Antigua Kiss (34 page)

It wasn't only that the sexual side which had made her first marriage a disaster,

she

realised

belatedly.

There

had

been

other

incompatibilities, equally serious. But that was all over and done with, and now she had a husband with whom making loving was a delight, even if she never admitted it to him.

From now on she would admit it; would demonstrate in every way possible how much his lovemaking pleased her, and how grateful she was for having her way of life changed and greatly enriched, not merely in that one respect but in many. Instead of constantly longing to feel that her love was returned, she would concentrate on being loving and warm towards him.

She was so excited by the thought of trying this new approach on him that she hardly slept a wink all night. Consequently she felt a bit jaded the next morning, and not in the mood to cook breakfast, although the importance of a high-protein breakfast was something which had been drummed into her by her domestic science teachers and which she in turn had always impressed on her pupils.

This morning even yogurt and fruit didn't appeal to her. She had a piece of dry toast, knowing that it was a poor foundation for an energetic tramp with Ian; an excursion she meant to cry off if she could get a flight home that day.

It wasn't the first time she had felt slightly queasy in the morning, and she thought it was probably caused by a change of drinking water.

She remembered Lilian remarking that whenever she visited other islands the water often upset her for a few days.

Upon calling the airport, Christie was disappointed to learn that the flights to Antigua were heavily booked. Unless there was a cancellation, she would have to wait several days.

Ian took her to lunch at a seafood restaurant where, after enjoying the meal, she had suddenly to bolt for the rest-room.

Without any blusher in her bag, there was no way of disguising her pallor when she rejoined him, some ten minutes later. He took one look at her face, and said, 'You've been married three months. You may be expecting a baby.'

He asked her some questions, and the answers supported his suggestion. Being engrossed in doing up the house, she had overlooked an important non-event.

'I have medical contacts here. If you like, I can probably organise a quick test for you,' he offered.

'Could you? Yes, I wish you would.'

The possibility that she might be carrying Ash's child was so wonderful that a few bad minutes in the rest-room seemed unimportant.

Forty-eight hours later, he told her the result of the test: positive.

Christie was overcome with joy and excitement.

'You may not continue to feel sick, but I'll give you a prescription which should help,' he said.

'I don't want to take anything which might harm the baby.'

'Pyridoxine is one of the B vitamins. Check with your own doctor when you get home. He will probably encourage you to take several vitamin supplements.'

Ian had already flown back to London when Christie departed from Barbados. This was just as well because her take-off was delayed and, in the departure lounge, she fell into conversation with a grey-haired woman.

Her acquaintance explained that she and her husband had been spending a week in Barbados with one of their married children. They were now on their way to Antigua for a week's quiet holiday before Sailing Week. For eight or nine years her husband had crewed on one of the yachts which always took part.

'Oh, really? Which one?' asked Christie.

'Sunbird One.
It used to belong to an old relation of my husband's.'

'Lady Anna Fitzwarren?'

'Yes, or Tugboat Annie as she was usually called. Do you remember her?'

'No, I've only lived in Antigua a short time, but I've heard of her.'

'Good heavens, is all that tittle-tattle
still
going the rounds? Those stories make me cross, especially the malicious nonsense put about by spiteful old harpies who have got their knife into Ash—Ashcroft Lam- bard, the skipper of
Sunbird,'
she added explanatorily. 'Have you met him yet? He's a sweetie. We both love him like a son, and he was like a son, or grandson, to poor old Anna. But for him she would have died in lonely misery. You've probably heard that she drank. In her last years she did, poor old soul. She had a terminal illness, and it was only brandy which kept her going.'

She paused to draw breath, then went on, 'We knew nothing of this at the time. We couldn't come out here in those years, and she wrote her usual cheery letters to us every month. She was one of those indomitable old dears who had gone out to India as a bride—her generation always pronounced gone as gorn and off as orf—and still felt it her duty to uphold British traditions. At the end, Ash had to nurse her, as well as buy stamps for her letters and the brandy and medicines she needed. I was told the truth by her doctor." Without Ash, she would have died in debt, and—'

She broke off as a burly, grizzled man joined them, saying, with a smile, 'I see you're talking ten to the dozen as usual, darling.'

She laughed. 'This is my husband. We're Patrick and Rosamund Alleyn.'

'I'm Christie Lambard,' said Christie. 'Ash and I were married soon after Christmas. But perhaps he hasn't written to you since then.'

Mrs Alleyn threw up her hands. 'Yes, he has, as a matter of fact. He wanted us to stay at Heron's Sound, but we thought, with a bride of three months and a house still at sixes and sevens, he might find us a nuisance. So we're having our usual apartment in the Old Copper and Lumber Store. How lovely to meet you so much sooner than we expected! Ash didn't describe you at all, which was very maddening of him. Where is he now?'—looking about for him.

'He's not with me. He—he was too busy to come to Barbados.', Christie searched for some convincing reason for her own visit.

But Mrs Alleyn said only, 'Yes, up to his ears in preparations for the most important week of the year, as far as yachtsmen are concerned.

Now, Christie—may I call you that?—do tell us how you and he met?'

They were able to sit together on the aircraft, and for most of the flight the loquacious Mrs Alleyn talked about Ash, and of his compassion for and kindness to the eccentric old woman whom nobody else had cared to be bothered with. Christie learned that the schooner, in those days, had been in danger of becoming a hulk. Only Ash's energy had restored it to seaworthiness.

It was pleasant to hear his praises sung. She wondered if he would receive her with relief or anger.

When her taxi arrived at Heron's Sound, she^was dismayed to see at least ten people on the verandah. It looked as if they might be late-stayers after a luncheon party.

As she climbed out, holding some notes with which to pay the fare, she saw Ash coming down the steps. The sight of him sent a tremor of nervousness through her and, with it, a flutter of anticipatory excitement.

'Hello. How are you? Had a good trip?'

Nothing in his manner indicated that her absence had been anything other than a normal journey away from home; except that he did not kiss her, as a husband of less than six months would normally have done on his wife's return from an absence.

'Not bad. I — I missed you,' she answered.

He showed no reaction to this. Taking her case from the driver, he waited while she paid and tipped. Then, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, they walked up the steps and he introduced her to his guests.

Like the Alleyns, they were all early arrivals for Sailing Week.

Christie smiled and said Hello, How do you do? and Thank you, I'm glad you think so—this last in response to a complimentary remark about the house.

AfteF
several minutes of polite chit-chat, Ash remarked, 'Would you all excuse us for a few minutes while I take my wife's case to our room. By the way, would you like tea or a drink, Christie?'

'Tea would be nice.'

'Hear, hear. I think we could all do with some tea, old boy. It will sober us up after all this boozing,' said one of the men, in a jocular tone.

'Right. Tea for everyone.' A hand under Christie's elbow, Ash steered her inside the house.

Not until they were well out of earshot did he say, 'Are you back for good, or merely to pick up more clothes?'

She swallowed to correct a certain tightness in her throat. 'For good.

Where's John?'

'He's down at the beach with Elijah's kids. You realise, I suppose, the harm it would have done him had your disappearance been permanent?'

'But it wasn't. Don't be angry with me, Ash. I
had
to have that time alone. I had to think everything out.'

They had reached their bedroom by this time. He followed her in, set the case down, closed the door and remained near the threshold.

'May one ask by what process of reasoning you reached the decision to come back.'

'I — I never meant to stay away . . .just to stand back and sort my mind out.'

'I see. Can I rely on your not repeating the vanishing act?' His tone was coldly sarcastic. 'It causes a certain embarrassment, not to know where one's wife has gone, or for how long, if not for ever.'

'Yes . . . I'm sorry. I do realise that. But if I had told you where I was, I'm sure you'd have come and fetched me back.'

'Where did you go?'

'To Barbados. I met some friends of yours on the flight back. The Alleyns, Patrick and Rosamund.

They asked me to give you their love. We're invited to dinner with them tomorrow, if you have no other engagement.'

He shook his head, gazing forbiddingly down at her upturned face, the set of his mouth more severe than she could remember.

'I wanted to come home sooner, but the flights were all booked,' she went on. 'It seems ages since . . . you kissed me. Oh, Ash, won't you give me a hug? I — I can't tell you how much I've missed you.'

This was as far, in the face of his present displeasure with her, as she felt she could go in confessing the depths of her feelings. But although it was not the unqualified declaration of love which she longed to make, her heart was in her eyes as she said it.

For a second or two she thought he was going to rebuff her. Then, with a smothered exclamation, he shot out a long arm and hauled her into an embrace which made her realise how carefully he must have regulated his natural strength whenever he had held her before.

Now it was not under control and, for the first few seconds, as he crushed her against him and pressed a fierce kiss on her mouth, she thought her ribs were going to crack.

Not that she cared. To be back in his arms was all that mattered.

Almost at once he seemed to realise that her body was not made to withstand the full muscular power of his own much taller and harder frame. His vicelike grip eased a little and, finding her mouth soft and yielding, his kiss changed, becoming less punitive.

Christie slid her arms up round his neck, responding as passionately and totally as she knew how. It was the first time she had ever surrendered at the outset, and she hoped he could feel the difference between her present response and her previous reactions.

That, whether or not he had found consolation during her absence, he was strongly aroused by her return was a fact which he could not disguise; and her own body throbbed and pulsed with the longing to be in bed with him.

'Damn those people . . . but I can't desert them,' he murmured huskily, a little later.

She opened her eyes. She had forgotten his visitors, John, everyone . .

. everyone in the world but the two of them, locked together, kissing.

'Don't go back for a minute,' she murmured.

'I must. They're waiting for tea. In an hour they'll be gone, and then—'

He left the sentence unfinished, but his hands slid down to her hips and pressed her more closely against him.

Before her time in Barbados, Christie would have avoided his eyes and tried to withdraw.

Now her smile held a sparkle of coquetry. 'And then?'

His eyes glittered with desire, and he gave her a wolfish grin from which, once, she would have shrunk.

'Then I'll bring you back here and punish you for running, away.'

'You may have cooled down by that time, and be less . . . annoyed with me.'

Deliberately, she gave a slight sinuous wriggle; an incitant movement which would have been inconceivable before.

She heard his sharp intake of breath, and felt the electric surge of his vital force.

'Do that again and I'll deal with you now,' he warned hoarsely.

She was tempted to accept the challenge. It was exciting to feel that she had the power to drive him beyond his control; to make him take her swiftly and fiercely.

As she hesitated, Ash gave her a quick, hard kiss and put her away from him. An instant later he had gone, leaving her breathless and aglow.

With a sudden excess of exuberance which she had not felt since her teens, Christie flung herself on the bed and sprawled in luxurious abandon, longing for the moment when he would be there beside her, the door locked, the world shut out.

For some time she lay in a daydream of happy anticipation; wondering why it had taken her so long to see that holding back would never win any man's affection. Loving and giving was the answer, and from now on she would give love to Ash as unstintingly as she gave it to John.

Thinking of the little boy made her rise from the bed and tidy herself.

She was running a comb through her hair when she heard his voice in the garden, and ran to the window to call to him.

He was overjoyed to see her, and they had an ecstatic feunion after which he stayed close to her side for the rest of the afternoon so that, even when the guests had departed, it was impossible for his adopted parents to seek seclusion before his bedtime.

Later, when Ash was opening a bottle of champagne before dinner, he said, 'While you were away, John asked me about his father and mother. He seemed to think you might be bringing them back with you.'

'What did you say to him?'

'I told him they'd gone to heaven. I feel it's the only explanation one can give to a child of his age.'