Tower of Shadows (23 page)

hands. She didn't need the house, or its memories. When she came

to France, in future, she could stay with her father.

Gaston needed her. Their relationship had to be nurtured —the

healing process encouraged. Perhaps, in time, his wish to

acknowledge her as his child — already an open secret in the

locality — could be fulfilled. But not yet. They had a long way to

go before that could happen.

The wedding party was in full swing when she arrived back at the

chateau. Music and laughter was spilling from the grand chamber.

Exuberant groups of guests were dancing on the terrace in the

evening light.

Sabine pinned on a resolute smile and joined them. Gaston was

occupying a high-backed chair in the place of honour, and she

went to stand beside him, watching Marie-Christine, the skirts of

her dress looped over her arm, being whirled round the floor by

Jacques.

'Where have you been, little one?' His eyes searched her face. 'I

was concerned.'

'I had one or two things to see to,' she returned lightly.

The dancing had stopped momentarily, and a space had been

cleared round the happy couple. One of the men was passing round

a big china bowl into which money was being thrown, and as

Sabine watched Marie-Christine began, with raucous and

vociferous encouragement from the men, to lift her skirt demurely

and reveal more and more of one shapely leg.

'They are paying to see the bridal garter,' Gaston explained with

amusement. 'But watch. . .'

The basin went round again, and this time it was the laughing

women guests who were contributing, with squeals of mock

protest, urging Marie-Christine to lower her skirt again.

'The prettier the bride, the more money goes into the bowl,' said

Gaston. 'The men pay to look. Their wives pay to stop them.'

'I can imagine,' Sabine commented drily.

Everyone was in a circle now, dancing to a rollicking tune played

by the small band, and changing partners. One of the younger men

charged up to Sabine and pulled her into the circle. She didn't

know the steps, but it didn't seem to matter. She found herself

dancing with Jacques. Grinning, he swung her round, almost

lifting her off her feet.

'Bonne chance,''
he called out, pushing her, breathless and giddy,

towards her next partner.

Gasping, Sabine found herself in other arms, steadied by another

body. She opened dazed eyes and looked up into Rohan's face.

Music, voices, laughter faded into some void.

She said his name, and her voice cracked.

The tempo around them had changed to a waltz. His arms held her

closely, guiding her to the rhythm of the music. Her throat was

dry. She said, 'I didn't think you'd be here.'

'I didn't intend to come. But I owed it to Jacques and Marie-

Christine. They're friends of mine.'

She was silent for a moment, then, 'They tell me you're living at

Arrancay now,' she ventured.

'Yes.' His tone told her nothing.

Her eyes searched the dark enigma of his face. She said in a low

voice, 'I thought you wanted La Tour Monchauzet.'

'I know what you thought.' His voice was savagely derisive. 'But

you were wrong.'

She flushed. 'I know that too.'

'Bravo.
And that, of course, makes everything fine.'

'No,' Sabine said wretchedly. 'I'm not stupid enough to think that.

But I want you to know that—I'm sorry.'

He shook his head. 'I was wrong too when I thought you needed

my protection. You didn't. You're a real de Rochefort, my

beautiful Sabine. You hardly had to learn a thing. Like the rest of

the family, you assumed I was for sale. That my greed for this

house —this vineyard was all that mattered to me.'

'You told my father who I was,' she argued defensively. 'Why —if

you didn't want him to claim me—to make me his heir?' Her eyes

were enormous as she stared up at him.

His arms tightened round her almost painfully. 'I thought he had a

right to know, but I didn't want you to be told, not immediately. I

said that I was going to take you away to Arrancay with me —and

keep you there away from all the bitterness and the lies. I wanted

to maintain the fiction that you were Fabien's daughter—until we

were married at least, and I felt you were safe enough—secure

enough in my love to be able to face the real truth. Gaston agreed,

reluctantly. He also had —ground to prepare. Unfortunately Tante

Heloise had heard us talking, and decided to intervene. She ruined

everything.'

She said in a small voice, 'She told me that you only cared for the

vines. That you'd have married Antoinette to possess them. She—

wasn't the only one.'

'She was obsessed with Antoinette.' Rohan was dismissive. 'In her

mind, she'd twisted her into the daughter she and Gaston never

had. And she was determined that I was going to fall in love with

the girl. I couldn't convince her that it would never happen,

although God knows I tried —with both of them.'

'But you loved the vineyard here —you were so proud of it.'

'I was just a caretaker, until my successor could be trained,' he said

more gently. 'I looked after the vines here for Fabien's sake, that's

all, because he asked me to. But I never wanted it for myself, in

spite of what everyone thought. And in spite of all the inducements

I was offered to stay.' His mouth twisted. 'You, of course, were the

final one —the one your father thought I would be unable to resist.

I'd forgotten his passion for manipulation.'

She stared up at him. 'You'd still have refused?'

'Naturally.' Rohan looked down his nose at her. 'I don't need to

marry an heiress,
ma belle.
Like you, I had my own life to return

to, and I couldn't wait. My God, I'd even told my grandfather that I

was coming home — and bringing my future bride.'

'Why didn't you tell me all this —at the time?'

'I was going to,' he said. 'But before I could say anything I

discovered suddenly that I'd meant nothing to you but an

unimportant little romantic adventure,' he added bitterly. 'After that

no explanations seemed warranted.'

Sabine winced, biting her lip. 'Rohan —I. . .'

'Oh, I knew you'd be deeply disturbed by everything that had

happened,' he went on, unheeding of her faltering intervention. 'I

expected that. But I thought you'd turn to me for comfort —for

reassurance. Once we were at Arrancay together, I thought we'd be

able to talk it out —decide what was best for the future. Only you

made it clear that we had no future.'

He shook his head again. 'I think that was the worst moment of my

life, even worse than realising that poor Heloise had gone after you

—and how near the edge she really was.'

'I was near the edge too,' Sabine said quietly. 'I'd had one ghastly

shock after another.' A little sob rose in her throat. 'Oh, I know I

should nave trusted you — had faith in you — and not listened to

other people. But it had all happened so quickly —and I knew so

little about you—except that I'd fallen in love with you.'

'I thought that was enough,' he said. 'It was for me. But it was

foolish — unreasonable of me to expect. . .' He gave a quick, sharp

sigh. 'But why speak of it? It's over now. And I shan't make the

same mistake again.'

The last tiny flicker of hope seemed to die inside her, and as it did

all the lights in the grand chamber went out. The music faded in

discord, and squeals and shouts resounded from all over the room.

'What is it?' Sabine managed to ask past the paralysing constriction

in her throat. 'Has—has there been a power failure?'

'A deliberate one,' Rohan returned. 'This is the moment when the

bride and groom slip off to their chosen hideaway for a little

privacy. Until the
tourain
reaches them, of course.'

'Are they always found?'

'Not always. It takes a long time to visit every house in the

neighbourhood —and enjoy some hospitality while one is there.'

The lights came on again, and, laughing and jostling, the guests

began to stream towards the door.

'Come on,' someone shouted. 'They'll be at Jacques's brother's

farm.'

Sabine found herself travelling in the same direction, Rohan's arm

firmly round her shoulders. She tried to hang back. 'No.' But

Rohan's arm was like a steel band round her waist, half lifting her

from her feet, and carrying her inexorably to the door.

'I don't want to find them,' she protested. 'I want them to have

some privacy.'

'Quite right,' Rohan approved. People ran past them, whooping

joyously, making for the cars parked outside the main entrance.

The night air was filled with the blare of motor horns, as the hunt

moved off. 'I think we should have some privacy ourselves.'

He opened the door of his own car, and deposited Sabine in a heap

on the passenger-seat. By the time she'd sat up and pushed the

dishevelled hair out of her eyes he was behind the wheel, and the

car was moving forward.

'What have you been doing with yourself in England?' he shot at

her in disapproval, before she could speak. 'Starving for decent

food and wine? I can count your bones through your skin.'

'That's none of your business,' she said, off the top of her voice.

'Don't be stupid,' he said reasonably. 'My wife's health and welfare

is of major concern to me.'

Her heart began to thump very slowly and painfully. 'I thought you

weren't going to make the same mistake again.'

'I'm not,' he said. 'By the time we're married, you will know me as

well as you know yourself. There'll be no room for doubts or

mistrust ever again.' His smile was crooked. 'Agreed?'

'Yes,' she whispered. She could feel tears of pure joy welling up

from the tightness in her chest. 'Rohan—where are we going? Not

—not to Les Hiboux, I hope.'

He burst out laughing. 'Is that where the newly-weds have found

sanctuary? Well, no one will look for them there — least of all

myself. I wish them a night as perfect as ours,
mon amour.
No, I'm

taking you to Arrancay, as I originally planned. Grandfather is still

waiting patiently to meet you.'

'But shouldn't we have told someone?' Sabine began to fumble

with the seatbelt. 'I have a hotel room reserved. And there's my

father. . .'

'Gaston has phoned the hotel,' he said. 'Exactly as he phoned me

last night, and told me to come to the wedding.' He paused. 'He

was—very persuasive.'

'Oh.' Sabine abandoned the seatbelt, and sat up indignantly. 'I

thought he'd stopped manipulating people. What did he say to

you?'

'He said that you looked like a little ghost, and tried not to mention

my name. He said it was clear to him you were pining away, and

that you could only be saved if I took you away and made love to

you for the rest of our lives.' He pulled the car into the side of the

road, and stopped the engine. 'Perhaps I should start here and now

by kissing you.'

Effortlessly, he released the recalcitrant belt and drew her into his

arms.

'Oh, yes,' she whispered eagerly, as he bent towards her. 'Oh,

Rohan —please—yes. . .'

And, after that, words were no longer necessary for either of them.

Welcome to Europe

PERIGORD

The rolling countryside, meandering rivers and unspoilt medieval

towns of the Perigord provide a charming atmosphere for modern-

day lovers. Its sumptuous food and wine make it the ideal location

for intimate candlelit dinners, while its stunning views are sure to