“Are you quite certain that you should not wear your dark glasses?” she asked. “After all the lights are very bright in the Saloon.”
“I will let you into a secret,” Mr. Thorpe said. “I could have dispensed with them two days ago and certainly yesterday, but I had my reasons for remaining as I was.”
She was certain that this had something to do with his reluctance to talk about why he was pursuing the Russian criminal and also why he was writing to somebody called ‘Edward’ in code.
She was afraid that he would think it impertinent if she questioned him and instead she followed him across the cabin and he opened the door for her to pass through it ahead of him.
They went down to the Dining Saloon and, as Mr. Thorpe had anticipated, it caused quite a commotion when they appeared together.
A number of people sitting at the tables stopped talking to turn their heads and look at them.
Then, as soon as they were seated at a table for two in a better position than the one she had occupied alone, a buzz of conversation started up which could only be about them.
Mr. Thorpe, or rather Jenkins, had obviously ordered a different dinner from what was being served to the other diners and it was not only delicious but, Crisa knew, French cooking at its best.
There were different wines to drink with each course and, although she took only a sip of each one, she realised that they were exceptional and she was certain were kept only for very special passengers.
Crisa, sitting opposite this fascinating handsome man, was very aware that his dark eyes were looking at her in a manner that made her feel shy.
Simultaneously it made her heart beat in a very strange way in her breast.
Although they chatted on many interesting subjects, each one seemed to concern her and become in a way personal.
She knew because he looked so distinguished and so outstanding amongst the Frenchmen that the glamorous and chic Frenchwomen were looking at him from under their eyelashes with what was obviously an invitation in their eyes.
‘He is mine – mine!’ Crisa wanted to say.
Then, as if a cold hand touched her heart, she remembered that there were only three more days before the voyage came to an end and she would never see him again.
For the first time since she had thought of running away, the idea of living alone with Nanny at The Manor did not seem as attractive as it had.
It was with an effort that she forced away a question as to what would happen in the future and concentrated on being with Mr. Thorpe at the moment.
She felt able to read his thoughts, not only by watching the movement of his mouth but also seeing them in his eyes, as she had been unable to do in the past.
As they were finishing, a number of the diners left the Saloon to go to where there was dancing and Mr. Thorpe said,
“Another night I am going to ask you to dance with me, but I think that you have been through enough for one day and you should go to bed and rest.”
The words trembled on Crisa’s lips that she did not want to leave him.
Then she told herself that would be a very forward thing to say and, if anyone should rest, it was he.
“I am sure you should not dance until your arm is completely healed,” she replied, “and you are no longer wearing a sling.”
“As it is my left arm that is affected,” Mr. Thorpe replied, “I can hold you quite competently with my right and I have every intention of dancing, unless, of course, you refuse me.”
“You know I would not do that.”
“Why not?”
It was a question that she felt had an inner meaning and because once again she was shy, she looked away from him and said,
“I am sure you are right and – we should have an early night.”
She rose as she spoke and walked ahead of Mr. Thorpe, who followed her from the Dining Saloon.
They walked to the door of his State room and here Crisa paused, saying,
“I want to thank you for a most delightful dinner, which was very different from when I was eating alone!”
Mr. Thorpe was unlocking the door and now, as it opened, he said,
“I have something to show you.”
Crisa followed him into the State room and he closed the door behind her.
There was still only the one light burning as it had been before she went down to dinner.
Just for a moment she thought of how earlier in the day, Kermynski’s body had been lying motionless on the floor after she had shot him, with Mr. Thorpe sitting helplessly in his chair but now saved from being mutilated by the knife the criminal still held in his hand.
Then, as the thoughts flashed in her mind, Mr. Thorpe came up behind her and, putting his hands on her shoulders, turned her to face him.
“Stop thinking about it, Crisa,” he said. “It is all over and now we can think about ourselves.”
She looked up at him, aware that his voice was very deep and in a way strange.
Then, as her eyes met his, she was held spellbound by the expression in them.
“As I told you earlier this evening,” Mr. Thorpe said, “I am very glad to be alive and the best way I can express my gladness is this – ”
He pulled her against him as he spoke and, before she could realise what he meant to do, his lips came down on hers.
For a moment she could hardly believe it was happening.
Then the love she had admitted to herself she had for him seemed to leap like a wave from her heart to his.
He kissed her at first gently, almost tenderly.
Then, as he felt the softness and innocence of her lips, his kiss became more insistent, more demanding.
He kissed her until Crisa felt as if they were no longer on the Liner, but flying over the waves and rising into the starlit sky.
It was so perfect, so exactly what she thought a kiss would be, only more powerful, more marvellous, that she felt as if her whole body thrilled with a rapture and an ecstasy that she had never known.
Only when Mr. Thorpe raised his head did she say a little incoherently,
“I-I thought – a kiss would be – like that – only it is much – much more wonderful.”
“You have never been kissed before?”
“Of course – not!”
“How is that possible, when you are so beautiful, so utterly and completely desirable?”
His voice was hoarse and then he was kissing her again, kissing her until Crisa thought that no one could feel disembodied as she did and no longer human and still be alive.
Finally, because what she was feeling was almost too intense to be borne, she made an inarticulate little murmur and hid her face against Mr. Thorpe’s neck.
“My darling, my sweet,” he murmured, “I fell in love with your voice the moment you spoke to me and I have been growing more and more in love with you every day.”
“As I fell – in love with your – mouth,” Crisa whispered.
He gave a little laugh before he said,
“Fate plays some very strange tricks on us. I never dreamt when I came aboard, wounded and very angry because I had not attained my objective, that I would find something I had been seeking all my life and believed that was just an impossible dream.”
Crisa made a little murmur, but she did not speak and he said,
“What I have always wanted was love, my precious one, and I might have known that the Gods of Greece whom I worship would hear my prayer and sent Aphrodite to me in person.”
“I-I am not – I would not – aspire to be a Goddess,” Crisa said, “but I do love you – although I did not know it until last night.”
“I was determined not to tell you of my love,” Mr. Thorpe said, “until I could see you, and you could see me.”
“You are – very handsome, but you – make me feel shy.”
He gave a short laugh.
“I adore you when you are shy. I had begun to think that there was not a woman in the world who had not been
spoiled by being complimented, flattered and given everything they wanted.”
His lips were against Crisa’s forehead as he said,
“I want to wrap you in sables, cover you in diamonds and make you forget, my precious, that you ever had to work for your living.”
As he spoke, Crisa came back to reality.
Just for a moment she tried not to realise what he said.
Then she knew that it was impossible to tell him that, far from having to work for her living, she owned a mountain of gold which could buy her anything she wanted in the whole world.
Mr. Thorpe’s arms tightened about her as he said,
“There are so many things for us to do together, my lovely one, and we will spend our honeymoon in Greece.”
Crisa felt her heart turn over as he spoke and then she knew that she could not tell him the truth at this moment – and perhaps never.
Like him, she had found love, but, although it might be something she could not keep, at least in the future, she would have something to remember, something to treasure.
“Did you say our – honeymoon?” she questioned.
“We are going to be married,” Mr. Thorpe said, “as soon as we reach England and we are not going to wait for an engagement or any of that nonsense! I want you immediately and at once as my wife.”
Because she was silent he went on,
“It may seem a shock that we should do things so quickly, but I am sure, my darling, that we have known each other not for a few days on this Liner, but for centuries. Perhaps we were both in Greece together, but with a dozen centuries in between then and now.”
Crisa lifted her face to his as she asked,
“Do you – really believe – that?”
“Of course I believe it,” he said quietly, “and there are a number of ways to prove it, the first being that when I kiss you, I know that you become part of me and nothing can divide us.”
As if to demonstrate what he said, his lips were on hers and he kissed her until once again it was impossible to think of anything but the rapture he aroused within her and she knew that he felt the same.
Only when they had reached the heights of ecstasy, did Mr. Thorpe say,
“Now go to bed, my darling, and it will not be long before we are together, both by day and by night, then I will be able to look after you, as you have looked after me, but I know now that you are tired.”
“But happy – so wonderfully – marvellously happy,” Crisa murmured.
“So am I,” he replied. “In fact I did not know it was possible to feel as I do now. I have found you, my sweet, although it has taken a long search and I will make sure that I will never lose you.”
He did not wait for her to reply, but kissed her until she felt as if little flames were rising within her and she knew that they had been ignited by the fire that burned on his lips.
Then, almost abruptly, he took her towards the door and said,
“Go now, my lovely one, while I can still let you. I want you, I want you unbearably! But the future is ours.”
Before Crisa could say anything she found herself outside in the corridor and Mr. Thorpe’s door was closed.
Then, as she went slowly towards her own cabin, she felt the flames that were burning within her diminishing, and she had the feeling that the stars that shone in her eyes were fading.
‘How can I – tell him? How can I – possibly tell him?’ she asked herself.
As she lay in the darkness, it was a question that seemed to repeat and repeat itself, until she felt despairingly that there was no answer and there never could be one.
chapter Seven
For the next three days Crisa was happier than she had ever been in her whole life.
She awoke each morning with a feeling that something wonderful was about to happen and then waited impatiently until she could go to Adrian Thorpe’s suite.
As soon as Jenkins let her in and then left the room, she would run to where Adrian Thorpe rose from the chair he was habitually sitting in and was waiting for her.
He would hold out his arms and she felt as if she reached a harbour of security and she need never be afraid again.
He would kiss her until once again they were floating into the sky and the world was far away, until with an effort she would say,
“I think you – ought to work – you know how much there is to be – done on your book.”
As she spoke, she had the despairing feeling that she would never see him finish it, but at least she would have learnt a great deal of what he had done, where he had been and the strange people he had met and they would be memories for her to cherish all her life.
He dictated slowly so that she was able to take it down without any difficulty, but not half as slowly as when he had been composing what she was sure was his coded messages to his friend called ‘Edward’.
Sometimes she wondered if she would ask him about it, but she was sure that it was a subject that he would not talk about and would think that she was intruding.
Because she was wildly in love, she wanted to do everything to please him – everything that would make him love her more and would enhance her in his eyes.
It was not difficult to do so, for he too was very much in love.
“How can you be so absurdly beautiful?” he asked her once.
Crisa laughed.
“You are still blind,” she replied. “No one has ever said that to me before.”
“Then I am glad to be the first,” he said, “and I promise you, my darling, that when we are married, I shall be very very jealous and, if you so much as look at any other man, I think I would strangle you or shut you up in a room like a Bluebeard chamber, where no one else but me could see you.”
“I would not – mind,” Crisa whispered, “as long as I could – see you.”
Sometimes he would identify her with the Greek Goddesses he had admired all his life and they would talk about them until, as if he was excited by her resemblance to them, he would run his finger down her small straight nose, over her winged eyebrows and along the clear line of her chin.
It made her feel as if little flames were touching her and because it was so exciting, her lips would be ready for his,
“I love you, my little Aphrodite,” he would say, “and even when we are in Greece, I do not believe that we will be any happier than we are at this moment.”
“When we are in Greece!”
The words seemed to repeat themselves that night when Crisa was in bed.
The only thing she dreaded were the hours passing by and, when evening came, she had to leave him.
They had an early luncheon together in his State room and then, while everybody else was in the Dining Saloon, they would walk round the deck, Adrian wearing his dark glasses because the light still hurt his eyes.
They saw very few people before they returned to what Crisa had called their ‘Secret Planet’.
Then sometimes Adrian would dictate some of his book, but more often they would sit talking and every subject seemed to Crisa more thrilling and more interesting than the last.
“Being with you is like being with an encyclopaedia,” she told him.
“You flatter me!” he answered. “But I will return the compliment by saying that I have never been with a woman who is so knowledgeable or who is so interested in the same things that interest me.”
This she knew was because they covered so many subjects and she was eternally grateful to her father, who had talked to her from the time she was a small child as if she was his equal.
She had also read a great many books and she was therefore not entirely ignorant of the customs of the different lands where Adrian had been, nor of his preoccupation with the many ancient religions that mankind had practised since the beginning of civilisation.
They talked of India, of the Vedas and Sanskrit and of the Yogis and Fakirs whom Adrian had met on his travels. They also discussed the theory of reincarnation and the Wheel of Rebi
rth.
Although she tried to prevent herself remembering, Crisa could hear only too clearly the note in Adrian’s voice after she had asked him if he had gone to America to find a rich wife.
“The idea disgusts me!” he had replied. “If I ever have to marry, I could certainly not want a wife who is richer than I am myself.”
She could recall how he had gone on to say,
“Imagine every time I spent some of her money I would know she was thinking of how extravagant I was being and perhaps grudging me every penny!”
‘That is something I would never do!’ Crisa thought miserably.
But she could hear his words over and over again, “The idea disgusts me!” and that was what he would feel about her.
Because she could not bear to think about it, she allowed herself to live in what she knew was a Fool’s Paradise, pretending that it would last forever.
‘Why should I think of the future,’ she asked angrily, ‘when it may never happen? Perhaps this Liner will sink to the bottom of the ocean and then at least I shall be with him and know that he loves me.’
At other times she thought,
‘Perhaps this is all a dream and I shall wake up to find that I am still in New York surrounded by Vanderhaults and it is only a question of time before I have to marry Thomas Bamburger.’
She therefore felt as if every kiss Adrian gave her was more precious and more momentous than the last.
“Of course I have loved you before in many lives,” he said. “In this life I have searched for you and only when I found you did I realise how lonely I had been on my own.”
“Are you quite sure you have been on your own?” Crisa asked.
His eyes twinkled as he replied,
“Now you are being inquisitive and, of course, there have been women in my life, many of them very beautiful. But only when I heard your voice did I know that the reason I grew bored and left them is that they were not you.”
“How could you possibly fall in love with a voice?”
She knew the answer, but she wanted to hear him say it again.
“I could feel your personality, or your vibrations, whatever you like to call them, so strongly the moment you came in through the door,” he replied, “and I knew at once that you were different and that something strange had happened that was so wonderful I could hardly believe it to be true.”
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