Tahitian Wedding Read online

  ‘We can’t,’ she said thickly. ‘The others—’

  ‘Damn the others!’ retorted Alain. ‘Marie Rose will fob them off. You know, your legs are like satin. I’m going to kiss them all the way up, starting from your feet.’

  His warm, ticklish breath caressed her toes and she giggled and squirmed, beset by an urge to let him do whatever he chose with her. He was sensual, playful, arrogant and she wanted him with a hunger that both elated and appalled her. Never mind that she had sworn off men forever, nor that Alain did not love her but was driven only by lust. It might be simple insanity or a biological drive as old as time, but, whatever it was, Claire felt driven by it as relentlessly as a lemming heading for a cliff. But as Alain’s quivering lips brushed the inside of her thigh, there was an approaching hail from outside the house.

  ‘Yoohoo! Alain! Claire! Wherever have you got to?’

  Alain swore violently and rose to his feet.

  ‘My aunt has the worst sense of timing of any woman I’ve ever met,’ he said through his teeth. ‘Go and tell her I’m still getting dressed, will you?’

  He hauled Claire unceremoniously off the bed and on to her feet. Then, as he was propelling her towards the door, he stopped and dragged her against him for another swift, brutal kiss.

  ‘There are things we need to discuss,’ he growled. ‘I’ll pick you up for dinner tomorrow night at eight. All right?’

  Claire stared at him, feeling totally shaken. She was not sure what he meant or what he wanted and the abrupt transition from sensual abandonment to business as usual left her apprehensive and confused. Yet there was no time to argue or press for explanations. Not with the front door of the house opening and Denise Halévy’s footsteps sounding in the hall.

  ‘All right,’ she breathed.

  And, fighting down her misgivings, she went to meet Alain’s aunt.

  A table was already set on the terrace near the swimming-pool and a waiter dressed in colourful Tahitian shorts and shirt was pouring chilled white wine as Claire approached. She was afraid that what had just happened between her and Alain must be written all over her in letters of fire, but nobody paid her any special attention. Apart from a mischievous, enquiring look from Marie Rose, there was little response from the others as she sat down.

  ‘Where’s Alain?’ demanded Paul, before judiciously swirling a sip of Chablis around his mouth. ‘Thanks, that’s fine.’

  ‘He’ll be here any minute,’ replied Claire. ‘He couldn’t find any clothes to fit him.’

  She was thankful that her voice remained steady, but when Alain arrived it took all her self-control to act naturally. The meal was delicious. An entree of poisson cru, the traditional Tahitian dish of raw fish marinated in lime juice and coconut milk, followed by juicy brochettes of beef, a mound of crisp fried potatoes and a tossed green salad with a pudding of waffles and vanilla ice-cream. But Claire might as well have been eating sand for all the pleasure it gave her. Her whole body was tingling with a heightened physical and emotional awareness and she felt morbidly conscious of the undercurrents of tension within the group. Was it her imagination or was Nadine darting her brief, resentful glances from across the table? And were Charles and Denise Halévy both looking from Claire to Alain whenever they thought they were unobserved? And had Nadine knocked over her glass of wine by accident or on purpose so that Alain would have to mop her up? Yet whatever else might be the product of her fevered inventions, Claire could not doubt that the rare, brooding glances she was receiving from Alain were genuine. All in all, it was rather a relief to her when the coffee was finished and the group broke up.

  ‘Well, what would you like to do now?’ asked Paul, apparently unaware of any tension among his guests. ‘You can lie down for a rest indoors or lounge around by the pool. And later, when the meal has settled, there’s snorkelling or water-skiing on the bay if anyone is interested. Or there’s a games room and video lounge inside.’

  ‘And, if anyone wants a really thrilling time, Alain can take them on a tour of the new drainage system and deliver his lecture on hotel planning,’ put in Marie Rose, her eyes dancing.

  ‘Spare me!’ protested Charles in mock horror. ‘In any case, my body clock still seems to be on Paris time, so I think I’ll go indoors for a little snooze. What about you, my dear?’

  Denise shook her head contemptuously.

  ‘The quickest way to get over jet lag is to adopt the local time as soon as possible,’ she said with authority. ‘And get plenty of bright sunlight. I intend to stay right here on the patio.’

  ‘Nadine?’ prompted Paul.

  ‘Actually, I would like a tour of the drainage system and Alain’s lecture,’ she announced.

  There were groans of disbelief from Paul and Marie Rose, and Nadine looked offended.

  ‘You seem to forget that I’m an architect,’ she pointed out tartly. ‘There’s a lot of hidden work that goes into planning a hotel and I appreciate that, even if the rest of you don’t. Alain, will you take me?’

  ‘If you like,’ said Alain. ‘Anybody else coming?’

  Claire’s feelings were still in turmoil and the last thing she wanted to do was traipse around a set of drainage ditches while Nadine asked penetrating questions about damp courses, so she hastily refused.

  ‘I’ll stay here by the pool,’ she replied.

  Paul had work to do inside the building, so Claire and Marie Rose soon found themselves alone on the patio with his mother. As Alain and Nadine disappeared around the corner of the building, Denise gave a low sigh of satisfaction.

  ‘It’s nice to see those two together again,’ she remarked, letting herself down into a banana lounger. ‘Such a handsome couple. I always thought it was a dreadful pity when they broke off their engagement.’

  ‘Engagement?’ echoed Claire in a startled voice.

  ‘Oh, yes, they were engaged years ago before Alain came to Tahiti,’ agreed Denise. ‘It was a very suitable match and both families were delighted at the thought of it. The Hugos own a huge construction company and, of course, the Halévys and Charpentiers have a chain of hotels right across France. Alain and Nadine could have been a wonderful help to each other in their business dealings.’

  Marie Rose blinked. ‘You make it sound like a corporate merger!’ she protested.

  Denise shrugged.

  ‘Oh, my dear, many marriages are, in families that have any assets to consider. Not everyone marries for love as you and Paul are doing.’

  The tone in which she said the words ‘marries for love’ was decidedly lukewarm. Running a shrewd, assessing eye first over Marie Rose and then Claire, Denise Halévy sighed audibly.

  ‘Of course, one hopes that a marriage will work out, whatever the circumstances,’ she added. ‘But in my view it’s very important that a man should never be ashamed of the woman he wants to make his wife. Alain knew that, however rich or famous the circles he moved in, Nadine would always feel at home in them.’

  The two girls exchanged expressive glances. Without a word passing between them, Claire knew that her sister was thinking of the rusting bath in their front garden and the peeling paint on their parents’ modest home. Denise could hardly have made it clearer that she considered the Beaumonts complete upstarts to be meddling with Alain or Paul.

  ‘So, if Alain and Nadine were so well suited, what went wrong between them?’ asked Claire sharply.

  For some reason the thought of Alain’s being engaged to Nadine sent a pain like a knife piercing through her. It took her a moment’s baffled contemplation to realise that the emotion she felt was jealousy. Not that she was in love with Alain. Far from it. She now felt a grim certainty that Alain’s sensual caresses meant nothing whatsoever, that he regarded her simply as a challenge like any other attractive woman. It was not the first time she had met a man like that, but the really astonishing thing was the way she had responded to him. After all, wasn’t she an expert at taking evasive action when men became too urgent in their pursuit of
her? Hadn’t she sworn long ago that she would never, ever be fool enough to let herself get hurt so badly again? So why had she let Alain carry her along on such a surge of frenzied passion? And why was she sitting here now, with her heart pumping unsteadily and a lump in her throat, while she waited to hear about his love for another woman? It didn’t make sense.

  ‘Oh, it was just a silly tiff really,’ replied Denise tranquilly. ‘Alain wanted to bring Nadine out here for two years to get the hotel at Point Cupid up and running. He’d always fancied a stint in Tahiti. But she didn’t want to come. She said it was a job for some fool who had worked his way up from being a bell-hop, not for a member of the Charpentier family, and Alain took offence. He came without her and, before we knew it, the engagement was over. But they’ve never lost touch with each other and it’s obvious that there’s some very powerful chemistry between them.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ demanded Marie Rose, darting a troubled look at Claire.

  Denise smiled superciliously.

  ‘Oh, my dear, one only has to look at them,’ she said. ‘Besides, Alain would hardly be sleeping with her, if he felt no attraction at all, would he?’

  ‘Sleeping with her?’ whispered Claire in horror.

  Denise looked amused.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘They’re going to Bora Bora together for a week or two after Paul’s wedding. And I wouldn’t think they’ve booked a double room just to watch television, would you?’

  A medley of conflicting emotions surged through Claire’s breast. Shock, anger, disbelief, humiliation. Rising to her feet, she paced across to the edge of the patio to hide her confusion from the others. How dared Alain make love to her when he was still sleeping with Nadine? How dared he invite her to dinner and tell her they had things to discuss? The only subject they had to discuss was how Claire could make sure she never saw him again! Her eyes smarted with angry tears.

  ‘Is there any more coffee, Marie Rose?’ she asked in a muffled voice.

  ‘Yes, come inside with me and I’ll get it,’ said Marie Rose, laying an arm protectively around her sister’s shoulders. ‘You’ll excuse us for a moment, won’t you, Denise? By the way, can I get you more coffee too?’

  ‘No, I’m perfectly content, thank you,’ replied Denise with a small, feline smile.

  ‘I’ll bet she is, the old witch!’ exclaimed Marie Rose, once they were out of earshot. ‘I’ve never seen such a mischief-maker! Come into Paul’s office and tell me what’s wrong, Claire.’

  A moment later the door closed behind them and they found themselves alone in a pleasant room overlooking the garden.

  ‘Now,’ said Marie Rose, settling herself expectantly in an easy-chair and switching on an electric coffee percolator. ‘What’s the matter, Claire? Is it only because of Denise telling you that Alain is sleeping with Nadine?’

  ‘Only!’ said Claire with feeling.

  ‘So he does mean something to you,’ suggested Marie Rose softly.

  ‘No!’ retorted Claire. ‘He doesn’t! He doesn’t mean a damned thing to me. It’s just that—’

  ‘He kissed you while you were over at my house?’

  ‘Kissed!’ exclaimed Claire with a strangled laugh. ‘I suppose you could call it that.’

  Suddenly she hid her face in her hands.

  ‘I should never have come home!’ she cried. ‘All Alain wants to do is humiliate me. I’m sure that’s the only reason he did it.’

  ‘Did what?’ asked Marie Rose, gently prising her fingers apart.

  ‘Don’t ask!’ said Claire savagely. ‘I’m sure you can guess. But it doesn’t have any meaning for him, Marie Rose. He hates me!’

  Marie Rose clicked her tongue sceptically.

  ‘That’s not true,’ she insisted. ‘I’ve seen the way he looks at you, when he thinks nobody is watching him. There’s anger in it, I won’t deny it, but there’s also a kind of desperate yearning. He really cares about you deeply, Claire, whatever you think.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ sneered Claire. ‘So deeply that he’s sleeping with Nadine Hugo at the same time as he’s making up to me!’

  ‘You don’t know that for a fact,’ pointed out Marie Rose. ‘It’s only gossip, and probably spiteful gossip into the bargain.’

  Claire shrugged expressively.

  ‘Well, it’s nothing to me,’ she said stonily. ‘He can do what he likes with Nadine, for all I care!’

  ‘Can he?’ murmured Marie Rose. ‘Oh, Claire, you don’t have to pretend to me! I’m on your side and I think you ought to try and work out why Alain disturbs you so much. Just think about it for a minute. What exactly do you feel towards him?’

  ‘I loathe him!’ blazed Claire. ‘I don’t trust him further than I could throw him.’

  ‘But you still go weak at the knees with desire when you look at him, don’t you?’ said Marie Rose.

  ‘I suppose so,’ muttered Claire. ‘But what of it?’

  Marie Rose sighed.

  ‘Doesn’t it occur to you that maybe he feels the same way towards you?’ she asked. ‘That he hates you and loves you equally. And that he feels confused and angry about the way you affect him?’

  Claire looked at her with unwilling interest.

  ‘Maybe,’ she conceded.

  ‘Then why don’t you give each other a chance?’ begged Marie Rose. ‘Get to know him, Claire.’

  ‘I don’t want to get to know him!’ retorted Claire. ‘He makes me feel unsafe, as if I’m walking on the rim of a volcano. As if I have no power over my life or my emotions. And I hate it. I’m not going to have dinner with him tomorrow night, whatever he says.’

  ‘Is that what he wants you to do?’ asked Marie Rose.

  ‘Yes, but I won’t,’ insisted Claire.

  ‘Do it,’ urged Marie Rose. ‘Go on, do it. You’ll never enjoy anything in life if you go on shutting yourself off, just because of some meaningless quarrel you and Alain had years ago. If you want happiness, you have to be prepared to take risks, Claire!’

  ‘Well, I’m not going to,’ said Claire through her teeth. ‘As soon as I see Alain again, I’m telling him that the dinner is off!’

  But that proved to be more easily said than done. All afternoon Alain had Nadine at his side and Claire had no opportunity to speak to him in private. Even when they returned from Moorea to Tahiti, the French girl stuck to him like a limpet. It was true that when Alain drove the Beaumonts home shortly after nightfall Marie Rose slipped discreetly inside and let Claire alone on the veranda with Alain. Yet she was agonisingly conscious of Nadine, sitting in the car at the end of the driveway. All the same, she did make an effort to speak.

  ‘Alain?’ she said unsteadily.

  ‘Yes?’

  Moonlight silvered his stern features and the scent of frangipani wafted strongly from an unseen plant in the darkness.

  ‘About this dinner tomorrow night,’ she faltered. ‘I really don’t think I can go. Nadine—’

  ‘Nadine has nothing to do with it,’ he cut in. ‘And you and I have things to discuss. I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WITHOUT another word he turned abruptly and left. Stumbling distractedly into the house, Claire felt dazed to see her mother sitting in the living-room sewing as if nothing had happened. Pushing her glasses up on her hair, Eve set down the sheet she was darning and smiled.

  ‘You must be as restless a sleeper as ever, Claire,’ she exclaimed, shaking her head. ‘Just look at this sheet! Anyone would think you had had a tug of war with it.’

  Claire’s worry and confusion gave way to a spurt of amusement, which only increased when Marie Rose flashed her a sly wink. Fortunately their mother was not looking. Pushing aside her sewing gear, she rose to her feet.

  ‘There was a phone call for you while you were out, Claire,’ she continued, wandering over to a littered desk. ‘It was that nice young cameraman we met in Sydney last year. What’s his name? Danny Abbott, is that it? Apparently he
’s having a week’s stop-over in Tahiti on his way to Los Angeles and he wants you to phone him at his hotel. Now, if I can just find my glasses, I’ll tell you the phone number.’

  ‘They’re on top of your head, Maman,’ said Claire, twinkling. Her mother’s vagueness was legendary. ‘Don’t worry, just give me the note and I’ll phone him.’

  Danny’s arrival came as a welcome distraction after the drama of her day with Alain. He was one of the cameramen from Towards The Future and, after three years of working together, he and Claire had an easy, bantering friendship.

  ‘It’ll be nice to talk to him,’ she said, thinking aloud.

  ‘Well invite him over to dinner one night, dear,’ urged her mother. ‘But not tomorrow, because Papa and I are going to your Aunt Laurette’s. And not Saturday, because that’s Marie Rose’s wedding. It is this Saturday, isn’t it, my lamb?’

  ‘Yes, Maman,’ agreed Marie Rose with a long-suffering look.

  Claire choked down a giggle and fled. Both her parents were absolute darlings, but it sometimes amazed her that either of them ever managed to pay a bill or cross a street unaided. In the kitchen, she picked up the phone and dialled Danny’s number.

  ‘Danny? Claire here.’

  Danny’s cheerful tones boomed down the line.

  ‘G’day, mate,’ he exclaimed. ‘Guess what? I’m stranded in Tahiti for a week, kicking my heels until the producer gets a story lined up for me in Silicon Valley. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. The weather’s terrific and there’s plenty of good-looking birds to watch. But what I really need is a quiet candlelit dinner with the girl who’s watched by millions in glorious Technicolor every week, the one and only Claire Beaumont. What do you say, love?’