Antigua Kiss (20 page)

Ash said, 'I see no reason to advertise that our marriage will be different from other people's. The Hathaways are probably watching us. So I'm going to kiss you. But don't worry—it will be the first and last kiss of our engagement.'

He stepped closer, took her face between his hands, and she saw his eyes close as he bent to press his mouth on hers.

At first it seemed like the kiss he had given her under the misletoe.

But this one became more prolonged, his mouth moving softly on hers, like someone savouring the taste and texture of a fruit.

There was no contact between their bodies. Only the feel of his palms holding her face still, and that soft, searching movement of his mouth which seemed to go on and on until, not realising it was her own fault for holding her breath, Christie began to feel weak and dizzy, as if she might faint again.

All at once it was over. She could breathe out and gulp fresh air in. As she stood there, dazed and unsteady, Ash turned away and dived into the sea. There was a small splash as his legs disappeared underwater, a moment of turbulence on the surface, and then he was gone and she was alone.

It took only a very few moments for the bobbing raft to stabilise; much longer for Christie's disturbed emotions to quiesce.

She was conscious of curious sensations; of a strange pain deep inside her, of trembling thighs and tingling breasts, of the skin on all parts of her body feeling suddenly intensely sensitive. As for her face, she could still feel the pressure of his hands, and the toothpaste freshness of his lips trying to coax her to open her closed ones.

But perhaps that was not actually so; it could have been merely that he had kissed her in the manner of an experienced man, not deliberately trying to be invasive, but seeming to be because of her own inexperience.

Pour years was a long time to live untouched and inviolate. She was almost like a virgin again, and an old-fashioned virgin at that; one who dreaded and shrank from the pain of being made a woman.

'Christie! Christie . . . come here!'

The halloo from the beach was Miranda, beckoning excitedly. Ash was talking to Joss.

With an effort, Christie pulled herself together. She dived off the raft and swam, but less vigorously than he had, towards the group on the sand.

'Christie, you sly puss! I bet you knew this last night, and you never breathed a word. Well, I can understand that. You want to hug it to yourself for a while before the world knows. Oh, I'm so . . . so . . . so

deeply
delighted. Let me give you a big hug, you sweet thing!'

Rushing into the shallows to meet her, Miranda embraced her most warmly.

'And a kiss from me, my dear girl. This is great news. Couldn't be better.' Joss, wearing a thick towelling bathrobe, gave her an even more vigorous hug.

'As a matter of fact Miranda and I thought that Ash might have met his match yesterday. "If he doesn't snap her up," I said, "he's a bigger fool than I take him for".'

'You're very kind,' Christie said, blushing. 'I—I think I'm the lucky one.'

'You're both lucky. Everyone's lucky when they're young and in love, with a wonderful future ahead of them,' said Miranda, beaming. 'In fact, if you want to know the truth, it's marvellous, even at fifty, when you meet the right man at long last, and know that you haven't missed out on the best thing in life after all.'

She gave Joss a loving look, then clapped her hands, and exclaimed,

'This calls for champagne! Come on, darlings.'

But as she would have led them up to the house, Ash stopped her by saying, 'There'll be plenty of time for a champagne breakfast when you and Joss have had your swim, Miranda. Right now I have something I want to give Christiana. We'll join you on the terrace in half an hour.'

'Yes—all right. That'll be lovely,' their hostess agreed.

Christie went with him up to the garden where she said, 'Have you really something to give me, or was that a pretext to cut short Miranda's somewhat embarrassing enthusiasm?'

'I don't think you need feel embarrassed. We
have
a good future ahead of us, if not the romantic idyll which Miranda envisages. Certainly I have something for you. An engagement ring.'

'Oh, but that isn't necessary. I mean, if we're going to be married almost immediately, a wedding ring is perfectly adequate.'

'Not for my wife.'

'But, Ash, you need all your money to spend on the house. If you have a ring in your room you must have been totally confident that I would fall in with your plans.'

'I'm always confident that my plans will work out successfully, and they always have,' he said smoothly. 'Go and get ready for breakfast.

I'll come to your room in fifteen minutes.'

'Do you know where it is?'

'Yes, I made a point of finding out yesterday.'

'Really? Why?' she asked, puzzled.

She could think of only one reason for a man to find out where a woman was sleeping. Was it possible that his intention, before she told him the truth about herself, had been to finish the Christmas party in her bed?

'Antigua has earthquakes,' he told her. 'Not very often, and not usually in the tourist season. But even a minor tremor can be terrifying. Just in case of emergencies, I wanted to be able to get to you and John quickly.'

'I see. You're very considerate.' She felt ashamed of her unworthy supposition.

'Being responsible is part of my business,' was his answer, before he walked off.

Christie had rinsed the salt water out of her hair and was dressed when he tapped on her door.

'Come in,' she called from the dressing-table.

She was combing her hair and did not turn around. She could see his reflection in the mirror as he entered and closed the door behind him.

He had on a pair of white shorts, and a short-sleeved white cotton shirt, unbuttoned.

'St John's is not the place to buy jewellery,' he said, sitting down on the bed immediately behind her. 'For the moment I'm going to give you a ring of my mother's. You can choose a permanent ring while we're in London.'

She swivelled to face him, her heart beating oddly fast considering he was only going through the motions of what, for most couples, was a moment of deeply romantic symbolism.

'Give me your hand.' He had taken the ring from its case but was keeping it hidden in his right hand.

Christie put out her left hand on which she still wore her wedding ring, but not her first engagement ring. She had never liked it. It had been a tiny diamond on a white gold hoop. It had not been the smallness of the diamond she had minded. She would have been happy with a cheaper ring. But those she preferred—antique rings set with amethysts, or garnets, or turquoise—Mike considered unsuitable. So she had deferred to his taste. After his death, she had put the ring away and never looked at it again.

'I think it would be appropriate for you to take that ring off now, and wear only this for the short time until we're married,' Ash suggested.

'Yes, of course.' She twisted the wedding ring over her knuckle.

Although her fingers were slim, it left a slight indentation and a circle of pale skin.

As Tie replaced it with his ring, she saw a glint of rich red and the lustre of gold.

'It's beautiful!' she exclaimed, when he took his hand away. 'Why must I choose something else? Or would you prefer that I didn't wear this ring permanently?'

'It's up to you. If you like it, by all means wear it. I thought you might think it too heavy.'

It was indeed a large ring; a ruby cut in an oval and held between eight points of gold. The top of the jewel was hollowed and embellished by a minute spray of flowers and leaves in gold embedded with diamond chips. The bezel was beautifully chased.

Christie turned her hand this way and that, admiring the blood-red gleam, so different from the icy glitter of her first ring.

'I like it very much. Thank you. I promise to take the greatest care of it.'

'You have beautiful hands,' he remarked. 'They're more like the hands of a dancer than of a domestic science teacher. I'm glad you don't paint your nails, or grow them too long. Now about the wedding. Are you content to let me arrange it at the earliest possible moment, so that we can get to grips with our project with a minimum of delay?'

'Yes . . . yes, by all means,' she answered. 'I wonder if John is awake yet?'

'Let's go and see. If he is, he can join us for breakfast.'

John was not only awake. He was dressed and, with Susie, was playing ball outside the children's room.

'I helped him to wash his face and hands, and brush his teeth, Mrs Chapman,' she announced importantly.

Ash scooped up John by his armpits and swung him high in the air.

There he twirled him around so the child could sit on his shoulders.

'Aunt Christie isn't going to be Mrs Chapman for much longer,' he told him. 'She's going to marry me and become Mrs Lambard.'

'Mummy's name is Mrs Lambard.' Christie tensed, but Ash replied evenly, 'That's right, and Daddy's name was Mr Lambard, like mine, because Daddy and I were brothers. Our daddy was your grandfather, and his name was Robert Lambard. When Aunt Christie marries me, we shall all be called Lambard.'

Susie, who had been listening to this with interest, said, 'Could I be your bridesmaid, Mrs Chapman? My cousin Emma has been a bridesmaid three times, but I've never been one, not once.'

'It's nice of you to volunteer, Susie. But it's going to be a very quiet wedding, not the kind where the bride has a bridesmaid.'

'Oh, what a pity. But you'll have a lovely white dress and a veil, won't you?'

'Not this time. I've been married before, you see, and when people have a second wedding they dress rather differently.'

The subject of Christie's wedding dress came up again half an hour later when Miranda asked her if she had given the matter any thought yet. 'No, none.'

'You could get Heike Peterson at the Studio in Church Street to design

a

dress

for

you.

Or

I

have

an

excellent

dressmaker—seamstress, they're called here—who would run up something very quickly. For fabrics I think the best shop is Lolita's in Market Street.'

'It depends when the wedding is to be. If it's very soon, I should think I might find something off the peg where my black dress came from, the Galley Shop.'

Later, the Hathaways were taking most of their house guests to a regular Boxing Day event, racing at Cassada Gardens. But Ash opted out of this expedition, saying that he was going to give Christie her first sailing lesson in a Sunfish.

Nobody thought it unusual that the newly- engaged couple should prefer to be alone together, with John and some other young children in the care of Miranda's housekeeper.

Christie enjoyed her lesson. The Sunfish was a simple craft which John would be able to handle within a few years, and Ash was a relaxed teacher.

'Well done. A most promising beginning,' he said, as they carried the boat up the beach. 'Do you want to have a go on a windsurfer?'

She shook her head. 'Not just now. I'm going to laze for a while.'

'You don't mind if I desert you for an hour?'

'Not a bit.'

Presently, with a newly-published bestseller borrowed from the Hathaways' well-stocked bookshelves, she settled herself in a hammock slung between two palm trees, and began to read.

But no book, however gripping, could hold her attention that afternoon. There was too much else on her mind. Her decision, so rashly taken, to share her life with a man she had known less than a month. The bewildering impact of his kiss. The basilisk flash of dislike with which Bettina had glanced at her when she heard the news. The awkward pause after someone, meaning no harm, had said jocularly, 'You know what they say—reformed rakes make the best husbands.'

Now, the book lying unread on her lap, Christie looked out to sea and watched the man who would soon be her husband, if only in part, speeding over the surface of the water on the red-sailed windsurfer which he controlled with such ease.

Being responsible is part of my business,
he had said that morning; and Christie felt confident that even if a disastrous world-wide recession affected the yacht charter business and caused a reverse of his present fortunes, Ash would always find some way to ensure that she and John never went without basic comforts.

She knew that from time to time the island was swept by hurricanes.

But she had no fears for her safety at Heron's Sound. If danger threatened, he would be there, and if he was there they would be safe, or as safe as it was possible to be when natural forces were on the rampage.

Thinking of Nature out of control turned her thoughts to the violent emotions which beset human beings—the jealous dislike she had seen in Bettina's pale eyes, and the hot desire which Ash must have felt for the other girl at the beginning of their liaison.

He had given Christie his word that he would never attempt to assert the normal rights of a husband. Whatever his other shortcomings, she would stake a great deal on the creditability of his promises. He was, she felt sure, a man of rock-like integrity in matters of business. He would disdain to lie. His handshake on a deal would be as binding as another man's signature on a legal document.

At the same time his reputation did not suggest that he was equally scrupulous in his relationships with women. Even Miranda, whose affection for him was plain to see, had admitted that he could be ruthless with bedworthy members of the opposite sex. According to island gossip he had filched and seduced another man's fiancee. And, whatever he might say about it, it was clear that the break-up with Bettina had not been by mutual consent.

Supposing, at some time in the future, he needed a woman btit had no affair in progress. Would he then turn to her, his wife, his promise driven from his mind by the overpowering strength of his lust?

Her mind shied away from the possibility. No, no—he wasn't a savage to force himself on a woman who didn't want him. He would always have someone to turn to ... an old flame such as Bettina ... or else some 'gorgeous new chick'.