Cast a tender shadow

by Dix, Isabel

  And that was what they did, Charles handing her cubes of cheese speared on a fork which he selected as if he were choosing the nicest pieces specially for her, just as any good husband should. Kate was glad that the passion she felt for him had quietened, that he did nothing to fan it into that burning, frustrating, destruc-

  tive emotion which had engulfed them the previous day. For the moment she was content with the bitter-sweetness of just sitting beside Charles, quietly enjoying his company, exchanging unimportant little remarks. And the realisation that the pleasure of this evening must last a very long time brought a feeling of nostalgia as if she had already gone.

  When they had finished, Charles held out a hand to help her to her feet, looking at her with an expression that made her wonder, just for a brief moment, if he too was savouring this time that he knew must be fleeting. But then he smiled, wryly, holding her for a breathless moment by her fingertips.

  `Time to get back to duty.'

  And they had rejoined their guests, mingling with them as they drank coffee and finally all gravitating in the direction of the sitting room where the carpet had been removed so that it was possible to dance on the smooth floor of the ancient barn. In the corner beside the open windows the large stereo was playing soft music, mostly the sweet old-fashioned kind but interspersed with a few reggae tapes.

  `Shall we?' Charles's arm was already round her waist but he turned her towards him smiling into her eyes. 'If we don't none of the others will, that's certain.'

  Kate drew in a sharp breath and saw the expression on his face change, the smile fade while something, a warning flashed in the darkness of his eyes. But before they could move out on to the cleared portion at the edge of the room, someone banged a metal tray and there was a sudden lull in the animated conversation.

  Monsieur de Warens was standing in the centre of the room, obviously determined to make a speech of

  congratulation. Kate stood, her eyes moving round the faces of the guests, seeing them laugh, finding that she was blushing even though she understood little of what was being said. Lounging back in a chair, Emil sitting on the side, his arm extending along the back of the seat, sat Francoise, her lips unsmiling, her eyes fixed with a very hungry look on Charles's face. Then, as she became conscious of Kate's scrutiny, the pale eyes moved over, staring with such an expression of jealous hatred that Kate shivered suddenly.

  `Be calm, chérie: She heard the whisper in her ear and looked up gratefully just as the speech of congratulation came to an end.

  `Thank you,' she whispered up at him, and looked round as Georges came from behind them with two glasses on a silver tray. Without thinking about it she took the glass, listened to the brief reply Charles made, and turned to raise her glass to him in response to his salute.

  `To you, Kate.' His whisper made her eyes fill with tears, and to her dismay he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her eyes carefully. Round about them the noise of laughter and clapping drowned any words that they might have to say to each other and miraculously the volume of the music was turned up so that the tantalising notes of a dreamy waltz filled the room. She sipped the wine and then allowed Charles to take the glass from her hand and give it with his own to Georges who was hovering nearby.

  As his arm held her to him, her eyes were raised to his, uncaring that he might be able to decipher her expression while their feet moved in time to the music, quite as if they had danced together a hundred times before. If others joined them on the floor neither Kate

  nor Charles seemed to notice. There was such ecstasy in the smooth movement of their bodies, such pleasure in the touch of his cheek against hers. The scent of his cologne rose in her nostrils, exciting her as it always did, and she lowered her eyes, her head drooping towards his shoulder. When the music changed to something more vibrant and exciting, stars gleamed in her eyes as they faced each other, gyrating to the intense pulsating throb, twisting like supple jungle cats, turning but always coming back to face each other, eyes searching.

  It was too sensuous and provocative to be endured, so perhaps it was as well that they were interrupted, that Claude cut in on them saying something about claiming a dance with the bride and at the same time Charles turned away in response to the insistent hand that Lise put on his sleeve. After that Kate seemed to be claimed for every dance and she saw that Charles was dutifully dancing with the older women guests, appearing to think that the younger women were being well enough looked after by his guests.

  Until he danced with Francoise, that was ! And although she tried hard not to notice, Kate could hardly avoid seeing that he spent much more time with her than with any of the others. She saw his head lowered as he listened to what she was saying, her animated face turned upwards, appealingly, it seemed to Kate. Once she happened to see the man who had arrived with Francoise and he was watching them with an intense expression as they circled round the floor.

  Kate, who had just relinquished one partner pleading exhaustion, stopped to speak to him. 'You don't care for dancing?'

  `I care for it.' He shrugged and smiled, transforming his rather dull face with a flash of humour. 'But alas, I have no sense of rhythm—or so Francoise tells me.' His tense expression sought out her figure on the floor again. `The thing is, Madame Savoney-Morlet, that when I was a young man I had no time to learn dancing. I was poor and had to make my way in the world. Now, I think it is too late to begin.'

  `Of course it isn't.' Kate felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the man, who seemed as out of place in this gathering as she felt. 'Would you like to try this one?' She held her head to one side, beating out the rhythm with one finger. 'It really doesn't matter what you do to this music. You can just move from one foot to the other. Nobody notices.'

  `Very well.' He grinned of her with a faintly conspiratorial expression. 'If you would be so good, madame.'

  But just as they were walking on to the floor Francoise, apparently deserted by Charles and not happy about it, appeared in front of them, blocking their way. Her eyes travelled slowly over Kate's face before moving on to Emil. 'I think we had better go, Emil. It is late and I feel tired. Thank you for a lovely party, madame.'

  `I'm glad you could come.' Kate's manner gave no indication of the annoyance she felt at the other woman's barely veiled rudeness.

  `It was so kind of you to come.'

  `Then au 'voir, madame.' Emil bowed over her hand `Our dance, I'm afraid, must wait for another time. Perhaps for your sake it was just as well!'

  After that there was a general thinning out of, the crowd, and the last to say goodnight were the ones who

  had arrived first, Claude and Lise. He held Kate's hand for just a fraction longer than necessary and she thought that there was a particular message in his eyes when he looked at her.

  `I suggested a midnight swim, Kate, but your husband thought it wasn't such a good idea.'

  `Besides which,' Charles's voice was deep and had a faint warning note, 'midnight has long since gone. It is after two o'clock.'

  `Oui. Come now, Claude.' Lisa pulled impatiently at his arm. 'I am tired.' She yawned, showing her pretty even teeth.

  `Very well, chérie.' He sighed indulgently. 'Bon soir, Kate. Bon soir, Charles.' And a few minutes later they had driven out of the courtyard, leaving it empty.

  Kate walked into the kitchen, surprised to see that it looked very much as usual, all the dishes and most of the glasses having been washed and replaced in their cupboards, all the surfaces wiped clean. Georges turned from the sink where he was rinsing a few last things under a tap and smiled at her.

  `Oh, Georges, thank you.' Then as Charles followed her into the room she turned to him. 'Would you tell Georges how grateful I am? And I was going to suggest that you tell them they needn't come in tomorrow. They deserve a break after all the work they've done and I can tidy the house and make some food if we feel hungry.'

  `Sure?' The dark eyes questioned her enigmatically. Then as she confirmed with a brief
little nod she heard him explain to Georges, heard the man's obvious pleasure at the suggestion. With a murmured goodnight to Georges Kate slipped out of the kitchen, pausing for a

  moment in the hall before, almost by instinct, she followed the sound of music that was still coming from the sitting-room.

  She was standing by the window when she heard the door open and footsteps cross the wooden floor. 'How do you put this off?' She moved towards the stereo, glad to do something that would keep her mind occupied.

  `Leave it for a moment. Come and sit down. You must be tired, Kate.'

  Reluctantly, willingly, she couldn't decide which, Kate turned round and walked into the centre of the room, avoiding his eyes until something impelled her to turn and look at him. There was a curious expression on his face, unsmiling yet soft, gentle as he took her hand to lead her to a seat.

  But instead of sitting, he held her hand close to his chest, his other arm circled her waist and their feet began to move in time to the music. Kate gazed up at him, thinking of nothing but how she loved him, forgetting that yesterday he had rejected her with withering scorn, forgetting her newly reached determination to sever her links with him as soon as possible.

  Then they were no longer dancing, they were standing together, his hands were linked about her waist, hers had crept up to loop themselves about his neck. Kate had one thought in her mind, one urge in her body, and because all words like caution and discretion and even self-protection had simply faded from her mind she obeyed her instinct.

  At first there was no response as her lips trembled beneath his. She closed her eyes, leaning against him, murmuring his name, stroking the back of his neck with one finger. And then the fire that had smouldered

  between them for so long burst into consuming flames as his mouth bruised hers with a fierce, possessive hardness, his fingers moved over her body, moulding her pliant form to his.

  `Kate! My Kate.' Even her name was a caress as he spoke it, sweet torment to her body, and a faint moan escaped from her lips as she surrendered to him body and soul.

  `Kate?' He held her from him for a moment, cupping her face in his hands, searching her face with a dark intensity which made her tremble. There was no doubt in her mind that he was asking a question, seeking a response in her eyes, eyes that were heavy with longing in the soft lighting. Her lips parted softly, invitingly, and she rejoiced in the faint triumphant laugh that sounded in her ears in that moment before he swept her from her feet, carrying her exultantly from the room.

  CHAPTER TEN

  KATE lay in the moon washed bedroom listening to Charles's even, contented breathing by her side. She smiled to herself, an expression of sheer joy and contentment as carefully she turned round so that she was lying watching his face. It was relaxed in sleep, the dark hair falling across his forehead, so infinitely dear to her that she raised herself on one elbow and gently kissed the closed eyelids.

  `Kate.' He murmured her name, the eyes opened for a second to look lazily at her, smiling sleepily. 'Kate.' His hand reached out, resting for an instant against her cheek, drifting down her throat to her breast, and then sleep overpowered him again.

  She lay watching the rise and fall of the darkly tanned chest, longing to reach out a hand to touch the springy hair, only restrained by an unwillingness to disturb him again. Tears of pleasure stung her eyes as she remembered the unbelievable joy that the night had brought her. And to him.

  There had been no hesitation about their coming together after that questioning embrace in the sitting-room when the guests had left them. The fire that had consumed her had found a match in his, but, as if aware of her inexperience, he had shown restraint and infinite gentleness that first time.

  After that he had made love to her with fierce abandon, so that time and again together they reached a giddy height of ecstasy Kate could never have imagined. And together they descended, floating down from the enchanted planes where their mingling flesh had taken them to this plateau of sweet fulfilment.

  Kate sighed and closed her eyes, allowing sleep to wash over her. And she dreamed, now without terror, and the man who strode through her unconscious thoughts was no longer a stranger, but the man who was in truth her husband.

  The room was bright with sunshine when she stirred. First she gave a contented little sigh and turned over on the pillow, reaching out her hand across the empty bed. It was a moment before her eyes shot open, deeply violet and troubled when she realised that she was alone there. For a time she was too shocked to move, her heart hammered against her ribs as the awful impression crossed her mind.

  Surely, surely it hadn't all been a dream? She couldn't have imagined . . . She pushed herself to a sitting position, then realising that she was naked, she slipped down with a smile, yet feeling the warmth in her cheeks. At the same instant she saw, lying on the floor by the side of the bed, the discarded dress that she had tossed aside with such unseemly haste.

  Her blush deepened and her eyes moved across to the door, her heart bounding when she saw, folded over a chair, Charles's dark dinner jacket, the white shirt a crumpled heap beside it. So it hadn't been a dream; her heart quietened and for a time she was content to lie there, her lips curved in a smile of recollection.

  But then she remembered that she and Charles were to restore the house to its normal condition. Besides, she couldn't bear life an instant longer without seeing him. Quickly she rose, decided that she would have a quick swim in the pool before she made Charles some breakfast. Then they would begin to repair the ravages of the sitting-room. She smiled again, willing at last to admit to herself that after last night the prospect of appearing before him in another new swimsuit was .. . intriguing.

  The impact of the suit was, Kate decided as she viewed the result in the mirror, worth every penny she had paid for it. It was stunningly simple, stunningly daring, the halter neckline plunging revealingly to the jewelled buckle of the low-slung belt. Its colour, brilliant dramatic violet that matched her eyes, had been the first thing that attracted her, and she felt excited as she snatched up a broad-brimmed black straw hat, pushed her sunglasses on to her nose and ran downstairs.

  Barefoot she walked through the sitting room on to the terrace, pausing by the open door, her eyes searching for some sight of the only person she wanted to see just then. The heat hung heavy over the sheltered corner and Kate walked slowly over the hot paving stones, stood looking down into the clear blue water for a moment, then stooping, splashed the surface with one languid hand.

  The water shimmered and when it stilled she saw a reflection behind her own and straightened, turning slowly, shyly towards him. He was wearing pale trousers, a cream silk shirt open to the waist, sleeves rolled back to show the strong forearms. As her eyes swept over him she noticed that his hair was crisp and

  damp, and irrationally was aware of a stab of disappointment.

  `Kate.' He regarded her warily for a moment before stepping forward, his eyes sweeping over her blushing cheeks, lingering on the cloud of golden-brown hair that fell to her shoulders. The firm lips curved into a smile of greeting. `Kate,' he said again.

  `I hoped you might feel like having a swim,' she faltered, 'but you look as if you . .

  `No, I had a shower, Kate. I.. I. . . left you about half an hour ago.' As he watched her increasing colour his smile grew wider and one hand came out to pluck the sunglasses from her face. 'I told you, Kate my sweet, that I always want to be able to see your eyes. And as to swimming with you, I feel the opportunity is one that I can hardly resist.' He came close, looking down at her with a gentle expression while his hand circled her neck. 'As I find almost everything about you hard to resist this morning, my Kate.' He paused and grew more thoughtful. 'Impossible even. I'll be down in two minutes if you'll wait . . .' He grinned then, turned away and strode into the house.

  Kate, surrounded by a miasma of love and joy and a dozen emotions which she would have thought were impossible to experience at that time in the morning, sank on
to one of the chairs, her fingers reaching for a swimming cap she had left there a day or two earlier. But she had little time to think, for Charles was back as soon as he had promised and he casually tossed her one of the towels he was carrying.

  `Here, chérie.' The old sardonic smile touched his mouth. 'I see you forgot to bring one down. I would like to think it was because you were too dazzled by love

  to be aware of what you were doing, but . . .' his eyes had narrowed a little, he was watching her with an intensity which she found puzzling, then she understood that he was waiting to hear her answer the implicit question.

  `I should have thought . . .' Her voice quivered a little and under his searching eyes she grew shy again. `Charles . .

  `Oui, chérie?' His tone was gently prompting.

  `I...'

  But before she could say any more they heard the sharp tapping sound of heels coming round the corner of the house, the subdued murmur of voices, and Kate paused while they both looked up, regretting the interruption.

  And into view, looking as immaculate as she always did, dressed in pale green linen, every strand of her blonde curls lacquered into a halo, stepped Francoise. She stopped when she saw them standing so closely, so intimately together, and a strange self-satisfied smile crossed her face. Kate only glimpsed it before the visitor turned to the man who had followed her, automatically she took in the tall dark figure. Then she realised that his eyes were devouring her, that he was stepping towards her. The name that was on his lips was her own.

  The picture unfolded in slow motion before her eyes. She heard her own gasp of disbelief, felt her legs begin to fold beneath her as Antoine crossed the few remaining yards, hands outstretched. But it was as if he were running and running and never coming any closer. Behind him Francoise smiled, tenderly to Charles, triumphantly towards Kate.