Сара Крейвен – The Right Bride?: Bride of Desire / The English Aristocrat's Bride / Vacancy: Wife of Convenience (страница 16)

His lips touched her hair. ‘They will have to accustom themselves also.’

‘But how will I get back?’

‘Naturally I shall drive you home, before I go into Ignac. Or did you think I would send you back on Roland?’

‘It crossed my mind,’ she admitted, and heard him laugh softly.

They were quiet for a while, then she said, ‘Do you know this is only my second time on the back of a horse?’

‘Vraiment? I hope you are a little more comfortable this time. And that you do not find it as frightening.’

‘Oh, I’m still a little scared,’ she said. ‘But for very different reasons.’

‘Ah, mon ange.’ His voice was gentle. ‘Alys, you must know that I would never willingly do anything to hurt you.’

Or I you. Never willingly. But I know in my heart that I shall—because I can’t help myself…

Perhaps their need for each other would be like a summer storm, she thought with sudden sadness. Raging for a while, then blowing itself out, with no lasting harm in its wake. Maybe even enabling them to say goodbye as friends.

‘Qu’as-tu, Alys?’ He must have sensed her disquiet. ‘Is something the matter?’

‘No, nothing. Except—I was thinking how strange life is. How unexpected.’

‘You think so?’ She heard the smile in his voice. ‘Yet I know I have been waiting for you since the day I was born. Is it not the same for you?’

‘Yes,’ she told him quietly. ‘Oh, yes.’

And knew, with sadness, that she spoke only the truth. But that it was all, tragically, too late…

Trehel was an old grey stone house, massive among its surrounding grasslands and trees, with three storeys of shuttered windows that seemed to be watching like half-closed eyes as they rode up. Allie could only hope the scrutiny was friendly.

Remy walked Roland round the side of the house to a large courtyard holding stables and outbuildings.

There was a big barn set well back from the yard, and Allie could hear the noise of sawing and hammering emanating from it.

‘Is that where you’re planning to live?’ she asked as Remy dismounted and lifted her down.

‘Yes,’ he said, then looked at her, his mouth twisting ruefully. ‘Ah, Solange must have told you. What else did she say?’

Allie shrugged. ‘That it hadn’t gone entirely to plan.’ Also, she happened to mention the view from the bedroom.

‘The building work has been more slow than I had hoped,’ he admitted. ‘However, it should be finished soon.’

‘May I see round it?’

‘Of course, but not now,’ he said, tossing Roland’s reins to the elderly man emerging from the stables. He added softly, ‘One day, ma belle, when we have more time.’ And the promise in his voice warmed her skin.

Then he took her hand, and led her into the house.

She found herself in a huge kitchen, with a long table at its centre. A tall white-haired man was busying himself at the range with a kettle as they came in, and the two dogs of indeterminate breed who were lying beside him looked up, thumped feathery tails on the rug, then relapsed into doing very little again.

The man turned, and Allie found herself being studied by shrewd blue eyes under bushy eyebrows.

He said, ‘So, Remy, who is this lovely girl you have brought to brighten our morning?’

‘I wish you to meet Alys, Grandpère. She is Celine Vaillac’s granddaughter. Ma mie, this is my grandfather, Georges de Brizat.’

‘But of course.’ The rather stern mouth softened into a warm smile. ‘I was foolish not to have known at once. You are very like her, mademoiselle.’

And you, she thought. One look at you, and I know exactly what Remy will be like as he grows old.

And she felt pain slash at her as she realised she would not be there to see him…

Oh, God, she thought, this is all so wrong. I shouldn’t even be here now. The whole situation’s getting out of hand.

But she recovered herself instantly, shook hands, murmuring a polite greeting, and sat at the table to be served with warm rolls, cherry jam, and large bowls of hot chocolate.

‘Where is Papa?’ Remy asked.

‘The Richaud baby. They telephoned at dawn after the first contraction, I think.’

‘Well, it is understandable,’ Remy said tolerantly. ‘After four girls, Richaud is desperate for a boy.’ He grinned. ‘It has become a matter of public concern, Alys. They have been laying odds in the Café des Sports.’

Her mouth was suddenly bone-dry. ‘Poor woman—to have so much expected of her,’ she managed, and gulped some of her chocolate.

Georges de Brizat came and sat at the head of the table, followed hopefully by the dogs. He gave Allie another thoughtful look. ‘You are staying with Madame Colville, mademoiselle? She is well, I hope.’

‘Absolutely fine.’ She forced a smile.

‘Good.’ His nod was faintly abstracted. ‘Good. You will tell her I was asking about her? Also, give her my best wishes?’

‘Yes—yes, of course.’

‘We knew each other many years ago, during the bad years of the Occupation. She and her sister were brave girls. Brave and very beautiful.’ He paused. ‘They had happy lives—with their Englishmen?’

‘Yes,’ Allie returned, faintly surprised. ‘Very happy.’

He nodded again, then applied himself to his breakfast.

One of the dogs came and laid a chin on her leg, and she stroked his silky head and fondled his ears, before slipping him a morsel of bread and jam, while Remy watched her with such tender amusement that she wanted to get up from her chair, and go round the table into his arms, to remain there for ever.

But he was getting briskly to his feet. ‘I must go and shower. Get ready for work.’ As he passed his grandfather’s chair, he dropped a hand on the old man’s shoulder. ‘Be gentle with Alys, Grandpère. No Resistance-style interrogation, s’il te plaît.’

When they were alone, Dr de Brizat cleared his throat. ‘Remy likes his joke, Mademoiselle Alys. But a beautiful girl at the breakfast table is a rarity in this house, so I am bound to be intrigued. How did you meet my grandson?’

Allie carefully added butter and jam to her remaining fragment of roll. ‘I was on the beach below Les Sables. Remy warned me about the tide, but I stupidly took no notice, so he—came back for me.’

‘He behaved with great wisdom,’ said his grandfather. ‘You are planning a lengthy visit to Madame Colville?’

She flushed. ‘I’m not altogether sure of my plans—at the moment.’

She was bracing herself for more questions, when the rear door opened, and a voice called, ‘Remy? Tu es là?’ Solange Geran walked into the kitchen. She presented a more muted appearance this morning, in denim jeans and a matching shirt, her hair pulled back from her face.

She checked when she saw Allie, looking thunderstruck. ‘You?’ Her tone was less than friendly. ‘What are you doing here?’

Georges de Brizat got politely to his feet. ‘Bonjour, Solange. As you see, we have a guest for breakfast.’ He added mildly, ‘I hope you have no objection?’

‘Why, no. I mean—how could I?’ The girl gave a swift trill of laughter. ‘How absurd. It was just—a surprise to see Mademoiselle Colville again—so soon.’ She glanced around. ‘But where is Remy?’

‘Taking a shower,’ his grandfather returned. ‘May I pass on some message?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘You are quite sure? It must have been a matter of some urgency to bring you here at such an hour.’

The pretty mouth was sulky. ‘It is my mother,’ she said. ‘The trouble with her knee. She complains that she hardly slept last night. I hoped that Remy would call at the farm on his way to Ignac.’

‘I regret that will not be possible, as he will be driving Mademoiselle Alys to Les Sables before going to work.’ He added tranquilly, ‘But if you bring your mother to the medical centre later in the morning, he can examine her there.’

‘Since my father’s death, my mother rarely leaves the house.’

Monsieur de Brizat shrugged. ‘Then, instead, I will request my son to pay her a visit once he returns from the Richauds’.’ His tone was dry. ‘He used to attend madame, so he is well acquainted with the case.’

In spite of her embarrassment, Allie had to stifle a giggle. Game, set and match to Dr Georges, she thought.

Solange’s face was like a mask. She said stiffly, ‘That is—kind. I shall tell Maman to expect him.’