The Devil at Archangel (28 page)

the previous day return slowly.

The door opened to admit Lorna with a cup of coffee. 'You're looking

better for your sleep. We've all been tiptoeing round, trying not to

disturb you. Drink this and then I'll send your visitor in.'

Christina paused in the act of raising the cup to her lips. 'Visitor?' she

echoed.

Lorna winked wickedly at her. 'The new master,' she said in a stage

whisper. 'I'm not devoted to the living room carpet, but he's been

tramping up and down on it for almost an hour now, and it'll be worn

out if he goes on much longer.'

Christina set her coffee down untasted. Her mouth was so dry she

doubted whether she could have swallowed even a mouthful.

She said, and her voice sounded very young and breathless, 'I can't

see him, Lorna. Please ask him to go.'

Lorna fixed her with a frankly incredulous stare. 'My dear girl, are

you quite mad? Clive didn't mean to eavesdrop last night, but he was

standing right next to you when Dev was speaking. He couldn't help

overhearing. And— forgive me—you were—with him last night,

weren't you?'

Christina swallowed. 'Yes—yes. But it didn't mean anything.' She

tried an unconvincing laugh. 'You—you know how Devlin is ...' Her

voice tailed away.

Lorna gave her a disapproving stare. 'I know how he was,' she

emphasised. And he hasn't been a saint, I'll grant you that. But he's

never proposed marriage to one of his fancies before—and in front of

witnesses, to boot. So it if must have meant something to him.'

Christina bent her head. 'At the time, maybe,' she said. 'But it's

daylight now and, as you said, he's the new master. He has other

things on his mind, other responsibilities.' In spite of all she could do,

an image of Eulalie rose in her mind.

'Hm.' Lorna was clearly unimpressed. 'And yet he's here, isn't he?'

She got up purposefully. 'If you're not going to drink that coffee, I

think I'll just tell him to come on in and argue with you himself.'

'No!' Christina caught frantically at her hand. 'Please, Lorna. I do

mean it—I don't want to see him again. Tell him I'm ill. Tell him

anything you like, but make him go away. Please!'

Lorna gave a defeated little shrug. 'If that's really what you want,' she

said quietly.

'It is.' Christina was adamant, clinging to her hand.

'Very well.' Lorna freed herself from her grip. 'But it isn't a task I

relish.'

After she had gone, Christina got out of bed and padded across to the

door. There was a bolt on it, and she pushed it across with trembling

fingers—a second line of defence in case Lorna's persuasions failed.

But it wasn't needed. A few seconds ticked by in silence, then she

heard swift steps going away down the passage to the front door, and

the door slam. A moment later a car engine started up with an

unnecessary amount of revving, and drove away.

She went slowly back to the bed and sank down on it, her legs

trembling too much to support her any longer. That, she told herself,

is that.

She did not attend the inquest on Theo which opened the following

day in Fort Victoire, but stayed quietly at the bungalow with Lorna

and the children. When Clive returned, he said a verdict of accidental

death had been returned, and that Marcelle Brandon had looked like

death herself while she was giving evidence.

'Is she going back to Martinique?' Lorna asked, deftly cutting up fruit

for a salad.

'Yes, immediately after the funeral tomorrow. Adele Christophe is

going with her, and the girl Eulalie, poor creature.'

'I don't know why you say that,' Lorna exclaimed. 'She was an

obnoxious girl, I always thought.'

Christina laid down the fruit knife she was using, and listened, her

heart thumping.

'I thought so too, but there was one person she appealed to,

apparently—the late Master Theo. It seems they'd been having a

full-blooded affair for months. She had some delusion that he'd marry

her—even wheedled Devlin into carving a damned figure of herself

to give him for his birthday. Seems she thought the gift Would bind

him to her in some way. Madness, of course. He never would have

married her, baby or no baby.'

'You mean she's pregnant?' Lorna queried, flabbergasted.

He nodded. 'About three or four months. Adele has been trying

to--persuade her not to go to the funeral, but she's quite determined.

She wants the figure Devlin carved to be buried with Theo.'

Lorna grimaced, then turned hurriedly to Christina, who had given a

little cry.

'What's wrong, love? Have you cut yourself? Let me see.'

'No—no, really,' Christina assured her, spreading out her fingers so

that Lorna could check they were all intact. She smiled beatifically at

the two astonished faces confronting her. 'Can you manage without

me for a while? There—there's someone I have to see.'

She was breathless by the time she got to the cove, and she slowed her

pace deliberately as she walked across the yielding sand towards the

beach house. ,

All the time, the fear nagged at her that he might not be there. That he

might have already moved out and gone up to Archangel to live. The

thought of seeking him out there was a daunting one.

But as she approached, she saw a movement and Devlin came round

the corner of the shack carrying a hammer and some other

implements. When he saw her, he bent and put them down on the

verandah, then straightened and watched her come towards him, his

hands resting lightly on his hips. He looked older, and tired, and there

was a grimness about his face which made her steps falter a little, but

she kept going to the foot of the verandah, and looked up at him.

'Hello, Christy.' His voice was cool and pleasant, and gave no

indication as to his feelings. He might have been addressing any

chance-come caller. When she did not answer, he went on, 'Was there

something you wanted?'

'Yes.' She moistened her lips. 'I want you.'

He did not speak, nor did he move towards her, and after a moment

she hurried on, 'And I'm not injured in any way and I'm not just

looking for a refuge—or a protector. I've come just as you wanted me

to—because I need you.'

'No shadows?' The silver eyes watched her steadily. 'That was also

one of the conditions.'

'Not any more,' she said. 'Oh, Devlin, I've been such a

fool!' Everyone's entitled to be that occasionally,' he said, and smiled.

In his smile she saw that incredible tenderness again, and her heart

lifted and sang because everything was suddenly, miraculously all

right, 'Come here.' He held out his arms to her compellingly. 'I've got

to hold you to know that you're real, and not just another fantasy.'

She ran to him then, lifting her face almost blindly for his kiss. As he

swung her up into his arms and turned towards the doorway, she

checked him. 'Dev—darling, I must explain ...'

'Not now,' he kissed her again, parting her lips with an arrogance that

devastated her. 'Later—much later. Save the explanations for our

honeymoon when we rim out of things to discuss.'

'We—we are going to be married?' The look in his eyes was filling

her with sudden shyness as well as a secret throbbing delight.

'Oh yes,' he said calmly. 'Just as soon as I can arrange it. After all, we

don't want to let my mother and your Aunt Grace down, do we?' He

grinned down at her flushed face. 'Oh, I knew it, my sweet one—the

plans they'd made. I'd even wondered what you were like, at times.

What stuck in my throat was when you turned up at Archangel,

destined for Theo, and I discovered who you were. So you do

appreciate, I hope, just why I don't intend to let you out of my sight

from now on, day or night?'

She smiled, her long lashes veiling her eyes. 'Whatever you say, Mr

Brandon, sir,' she murmured. 'But Devlin, I do wish you'd let me

explain ..

'Later?' honey girl,' he said against her lips. 'Afterwards.'

He carried her into the shack and kicked the door shut behind them.