Bride of Desire (14 page)

 
Then he took her hand, and led her into the house.

 
She found herself in a huge kitchen, with a long table at its centre. A tall white-haired man was busying himself at the range with a kettle as they came in, and the two dogs of indeterminate breed who were lying beside him looked up, thumped feathery tails on the rug, then relapsed into doing very little again.

 
The man turned, and Allie found herself being studied by shrewd blue eyes under bushy eyebrows.

 
He said, ‘So, Remy, who is this lovely girl you have brought to brighten our morning?’

 
‘I wish you to meet Alys, Grandpère. She is Celine Vaillac’s granddaughter. Ma mie, this is my grandfather, Georges de Brizat.’

 
‘But of course.’ The rather stern mouth softened into a warm smile. ‘I was foolish not to have known at once. You are very like her, mademoiselle.’

 
And you, she thought. One look at you, and I know exactly what Remy will be like as he grows old.

 
And she felt pain slash at her as she realised she would not be there to see him…

 
Oh, God, she thought, this is all so wrong. I shouldn’t even be here now. The whole situation’s getting out of hand.

 
But she recovered herself instantly, shook hands, murmuring a polite greeting, and sat at the table to be served with warm rolls, cherry jam, and large bowls of hot chocolate.

 
‘Where is Papa?’ Remy asked.

 
‘The Richaud baby. They telephoned at dawn after the first contraction, I think.’

 
‘Well, it is understandable,’ Remy said tolerantly. ‘After four girls, Richaud is desperate for a boy.’ He grinned. ‘It has become a matter of public concern, Alys. They have been laying odds in the Café des Sports.’

 
Her mouth was suddenly bone-dry. ‘Poor woman—to have so much expected of her,’ she managed, and gulped some of her chocolate.

 
Georges de Brizat came and sat at the head of the table, followed hopefully by the dogs. He gave Allie another thoughtful look. ‘You are staying with Madame Colville, mademoiselle? She is well, I hope.’

 
‘Absolutely fine.’ She forced a smile.

 
‘Good.’ His nod was faintly abstracted. ‘Good. You will tell her I was asking about her? Also, give her my best wishes?’

 
‘Yes—yes, of course.’

 
‘We knew each other many years ago, during the bad years of the Occupation. She and her sister were brave girls. Brave and very beautiful.’ He paused. ‘They had happy lives—with their Englishmen?’

 
‘Yes,’ Allie returned, faintly surprised. ‘Very happy.’

 
He nodded again, then applied himself to his breakfast.

 
One of the dogs came and laid a chin on her leg, and she stroked his silky head and fondled his ears, before slipping him a morsel of bread and jam, while Remy watched her with such tender amusement that she wanted to get up from her chair, and go round the table into his arms, to remain there for ever.

 
But he was getting briskly to his feet. ‘I must go and shower. Get ready for work.’ As he passed his grandfather’s chair, he dropped a hand on the old man’s shoulder. ‘Be gentle with Alys, Grandpère. No Resistance-style interrogation, s’il te plaît.’

 
When they were alone, Dr de Brizat cleared his throat. ‘Remy likes his joke, Mademoiselle Alys. But a beautiful girl at the breakfast table is a rarity in this house, so I am bound to be intrigued. How did you meet my grandson?’

 
Allie carefully added butter and jam to her remaining fragment of roll. ‘I was on the beach below Les Sables. Remy warned me about the tide, but I stupidly took no notice, so he—came back for me.’

 
‘He behaved with great wisdom,’ said his grandfather. ‘You are planning a lengthy visit to Madame Colville?’

 
She flushed. ‘I’m not altogether sure of my plans—at the moment.’

 
She was bracing herself for more questions, when the rear door opened, and a voice called, ‘Remy? Tu es là?’ Solange Geran walked into the kitchen. She presented a more muted appearance this morning, in denim jeans and a matching shirt, her hair pulled back from her face.

 
She checked when she saw Allie, looking thunderstruck. ‘You?’ Her tone was less than friendly. ‘What are you doing here?’

 
Georges de Brizat got politely to his feet. ‘Bonjour, Solange. As you see, we have a guest for breakfast.’ He added mildly, ‘I hope you have no objection?’

 
‘Why, no. I mean—how could I?’ The girl gave a swift trill of laughter. ‘How absurd. It was just—a surprise to see Mademoiselle Colville again—so soon.’ She glanced around. ‘But where is Remy?’

 
‘Taking a shower,’ his grandfather returned. ‘May I pass on some message?’

 
‘No, thank you.’

 
‘You are quite sure? It must have been a matter of some urgency to bring you here at such an hour.’

 
The pretty mouth was sulky. ‘It is my mother,’ she said. ‘The trouble with her knee. She complains that she hardly slept last night. I hoped that Remy would call at the farm on his way to Ignac.’

 
‘I regret that will not be possible, as he will be driving Mademoiselle Alys to Les Sables before going to work.’ He added tranquilly, ‘But if you bring your mother to the medical centre later in the morning, he can examine her there.’

 
‘Since my father’s death, my mother rarely leaves the house.’

 
Monsieur de Brizat shrugged. ‘Then, instead, I will request my son to pay her a visit once he returns from the Richauds’.’ His tone was dry. ‘He used to attend madame, so he is well acquainted with the case.’

 
In spite of her embarrassment, Allie had to stifle a giggle. Game, set and match to Dr Georges, she thought.

 
Solange’s face was like a mask. She said stiffly, ‘That is—kind. I shall tell Maman to expect him.’

 
‘D’accord.’ He waited for a moment as she stood irresolute. ‘There was something else, perhaps?’

 
‘No, no.’ It was Solange’s turn to shrug. ‘At least—just a matter of some curtain fabric. But that can wait for another time. When Remy is not quite so—occupied.’ She looked at Allie, a faintly metallic note creeping into her voice. ‘Au revoir, mademoiselle. I am sure we shall meet again—soon.’

 
‘I look forward to it,’ Allie responded, without an atom of sincerity.

 
A thoughtful silence followed Solange’s departure.

 
Allie drew a breath. ‘I seem to be in the middle of some kind of situation here. Please believe I—I didn’t know.’

 
‘You are sure there is anything to know?’ Dr de Brizat sighed a little. ‘Like all the Gerans, Solange is industrious, ambitious, and single-minded. She has a mother who is a trial, and she does not intend to spend her entire life cleaning cottages for tourists.’ He paused. ‘But any plans she is making for the future are hers alone.’

 
His sudden smile was mischievous. ‘Let me assure you also, ma petite, that she has never been asked to breakfast.’

 
But that, thought Allie, reluctantly returning his smile, does not make me feel any better about all this.

 
Remy came striding in, tucking a grey and white striped shirt into charcoal pants, his dark hair still damp from the shower.

 
Allie was sharply aware of the scent of soap he brought with him, mixed with the faint fragrance of some musky aftershave, and was ashamed to feel her body clench in sheer longing.

 
He snatched car keys from a bowl on the huge built-in dresser that filled one wall, then reached for Allie’s hand, pulling her to her feet. ‘Viens, chérie.’

 
She managed to throw a hasty au revoir over her shoulder to his grandfather, and heard him reply, ‘A bient&frac;t, Mademoiselle Alys.’ Which meant that he expected to see her again, she thought, as Remy whisked her into the Jeep and started the engine.

 
She said breathlessly, ‘Do you live your entire life at this speed?’

 
‘No.’ The smile he slanted at her was wicked. ‘There are times, mon ange, when I like to take things very slowly indeed. You would like me to demonstrate?’

 
‘Not,’ she said, struggling not to laugh, ‘in a moving Jeep, monsieur, je t’en prie.’

 
He gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Eh, bien, chérie, tu as raison, peut-être.’

 
There was a brief silence, and when he spoke again his voice was quiet and infinitely serious, ‘But I am beginning to question, Alys, how long I can exist without you, and that is the truth.’

 
She felt a tide of heat sweep through her body, leaving behind it an ache beyond remedy. ‘Remy—this isn’t easy for me.’

 
‘And you think it is for me?’ His laugh was almost bitter. ‘That I expected to feel like this—to know how completely my life has changed in so short a time? That I even wished it, when a few days ago I was not even aware of your existence? No, mon amour, and no.’

 
The passion in his tone almost scared her, and Allie bent her head. She said half to herself, ‘Oh, God, I shouldn’t have come here…’

 
‘Do not say so.’ His voice hardened. ‘Do not ever say that, mon coeur, because without you I would be only half alive.’

 
He reached out a hand, resting it on her bare leg, just above the knee, and she covered it with both her own, feeling the reassurance of its warmth as they drove in silence back to Les Sables.

 
When they reached the house, Remy switched off the engine, then turned to her, drawing her into his arms. He looked down at her for a long moment, before taking her mouth with his, kissing her with a thoroughness and frank expertise that left her dizzied and gasping for breath, her hands clutching the front of his shirt as if it was her last hold on sanity.

 
‘Remy…’ His name was a croak.

 
‘I need the taste of you, mon ange.’ His own breathing was ragged. ‘To carry with me through the day.’ He detached one of the clinging hands and carried it to his lips. ‘I will see you tonight? You will have dinner with me?’

 
She nodded almost numbly, then got out of the Jeep, shading her eyes from the morning sun as she watched him drive away.

 
Tante was sitting at the kitchen table, reading her letters, as Allie came into the house. Her calm gaze assimilated the dishevelled hair, the wild rose flush and the faintly swollen mouth, but she made no comment.

 
‘The coffee is fresh, dear child, if you would like some.’

 
‘I—I had breakfast at Trehel.’

 
The older woman nodded drily. ‘So Georges de Brizat told me on the telephone.’ She paused. ‘Your little web of untruth is spreading dangerously wide, ma mie. How long before it breaks, I ask myself?’

 
Allie sat down at the table, staring down at the oilcloth, tracing its pattern with a finger. She said in a low voice, ‘I know I have to tell him, Tante Madelon, and I will—soon. I promise. But…’