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‘Well, it’s quite obvious that if anyone ever gets hurt, it certainly wouldn't be you, for one thing.’

‘I have hurt you, then?’ He was slightly mocking.

‘I was not talking about me. It has nothing to do with me what you do.’

‘And yet it rattles you?’ He laughed softly. 'Come,' he said, ‘let us not get into deep water. I want you to stay on, and after everybody has gone, we will listen to music ... and I will mix you a very special drink, with fruit at the bottom of the glass and decorating the side of it, and later we will have something to eat.' She watched him moodily as he lifted a hand in farewell to someone who was leaving.

‘I don’t think so,' she answered.

‘And why is that?’ He took her fingers in his own.

‘Because it could bring disorder.’

‘Disorder does not bother me.’ He lifted her hand to his lips.

‘But it bothers me.’ Jade wriggled them free.

‘You are acting as though I have just asked you to spend a weekend with me,' he drawled, and the remark caused her immediate humiliation. ‘Whereas,' he continued, ‘I have merely asked you to stay on, enjoy some music, have another drink and, later, eat a meal prepared for us by my very excellent cook. Soon after coffee and a liqueur, maybe, I will see you back to the hotel ... all very casual.’

‘So casual, in fact, that my presence here caused Nicole de Speville to be jealous? And no doubt there are others.'

‘I don't understand this,’ he said. ‘Why are you troubling yourself with these thoughts? Are you jealous because you believe Nicole is jealous?’

‘Of course not! Why should I be jealous?’

‘So, as this makes no difference to you ... that is what Nicole or any woman might feel because you have dined with me here, there is no reason why you should not stay. Okay?’ Suddenly he smiled, and the hand that writes on the wall was beginning to write something else for her.

‘Okay,’ she found herself saying, ‘it’s just that Nicole seemed to be trying to get something across to me and I found myself resenting her remarks.’

‘There is nothing to prevent you from doing as you please,’ he told her. ‘You are not married to Marlow Lewis yet. As for Nicole, she is very unhappy.'

‘Who is responsible for this unhappiness?’ she asked. ‘Or shouldn’t I ask?'

‘That is something I am not prepared to discuss with you.’

Laurent’s guests were in various stages of departing and then suddenly they were alone and they went downstairs, and Jade watched him moodily as he mixed her an island cocktail. After he had frosted the rim of the glass with what appeared to be caster sugar he passed it to her.

‘What are you brooding about?’ His strange green eyes went over her face. The glass doors were open to the lawns and they could hear the breakers on the coral reef.

'I wasn’t brooding,’ she lied, feeling something like 'the girl who just can’t say no.’

‘I was admiring the beautiful objects in your chalet, as a matter of fact.’

‘I come from a long line of collectors,’ he told her. ‘I myself am a collector. Many of the things I like to collect speak of a bygone age. I suppose collecting is in my blood.’

'Isn’t this what is called a Foo dog?’ she asked, reaching out finger-tips to touch the blue-and-white, ferocious-looking dog.

‘Yes. To be precise, it is a hand-painted Kutant Foo dog.’ He gave her a smile which, for her, cast him in a hero mould from which, so far as she was concerned, he would never escape, and that was the dashing, sword playing corsair type. ‘When I take you to my house I will show you the jade phoenix.’

‘Did I say anything about visiting your house?’ Jade kept her voice light. While he had been speaking she had been reminding herself that he was a man who would collect women. This, too, would be in his blood and in the end they, too, would speak of a bygone age. The only difference was that they would no longer grace his chalet, or the house he had told her about previously.

‘Looking at you,’ he ignored her question, ‘I can see that you have a style which can only be described as an expression of your individuality. It would be almost impossible for anyone to copy Jade Lawford.’

Your description of me comes as a surprise. You mentioned to Nicole that she was given to flights of fancy. It seems to me that you are also given to flights of fancy.’ Suddenly Jade felt trapped in the magnificent peacock-shaped wicker chair with its vivid blue silk cushion. ‘I think I prefer to think of myself as elegant rather than stylish.'

‘No, you are stylish,’ he replied, ‘and you carry this stylishness to the ultimate. In any case, the two are closely knit ... style and elegance.’

Feeling inclined to argue with him, to show him that his very personal remarks did not affect her, she said, ‘I should say that elegance is—is very static.
I
am static.'

‘If you were static, you would not be here.’ He spoke the words slowly, with emphasis. ‘However, you are elegant and very beautiful and you
do
have style, and that alone must surely demand that you devote yourself to certain changes, whether you are aware of this, or not. Style goes hand in hand with a shifting nature, no? Therefore, as I see it, style can be so much more rewarding than elegance or just good taste.’

She took a sip of her cocktail and looked at him over the rim of her glass. ‘Oh? In what way?’

‘Style, I believe, is constantly searching for perfection, whereas elegance, on the other hand, can only bring about a tranquil pleasure.’

‘Well, is that such a bad thing?’ She wished he would not look at her in that cool appraising manner.

‘Yes, it is very bad. Style explores everything there is to explore. I don’t think you are complacent, and derive pleasure only from a feeling of tranquillity. You wouldn't be here with me now if you did. Think about this while I go and tell Capauelle what to prepare for us. We'll eat on the balcony. The studio will have been cleared of the remnants of the cocktail party, by the time the meal is ready.’

Moodily Jade watched him leave the room. There was a kind of autocracy in all his movements. In his presence she felt seductive and, what was more, submissive, and knowing this, she realised that she was treading on dangerous ground. In a cold and exciting light, she saw herself as his victim—and hated herself for it.

How many women, she wondered later when they were on the balcony which led off the studio, and as she surveyed the round table with its billowing voile cloth, posy of flowers and candles flickering in the breeze, had stayed on with Laurent Sevigny, alone, after one of his cocktail parties? The drink he had mixed for her downstairs, and the perfectly chilled wine she was drinking now with the well-prepared if light meal, did nothing to melt her apprehension.

‘Why do you look at me like that?’ he asked suddenly. His dark green eyes did not leave her face.

‘I was just thinking .....’ She searched around in her mind for something flippant to say. ‘I like to read in the evenings, and here I am, acting like a millionaire’s daughter on an island vacation. Do you realise I have to work tomorrow?’

‘But the following day you are free.’

‘How did you know that?’ She widened her eyes at him.

‘I took time off to find out. The day after tomorrow is your free day and that is the day we are going to Curepipe.’

‘You go on as if I have no say at all,’ she said crossly.

‘Don’t you respect masculine power?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I do, but not when it’s directed at me.’

‘And how do you aim to stop it?’ He held his glass to the candle light and studied it.

‘Since you have no power over me I don’t have to try. You really are very sure of yourself, aren’t you?’

‘Certainly I recognise a certain reluctance,’ his voice was easy, ‘but I am of the opinion that you are very much aware of the fact that I am reasonably sure of myself.’

Deliberately, Jade raised her glass to her lips. ‘Let me cue you again,’ she said, after she had taken a sip of her wine. ‘Soon I’ll be the wife of a sugar farmer on this island.'

‘Since you didn’t question the foolishness of dining alone with me in my chalet in his absence,’ he said, ‘I gather this is of little importance to you.’ His eyes were mocking now.

‘I
did
question it.’ she protested.

‘And yet here you are.’ He laughed very softly.

‘Yes. here I am, and I've probably given rise to a whole lot of gossip.'

‘Gossip doesn’t bother me,’ he answered. ‘One day before Marlow gets back we will go on a champagne picnic. I will take you to a place where we will enjoy a superb Chinese meal, afterwards, in the authentic atmosphere ... and where we will be seen.’

‘Many things appear not to bother you,’ she observed.

‘I'll admit that is the case.’ He sat back and studied her.

After the meal they went downstairs again to listen to music and sat on plump cushions which Laurent had carelessly thrown on to the carpet. When he bent his head to kiss her, her lips were more than willing and she knew that her trials with Laurent Sevigny were only just beginning. As her arms went around his neck she was quite resigned to the possibility of becoming yet another helpless victim. He kissed her sensuously and, once, while she opened her eyes to look into his face, the expression in his strange green eyes seemed to darken, as he made his calculations about her. What was it he’d said ... ‘I’m not interested in being faithful to any one particular girl.’

And yet who was she to set such high standards? she thought, as a feeling of humiliation surged over her. ‘Let go of me!’ She struggled away from him.

‘You enjoy being kissed by me, no?’

‘Yes, but only for the simple reason that I've possibly had too many of your island cocktails and wine and because I must have taken leave of my senses. There!
Now
are you satisfied?’

‘It takes a lot to satisfy me,' he answered. ‘But come, I will take you back to the hotel now.’

A mask seemed to have been fitted over his dark handsome face, hiding his thoughts. It was as though he had been watching a very boring play which had held absolutely no interest for him.

On the way back to the hotel, Jade stumbled on a paving stone which was set into the lawn, but although Laurent caught her to him, he made no attempt to kiss her.

When
her phone rang the following afternoon Jade was in her room and, as she was new to the island, her eyes widened. She knew that it wasn't Nicole, for Nicole had left the clinic for her house on the slopes of one of those fantastically shaped mountains. Perhaps, she thought a little wildly, it was Marlow who had arrived back earlier than intended.

It was Laurent Sevigny. ‘Right now, what are you doing?’ he asked. ‘I know that you are finished at the salon, of course.'

‘Right now,’ she said, after a moment and in a tight little voice, 'I'm preparing to swim in the pool.’

‘You are most welcome to use my pool at the chalet,' he told her.

‘The hotel pool will suit me fine—but thank you, all the same.’

'About last night ’ he began.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

'Do you not wish to see Curepipe?’ Jade knew he was mocking her. ‘We did not discuss it before we parted and so I have phoned to make arrangements. We will leave soon after we have eaten breakfast together.’

She allowed a long, astonished breath to escape her lips. ‘You’re not dictating to a person of limited intelligence,’ she said hotly. ‘Really, I decide these things for myself! As for breakfast .... well, I’m now making it a practice to eat breakfast here in my room every day, in common with some of the clients at the health clinic. I think you're looking at things from off-centre, don’t you?’

'No,’ he replied easily. ‘It is my intention to change this routine, so far as tomorrow is concerned. I’ll meet you at eight at the hotel.’ Suddenly, his laugh came to her. ‘Oh, come, Jade. You are in a petty and quarrelsome mood.’ When she made no reply he said, ‘What is wrong with going to Curepipe?’

'There’s nothing wrong with going to Curepipe,’ she answered.

‘Okay, so we go. Tomorrow, then.’

After he had rung off she stood looking down at the receiver and then slowly put it down.

She thought about Laurent while she swam in the pool and again as she showered and changed for dinner. There was no sign of him in the dining-room, although she searched for him with her eyes, and later again in the lounge, which was open to the sea breezes and the pool. Later she danced with an Australian she had been introduced to and he stirred those memories of Australia that were always moving about in her mind.

That night she cried into her pillow—for Jeffrey and for Elisa, who had been engaged to Marlow. Why, she asked herself, had Marlow written to ask her to marry him? And why had she accepted him? Was it because they had both suffered a tragic loss? Had he ended up feeling pity for her after he had simply sold his sheep station in Australia and gone to Mauritius, leaving her to make fresh plans for herself now that the place that had been home to herself and Jeffrey no longer belonged to the man who had been Jeffrey’s employer? Had her letters conveyed to him the despair she felt, the indecision as to what she should do? There was nothing to go back to in England, she had written to Marlow. She had also written about her new position in a beauty salon and, out of the blue, Marlow had written proposing marriage, and because it had seemed like a good idea she had accepted and here she was, but where Marlow should have been there was the fascinating and devastating Laurent Sevigny....

Tanned and lean and wearing denim jeans, tight across his narrow hips and across his body, and a cotton shirt, open almost to the waist, Laurent was waiting for her the following morning. He looked elegantly casual and he wore the denim wranglers well and she could not take her eyes off him. She saw that he had thrown a denim jacket over one of the poolside chairs.

‘You look—very French,’ she couldn’t resist telling him.

‘Like one of the corsairs we discussed?’ His dark sea-green eyes were lazy. ‘But tell me, what do you mean— I look very French? I
am
French.’