The Wild Cry of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  Madame Porquier had turned down the bed and there was one candle alight on a side table.

  Valda undid her gown and hung it up in the wardrobe. Then she took off her petticoats and her other clothes and laid them on a chair and put on her nightgown.

  She sat down at the dressing table to take the pins from her hair and let it fall like a dark cloud over her shoulders.

  She brushed it automatically, hardly aware of what she was doing.

  Every nerve and every instinct in her body was concentrating on the wonder she had felt when she had been kissed.

  She almost felt as if Roydon’s lips were still on hers and she could feel his touch on her eyes and on her cheeks. ‘This is love!’ Valda told herself.

  She looked in the mirror and saw, as she now expected, that she did in fact look quite different.

  Her eyes were radiant. There was something almost spiritual about them.

  She stared at herself for several minutes and then she gave a deep sigh of happiness and wonder, and climbed into bed.

  She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and knew it was Roydon going to his room just opposite hers.

  ‘Tomorrow we will talk,’ Valda told herself. ‘I will tell him that I love him.’ She thought that he had been right in sending her away so that the rapture of the kiss he had given her in the garden would not be spoilt.

  To have to speak after what she had felt would have been too banal, too commonplace. They had touched the height of bliss.

  ‘He understands,’ she told herself, ‘as I never thought any man would understand.’

  How could she have known that in coming to the Camargue and trying to prove to her stepfather that she was capable of looking after herself, she would find the one thing she wanted?

  A man who loved her and whom she loved.

  She closed her eyes at the very wonder of it.

  Here was someone who did not know of her wealth and therefore could not be influenced by it. Here was someone to whom she was a nobody – a girl trying to earn her own living by taking photographs.

  It was everything she believed possible and yet had been afraid she would never find.

  It was love! It was romance! It was perfect, as pure and noble as the love sung about and extolled by the Troubadours who had lived in the Courts of Love.

  ‘I am so lucky – so very lucky!’ Valda told herself and remembered that she had not said her prayers.

  She sat up in bed, clasped her hands together and shut her eyes.

  “Thank you – God, thank – you,” she whispered and found there was no need to say any more.

  Her whole being was uplifted in an inexpressible gratitude for the blessing she had received from Heaven.

  Her eyes were still closed when the door opened and she looked in surprise to see Roydon enter the room.

  He was wearing a long robe that reached to the floor and the frill of his nightshirt was white against the darkness of his chin.

  He shut the door. Then, as Valda still stared at him in astonishment, he walked towards the bed.

  The look in his eyes made her feel shy and there was a twist to his lips that had something cynical about it.

  She stared up at him, her eyes very wide and questioning as he stood looking down at her.

  In the big square wooden bed with its heavy curtains, she seemed somehow small and insubstantial silhouetted against the white linen pillows.

  “That is how I thought you would look with your hair loose,” he said in his deep voice. “But it is longer than I expected.”

  With an effort Valda stammered,

  “W-what do y-you – want? I do not – think you s-should – come into my bedroom.”

  “You were not expecting me?”

  “No – of course – not!”

  “But you knew that we had not finished saying goodnight to each other?”

  She looked at him and her fingers trembled as they moved instinctively as if to cover her breasts.

  Her nightgown was fastened at the neck and extended to her wrists with a little frill that fell over her hands, but it was made of the very finest lawn and trimmed with lace and even in the dim light of one candle it was easy to see the curve of her rose-tipped breasts.

  “You should not – come in – here,” Valda said and her voice was low and a little frightened.

  “Are you playing with me?” Roydon asked in an amused tone.

  He sat down on the side of the bed and instinctively Valda pushed herself back against the pillows behind her.

  “You are very lovely, very alluring, very desirable,” Roydon said, “and I think in the exceptional circumstances in which we find ourselves, we can accelerate matters.”

  His smile was somehow more cynical as he went on,

  “I see you expect me to woo you, to wait a little longer before we reach together what we know is inevitable. But, darling, why should we waste time? I knew when I kissed you what we both wanted and there is no need for pretence.”

  “I don’t – understand,” Valda said. “I only – know that it is – wrong for you to come into my – bedroom.” “Wrong?”

  Roydon repeated the word with raised eyebrows.

  “Yes, wrong!” Valda answered. “I know my – mother would think it – wrong that I let you – kiss me, though it did not seem to me – wrong, only very – wonderful. But this – I think – this is different!”

  “What are you trying to say to me?” Roydon enquired. “I am – saying,” Valda answered, “that – gentlemen do not – come into ladies’ – bedrooms.”

  She thought as she spoke that what she had said sounded ridiculous.

  Of course she knew from the conversations she had listened to about her mother’s friends that gentlemen did go into ladies’ bedrooms.

  She did not know what they did, but presumably it was to ‘make love’.

  Did the French ever talk of anything else?

  “I-I think what I – mean,” she said hastily, “is that you should not come to – my – bedroom.”

  “I thought you liked me,” Roydon said.

  “But I do!” Valda replied quickly. “I like you more than I have ever liked anyone before! But however much we like each other – it would not be – right for you to be – here when we are alone.”

  “Listen, my sweet,” Roydon said. “I quite understand what you are trying to say to me. But, my dear, you have made it quite clear what sort of life you lead and, as I have already said, I find you very desirable and I think perhaps you are not entirely indifferent to me.”

  He smiled as he went on,

  “Why should we go through all the conventional preliminaries of pretending that you must be modest and maidenly, when inevitably, after all the initial skirmishes are over, we shall love each other as nature intended?”

  As he spoke, he bent forward and put his arms around Valda, drawing her close against him as his lips sought hers.

  She felt that tremor of excitement go through her that she had felt before. It was like a dagger piercing her body with a warm tide of wonder rising into her throat.

  Then, with an effort, she tried to push him from her.

  “No, no!” she cried. “Please – no!”

  There was a note in her voice that made him pause. Then she said,

  “I am – frightened – I don’t – understand what you want to – do, but I – know it would not be – right!”

  “What do you not understand?”

  He had not taken his arms from her, but now his lips were no longer seeking hers.

  There was a silence and then Valda turned her head to hide it against his shoulder.

  “I may be – wrong,” she said in a whisper, “but I think – perhaps – you want to – make love to me, and I don’t – know exactly what that – means.”

  She felt his body stiffen. Then he moved and, putting his fingers under her chin, turned her face up to his.

  “What do you mean – you don’t understand?”

>   Her eyes flickered because she knew he meant her to look up at him.

  Then, as if he compelled them to do so, her eyes met his.

  “No one has – explained it to me,” she said. “I have – heard people talking about – making love, but I feel inside me that unless one is – married it must – really be a sin!”

  For a long moment Roydon stared down at her. Then he set her free, taking his other arm from around her.

  “I think you have much explaining to do, Valda,” he said quietly. “And I want to know the truth.”

  There was a silence so intense that Valda could hear her own breathing. Then she said, a tremor in her voice, “What do you want – to know?”

  “Exactly what you are doing here alone,” he replied, “dressed as a gypsy and telling me that you are living a free life of your own?”

  There was another silence. After a moment he demanded, “I am waiting!”

  Valda did not look at him. Her eyelashes were very dark and long against the whiteness of her cheeks.

  “It is not your – business!”

  “You made it my business when you let me kiss you this morning.”

  “I could not – help it.”

  “But you thought it was wonderful and that is what you said just now.”

  “It was wonderful! I did not know a – kiss could be like – that.”

  “How many men have kissed you?”

  “None – except you!”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “It – is the – truth,” Valda replied in a very small voice.

  She thought as she spoke that she was being very stupid.

  He was worming her secrets out of her and yet he was so masterful, so authoritative that it was impossible to defy him.

  “And what about these other men. The men you don’t wish to marry? The men with whom you have walked in Paris?”

  Valda did not answer and after a moment he said,

  “I think you still have a lot of explaining to do, Valda,” he said, “The alternative of course is to let me make love to you as I intended to do when I came into this room.”

  “But – why? Why should you want to do – that?”

  “It is not a question of why I should want to,” Roydon said with a smile. “I can assure you that it is what any man would want who was alone with anyone as lovely as you. But you gave the impression of being very experienced and sophisticated. Are you really telling me, on your sacred word of honour, that you have never had a lover?”

  “No – of course – I have not!” Valda said in a shocked voice.

  “How old are you?”

  The question took her by surprise.

  For a moment the answer trembled on her lips. Then resolutely, as she bit back the words, Roydon reached out and holding her chin turned her face up to his.

  “Tell me the truth!” he asked. “I am not prepared to listen to any more lies!”

  She tried to twist her chin away from him, but he would not let her go.

  “The truth!” he insisted.

  “I – am – eighteen.”

  “It is what I might have known! And I suppose you have run away from home?”

  “Y-yes!”

  “Why?”

  “Because my stepfather wished me to – marry a man I have never seen – a marriage that would be arranged – as is usual in France – ”

  Valda’s voice died away. Then, as Roydon did not speak, she went on,

  “I wanted to prove to him that I could take care of myself so that he would believe that I was capable also of choosing the man who would be my husband.”

  “And you thought out this wild escapade on your own?” Valda nodded.

  “Have you any idea how crazily – how irresponsibly you are behaving?” Roydon asked.

  There was a note of anger in his voice that annoyed her.

  “I am doing what I have to do!” she flashed. “And when I do go home, having looked after myself and bringing back the pictures I have taken of the Camargue, my stepfather is bound to realise he is wrong.”

  “Do you really think you will have proved that you can look after yourself? Do you think that is what you are doing at this moment?”

  She looked at him wide-eyed.

  “Supposing,” he said slowly, “I pay no attention to your objections! Supposing I get into bed with you at this moment and make love to you! What could you do about it?”

  It flashed through Valda’s mind that it might be rather wonderful, as wonderful as his kisses when they had been in the thicket and in the garden.

  Then she stammered,

  “I don’t think – you will. You know I believe it to be – wrong.”

  “I may listen to you,” Roydon said, “but a great many men would pay no attention, whatever you might say.”

  “But I have not – met them!” Valda retorted.

  “That is more by luck than by good judgement!” he said and there was still the note of anger in his voice. “The whole thing is ridiculous! Tomorrow I shall take you home.”

  “I will not go with you!” Valda cried. “I am not going home and you cannot make me! After all, you don’t know where I live and you have no right to order me about!”

  “And suppose I give myself the right?”

  He reached out his arms as he spoke and put them round Valda again.

  “If I made love to you, Valda, with or without your consent, would not that automatically authorise me to look after and protect you from other men?”

  Chapter Six

  He drew her closer as he spoke and Valda tried to push him away.

  “No! No! No!”

  Her voice was lost as he tipped her back against the pillows and his lips were on hers.

  He kissed her fiercely and roughly with a violence that was frightening.

  She was still struggling, but ineffectively and she realised how weak and helpless she was against his strength.

  His lips hurt her, she was conscious of the pain of them and, for a moment, she felt panic-stricken, feeling herself captured and overpowered.

  Then, just as had happened before, the dagger-like pain that swept through her body turned into rapture and ecstasy.

  The fight went from her and she became soft and yielding, her body moving against his, her whole being bemused by a wonder that seeped into her throat and up to her lips.

  Her will was gone, even her thought of self.

  Once again she was part of him, but now it was more wonderful, more glorious than it had been before and she felt as if the small flame, that had flickered in her breasts burst into a blazing fire, which utterly consumed her.

  She could only feel to a point of intensity when she could no longer think.

  The fire within her seemed to leap higher and Valda knew that her body was aching for something she did not understand, but which she was willing to give him because she was already his.

  Time, space, the whole world vanished and he carried her into a Paradise where they were alone – no longer human but part of the Divine.

  Then, when a century of ecstasy had passed, Roydon raised his head and her lips were free.

  For a moment she was unable to move and it was impossible to breathe.

  “I love – you! I love – you!”

  The words came from the depths of her soul.

  “My darling, this is madness!”

  “It is – perfect! It is – Heaven! Please – kiss me again.”

  Roydon looked down at her and his mouth was very close to hers. Her red hair was streaming over the pillow and over his arm.

  In the light from the candle, he could see her lips warm and trembling from his kisses, her eyes wide and shining with a passion she had never known before and did not understand.

  For a long, long moment he looked at her until with an effort he took his arms from her and rose from the bed. “I told you that this is madness!”

  “ But why?”

  “Because you must not
love me. It is something that cannot happen.”

  “But – it has happened!”

  Roydon walked across the room to the window to pull back the curtains as if he was in need of air.

  He stood with his back to the room and Valda watched him, the happiness fading a little from her face and a feeling of uncertainty replacing the throbbing glory within her breasts.

  “What – is – wrong?” she asked after a moment. “Everything is wrong!” he answered. “And that is why you have to forget that I kissed you.”

  “W-why? Oh, why?”

  Valda pushed herself up in the bed, raising her head from the pillows against which he had crushed her.

  “Tomorrow,” Roydon said in a hard voice, “you will leave – or I will! On one thing I am determined, we cannot stay here together!”

  “But why – not?” Valda cried. “What have I – done? What have I – said that has – upset you?”

  He did not speak and she added,

  “Was it because I-I said I – love you?”

  There was something lost and pathetic in her voice. He turned from the window.

  “No, of course not,” he replied. “I am only trying to convince myself it is not true.”

  “But it is true,” Valda insisted. “You are all that I have – wanted and – longed for – the man I felt existed – somewhere in the world – if only I could find him.”

  “You are not to say such things to me.”

  Their eyes met across the room, then abruptly Roydon turned once again to the window.

  “I don’t – understand,” Valda said. “Are you trying to tell me that you do not – like me or – perhaps I have – shocked you?”

  As if he could not help himself, a smile came to Roydon’s lips and he walked back to the bed.

  “You have not shocked me, my sweet. I am only upset that you should take such risks with yourself and behave in such a dangerous manner.”

  The light came back into Valda’s eyes.

  “Then we can be – together?”

  “No!”

  The monosyllable seemed to echo round the room. The darkness was back in Roydon’s expression and the harsh note in his voice.

  “I have to think for you,” he said. “If you are sensible, you will go back to your stepfather and do as he wishes.”

  “I – cannot! I cannot do – that! Especially now that I have – met you.”