He winced. ‘Having a date is what American teenagers do. I don’t like the word. We are slightly more mature, we are having a…a…’
‘An assignation?’ she suggested with a grin. ‘Never mind what we call it. I would like to go to dinner with you.’
‘Good.’ He smiled at her and she felt excited and reckless and certain that she had made the right decision. But then she wondered. Still—it was now too late.
Luc had said he was taking her to a small auberge. She was beginning to wonder just what his idea of a small auberge might be. This was one reason why she decided to bathe and change her dress.
So, more of the new-bought underwear. Lilac this time. Then the shot silk dress. A last check that her make-up was in place, her hair carefully arranged. Yes, all was well. She checked her watch. Ten minutes before she had said she would meet him. She could barely suppress her excitement about spending more time with Luc.
Yet only four short days ago she had never met him. She had been more or less content in her life, used to it and well aware that things had been much worse. One thing had been certain. After Gary she was not interested in men.
Then she had met Luc. She had liked him, she had been kissed by him, had kissed him back. What had got into her? Luc was a man, an attractive man, and he obviously found her attractive. He was a danger to her! If she gave way, if she found herself falling for him, she knew she would be in trouble.
Not all men were like Gary, a little voice told her. Well, that might be true. But many of them were.
She was glad that she had made some kind of effort. Apart from anything else, Luc had always been perfectly dressed when he had called on her. And he was tonight. A darker suit, white shirt again and a silk tie in a burgundy colour.
He seemed to find the same thing to admire in her dress. Before she knew what he was doing, he had taken her two hands in his, swung her round so he could see her in the light of the low sun. ‘Kelly, tonight you look exquisite. You will be the most beautiful woman in the auberge.’
‘What did you tell me before about French men being flatterers?’ she teased.
He shook his head sadly. ‘The trouble with being a Frenchman is that no woman believes him, even when he is telling the truth. Once again, you look exquisite.’
‘I may look exquisite but I’m feeling hungry,’ she told him.
He shook his head in mock horror. ‘Beauty must come before food. But…let us go.’
Kelly had half expected that they would go to one of the larger towns or villages along the coast. But instead they drove inland a little, following the bank of a river. Eventually they stopped at a riverside village, little more than a hamlet.
Luc parked in the central square. There were quite a few other cars there, but no obvious tourists to be seen. Luc saw her looking around, guessed what she was thinking. ‘The patrons of this auberge don’t talk about the place,’ he said. ‘It is a secret we wish to keep to ourselves.’
‘Doesn’t this Malouf want to advertise? To make money?’
Luc shook his head. ‘All he wants to do is cook for those who appreciate good food. His wife runs the auberge. All she wants to do is see her guests enjoying their meal, appreciating the food. They are a happy couple. Now we have to walk a little way.’
He led her through the narrow streets until they reached the banks of the river. There was a long narrow building, shaded by trees. They entered and were instantly greeted by a tiny bubbling lady in a black dress. ‘Dr Laforge! So good to see you again. And your charming companion?’
‘Madame Malouf, good to see you too. This is Dr Blackman, we are to work together for a while.’
‘Welcome to L’Auberge de la Rivière, Dr Blackman. May I say that your dress is most chic.’
‘Thank you,’ said Kelly, and felt rather pleased.
‘I have a table ready for you,’ Madame Malouf said. ‘I have your bottle of wine ready chilled.’ She turned and led the two through a wide opening into…‘Goodness! this is a beautiful room,’ Kelly gasped.
In fact, it wasn’t a room. It was a terrace, with a cane ceiling to protect the clients from the sun. One side was completely open and below it she could see and hear the river. Tables were scattered around, not too close together. Most were occupied and there was the hum of quiet conversation, But most people seemed to be occupied with eating.
‘We believe fine food should be eaten in fine surroundings,’ Madame Malouf said proudly.
She led them to what Kelly had to think must be the best table. It was in a corner, overlooking the river. A blue and white checked tablecloth, the sparkle of glasses and the shine of silver cutlery.
Madame Malouf saw that they were seated, took a bottle from a silver ice bucket and showed the label to Luc. ‘Your favourite,’ she said.
‘My favourite. Madame Malouf, what shall I do when it has all been drunk?’
‘We will always find a bottle for you. Shall I open it?’
‘Please do.’
With bewildering speed Madame had produced a corkscrew from somewhere about her person, had pulled the cork and reconcealed the corkscrew before Kelly could quite grasp what was happening. Then half an inch of wine was poured into Luc’s glass.
He lifted the glass by its stem, smelled the wine and then took a sip. ‘Yes,’ he said after a moment’s reflection. ‘Madame, your cellar is as wonderful as ever.’
Madame looked gratified. She half filled Kelly’s glass, did the same to Luc’s. ‘Now, I leave you for a while. The menu.’ And she was gone.
Luc pushed Kelly’s glass of white wine towards her. ‘I hope you like this. It’s from a small vineyard on the Loire. It’s a very light wine, very delicate, it goes well with the cooking here.’
As she had seen Luc do, Kelly smelled then sipped the wine. Yes, she could get to like this. It was delicate. At first there didn’t seem to be too much taste. But as she held it in her mouth the taste seemed to grow.
‘Do you like it?’ Luc’s voice was anxious.
‘I love it. It seems to get better as you drink it. It’s like a…’
Then she froze. What on earth had made her say something like that? But she hadn’t said it yet, it was a foolish idea, if she spoke she would only embarrass Luc and be embarrassed herself.
‘It’s like a…?’ Luc questioned.
She could tell from his teasing tone that he knew she had started something she did not now want to finish. What could she say? Was it like a flower or a spring morning or the touch of a baby’s skin? None of those. Well, brazen it out. ‘I was going to say that it was like a kiss,’ she said.
He looked at her. Took another sip of wine. ‘Yes,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘I see what you mean. The question now must be—would you rather drink this wine or be kissed?’
‘I think I’d rather look at the menu,’ she said.
He smiled, said nothing, and passed a menu over to her.
It was no good. Her French was excellent, she could understand what was on offer. But the words just whirled in front of her. Too many decisions! She couldn’t make up her mind. She closed the menu, pushed it across to Luc. ‘You must understand that for the past six months I’ve been living on my own. I’ve existed on simple stuff, sandwiches and fruit and salad. My idea of a mad night’s cooking has been making a vegetable soup. Choosing anything from this menu is beyond me.’
‘There’s no problem. If you like, I will order for both of us.’ He smiled. ‘And since whenever you order here, you always wish you had ordered what your companion ordered—I will order the same for us both.’
‘That will simplify things.’
Luc was now deep in conversation with Madame. There was much pointing at the menu, frowning, pursing the lips, occasionally nodding in agreement. This choice was obviously a serious matter. But eventually it was done. Madame smiled and swept away.
Luc reached over, stroked the back of her hand. It was something he had done before, a gentle, non-threatening caress that sh
e rather liked. ‘Do you like it here?’ he asked. ‘I promised that we could go home if you felt unsettled.’
‘I don’t want to go home and I do like it here. I like Madame. It’s just all so different from what I’ve been used to.’
‘Just take a step at a time,’ he advised. ‘You will feel even better after the meal. Ah, course one.’
Course one was soup. A plate with a rounded soup bowl on it, a lid on the bowl. To one side a small dish of croutons. The waiter deferentially placed the bowl in front of her and took off the lid. Kelly leaned forward, smelled. It was wonderful! Fishy, but not too much so. Then she looked. A smooth creamy soup coloured a glorious yellow. Yellow soup? She looked at Luc enquiringly.
‘Every course here will have been largely sourced locally,’ he said. ‘This is mussel soup with saffron. Mussels from this river estuary. Try it.’
She did. Once again, as with the wine, the first effect was mild—but the taste developed. ‘I’m going to enjoy this,’ she told him. And she did.
It was an obvious policy of the auberge that the courses did not follow each other too quickly. In between there was time to talk, to reflect on what had just been eaten. Or to talk about other things.
‘How often do you come here?’ she asked him.
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps once a fortnight. I don’t like to come too often—I want every visit to be an occasion. Something that I will remember. I have eaten here on my own. The food, of course, is always superb—but I believe that a good meal is greatly improved by good company. Your company makes this meal far far more enjoyable than if I were here on my own.’
‘Another French compliment!’
‘But what I said is true!’
‘Luc, I believe you. It’s just that the last few months I’ve not shared a meal with anyone. Never wanted to either. I’ve been perfectly…not happy on my own but it was what I wanted. This is all very different.’
‘Another course,’ he said.
It was wonderful again. On one small plate there was a selection of tiny vegetables—broccoli, asparagus, spring onions, shining with the hot butter that had been dribbled on them. On a larger plate was chicken in a thick sauce—creamed potatoes to one side. And the smell!
‘Cider chicken,’ Luc said. ‘Local free-range chicken, local cider made from local apples. But you can still drink the wine with the chicken. It will not clash with the cider.’
‘Right,’ said Kelly.
Another course, not finished quickly but slowly and appreciatively. And when the plates had been removed there was more time to sit and talk.
‘Are you losing your fear now?’ Luc asked. ‘Do you feel comfortable, with me and with the people around you?’
Not an easy question to answer. ‘I feel there are two Kellys,’ she told him. ‘Right now, the Kelly you see is happy with your company and enjoying herself and looking forward to the next three months. But there’s another Kelly looking over her shoulder, who is scared and certain that something soon will go wrong.’
‘Perhaps that is a Kelly we can do without. In time she will disappear.’
‘Perhaps. Now, that’s a smell I can recognise before it gets to the table. That’s the smell of pastry. Every member of the Blackman family recognises that.’
The plates were put in front of them. ‘Our dessert. Apple galette with cream,’ said Luc.
‘Now, this is a dessert to die for.’
There was coffee to finish and a tiny glass each of Calvados—the fiery Breton spirit made of apples. Then an enthusiastic goodbye from Madame and a request that they visit her more often. A quick glimpse of the kitchen and a shouted greeting to a steam-enshrouded Malouf, who smiled but was too busy to leave his work.
‘You didn’t need to leave, then?’ Luc joked amiably as they walked back to the car.
‘You knew I wouldn’t. Luc, that was the most enjoyable evening I’ve spent in probably years. Can we go back some time? And can I treat you next time?’
‘If you really wish to. But I am happy to escort you. Now, shall I take you home?’
To her amazement she discovered that she didn’t want to go straight back to her cottage. She was happy out with Luc. She wanted things to stay that way.
She looked upwards, pointed to the sky. ‘The stars are so clear. And look at the size of that moon. It’s bright enough to read by.’
He smiled. ‘You wish to read by moonlight?’
‘No. I want to walk. My shoes are reasonable enough. Just for half an hour I’d like to walk in the moonlight.’
‘Then we will drive back to the sea and walk along the promenade at Riom. At this time of night there will be no other people there.’
‘That is a lovely idea.’
Fifteen minutes later they were standing on the promenade. A stone path that led from the village centre along the seafront to an old lighthouse on a promontory. There were a couple of bistros open in the village but only a handful of customers. People in this area went to bed early. The promenade was deserted. After they had walked a couple of hundred metres they were away from all sight or sound of humanity.
‘Now, that is beautiful,’ Kelly said. The moon had risen a little since they had left the auberge and seemed to shine even brighter. From it, a line of silver fire seemed to cross the dark blue ocean, to shatter into fragments where the waves beat quietly on the sand.
‘It is indeed,’ he said.
‘And the air is not too hot, not too cool, there’s a slight wind blowing towards us and it carries the scent of the sea. What could be more wonderful?’
‘If I tell you, you’ll say I’m being a typical Frenchman again.’
‘I promise not to.’
‘Then I’d say it would be more wonderful if I had the hand of a beautiful woman to hold.’
She thought about that. ‘You can make do with this one if you like.’
He took her hand, for a moment raised it to his lips and kissed it. ‘This is more than making do,’ he said.
They walked on in silence for a while. She liked having him hold her hand. From time to time he squeezed her fingers, or ran one of his fingers across the palm of her hand. ‘When I was very young,’ she told him, ‘I knew nothing about boys, or only what other girls told me. And the bigger girls said that if a boy did that to you—you know, stroke the palm of your hand—then it meant that he wanted to…’ She decided to say no more.
‘That he wanted to what?’ Luc teased.
‘You know very well,’ she said primly. ‘That he wanted to kiss you. And let me say, right now, that is not an invitation.’
‘Now, that is a pity.’
Eventually they reached the end of the promenade. There were steps leading down to the beach. Kelly looked at the strip of clean sand, at the tiny waves crisping on the edge of the beach.
‘I want to paddle,’ she said.
‘You want to what?’
‘I want to paddle. I’m feeling in the mood for doing…for doing different things.’
‘Then if that is what you want, I shall take off my shoes ands socks, roll up my trousers and paddle with you.’
‘You don’t have to,’ she said doubtfully.
‘Perhaps I want to. Now, let me help you down these steps. In the dark they could be slippery.’ He jumped down and then turned and reached out to her. Holding his two hands, she stepped downwards till she was on the beach with him. But he hadn’t let go. And they were standing not six inches apart.
He kissed her. Only their hands and their lips were touching but for the moment she thought that that was enough. But it was so nice. His lips were warm, inviting. It was a tender kiss, but one she thought that had the promise of more. Perhaps if she released his hand he might…
He thought that too. But when he did let go of her, she stepped back. ‘That was very pleasant but for the moment I think it is enough,’ she said.
She felt the anguish in his voice. ‘Enough, Kelly? It wasn’t enough for me.’
‘Then
shall we say enough for now. Now, are we going to paddle or not?’
She kicked off her shoes. He balanced on one foot and took off shoes and socks, rolled up his trouser legs. ‘If any of my patients see me doing this,’ he said, ‘I’ll never dare send in a bill again.’
‘Learn to live dangerously. Now, come on!’ Hand in hand they ran down to the sea edge.
She felt so good walking along in the ankle-deep water, the occasional little wave splashing over her calves. The water was refreshing. She felt it brought life to her.
‘I’ve not done anything as silly as this in years,’ she said, ‘and I’m thoroughly enjoying it. I feel it’s doing me good. Thank you for bringing me here, Luc.’
She leaned towards him for the quickest of kisses. On the cheek.
‘I think it was largely your idea,’ he said mildly. ‘But I am enjoying myself. Have you ever come down here to swim, Kelly? In the daytime, of course?’
‘No. Never.’ Now her mood had altered. She could paddle in the sea in the dark, when no one could see her. But the idea of coming down here when there were crowds on the beach, of showing her half-naked body to anyone who might be passing—that would be intolerable.
He seemed to understand her qualms. ‘Perhaps you’ll get used to it in time. No need to hurry. Now, the car’s up there. I think it’s time we climbed back to the promenade.’
‘Don’t forget to roll your trousers back down,’ she warned him.
It was going to happen, she knew it, and she was even looking forward to it. They stopped in the shadow of the promenade and he put his arms round her. No need for false modesty now. This was what she wanted, and they both knew it. He pulled her to him. This was not the man who had gently touched her lips with his—this was a man who wanted, needed her in every possible way. In an almost detached fashion she was aware of his excitement, of the beating of his heart, of his arousal against her thigh.
He kissed her. There was no past, no future, the world dissolved so that there was only the now. He kissed her and she kissed him back, opening her lips to the urgent pressure of his tongue, giving him a first tentative entrance to her body. Her hands clutched at his head, her body reacted to his, she knew he could feel the softness of her breasts as she pressed closer to him, feel the hardness of her nipples. She heard him groan with pleasure.
The Country Doctor's Daughter Page 7
