Darkest Longings (41 page)

the baked earth coated them in dust. Every now and again

he waved a hand through a cloud of clinging insects as they

swarmed about his face, or stopped to check on the ripening

grapes. She could feel the tension mounting in her body,

her heart was pounding with apprehension, but as he drew

closer she summoned all her courage and disappeared into

the shadows.

It wasn’t until Armand reached the long grass at the edge

of the forest, and felt the welcome coolness of the shade

beneath the densely locked branches, that he finally looked

up. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the blinding

glare outside to the silvery sunlight dappling the lake, and he

was on the point of stripping off his shirt when he suddenly

stopped.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t. It was as if he was

entranced, and could only watch. Claudine was swimming

through the lily pads, gliding gently towards the bank.

Slowly she pulled herself up and let the water cascade in tiny

beads of silver over her naked body. She stood for a long

time, letting him look at her, until finally she started to move

towards him. Her breasts were large and firm, and the

brown nipples stood out proudly. Her belly was flat, her hips

gently rounded, and as her long legs moved smoothly

through the water he could see the black, curling thatch of

pubic hair. In that moment he knew desire as he had never

known it before in his life.

Neither of them spoke as she stepped from the water. It

was as if nature itself was holding its breath, as if the air

between them had fused with the power of her sensuality.

She stood in front of him, her arms hanging loosely at her

sides, her lips slightly parted. He searched her eyes with his,

then, starting to unbutton his shirt with one hand, with the

other he drew her into the circle of his arm and pressed his

lips hard against hers. She moaned softly as his tongue

entered her mouth, then put her hands around his face,

holding him to her as he shrugged off his shirt and let it fall

to the ground. The feel of his hard, bare skin pressing

against hers was almost too much for her, but he pushed her

away, holding her at arm’s length and looking down at her

breasts.

They were heavy with milk, and for a moment she felt

embarrassed, but as if he had read her mind he lifted them

in his hands and gently squeezed. The warm liquid flowed

from her nipples, and bending his head he took one in his

mouth. Her head fell back, and as she ran her fingers

through his hair she felt his hands circle her waist.

When he stood up again his lips were red and moist, and

as he sucked her lips between his own he started to unfasten

his belt.

She watched until he stood naked in front of her, and

moving into his arms, she gasped as his hardness pressed

against her belly. She clung to him, never taking her mouth

from his as he laid her down on the grass. Again he kissed

her breasts and smoothed his hand over the satin smoothness

of her thighs. Then her breath caught in her throat as

his fingers slipped between her legs and began moving back

and forth.

As if they had a will of their own her hips lifted from the

ground and his fingers slid gently inside her. ‘Oh, Armand,’

she murmured, ‘Armand.’

His mouth came down on hers, and now his tongue was

hard and demanding. He rolled onto her, and as he felt her

legs part beneath him he raised his head and looked deep

into her eyes.

‘Je t’aime,’ he whispered. Then very slowly, very gently,

he eased himself inside her, watching her face as her eyes

closed and her breath stopped coming. He waited, and

when her eyes finally opened she saw that he was smiling.

‘I love you,’ she smiled back, then she whimpered and

gasped as he pulled back and pushed into her again. Still

holding her eyes with his, he pushed in and out of her with

long, tender strokes while she ran her fingers over the

contours of his face.

‘Never stop doing that,’ she sighed.

‘I think I’m going to have to, quite soon now!’ he said.

She laughed with him. ‘Oh, I love you,’ she said,

wrapping her arms around him, and as he started to move

more rapidly she felt her hips responding to the rhythm.

Gradually the sensation in her loins started to swell through

her body: it was as if it was invading her, pushing her away

and pulling her back until she no longer knew what was

happening to her. She could hear him breathing, feel him

beginning to tense, and as he started to murmur her name

she lifted his face between her hands. She wanted to see him

when he let go, she wanted to be there, with him, she wanted

him to look at her. But as the sounds started to come from

the back of his throat and he ground into her, his eyes were

tightly closed. And she was glad. Because for those few

blinding seconds, as ecstasy gripped her so savagely that she

cried out with the force of it, it wasn’t his face looking down

at her, it was Francois’. The shock ripped through her, and

her whole body stiffened as the tidal wave of her climax

evaporated. She blinked, and suddenly it was Armand again

looking down at her, his eyes suffused with tenderness.

‘Oh, Armand,’ she cried, pulling him to her and burying

her face in his neck. ‘Armand, I love you.’

‘I love you too, chere,’ he whispered.

She knew he thought she had reached her climax, and she

would have done if it hadn’t been for … Again she tensed,

and she hated Francois in that moment as she had never

hated him before. It seemed that she could never be rid of

him, no matter what she did.

A long time later they were still lying in the grass. Her

head was resting on his shoulder and they were staring

dreamily up at the sunlit trees. She looked down as he lifted

one knee and felt a thrill run through her at the masculine

hardness of his thigh. Idly she ran her fingers through the

coarse golden hair, and turned her face to look at him.

He gave her a quick hug, then said softly, ‘We must talk, cherie.’

‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘I blow, but don’t let’s spoil

today. Today let’s pretend that everything is all right, that I

am yours, that nothing can come between us.’

She heard him laugh. ‘If that’s what you want.’

‘It is,’ she said, lifting herself up to look at him. ‘And I

want you.’

‘Again?’ he teased.

‘Yes.’

‘Then kiss me.’

She did, and as his arms encircled her she trailed her

fingers from his thigh to his penis. He groaned into her open

mouth and pulled her closer. And as they started to make

love, lazily and languorously, she suddenly knew it would be

all right this time.

But it wasn’t. Francois was there again, at the very

moment when she was reaching her climax. She wanted to

scream as rage tore silently through her body. Why was he

doing this to her? Her pleasure had never mattered to him,

so why should he be there now, taunting her, denying her

what he wouldn’t give her himself?

Armand kissed her, and as she felt his love embrace her

she told herself that perhaps it needn’t matter. Every other

moment they spent making love was so wonderful, why

should it be so important that she achieve the final release?

‘I’m going to take a swim,’ he said. ‘And then I’m going to

leave you.’

‘Leave me?’

‘I have work to do. For your husband.’

‘Don’t!’ she cried. ‘Please don’t let’s ever mention him.’

‘Ssh!’ he said, stroking her hair. ‘I’m sorry. It was meant

as a joke, but it was in very bad taste.’ He kissed her on the

mouth, then drew back to look into her eyes. ‘But we will

have to talk about him one day, cherie, you know that.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘but not now.’

They saw each other every day after that, meeting at the

waterfall to talk and laugh and swim; to begin the picnic

Liliane had made for them, and then leave it unfinished

because their impatience for one another was greater than

their hunger … For the time being Armand gave up trying

to make her talk about the future. The day would come soon

enough when they would have to decide what to do. For

now, it was enough to be happy.

The harvest came and went. They joined the festival at

Chinon this year, as Claudine and Louis had decided to

hold the Lorvoire feast on alternate years only. Soon, with

the coming of autumn, the weather started to change, and

since they could no longer meet at the waterfall Armand

began repairs to an old cottage at the far side of the forest. It

became their home, and Claudine went shopping like the

housewives of Chinon for bread and cheese, lace curtains and rugs. She bought a wireless too, and the first thing they heard on it, sitting together in a deep armchair, was the voice of Edouard Daladier, the French Prime Minister,

telling them that an agreement had been reached in

Munich, and the threat of war in Europe was over. The

following day they heard that, under the terms of the

Munich Agreement, the Germans had entered the

Sudetenland, but as Armand had bought a new bed they

were too preoccupied with trying it out to care what was

going on in the rest of the world.

A week later Liliane returned from the market at Saumur

in Thomas’ lorry, with a peculiar contraption she insisted

was a stove. Now at last Claudine could try her skill as a

cook. But when the big moment came, her fish stew was a

disaster. Armand couldn’t bear to see her so disappointed

and going to stand behind her at the door where she had

wandered in a huff because he’d laughed, he slipped his

arms around her waist. She leaned her head back against his

shoulder.

‘It doesn’t matter, really,’ he said. ‘You’ll get it right by

the time we’re together, you see.’

She smiled, and they stood quietly watching the rain

falling over the forest. Night was beginning to draw in and

she would have to return to the chateau soon, but later, after

everyone was in bed, Armand was going to meet her at the

bridge and bring her back so that, for the first time, they

could spend a whole night together. Meanwhile, the smell

of wet earth, mingled with her scent, was beginning to

arouse him.

She turned her face into his neck, moaning softly as he

started to unbutton her blouse, and when he pushed his

hands inside he could feel the hardened buds of her nipples.

He knew she enjoyed their lovemaking just as much as he

did, but he also knew she continually failed to reach her

climax. He had never questioned her about it, guessing that

it had something to do with Francois. He was afraid that if

they spoke of it, the spectre of her husband would destroy

everything else they had too.

She unfolded her arms as he eased her blouse over her

shoulders, and her breath started to quicken as he unhooked

her brassiere and let it drop to the floor. Then he

pulled her back into his arms and they continued to watch

the rain as he gently fondled her breasts.

Suddenly she shivered, and pulling away from him,

turned back indoors.

‘Cold?’ he said, closing the door.

‘A little.’ She picked up his coat and draped it over her

shoulders.

‘Shall I light the stove?’

She nodded. ‘It’ll make it nice and warm for later.’

She stood watching him as he picked up the coal-scuttle

and began emptying it into the furnace. ‘Do you want to tell

me what’s on your mind?’ he said, after a time. ‘It isn’t just

tonight - you’ve been edgy for weeks now. What is it?’

She wandered over to the window. ‘You’re probably

going to think I’m crazy, that I’m imagining things,’ she said,

pulling aside the curtain and peering into the gloom, ‘but I

keep getting this feeling that someone is watching us.’

‘You too?’ he said.

‘You mean … ?’

He nodded. ‘Like you, I thought I was imagining things,

but at the same time I couldn’t seem to be rid of the feeling.’

‘When did it start?’ she asked him.

He shrugged. ‘Several weeks ago, I guess.’ Suddenly his

eyes shot to hers, and she felt a chill of alarm. ‘What is it?’

she said, edging away from the window.

‘Nothing,’ he smiled. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten

you. It was just something that occurred to me, but it doesn’t matter.’ He’d been about to tell her that he had had the feeling while he was in Burgundy, but then he thought better of it.

‘It does matter,’ she said. ‘Was it to do with Francois? Do

you think it’s Francois who’s watching us?’

Armand shook his head thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know,’ he said finally. ‘It could be, but we’d know if he was in Lorvoire, I wouldn’t we?’

‘He could be paying someone else to do it.’ : ‘Yes, he could.’

She sat down at the table and pulled Armand’s coat tighter around her shoulders. It was a long time since she’d thought about Hortense, but every time the feeling of being watched came over her she instinctively connected it with