‘You—you’ve seen Sarah Bryant?’
‘Does it surprise you to discover that I have a certain amount of compassion in my make-up, Bryony?’ That bitter look was on his mouth once more and he shook his head. ‘I confess I don’t act on impulse very often, but when I’d finished my business on Thursday, after I’d left you, I thought about how close Tim had come to being lost in that storm, and I thought someone should let her know he was all right. I don’t believe for one minute that there’s anything serious in the affair, but—’ His broad shoulders expressed it all with a shrug, and Bryony felt a curiously warm glow suddenly.
‘Oh, I’m glad, Dom!’
‘To discover that I’m human enough to think of other people’s feelings?’
‘You know it wasn’t that! I wish I could have told you about the letter, but—oh, you know how it was!’
‘You thought I’d react like the bully you so obviously think me, so you decided to play Cupid and not say anything! I’m flattered, petite!’
‘Dom, stop it, please!’ It was not like him to be so bitterly angry over nothing worse than Tim’s letter and, even now she knew how much he had resented not being trusted, she sensed no let-up in his anger—there was something else. It was still hard for her to believe he had been so angry when Edward took her in his arms and kissed her, and she watched his face as he kept it turned in stern profile. ‘Dom, I—I didn’t know Edward was going to be at home.’
‘No?’ He did not question her picking on that subject, and from his tone it might have been thought he was coolly indifferent, but Bryony knew him better than that, and the different stress on his words told her she was right. ‘It was no more than a coincidence that he was there then, huh?’
He sounded very French whenever he was angry or emotional, and he was much more inclined to use his hands as well as a more fluid inflection in his voice. Close beside him on the seat of the jeep she was conscious of the tautness of his body and the violence of whatever passion possessed him at the moment. ‘Marion hadn’t said anything about him being there.’
‘You’ve met him before?’
He was thinking of that parting kiss, of course. It had given the impression that their relationship was on a much more intimate footing than it was in fact, but she did not quite see how she was going to convey that to Dominic.
‘I’ve never met him before Thursday, although I knew of him, of course—he and Marion are very close.’
‘And she has plans to see you marry her good-looking brother, is that the scheme?’
His reaction to the idea was quite plain, and she spoke up hastily, though without betraying in which direction Marion’s plans did lay. ‘Not at all, she—well, she isn’t thinking along those lines at all.’
Judging by his present attitude it seemed disturbingly likely that Marion was on the right track, but the thought was too disturbing to be considered seriously, and she preferred to think that it was in his role of guardian that he objected so fiercely to Edward kissing her. With the idea in mind of reassuring herself on that, she ventured to explain.
‘You—you seemed very angry back there at Marion’s house, I wondered if—well, if it was because you saw Edward kiss me.’
For a moment she looked directly into his eyes, dark and grey, like the sky when it stormed and yet with a certain glowing warmth in their depths that made her heart race suddenly. ‘I have no right to object to his kissing you, have I, Bryony?’
His voice was quiet, soft almost, and yet so strangely unfamiliar that she rolled her hands tightly together and caught fast at the soaring response of her senses that threatened to get out of control. It was so quiet on the deserted road, and only the rustling sound of the wind in the trees and the shushing of the sea close by competed with the heavy thudding beat of her heart as she tried hazily to find words to answer him.
‘I—I suppose not.’
‘Hmm.’ The noncommittal sound told her nothing of what he was feeling, but he made no move yet to restart the jeep and she wondered how deeply he meant to probe into Edward’s attitude towards her.
‘It—that kiss, it really didn’t mean anything at all, Dom. Not to me.’
‘But to him perhaps, huh?’
‘I don’t know. I—I scarcely know Ned, so it’s not very likely he’s serious.’
‘That wasn’t the impression I got!’
Noting the sudden harshness in his voice again, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and saw a ghost of that earlier passionate fury that had sent him striding out of the Fuller house. She told herself that she could have been angry too, at his too close interest in her affairs, but she wasn’t, and it puzzled her briefly.
‘I think that Edward Fuller is very likely going to fall in love with you if he sees you too often,’ Dominic said. ‘You do realise that, don’t you?’
It was a possibility, Bryony was bound to admit, but not something she wanted to think about yet, and she shook her head, as if by refusing to recognise it, it wouldn’t happen. ‘I don’t want him to, Dom, I don’t want anyone to—at the moment.’
‘No one at all?’
He asked the question softly, and when she didn’t answer, a brief smile touched his mouth and shone for a moment in his eyes. Then he turned and switched on the engine, bringing a moment’s contact with the warmth of his body when he reached out, but he did not immediately drive off. Instead he sat looking at her for a moment, his grey eyes shadowed by their lashes.
‘It is good to have you home, petite; and now I must take you back or someone will think I am taking awful vengeance on you for deceiving me!’ Laughing as if the idea amused him, he set the jeep in motion and headed for home once more. ‘I’ve been made aware just lately that my family see me as something of a martinet!’
‘Oh no, Dom!’ Her fingers tightened about his tanned forearm and he turned his head briefly to smile at her. ‘It isn’t true, and you must know it isn’t!’
‘No?’ the inflection in his voice and the sound of his laughter teased her senses. ‘I hope not, ma chere, I do hope not.’
Tim was watching her curiously, Bryony was well aware, although she did not yet give him the satisfaction of knowing it, but concentrated on reading her letter. His ribs were mending fast, and he was chafing at the delay in being allowed to travel across to Basse-terre, so that he was ripe for mischief.
He was still faintly puzzled by Dominic’s lack of opposition to the plan, and sometimes Bryony suspected that he actually thrived on opposition, especially when it came from Dominic. He had noted her frown and it made him curious, curious enough to crane his neck to try and read the handwriting on the envelope beside her plate.
It was the second letter she had received in little more than a week, and that was in itself cause for curiosity, but this present one was giving her a lot less pleasure than Marion’s had, although it too contained what could be construed as an invitation. It could, if she took its contents seriously, as she was obviously intended to do, cause a great deal of upheaval.
Able to recognise the writing at last, Tim pursed his lips curiously. ‘What’s your Aunt Germyn got to say that doesn’t suit you?’ he asked with a frankness that earned him Jules disapproval
‘None of your business,’ Jules informed him, shaking his head reprovingly. ‘And pass the coffee down this way, will you?’
‘I just thought it might be trouble, from the way Bry’s frowning.’ Tim did not let go easily once he was interested, so that Bryony knew she might as well enlighten him now as later.
Folding the letter into four again, she tapped the edge of the paper against her teeth while she considered for a moment before she said anything. And then it was to Dominic that she spoke, not to Tim. ‘Dom—’
He looked up, frowning curiously when he saw how preoccupied she was. ‘I can’t be made to go back to England, can I? I mean, I’m old enough to refuse if I don’t want to go, aren’t I?’
‘As long as it isn’t something official—’
‘Oh no, it isn’t!’
He realised it was important to her, it was clear from the way he looked, and presently he reached over and stroked one long forefinger across the back of her hand. ‘Then as far as I know, no one can make you go back, petite.’ He too looked at the letter she held, mildly enquiring. ‘Is there any reason why anyone should try?’
It was in Bryony’s mind to give him the letter to read for himself, but her great-aunt had been rather too explicit in her reasons and she could not face the prospect of Dominic finding out. Instead she pushed the letter back into its envelope and did her best to convey the general gist of what it contained without going into too much detail.
‘Aunt Germyn suggests that I go back to England to live, she—she thinks it would be better if I did.’
‘Bry?’
Tim was looking at her more curiously than ever, and she knew that he at least would not want her to go. But it was to Dominic that she gave her attention still, and her eyes were big and anxious as she made her appeal. ‘I don’t want to go, Dom.’
It was hard to tell exactly how he felt about it, for the grey eyes were hidden, and Bryony watched him, trying to find some hint of reassurance in the rugged dark features. She thought she knew how he would react, but yet she felt a curiously disturbing sense of uncertainty suddenly.
‘She doesn’t like the set-up here, of course.’ He spoke so matter-of-factly that for a moment she simply stared at him and, after a second or two, he looked across at her and smiled. ‘Does she know about Jenny being here?’
‘Why, yes, of course, I told her when Jules got married.’
From Jules’ carefully lowered gaze she knew that he too had no difficulty in following exactly what Aunt Germyn was getting at, and only Tim either did not, or refused, to recognise it. He had an all too familiar defiant look on his face as he looked from Bryony to Jules and to Dominic.
‘I don’t see what there is to be made of this—set-up, as you call it. Living here with her sister-in-law and her three brothers; where’s the wrong in that?’
‘No wrong, Tim.’ Dominic spoke quietly, as he mostly did in moments of doubt, but there was something in the way he kept his eyes averted from her that was not like him, and Bryony found it infinitely disturbing. He ran a forefinger around the rim of his cup, elbows resting on the table. ‘I think Bryony’s aunt is simply trying to point out that not all of us are as closely related to her as you imply.’
Tim was surely being deliberately obtuse in his defiance. ‘I know Jenny isn’t—’
‘Or me.’ Dominic looked up at last and the grey eyes held Bryony’s steadily for a moment ‘Isn’t that the gist of it, Bryony?’
She nodded, too confused to do anything else. She supposed she had said too much about Dominic in her recent letters to Aunt Germyn, mentioned him too often and in such a way that her great-aunt had read more into them than she had intended she should. She was an old lady and she would take a much more serious view of what a younger woman would probably have speculated on without worrying about it.
Bryony was nearly nineteen, she reminded her, and too adult now to be in the care of a man of only thirty-four, especially such a man as Dominic Laminaire sounded to be. It had been well enough when Bryony was still a child, but she was no longer as happy about the situation now, and especially in view of Bryony’s obvious admiration of the man.
In the circumstances she felt she must recommend a return home to England, and a stay that was at least long enough to ensure she was mature enough to see the pitfalls of such an arrangement. There was no attempt to disguise the fact that Aunt Germyn visualised her falling in love with Dominic, and Bryony was not sure she could deny it with any degree of certainty, even though she had tried so hard and so often lately not to recognise the possibility.
‘I don’t want to go, Dom.’
She could only repeat her earlier words, praying that Jules or Jenny would intervene; someone who would save her from having to debate the matter with Dominic on her own, for she felt so sure suddenly that he would not give her the unqualified assurance she would once have expected of him.
But no one did, and once more it was he who took up the matter, soft-voiced and not exactly blaming her, but sure she must have given cause for the old lady’s anxiety. ‘What have you said about the situation here that makes her so suddenly uneasy, Bryony?’
‘I don’t know—how could I?’
It wasn’t the truth and Dominic knew it, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee. ‘Something must have put the idea into her head, petite, or why should she suddenly have qualms about your position here? Does she suggest that I might—take advantage of my position?’ One large and expressive hand conveyed a great deal more than the words, and she felt herself colouring furiously, while Tim’s sudden explosion of laughter did nothing to ease the situation.
‘Tim!’
She glared at him so furiously that he subsided, looking to Jenny to support him, and shrugging in imitation of Dominic at his most French when her support was not forthcoming. ‘Well, you don’t have to do as the old lady tells you, do you?’ he asked.
Tim was naturally anxious for her not to leave, and Bryony appreciated his anxiety as she looked at Dominic, vaguely uncertain. ‘Dom, do you—’
Dominic took another sip from his coffee and shook his head, and there was a hint of smile on his mouth when he looked at her again. ‘The final decision to go or stay must be yours, mignonne, you must realise that. You are old enough now to make up your own mind about such things—and I quote your own feelings on the subject,’ he added with a glint of sardonic humour. ‘You must decide whether to go or stay.’
If only he would give away something of his own feelings, it would make her feel so much better, but she watched him for what seemed like an eternity, and the dark face remained impassive. He did not look at her directly again. Spreading her hands in a gesture of helplessness, she appealed to Jules.
‘Jules, what should I do? I know Aunt Germyn can’t make me go back, but if you all think I should go just to—’ She shook her head, realising how close to tears she had come in the few minutes since Tim had queried the contents of her letter. ‘Oh, I don’t see why I should go, but if Dom doesn’t—’
‘Speaking for us,’ Jules told her, taking Jenny’s hand and smiling at her while he spoke, ‘we want you to stay, sweetheart; we’d be lost without you.’
Tim, not to be outdone and obviously impatient with Dominic’s refusal to persuade her, gave her a broad wink and grinned at her encouragingly. ‘You can’t leave here, Bry, you’d never survive in the outside world, and Dom knows that as well as anybody. Can you see yourself settling down in—suburban Surbiton, or wherever it is? You’d fade away and die without the sun, you know you would!’
Her eyes were fixed on that dark rugged face, but still he did not betray by as much as a flicker of an eyelid how he felt, one way or the other, and she felt a sudden aching hurt at his seeming detachment.
‘Carried unanimously,’ Tim declared, but she shook her head.
‘Not quite, Tim.’
There was a wavering unsteadiness in her voice and Jules glanced first at her and then at Dominic, then he gave her a wink, as Tim had done, and he was smiling. ‘Oh, I think we can say it’s unanimous,’ he said confidently.
CHAPTER SIX
FOR the first time since she had issued that spur-of-the-moment invitation to Marion and Edward, Bryony mentioned it to Dominic. The time was getting near and definite plans had to be made one way or the other, but because Dominic had not answered her immediately when she mentioned it, she looked at him with a hint of challenge in her blue eyes.
Whenever she had work to do she borrowed a corner of his office, usually when he was busy elsewhere, and she had thought it a good plan to mention it to him when he came in at the end of the day—although she realised now that it was probably not the best time.
‘You haven’t changed your mind about letting the
m come, have you, Dom?’
He was perched on the edge of her desk smoking a cheroot and he swung one leg backwards and forwards while he studied her for a moment through eyes narrowed against the soaring smoke. There was a disturbing steadiness about his gaze that she eyed with suspicion, shifting uneasily to avoid it.
‘My dear child, to hear you talk anyone would think I was running some kind of a Devil’s Island here! You come and go as you please and so does everyone else, so why should you imply that I forbid you visitors?’
Bryony shrugged, allowing him some reason for exasperation, for he never had restricted their comings and goings. It was simply that she remembered his mood at the moment when she had issued the invitation, and she had the idea that he did not altogether like the young Fullers very much.
‘You didn’t really expect me to change my mind, did you, Bryony? You know me better than that!’
‘I wish I did know you!’
The retort was impulsive, as her responses to him so often were, and she fidgeted on her chair when he smiled. Getting up suddenly, she would have brushed past him, but long hard fingers fastened themselves around her wrist and held her, while the grey eyes watched her face, their expression still concealed by dark lashes.
It was so hard, whenever she was near him, not to remember the implications in that disturbing letter of Aunt Germyn’s, and she felt as if nothing had been quite the same since the day it arrived. Dominic had guessed easily enough what the gist of it was, and she only wished she knew what his true reaction was to the idea of her going back to England for a time. Her own feelings were in no doubt at all, Petitnue was her home now and she did not want to leave it for any reason at all.
Dominic still needed to look down at her, even though he was seated on the desk and she was standing, and she was much too aware of the virile, almost earthy touch of him where their bodies were in contact. The cotton shirt he wore with close-fitting denims showed signs of a day’s wear in the hot sun, stained with green, as if a hand had been carelessly wiped clean against it, and there was a warm, masculine scent about him that touched her senses and made her head swim. Looking down at the arm he held, she wondered vaguely how he could hold her so firmly and not hurt her.
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