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‘What?’
‘I said, no. You really think I believe you will come back? No, Gellis, I will come with you.’
‘No!’
And he smiled. Like a wolf. ‘Yes.’
Glancing frantically round, she found to her despair and astonishment that the pavement was empty.
‘Intending to scream?’ he asked softly and really rather menacingly.
Could she? Dared she?
His smile widened, showed even white teeth—teeth she had touched with her tongue—and she began to feel slightly sick. ‘You’re English,’ he whispered in hateful amusement. ‘And the English don’t scream, do they? Don’t like to attract attention to themselves. Give in gracefully, Gellis.’
And that angered her—his mockery, his assumption. ‘No.’ Straightening her back, she forced one of his arms away. ‘No,’ she repeated.
His smile dying, he searched her defiant eyes. ‘What did I do?’ he asked sombrely. ‘In God’s name, what did I do?’
CHAPTER TWO
‘YOU left!’ Gellis shouted. ‘Hurt me. Sent a terse little note to say you wouldn’t be back!’
Sébastien frowned. ‘No explanation? No reason?’
‘No.’
‘And so you don’t know why?’
‘No.’
‘But you would like to, wouldn’t you? That’s human nature—to want to know why. If you come with me, you might find out.’
Yes, she might find out. And if it was something she didn’t want to hear? At least she would know. Not be forever speculating. There was the future to think of. A need to put it all behind her.
Eyes too big in her white face, she slowly raised her lashes, forced herself to look at him. Really look at him. A hard face, but so very attractive. But no longer her husband’s face. Go with him? See their friends again? Be in his company? She didn’t know if she was tough enough.
‘You’re wavering,’ he said quietly.
‘Am I?’ she asked stonily. ‘All right,’ she decided.
‘I’ll come with you. But I can’t go for long—no more than a few days.’ No she couldn’t go for long.
‘Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord?’ he queried soberly.
‘What? No. I don’t want vengeance. Just to know the truth.’
‘As do I. Thank you,’ he added quietly. Straightening, he gave her an odd smile—quirky, a little bit wry. ‘Which way?’
Keeping her heart hard, her mind still, she pointed to their right.
He nodded. Hooking up his duffel bag and sailing jacket, he waited for her to lead the way.
‘Which is the nearest airport?’
‘Airport?’ she queried absently.
‘Yes, Gellis, airport.’
She shook her head. ‘We aren’t flying.’
‘Aren’t we?’ he mocked softly.
‘No. We’ll go by car.’
‘That will take two days.’
‘I don’t care. I’m not flying.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I don’t like to!’ she gritted.
‘Fair enough.’
Surprised by his easy acceptance, she gave a bitter smile. This was madness.
He halted, swung her to face him, stared down into her expressionless face, then registered the pain in her lovely eyes. Big and brown and lost. Like a doe. With a muffled sigh, he turned to walk on. ‘Where are we going?’
‘To my car.’
He nodded. ‘You have a current passport?’
‘Yes.’
He smiled. ‘Didn’t even think of lying, Gellis?’
‘Would it have done me any good?’
He shook his head. ‘If I had to take your house apart to find your birth certificate, I would have done so.’
‘And then dragged me up to town to get a new one.’
‘Yes. However long it took.’
She believed him. Utterly.
‘We can get a ferry from here?’
‘We’ll go on Le Shuttle.’
He gave another odd smile. ‘Don’t like sailing either?’
‘No,’ she replied stonily.
‘How did you manage before it was built?’
‘With difficulty. My car’s over there.’
Glancing at the gleaming red sports car, he gave a silent whistle, looked at her with new interest. He’d assumed she’d have a sedate hatchback.
‘You bought it for me,’ she stated shortly as she opened the boot for him to put his belongings inside. After the birth of their son.
‘Generous of me.’
‘Yes.’ Climbing behind the wheel, she watched without amusement as he folded his considerable length in beside her. His head brushed the roof.
‘There’s a lever on your right to lower the seat.’ She had a moment’s compunction that on the long drive to the south of France he was going to be extremely uncomfortable, then dismissed it. She hadn’t asked for this. But it was something she had to do, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?
There was sexual awareness as there had been that first time they’d met, but no feeling of excitement or warmth. Just despair. And pain. And perhaps fear. She was probably still in shock. And when she came out of it? The panic returning, she slowed, whispered, ‘I can’t do this.’
‘Yes, you can,’ he argued with flat insistence. ‘It’s my life, Gellis.’
‘I know.’ But it was hers too. And, seemingly without any choice in the matter, she drove the short distance to her parents’ house.
She tried to imagine it from his point of view. Tried to imagine having no memory. And couldn’t. And if Nathalie hadn’t come to see her after she’d received that note... But she had come, and so the matter was academic. He’d cheated. Deliberately lied. And if he had been the same man she’d loved... But he wasn’t. He was a grim-faced stranger. Hard and tough. Dangerous. But they both needed to find out the truth, didn’t they?
She didn’t park directly outside the house but a few doors along, and, glancing at him worriedly, said quietly, ‘I’ll be as quick as I can. You’ll stay here?’
He nodded.
‘Give me your word.’
He looked at her, his eyes hard and direct. ‘You have it.’
‘Thank you.’ Feeling sick and shaky, disbelieving, she climbed out, and he watched her walk across the road. Watched the hypnotic sway of the long, loosely woven plait that hung to her waist. The seductive movement of her hips. An exceptionally beautiful woman. Tall and slender, graceful. The sort of woman people looked at twice because she was—different. With a long neck, narrow hands and feet, she walked as though she was special. Someone he’d presumably loved.
And yet, when he looked into her face, he saw only bitterness, pain. A gentle girl, he suspected, who’d had to learn toughness the hard way. Because of him? What the hell had he done to make her look so distressed?
Shifting slightly, trying to find room for his long legs, he gave a grim smile. He should have bought her a bigger car. Driving to France in this sardine can was going to be a real test of endurance. Well, he’d suffered worse and survived. And, at the end of it, would he finally remember?
She was back in just over an hour. Hair tied loosely back now, still damp from her shower, it hung like a brown, shiny curtain. Dressed in thick black cords and a white sweater, a black leather jacket slung round her shoulders, she carefully looked both ways before crossing the road. And he felt—attracted.
After putting her small suitcase in the boot, she climbed behind the wheel and handed him a map. ‘Just in case,’ she explained.
He nodded, glanced at the house, saw the curtain twitch and a woman with short dark hair peek out.
‘Who’s that?’
Glancing across, she murmured, ‘My mother.’ ‘She lives with you?’
She shook her head. Switching on the ignition, she checked her mirrors then pulled away.
‘Did I ever meet her?’
‘Yes, and my father.’
‘And?’
‘They liked you.’
Turning his head, he stared at her profile. ‘For four months there has been no one to ask questions of. I’m sorry if you think me—’
‘No,’ she broke in, distressed. ‘But please try to see it from my point of view. I find this very hard. Ask what you need to.’
‘Thank you. Was I ever here?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed quietly.
‘They didn’t mind us living together?’
Hesitating only briefly, she shook her head.
Still watching her, he asked, ‘Were you in love with me, Gellis?’
A swift, sharp pain in her heart, she gave a bitter smile. ‘Yes.’ So much. More than life.
‘But I left you.’
‘Yes.’
‘We didn’t have a row? Anything like that?’
‘No.’
‘And I didn’t tell you I was going to South America?’
‘No.’
He was silent for a moment, and then he asked quietly, ‘Were we happy, Gellis?’
With another bitter smile, she murmured, ‘I thought so, yes.’ She’d thought it was the love story to end all love stories. And perhaps it had been. But why, then, had he behaved as he had? She had made so many excuses for him in her mind, to her parents—tried to rationalise it, come to terms with it, and didn’t suppose she ever would until she knew the truth. And he must have been an astonishingly good actor, mustn’t he? Because, that last month, never by hint or deed had he ever intimated that he no longer loved her. Or their son. A son he’d delivered...
‘Gellis?’
‘I am going to die,’ she stated confidently. ‘Gellis!’
‘If the next pain is as bad as the last, I am going to die.’
