk cat-suit outlined her slim figure. Her soft blonde hair was piled high on her head, held in place with a jewelled comb. The tips of her ears glowed pink with excitement and she wished momentarily that she could wear the pearl earrings and necklace she had seen among Janey's jewellery. But better not to tempt fate, she decided, and picking up her handbag, went out.

  She was half-way down the corridor when Claire Saunders, in black, came out of her cabin, and Jane stopped and smiled at her, ignoring a wave of antagonism so strong that it was almost tangible.

  'Well, well,' Claire drawled. 'You've grown up fast!'

  It's just a different hair-style,' Jane replied. 'I was tired of having it flap around my face.'

  'It takes more than upswept hair to convince a man you're not a child.'

  Jane ignored this and they began to walk towards the dining-room. Beside Claire she felt small and unimportant, and though she knew it was an inferiority complex born of lack of confidence and in no way connected with her outward appearance, she could not overcome it. The assurance that came with soc
ial background and wealth could not be acquired merely by the donning of expensive clothes, and the knowledge depressed her, making her realize the difficulties of stepping from one world to another.

  They descended the stairs and ahead were the shining glass doors leading to the dining-room. Claire paused and lifted her foot to inspect one of her shoes.

  Did you enjoy your day with Stephen?' she asked casually.

  'Very much. We lunched at a restaurant in the hills and drove round the countryside.'

  How sweet of Stephen to bother. It must have been an awful bore for him.'

  'I don't think so,' Jane said defensively. 'He suggested it himself.'

  'That just goes to show how sweet he is,' Claire repeated. 'Originally we were going to spend the day at Cap Ferrat. Some friends of mine have a villa there.' She put her foot to the ground, but remained motionless. 'When you fell into the pool yesterday he felt so sorry for you that on the spur of the moment he asked you out. Naturally I told him I didn't mind. I took Colin to the villa instead and…'

  Claire continued to talk, but Jane did not hear a word, anger making her heart pound so violently that she was deaf to all that went on around her. Indeed she was not even conscious of walking into the dining-room or taking her place at the table. So Stephen had asked her to spend the day with him merely out of kindness. Did he think she was a child who had to be placated? And what arrogance to assume he had the right to do the placating!

  Fury took away her appetite and she picked at her food, gulping down her wine with unusual recklessness. Gradually the alcohol dulled her anger and by the time she was served her sweet she was able to take part in the conversation around her. The Pendleburys had spent the day at the Carlton Hotel with a short trip to Juan les Pins to buy - Lady Pendlebury assured her - 'the most divine sports clothes in the world'. Colin had gone with Claire to her friends' villa and painful red sunburn testified to a day by the swimming-pool.

  'I hope you'll let me take you out on the next excursion,' he said. 'I'd no idea Drake was going to ask you.'

  'Neither had I,' Jane replied truthfully.

  'Well, I don't intend to let him monopolize you any more. There's dancing in the ballroom tonight and I'd like you to be my partner.'

  'You can't monopolize the prettiest girl aboard,' a drawling voice said, and Jane and Colin turned to see Greg Pearson smiling at them. In a frilled white shirt and a pale blue dinner jacket he looked every massaged inch a film star.

  'Considering I spent the best part of an horn- teaching Janey to cha-cha,' he went on, 'the least she can do in return is to dance it with me tonight!'

  'I'll dance with anyone who asks me,' she said lightly. 'I don't think people should monopolize each other on a ship. After all, that's the whole purpose of a cruise, isn't it - that everyone should get together.' She pushed back her chair. 'I must go upstairs. It's so terribly hot in here.'

  It's the wine you've been drinking,' Colin said humorously. 'You'd better not go straight out into the air or you'll fall flat on your face!'

  Jane tossed her head, but as she moved away from the table the floor wavered beneath her and she was glad of Colin's steadying hand at her elbow.

  'See what I mean?' he whispered. 'Now you hold on to me and I'll get you out of here in the perpendicular. But one peep out of you about not dancing with me and I'll leave you flat!'

  She giggled and clung to his arm as they walked the length of the room. Only as they reached the door did she see Stephen approaching it, and as they came close he turned to her and smiled. She refused to meet his gaze and continued to talk animatedly to Colin, fiercely glad of the look of surprise that crossed Stephen's face as she passed him.

  The orchestra was already playing in the ballroom.

  'Come on,' Colin said, 'it's a pity to waste the whole evening!' Pulling her on the floor, he began to dance.

  Jane's head was almost on a level with his and she was able to look directly into his face. Seen at such proximity he did not look as young as she had first taken him to be, and she saw that the fairness of his hair was liberally sprinkled with silver. There were lines around his eyes and mouth and a hardness in his expression that one did not notice when looking at him from any distance. It was as if the very bloodiness and pinkness of him disguised his character, and she gave herself another warning not to relax too much in his presence. Although she had no doubt that he would keep her secret, she did not intend to tempt fate and end up the way Hawton had done. She shivered at the thought and Colin gave her a little shake.

  'Hey there, Janey, is anything worrying you?'

  She shook her head. 'I guess it isn't good for a girl to come on a cruise alone. She needs someone to talk to.'

  'You can talk to me.'

  That's not what I mean.'

  'Well, if you're looking for a female confidante don't go to Claire. She was furious at the way you snaffled Drake today.'

  'I know. She told me.'

  'Did she now?' Colin's eyebrows, so fair that they were barely noticeable, drew together in a frown. 'I wouldn't take much notice of what she says, Janey. She can be damned spiteful when she wants to be.'

  Jane did not reply, but hearing her sigh Colin squeezed her waist and swirled off into a series of intricate steps that required all her concentration.

  It was not until much later that she noticed Stephen and Claire. They were sitting with a group of middle-aged people, the men all smoking cigars, the women ablaze with jewellery. At the centre was a plump man with a mass of white hair and small but gesticulating arms, whom Jane at once guessed to be Dinky Howard. Whatever story he was telling was exceedingly entertaining, for the company around him seemed amused, and Jane's anger returned as she saw Stephen throw back his head and join in the laughter. Even as she watched he held out his hand to Claire, leading her on to the floor as the orchestra went into the strains of a tango.

  They were a striking-looking couple, both tall and dark and both moving with grace. Whatever she had expected him to be Jane had not expected him to be an excellent dancer, believing he would find such a pastime a waste of effort. But an excellent dancer he certainly was, and all eyes were on him and the Spanish-looking beauty in his arms. As the music finished there was a spatter of applause and Claire's head lifted proudly, her hand remaining possessively on his shoulder.

  But her look of pleasure faded as the tend swung into a Paul Jones and within a moment Sir Brian Pendlebury had commandeered her, leaving Stephen to dance with a short fat woman in mauve damask.

  'We can't sit this one out,' Greg Pearson said, and pulled Jane to her feet.

  'But it's a Paul Jones,' she protested. 'We won't be able to—-'

  Her words were cut off as another pair of arms clasped her and she found herself being whirled from one man to another. The music increased in tempo and, pleased at the number of dancers thronging the floor, Dinky Howard signalled the band to keep the Paul Jones going. Jane looked longingly around for the safety of Colin's presence, but he was manfully propelling the mauve damask, and she could not help smiling at the look of painful determination on his face.

  The music changed again and one more pair of arms claimed her. Without even raising her head she knew from the throbbing of her body who it was. She missed a step and stumbled and the arms tightened.

  'So much dancing at such a late hour for such a little girl,' a deep voice said. 'Why is Jane behaving like Janey tonight?'

  She raised her head and looked into Stephen's face. 'The two are not indivisible. I'm Jane and Janey.'

  'Little Miss Muffet and Mata Hari,' he chuckled. 'What's the matter, Jane, have I offended you?'

  'Of course not. Why do you ask?'

  'Because of the way you snubbed me earlier this evening.'

  'I didn't see you.'

  'Rubbish. If I-'

  He stopped as the music changed again and, seeing another man come purposefully towards them, gripped her arm and pulled her through the open glass door directly behind him. St
ill not letting her go, he propelled her along the deck until the ballroom was out of sight and the orchestra merely a throb of sound on the air.

  'What a relief to get into the quiet,' he said, and still not releasing her, leaned against the rail.

  More than ever she was aware of his nearness and of the warmth that emanated from him, the sharp smell of his shaving lotion blending with the aroma of cigar. But beneath it was the vibrant smell of the man himself, the warmth of skin and touch that made her long to rest her body against his. 'What price emancipation for women now?' she thought desperately. One glance from the right man, one touch and all one's desire for freedom was forgotten in the longing to be conquered and taken!

  She tried to pull her hand away from his, but the fluttering of her fingers only made him hold them more tightly.

  'No, you don't,' he said. 'You're not going to run away from me just yet. I want an answer to the question I asked you earlier.'

  'What question?'

  'Why you suddenly froze up on me."

  She debated whether to tell him the truth and decided against it. If he learned the reason for her anger it would not take him long to deduce why she should be so hurt. And she could not bear him to know the truth. Could not bear him to know that she loved him. There, it was out! At last she admitted consciously what she had subconsciously been aware of ever since she had first spoken to him. She loved him. She trembled so violently that she leaned against the rail to steady herself, shivering at its coldness against her arms. How could she love a man she hardly knew? A man so far out of her reach that he might as well be on another planet?

  'Well, Jane?" he said into her ear. 'You still haven't answered my question.'

  'There's nothing - nothing to answer. I'm sorry you should have misjudged my attitude. I was just trying to let you know that it wasn't - it wasn't necessary for you to continue being nice to me.'

  'But I like being nice to you, whether you think it's necessary or not.'

  She did not say anything and continued to look out at the dark sea, the tips of the waves silvered by moonlight. Behind her he moved and the breeze that was gently touching her shoulders was blotted out by the heavier touch of his hands. She shivered and turning protestingly came face to face with him. How different he looked now, his eyes narrow slits, his sunken cheeks giving him a demoniac appearance and his mouth… She had no chance to look at his mouth, for it was suddenly pressed down on hers. There was no chance to draw back, no chance to resist; and she was overcome by an emotion she had never experienced before, half fear, half ecstasy and wholly desirous of surrender.