'What makes you so sure I'll still be here when you get back?'
He studied her, his mouth hard. 'If you are not, I will come and get you, and then, Alicia, I will show you no mercy.' Turning on his heel, he strode down the corridor, leaving her staring after him, shaking with bitter fury.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alicia settled into a routine fairly quickly. Every Friday she flew to Paris and was driven to the chateau. She would have a brief, friendly conversation with the chauffeur, and greet the butler by name on arrival, then go straight to her room. Dominique was always there, and she became a friend as well as a colleague. Sometimes, Pierre Dusort dropped by for a visit, and Alicia frequently dined with him and Dominique. Olivier was also a frequent visitor, spiriting Dominique off to drive in his red sports car to the town, where they sat in moody cafe-bars and talked teenage love-talk while listening to the jukebox.
During the week, Alicia lived and worked in London as normal. Only it didn't feel normal any more. By the time she left for Paris at the end of the third week, she found herself thinking of it as 'going home' for the weekend.
The wedding invitations had been sent out weeks ago, and Lindy had received one. Alicia was deeply relieved. Lindy had been deliberately ignoring her since their argument, and when she received her invitation she rang Alicia to tell her, and ask her for lunch.
It was something of a reconciliation between Alicia and her niece, but it was far from complete, and she was aware of Lindy's deep discomfort and confusion as they ate at a smart restaurant in Sloane Square.
'So you really are working for him now?' Lindy asked with a flare of dark envy in her eyes. 'Mummy told me, of course, but I couldn't believe it until I read it in the Press.'
'Yes,' Alicia said huskily. 'I've had to give quite a few interviews since the wedding was announced. They all want to find out what the dress is like!'
Lindy smiled faintly. 'Lucky Dominique. Getting married...' Her eyes flashed suddenly. 'Maybe I will be, too.'
Alicia looked at her sharply. 'Have you found a boyfriend, Lindy?'
'Yes,' Lindy said with a brief, genuine smile. 'A nice boy called Phil. He works at Daddy's office in Richmond. I see him a lot.'
'That's wonderful!' Alicia said, eyes tracing her vulnerable face with love.
'Yes. A shame I can't take him to the wedding. Do you think I should go?' Lindy asked anxiously.
'Of course you should go!' Alicia said at once. 'Dominique and Olivier want you there.'
'And Jean-Marc?' Lindy asked with a trace of bitterness.
'Jean-Marc too,' Alicia assured her.
Lindy was unconvinced. 'Well, I'll accept the invitation for Dominique's sake. But I can't forget what Jean-Marc did, and I certainly can't forgive it.'
'Darling,' Alicia said gently, 'you must forgive him. If you don't, you'll keep those feelings alive, and they'll colour your life.' She heard herself saying those words and caught herself short. That's what I did, she thought in sudden shock. I kept my feelings for Tony alive, and they really have coloured my whole life.
'How can I forgive him?' Lindy said in agony.
'It isn't easy,' Alicia said slowly, 'and it can't be willed. One day you'll just turn a corner and find forgiveness there, waiting for you.'
Later, as she flew to Paris, Alicia thought of that conversation and saw it as the turning point it was. Somehow, somewhere along the line, she had forgiven Tony for what he had done to her when she was seventeen.
Tony...she thought, staring out of the limousine window later at the dark sky. He seemed so far away now. So vague, so harmless, so much a figure of the past.
The gates of Chateau Brissac swung open.
'Bonsoir, Mademoiselle Alicia!' the armed guard on the gate called.
'Bonsoir, Georges!' Alicia called back and waved, smiling.
They all knew her, now. All the kitchen staff, the housekeeping staff, the gardeners, the guards, the chauffeur and the aeroplane staff. Alicia had become a regular fixture in their lives, and they in hers.
The turrets of the chateau seemed to call a greeting as the limousine swung to a halt in front of it. Alicia got out, walked up to the steps, called a cheerful greeting in French to Etienne, the butler, and went straight to her room to unpack.
'Jean-Marc rang again today,' Dominique told her over dinner that night. 'We had a wonderful gossip!'
Alicia's pulse raced at the mention of his name. 'What did he say?'
'The trip is going well.' Dominique sipped her onion soup. 'He's had to fire a few people and promote some others, but everything's running smoothly again in Tokyo and Sydney, and he's flying to New York tonight.'
'Busy man,' Alicia said, hurt that he had not contacted her since he had gone. It was weeks now, and not even a postcard.
'He asked after you,' Dominique said, making her heart skip beats, 'as he always does. He wanted to know if you'd arrived and I said you had.'
'He rang while I was here?' Alicia asked, eyes widening. 'Didn't—I mean, didn't he want to speak to me?'
'No.' Dominique eyed her curiously. 'I assumed you spoke to him regularly. I thought --' She broke off, flushing.
Alicia flushed too, and bent her head to her soup, quickly changing the subject. Jean-Marc only wanted to know if she was here. That hurt, and she hated him for not contacting her, although she knew it was irrational considering the fact that she did hate him.
Next morning, Dominique burst into the office at nine o'clock.
'Guess what!' she trilled in French, dark eyes flashing.
'What...?' Alicia looked up from the design painting of the ballroom she was working on.
Dominique ushered Etienne in with a vast bouquet of flowers. 'I bet I know who they're from!'
Alicia gasped, staring at the enormous bouquet. Her hands shook as she ripped the envelope and read the card:
'Tu es mienne—Jean-Marc.'
A shiver went through her. She stared at the card, the words burning into her mind. 'You're mine...' She thought of what he had said when he left— that he would come after her if she wasn't there, and show her no mercy. The thought of him showing her no mercy was enough to bring a deep gnawing excitement to the pit of her stomach, so deep that it was agony. And the fact that she had stayed told Jean-Marc how she felt.
'Isn't he gorgeous?' Dominique said, fluttering around the flowers while Etienne watched indulgently. 'And look at these roses...!'
'Shall I put them in water, Mademoiselle Alicia?' Etienne asked.
'Thank you,' she said huskily, and propped the card on her desk.
The weekend sped by. Alicia got through a lot of work. By the time she flew back to London, she felt she had broken the back of the wedding arrangements. Ballatria was already making up the bridal gown and the four bridesmaids' dresses. Pageboy outfits had been designed, and were waiting to be cut. The ballroom was now under attack, as Jean-Marc would have put it, and after this weekend's work on the decor Alicia was certain everything would be ready in time.
Back in London, life at her offices was doubly hectic. A collection was being put into operation, and she worked herself into exhaustion, but it was an exhilarating achievement to keep it all under control.
On Friday, Alicia had lunch with Susannah in Richmond.
'It all sounds terribly glam and exciting!' Susannah smiled with interest when Alicia finished telling her about her current lifestyle. 'Much more your kind of thing than mine, though.'
Alicia smiled, studying her contented face. 'You don't even like flying, do you?'
Susannah crossed herself. 'No, I don't! But I like to hear you talk about it. You've always lived life in the fast lane, haven't you? You have a taste for action, excitement and power.'
'Do I?' Alicia stared at the late summer sun on the river, thinking of Jean-Marc and how apt that description would be of him.
'Yes.' Susannah smiled. 'But I don't. I'm happy with my lazy, carefree life. I wouldn't swap it for all the glamour in the world.'
Just like Jean-Marc Brissac, she thought, and realised with a shock how much he had changed her life.
'Alicia?' a male voice said close by, and she turned, frowning to see David standing watching her on the pavement.
'David!' She stared at him as though he was a stranger.
He gave a faint smile, a flush on his smooth face. 'How are you?'
She nodded slowly. 'I'm fine. And you?'
'Oh, I'm OK,' he shrugged, eyes flicking over her, taking in the smart dove-grey mini-suit she wore teamed with a rich pink silk blouse. 'You look stunning as ever! I hear you're working for Brissac now?'
'I've been working for him for a month,' she said quietly. 'And I hear you're seeing Eileen again?'
'Yes...' He smiled, gave a sheepish laugh. 'I guess I loved her all along. And she took me back—once she'd beaten me over the head with a verbal saucepan.'
Alicia nodded. 'She's a lovely girl. I can't think why you split with her in the first place.'
David said nothing, studying her, then said lightly, 'I like your hair like that. It suits you better than the chignon.'
'Oh...' Alicia ran a hand through her long, loose black hair. She always wore it loose now. It had become a habit, and it suited her, emphasised the beauty of her high cheekbones and dark gypsy eyes. 'Yes, I changed the style... maybe because my life changed so suddenly.'
'Mine too,' he said with a smile.
They met each other's eyes in a moment of forgiveness, and Alicia suddenly realised they had nothing more to say to each other.
'Well...' David shifted uncomfortably, hands in pockets. 'I guess I'd better be going. I just had lunch with Eileen. I'm late for work...'
Alicia smiled, said quietly, 'Goodbye, David.'
'Bye.' He waved a hand, walked away without a backward glance.
Alicia watched him go, her dark eyes thoughtful. They had been like strangers. It was almost impossible to believe they had ever been a couple, ever planned to marry. As she got into her red XJS, she glanced in her rear-view mirror and saw David disappear around the corner. As simple as that, she thought, staring. As simple as that...
When she arrived at the chateau that weekend, Pierre Dusort was there and an awful racket of loud pop music was coming from the drawing-room. Alicia went to her room and unpacked as usual, then went down to investigate.
Olivier and Dominique were dancing like wild things, bouncing up and down in rhythm to the music, their faces zombie-like and their clothes quite frighteningly trendy.
'Could you turn it down a bit?' Alicia shouted in French above the blasting beat, feeling suddenly old.
Dominique looked up, face flushed and excited. 'Oh, God, you're worse than Jean-Marc!' she groaned, and obediently went to the compact disc player to switch it off. 'What an old wrinkly you're turning into!'
Alicia made a face. 'It was just so loud...'
'My daughter sometimes makes me feel,' drawled Pierre Dusort appearing behind her in the doorway, 'that she is not yet old enough to marry!'
'Oh, yes, I am!' Dominique said and flounced over to Olivier, catching him by the lapels and pulling him towards her for a passionate kiss.
'Dominique!' Alicia gasped, shocked.
Pierre laughed, studying her face and drawled, 'She is French, Alicia. And that makes her free to express her passions!'
Alicia looked up at him with sudden self-consciousness, thinking of Jean-Marc and everything he had said to her so forcefully about her capacity to express passion.
'We're going out on the town!' Dominique announced, leading Olivier behind her by his tie. 'To see and be seen! To kiss and be kissed! To love and make love!'
'Not in this town, young lady!' Pierre said flatly, arching dark brows. 'You behave yourself. And don't hang around with those rebels! You know it will only get into the papers!'
Dominique rolled her eyes at Alicia. 'Just because I was photographed on the back of a boy's motorbike last year!' She kissed her father. 'I'll behave! I promise! Goodnight!'
When they had gone, Pierre turned to Alicia. 'That leaves us alone for the evening. The unpaid cabaret have gone.'
Alicia smiled. 'I'll get some work done.'
'You work too hard.' Pierre frowned. 'Even if Jean-Marc is paying you a king's ransom. Come out to dinner tonight with me. I'm not a workaholic. I'm a dilettante and I would enjoy some unashamed laziness!'
Alicia agreed on impulse, and they drove in Pierre's limousine to the best restaurant in the town of Brissac, two kilometres away.
It was an enjoyable evening of unashamed relaxation. The restaurant had a lazy, bohemian atmosphere with candles and checked tablecloths, but the food was cordon bleu. Alicia ate chilled crevettes followed by marvellous truite aux amandes.
'Jean-Marc has always been as dynamic as he is now,' Pierre told her as they ate. 'He totally changed the Brissac banking house. When his father had a heart attack and retired, Jean-Marc took over and put a rocket under it.'
'It wasn't always international?' she asked, surprised.
'No. Jean-Marc made it the vast international concern it is today. He expanded at a rate of knots. Hong Kong, New York, Sydney-—'
'Tokyo,' Alicia supplied, a proud smile in her eyes as she thought of him: 'Is it true there's a Brissac bank in every capital of the world?'
'And every state of America.' Pierre agreed, smiling, 'Yes, he's quite a guy, isn't he? I'm nothing like him. Chalk and cheese. I inherited my money, and never really did anything with it. He inherited his, too, but look what he did with it!'
'You're very close, though,' Alicia said, studying his face.
'Very.' Pierre nodded. 'I admire him, and I like to think he admires me. Certainly, he is my closest friend. He was wonderful when my wife died a few years ago. I don't know what I'd have done without him. And he obviously adores my daughter.'
It was late when they drove home. Alicia asked Pierre to take them by the scenic route. Although she had been out shopping several times in Brissac, she had not seen much of the surrounding countryside. At night, it was very beautiful, and Pierre got carried away with the drive, going a little too far out.
They got back to Chateau Brissac at one o'clock in the morning.
'I'll never get up in the morning for work!' Alicia groaned, getting out of the car.
Pierre laughed ruefully, putting a friendly arm around her. 'You'll manage. You always do. You and Jean-Marc... so much alike.'
Alicia wished him goodnight and went straight up to her bedroom. She was smiling as she opened the door, but when she saw the bedside lamp on, she caught her breath, staring as Jean-Marc stood up slowly from the bed.
There was a long, tense silence while they stared at each other.
'Jean-Marc,' she said unsteadily, 'when did you get back?'
'Tonight,' he said under his breath. 'At nine o'clock.'
'Oh...' Her heart was thudding painfully. He looked so gorgeous, his black V-neck sweater and black trousers emphasising his muscular power and tremendous sex appeal.
'I had planned to surprise you,' he said grimly. 'But it seems I was the one who got the surprise.'
'What do you mean?' she asked, hand sweating on the door-handle as she stood there, poised for flight, suddenly sensing the anger beneath his frightening calm.
He gave a hard, cynical smile. 'I come home to find you are out with another man, Alicia. So I wait, to see when you will come home. And now it is fifteen minutes past one.' The rage behind those silver eyes was making her pulses leap with alarm. 'I wonder just what you were doing until this time in the morning.'
'We went for a drive,' she said carefully.
He gave a harsh laugh and walked towa
rds her, very controlled. 'Oh, yes? What kind of drive? Did you stop, Alicia? Did you pull over in a lovers' layby and --?'
'Don't be ridiculous!' she said angrily, face flaming. 'I was with Pierre! Pierre Dusort—what on earth do you think --?'
'My best friend!' he said hoarsely, his mouth white. 'You really know where to stick the knife, Alicia! You could have chosen any man! But you chose Pierre!'
'Don't shout at me!' she said fiercely, wrenching the door open to try and escape.
'Come back, you little salope!' he bit out shakingly, seizing her by the scruff of the neck, dragging her back in, slamming the door and pushing her hard against it, his eyes blazing. 'You knew exactly how to hit me hardest, didn't you? How long has it been going on? How many times have you seen him?'
'I haven't been seeing him!' she said angrily, struggling against the biting grip of his hard hands as he pinned her to the door. 'Ask him if you don't believe me!'
'I can't!' he said thickly, his eyes silver with rage. 'He knows nothing about us! He's not involved, Alicia! If he asked you out it was because he didn't know you were mine! He would never have betrayed me knowingly. Never...'
'He didn't betray you now, Jean-Marc!' she said huskily, staring into his hellish eyes. 'It was just coincidence. Dominique and Olivier went out. Pierre was bored. He suggested dinner...' She blurted it all out in a hot rush. 'I accepted and we went.'
He was breathing hoarsely, his eyes intent. 'How can I believe that? You only got back five minutes ago!'
'I told you,' she said, feeling sick with tension, 'he took me for a drive. I wanted to see the countryside.'
He stared at her for a long moment, then said roughly, 'He didn't kiss you?'
Mute, she shook her head.
Jean-Marc stared at her, breathing hard. 'Did you want him to kiss you, Alicia?'
'No,' she said, her heart drumming, 'it didn't occur to me.'
His strong hands left her wrists, framed her face. 'Prove it!'
Her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes drowned in his. 'What do you mean?'
'You know what I mean, Alicia,' he said thickly. 'You've told me your story, and now I want you to prove it. All of it. Every last word.'
Last of the Great French Lovers Page 11
