Antigua Kiss (18 page)

'A valid objection in the case of a youthful infatuation. But I'm not a boy, nor are you a green girl,' Ash reminded her. 'We are both mature, experienced people, capable of making sensible judgments based on practical considerations rather than overheated emotions. I feel the most important factor is that John is going to depend on us for at least the next fourteen years. So from that point of view our lives will be linked anyway.'

'Linked—yes. But what you're suggesting is a legal bond, a life contract. And surely that, without love, could become more like a life sentence?'

Ash shrugged. 'In other periods of history, love was something which developed after marriage—or found expression in discreet extra-marital relationships. Marriage was an essentially practical institution. It's only comparatively recently that people have been brainwashed into believing it must begin with both parties up in the clouds—even if they crash-land in the divorce courts a few years afterwards.'

The warm night wind blew a silky strand of Christie's hair across her cheek. She put up her fingers to stroke it back into place.

She said, 'But although those marriages by arrangement sometimes worked out well, we know from memoirs and biographies that some were intolerably wretched. Not everyone can come to terms with being married to someone they find . . . intensely incompatible.'

'Not everyone, no,' he agreed. 'But when you speak of incompatibility, are you thinking chiefly of the physical side of marriage?'

'Yes . . . yes, I was,' she admitted.

'And does that apply in our case? Do you find me repulsive, Christiana?'

'No, not repulsive—of course not! It's just... oh, you don't understand.'

'Then explain to me,' was his suggestion.

She glanced uneasily round them. There seemed to be no one about, but who knew where their voices might-carry.

'I—I would rather not discuss it here. Just a short while ago I couldn't help overhearing a conversation which wasn't meant for my ears.

Can't we talk about it some other time?'

'I would rather we thrashed it out now. We'll walk on the beach, on the hard sand. We can leave our shoes on the steps. This way.'

He took her hand and led her further along the path until they came to a staircase which led down to the beach.

'What was this conversation you shouldn't have heard?' he enquired at the foot of the flight.

'Nothing sensational. But the people were discussing some others in a way which they wouldn't have done had they realised there was an unwilling eavesdropper near.'

Ash did not press her for details, but took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and spread it on the third step up. 'Sit on that and I'll take off your sandals.'

Christie obeyed, and with surprising dexterity he released the straps from the little gilt buckles. He must have done it before for some other woman. Probably he was adept at undoing all the fastenings on women's clothing from zippers to snap-clips on bras.

She found herself wondering how many women he had made love to since being caught with the assistant matron while still a schoolboy.

Dozens, probably. He knew so much about her sex, and she, in spite of being married, so little of his.

Having placed her sandals side by side, he removed his own lightweight black slip-ons of well-polished leather, and his socks of pale-coloured silk.

'I feel overdressed for a beach walk. You don't mind if I peel off a bit?'

'Not at all. It's a very warm night.' She averted her gaze, but was aware of him loosening the scarf she had given him, and then unbuttoning his jacket. Having folded and placed them by her sandals, he said, 'Okay, let's go.'

They crossed the stretch of yielding sand between the back of the beach and the firmer part by the water.

Reluctant to return to the subject they had been discussing, Christie said, 'It must be nice, swimming by moonlight.'

'But not always advisable. Such accidents as have occurred have generally happened at night. But I daresay some people here will have a dip in the pool before the night's out. The only hazards there are insects.'

They were walking into the breeze. It moulded her dress to her body and lifted her hair off her neck.

'How warm the wind always is here,' she remarked. 'I expect it's perishing in England.'

'Enough of this weather talk, Christiana,' he said dryly. 'We're well out of earshot down here. What was it you were going to explain to me? That I wasn't repulsive to you, but. . . Go on from there.'

She swallowed and took a deep breath, bracing herself for the effort of saying what must be said in the fa£e of his extraordinary proposal.

'But I can never marry anyone because . . . because, however attractive a man is, I don't want that close relationship with him. I ... I suppose you would call me a born celibate.'

He was strolling along with his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

Her admission didn't make him alter his pace. Nor did he glance at her.

'I see,' he said calmly. 'I wondered if that might be the explanation.

You didn't discover this until after you were married, presumably?'

'No, or I should never have married. It lasted such a short time that Mike never found out. It would have been terrible if he had.'

'It must have been bad as things were—for you,' he said shrewdly.

'It wasn't. . . easy,' she admitted.

'Either you must be an excellent actress, or your husband must have been remarkably unobservant. I should know if a women in my bed was gritting her teeth.'

His sardonic tone made her say, 'Mike hadn't your vast experience. I suppose he had had other girls, but not very many. He wasn't much older than I, and he went in for sport, not womanising.'

'Has it ever occurred to you that you might have had a more satisfactory relationship with someone of your own sex?'

'Oh, no—no, never!' she exclaimed vehemently. 'There was a woman at school once who confided that she . . . who thought I . . . but no, I know I should find that equally unacceptable.'

'So now you've got off your chest what I'd suspected all along,' he remarked, in an equable tone. 'But I don't see it as an insuperable obstacle to a marriage between us. I told you I should like a son, and I find John an adequate substitute. As for my other needs, I've had no problems up to now, and expect to have none in future. I should have to be a good deal more circumspect, but that's not impossible.'

'You're suggesting that we should marry and you should go on . . .

having mistresses?'

'Why should you mind? If you don't want to sleep with me? Jealousy springs from possessiveness, and you and I would not possess each other. Ours would be a marriage of companionship and shared endeavours. I think it could work out splendidly. If, after a time, you decided you wanted more children, it might be possible to achieve that by scientific means rather than the usual ones.'

He stopped walking and turned to face her, his bare chest and shoulders like sculpted bronze in the moonlight.

'People aren't all of a piece. We don't have to conform to a pattern laid down by others. Nowadays anything goes. Men live together.

Women live together. Men and women live together and few people think less of them because they don't have official permission to do so. Live and let live is the new watchword. If what I'm suggesting suits us, we shouldn't be influenced by what anyone else might think of our arrangement. If they knew, which of course they wouldn't.'

'I don't know, Ash ... I don't know,' Christie murmured, in helpless confusion. 'It seems so . . . cold-blooded . . . unnatural.'

'There's nothing cold-blooded about friendship. That's what it would be—a close friendship.'

He took her slim hands and held them firmly in his. 'If you have some doubts about throwing in your lot with a charter skipper, you needn't worry about my solvency. I've worked hard and made a lot of money, and Antigua is a place where a man can keep most of what he earns.

Also, some years ago I took the advice of a knowledgeable passenger—the only advice worth having is from people who are rich themselves—and invested my funds in Mexico, at a very favourable rate of interest. If you marry me, we shall have a joint bank account, and joint title to all my assets.'

'I'm not concerned about those things. I have my own career to fall back on. It's the personal side which disturbs me. May I . . . may I ask you something very personal?'

'Go ahead. People who are contemplating marriage should be able to discuss anything and everything with each other.'

'Are you and Bettina Long lovers?'

'We were at one time,' he answered. 'Not since I came back from London.'

'You haven't stayed at her cottage since John and I came to the Colony?'

'No, I haven't. What made you think so?'

'That first morning we met on the beach. I assumed you'd spent the night with her.'

'Did you indeed? Did that supposition account for the coolness I detected in your manner?'

'Not entirely. You made me nervous—you still do at times. I suspect that you do it deliberately.'

'Such as kissing you tonight under the mistletoe? But I didn't know then that you disliked physical contacts. Do you find even this unpleasant?'— swinging her hands to and fro.

'No, I don't mind being touched in a friendly way. I don't even dislike being kissed. If I had I should never have reached the point of getting married.'

'It's when the kissing leads on to other caresses that you take fright and freeze—is that it?'

There was no derision in his voice. His tone reminded her of the detached kindliness with which doctors questioned patients about symptoms.

'Yes, that's it,' she said, very low, avoiding his eyes and fixing her gaze on his chest.

He was not as hairy as her husband. Mike had had a thick mat of coarse curls all over his chest and stomach. In spite of playing rugger every Saturday, he had also had the beginning of a beer-drinker's belly.

There was little or no hair on Ash's chest, and none on his flat hard midriff. His only visible body hair was on his sinewy forearms and long muscular legs.

He said, 'I take it there's nothing in your background which could account for your aversion? You were never frightened as a child?

You didn't find out about sex in an off-putting way?'

'No, never . . . there was nothing like that. My mother gave me a book which made it sound rather peculiar, but not in any way unpleasant.'

'She didn't tell you herself? But that's not so unusual, I suppose. Do you think your parents were happy together?'

'Yes, very happy. I know that. My father adored her, and missed her for the rest of his life.'

'She died some time before he did?'

'Yes. She'd been a semi-invalid as far back as I can remember, and she died when I was thirteen. He lived without her for seven years, and never considered remarrying although he was very good-looking, and several women we knew would have liked to marry him.'

Ash had let go of her hands. As they turned back to walk in the direction of the Hathaways' garden, Christie went on, 'I'm sure there's no psychological reason for the way I am. I was born asexual, that's all.'

'It would seem so—yes. It doesn't change anything as far as I'm concerned. You'll make me a very capable and decorative wife, and I'll do my best to be a considerate husband and generous provider.'

'But Ash, supposing that one day you fall in love—really in love.

Then you won't want to be tied down to a loveless marriage.'

'In nine cases out often, falling in love is a matter of physical desire which quickly wears off once it's satisfied. If I wanted a woman, and she was willing, I should take her. I shouldn't break up my home for her. Haven't you noticed? Men don't.'

'Not very many,' she agreed, thinking of the women she had known who had fallen for men whose wives didn't understand them, but who nevertheless seemed to have an unbreakable hold on them.

'I gave you time to think over my last proposition, and you've made up your mind well in advance of my deadline,' he said, as they reached the stone steps.

'This time I want a quick decision. I'd like to know by tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow!' she gasped. 'But this is a
much
harder decision. I can't make my mind up overnight.'

'Certainly you can. You may not get a lot of sleep, but if I allow you to mull it over for several days, you'll become more uncertain, not less so.'

Ash bent to pick up his coat. Shrugging into it, fastening the buttons, he met her worried grey gaze with a calm, steady look.

'The big decision, Christiana, was to throw up your safe job and stay here. Having made up your mind to that, I'm sure you'll have the courage to take this plunge,' he said casually.

She stepped into her sandals and fastened them while he was replacing his scarf.

'You didn't explain why it ended—your affair with Bettina,' she said.

'For the reason that all such things end. We grew bored with each other.'

You mean you grew bored, was her thought. Aloud, she asked, 'Does she know? That it's over, I mean?'

'Naturally. It ended by mutual consent. We aren't an embarrassment to our friends, like people who break up fighting. Bettina is on the look-out for a rich husband. She makes no bones about it. I was merely a brief diversion,' he added, with a shrug.

But although he made it sound as if the affair had ended on Bettina's initiative, Christie wasn't convinced of the truth of this. If it were the case, why had the man called Bill remarked on the sultry looks he had seen her throw in Ash's direction?

They walked back through the night-scented garden and, although he was half a pace behind her, his tall shadow stretched ahead of hers on the path.

Several people observed their return—Bettina, Ian Scott, Miranda.

Bettina was sitting between two men who were talking to each other across her. She was smoking and looking bored, until she saw Ash coming back and began to watch her companions, as if whatever they were saying was amusing and included her. Christie felt very sorry for her if, not meaning to, she had lost her heart to Ash and didn't wish to be jettisoned.