by Dix, Isabel
`Oh!' Wild thoughts were running through her head. She was remembering what Francoise had told her. Was it never to end, this nightmare? She heard the deep
voice continuing, tried to concentrate her mind on the meaning of his words.
`Besides, there was also the possibility that Madame might do you some injury. If she had guessed or even suspected what was planned there's no knowing what action she might have taken. This obsession with the family, the line of the Savoney-Morlets, although it's all nonsense, she's completely ensnared in her own web. She and practically all those who imagine they owe their loyalty to the château.' His mouth was a grim line when he finished speaking and he stood looking down at Kate almost as if he didn't see her. Then he relaxed, his shoulders moved in a faint gesture of dismissal. `Ah well, perhaps we should not judge her too harshly. She had some terrible experiences in the war. You know the hills and woods around the château were a centre for the Maquis and there was a terrible battle between them and the Germans in which Madame lost two cousins. And her brother, who was pursued to the house and shot down in front of her.' Without seeming to notice Kate's shiver he went on, 'There were rumours that they had been betrayed by a careless radio message from London. Since then . . .' again he shrugged, `. . . who knows, it might explain her fanatical love of France, her hatred for foreigners. Perhaps she was so before.'
There was a long silence when there seemed nothing to say, but in fact Kate had barely understood his explanations. Later the time would come for that, perhaps even for pity, but now her mind was occupied with other, more desolate thoughts. What more sensible, more natural for a man with the pride of the Savoney Morlets than to ensure that any tainted blood, any
suspect heredity should be frustrated, denied? A tiny protesting moan escaped her lips as she recognised that his long explanation did little except to confirm what she had been told.
But then his hands, beguiling, irresistible, came out again to catch hers, to pull her towards him. The beautiful eyes were shadowy with longing as she looked up into that beloved face, saw the lips frame words that she could hardly understand. 'Now all I want to know, Kate, is that you'll stay with me. Even though I know you hate the name of Savoney-Morlet. If you wish it, ma petite, then perhaps we can think of changing it. There is always Saint Cyr.'
But Kate hardly noticed his later words, all her thoughts were concentrated on his first words. 'You want me to stay here. To be your mistress . .
`Kate! Kate!' Shaking her very gently, he laughed down into her perplexed face. 'Kate, ma petite, you are my wife. Had you forgotten? However it came about that is the truth of the matter. And,' his face grew serious, intense, 'what happened last night, on that bed, was no casual encounter—not for you, not for me. It was something inevitable. No matter how I tried to assure you that it would not. My longing for you, these circumstances where you were my wife and yet I had none of a husband's privileges—all that was driving me mad. You see, Kate, that first moment when I raised the veil to look into your face, I knew that I had met the woman I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. Can you imagine the torment of it!' He shuddered and put a hand briefly to his eyes.
`Then it wasn't . . .' She bit her lip, unable to speak the words.
`What, my sweet . . .?'
Still she hesitated, remembering what Francoise had told her and remembering now with awful clarity Charles's reaction that day by the pool when he had thought she was pregnant. Could his anger have been a result of the frustration of his plans? She could bear the uncertainty no longer and the words tumbled from her mouth. Trancoise told me you would go to any lengths to ensure that your son would inherit the chateau. Even if Antoine thought it was his son.'
He said a word Kate didn't understand but she knew that he was being uncomplimentary to Francoise. 'Do you believe that, Kate?'
`I . . . I don't know.'
`You ought to know.' The little sigh he gave told her he was disappointed. Then, 'But why do I say that? Why should you know what to believe after what you've been through? If I tell you that the thought had never crossed my mind would you believe me?'
`If you say so, Charles.' It was her turn to sigh just a little. 'But your aunt . . . You said . . . You and she . . . You said that you had agreed to marry me for a consideration.' Her eyes searched his face.
`Yes, Kate.' His expression was very sober as he answered. 'I told you that—and I'm sorry. There was a certain amount of truth in it. But when I told you, I was trying to remind myself of the original reasons for the marriage, the sense that I would be able to repay her by helping Antoine to break free. She did use a little bit of bribery as a means of persuading me and I pretended to take the bait. But afterwards, when I had seen you, Kate, and even more when I got to know you just a little, I felt ashamed of what I had done. But yet
I couldn't regret it. Never, never could I regret . .
`Oh, Charles !' Scarcely able to bear the suffusion of happiness that swept through her, she leaned her head against his chest, hearing just beneath her face the firm steady beating of his heart. She spread her fingers wide on the smooth cotton shirt, feeling the muscular contours of his body. 'And Francoise . . .' It was almost the very last little query at the back of her mind, although it seemed supremely unimportant now.
. . You and she?'
`She and I . . .' there was laughter in his voice as he paraphrased her words, . . never were what you were thinking. Her father was my best friend and I owe him a great deal, but that does not include taking on his daughter. He understood very well that she has serious problems and before he died he asked me to keep an eye on her. I've done that for the last five years, but now I think she's old enough to go her own way. Anyway, like most people she only takes the advice she wants to hear.'
`She's in love with you.'
`I doubt it. She likes changes, and as I've never had the inclination to be one of a long line of lovers she may feel frustrated. If I had been willing I'm sure she would have tired of me long ago.'
`And Auriol?' Some final little prick of jealousy made her mention the name of the beautiful model in the photograph downstairs. 'Were you and she . .
`Never.' His mouth came down and brushed the top of her head. 'Never, my sweet. I don't think her husband would have liked it.'
Her husband. It was strange that it had never occurred to Kate that Auriol might be married. And yet
what could be more natural? She might have spared herself all those tortured jealous longings, about both Francoise and Auriol. She gave a little sigh and raised her face to his, her heart responding with a bound to the spark of knowing amusement she saw in his eyes. `Charles, why? It's all been so strange, so incredible. Why? Why?'
`That I can't tell you, Kate. I can hardly forgive myself.' He shook his head and the dark eyes fringed with ridiculously long lashes lingered over her face. 'And yet if I hadn't we might never have met. Perhaps it was all deviously planned by fate to bring us together.' As he spoke his lips brushed against hers, tantalising, his hand moved to the tempestuous beat of her heart. Her arms crept round his neck, her long fingers entwined themselves in the dark hair, her lips parted beneath his searching, persuasive mouth.
`Kate.' It was a groan as his mouth moved along her cheek.
`Mmm!' She was too languorous with longing for him to speak.
`There's something more I have to tell you.' Her hands moving over his chest were all at once still, her voice faint with apprehension.
`Yes?'
`I have just been on the telephone—that is what took me so long. I've been speaking to your mother.'
`You . . . you've what?'
`I rang her to say that we are married. She and Andrew have been back in New York for nearly a week.' He held her away from him and his expression as he looked down at her was faintly reproving.
`Oh?'
`I told her that we would be flying out there very soon and that we would be going on to Bali, for a delayed honeymoon. I hope,' his voic
e was deep and tender, 'I hope, ma petite, that you'll agree to go with me.'
Kate smiled mysteriously as she looked up at him. `Have I any choice?' she asked dreamily.
Not really.' Charles's arms folded tightly about her. `I believe neither of us has had any choice in what has happened. But now I think,' he spoke slowly while his eyes moved tantalisingly over her face, 'I think that the tidying up is going to have to wait just a little longer . . .' And his mouth came down towards hers with such fierce possessiveness that she melted willingly, pliantly against him. 'There are,' and his voice had grown husky with emotion, 'so many other exciting things to do. My Kate.'