Darkest Longings (20 page)

As he entered her, she cried out at the unendurable

excitement of it, and clutched the edge of the bed as he tore

at the lace holding her breasts. ‘Now tell me you spilt the

wine purposely,’ he growled, as he pulled and squeezed her

nipples, while grinding hard against her. ‘Tell me that you

did it because you knew this would happen.’

‘Yes. Oh yes, sir. I wanted you, sir. I wanted you inside me

like this, sir.’

‘That’s it,’ he breamed. And as he ran his hands over the

insides of her thighs, he lifted her from the floor.

‘Oh my God,’ she cried, as she felt him push even deeper

inside her. Then suddenly she knew she couldn’t hold on

any longer. ‘Please!’ she cried. ‘Now, please!’

Putting her back to the floor he quickly moved his fingers

between her legs, and holding her to him as he expertly

stroked and teased her, he slammed into her with long,

urgent strokes until he too passed the point of control. As the orgasms shuddered through their bodies, Celine’s

knees began to give way, but he caught her about the waist

and held her up until with one final thrust, the last of his

semen leapt from his body.

Both were drenched in sweat, and both were breathing

too heavily to speak. He was still inside her, and could feel

her muscles clenching him in the dying throes of her climax.

‘Ah, Beavis,’ she murmured at last, pulling herself

upright and leaning back against him. She tilted her head to I

look up at him, and as he bent to kiss her he wrapped his arms around her, taking her small breasts in his hands.

Eventually he eased himself away, and she moaned softly

as he withdrew from her. Then she turned to sit on the bed,

and looking at him, she started to laugh.

Bemused, he stared down at himself, then he too began to

laugh. His shirt and jacket were open, revealing the hard

muscles of his chest and his trousers and undershorts were

round his ankles, well below the suspenders that held his

socks.

‘What do you look like, cherie?’ she giggled.

‘Ludicrous, I should say!’ he chuckled. ‘But you and your

erotic games are enough to make any man forget his

dignity.’

‘What did you think of the maid?’ she murmured, resting

her head on his shoulder and trailing her fingers over his thigh.

He looked down at her. ‘You have to ask?’

Laughing, she planted a kiss on his cheek, then set about

unfastening her suspenders.

When they were both naked, Beavis turned out the lights

and they got into bed. For some time they lay quietly in each

other’s arms until finally Celine whispered, ‘What are you

thinking?’

In the darkness Beavis frowned. ‘Probably the same as

you.’

She sighed, and turned in his arms. ‘Do you still believe

their marriage will work?’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’

They were quiet again then, and after a few minutes she

heard the steady rhythm of his breathing. Assuming that he

was asleep, she too closed her eyes.

But Beavis wasn’t asleep, it was just that he didn’t want to

talk. He had hoped that by now the sense of foreboding that

had started just before he and Celine left Lorvoire, would

have disappeared. But even the delightful episode with

Celine hadn’t managed to dispel it, and now it was worse

than ever.

When he was certain that Celine was asleep, he got up

from the bed and lit a cigarette. Even if Francois had told

him the name of the hotel in Poitiers, the idea of telephoning

in order to put his mind at rest was, of course,

unthinkable. And if he just looked at it rationally for a

moment, he would probably see himself for the over

solicitous parent he was. After all, what could possibly have

happened to give him such a sense of disaster? If there had

been an accident they would have been informed by now.

And as for Claudine losing her virginity … Well, it had to

happen sooner or later, whether he liked it or not.

He ground out his cigarette and walked back to the bed.

Knowing he would be unable to sleep, he toyed with the idea

of returning to his own room - but Celine would be

offended if he did, so he pulled back the sheets and got in

beside her.

It was just after five in the morning when Claudine arrived at

Montvisse. She hadn’t found a train, or a taxi, but a lorry

driver who was travelling through the night from

Angouleme to Tours had stopped when he saw her walking

through the deserted streets of Poitiers in the early hours of

the morning. She had hastily explained that she had to

return home with the utmost urgency: could he direct her,

or even take her, to the nearest railway station?

He laughed. ‘There won’t be any trains through here

until at least seven in the morning,’ he said. ‘Where are you

heading?’

‘Chinon. Near Chinon.’

‘Get in,’ the lorry driver said. ‘You’ll be far safer in here

with me than out there walking the streets. I’m heading for

Tours myself, so you won’t be much out of my way.’

Ordinarily Claudine would have balked at getting into a

vehicle with a stranger, but this wasn’t ordinarily … All

through the long drive she sat in the warmth of the small cab

while the driver rambled gently on about his wife, his three

sons and his seven grandchildren. He knew Claudine

wasn’t listening, and wondered what lay behind this

beautiful young woman’s need to get to Chinon with such

haste. But he didn’t question her, and by the time he

dropped her at the gates of Montvisse, he too had fallen

silent. Claudine watched him go with an ache in heart, then

turned into the avenue of limes and started to walk up the

drive.

She found a side door that was open, and let herself into

the silent chateau. Now she was so near her father, the

resolve she had gathered in the lorry was beginning to

fracture. But she was determined not to break down. No

amount of anger or tears would change the situation, she

kept telling herself; it could only be handled calmly, with

reason and self-control.

She had decided that she must tell her father the whole

truth - though now, as she climbed the stairs to Beavis’

room at the top of the tower, she was already faltering in her

mind over the accusation of rape. But no matter what

Francois thought, she told herself, no matter how her

treacherous body had responded, she had not wanted him to

make love to her … She hesitated as a burning wave of

misery closed around her heart. But she had responded,

neither she nor Francois could be in any doubt of it… The

memory filled her with self-loathing; now, the very thought

of those grotesque hands ever touching her body again

repelled her.

She tapped gently on her father’s door, then let herself in.

She was baffled at first by the bright light that flooded the

room from the unshuttered windows, then, as she saw the

empty bed, an unbearable despondency swept over her. He

must have spent the night at Lorvoire; she had no choice but to go downstairs to Tante Celine.

There was no answer when she knocked on her aunt’s

door, so she pushed it open and peeped in. The shutters

were closed, but bright bands of light shone through the

slats.

‘Tante Celine,’ she whispered, as she tip-toed across the

room. ‘Taunte Celine?’

There was a movement in the bed. Claudine was on the

point of speaking again when she froze.

Celine’s eyes as they looked up at her were as wide and

disbelieving as her own, but Claudine wasn’t looking at her

aunt. She was looking at her father, who after sleepless

hours of worrying about his daughter, had finally fallen into

a doze. Suddenly his eyes opened, and he looked straight at

Claudine.

There was a moment of dreadful silence, then Claudine

turned and ran from the room.

Outside the chateau, Claudine saw her car. The keys were

in it and in a moment she was out of the gates and roaring

along the narrow road that ran parallel to the Vienne. She

didn’t think about where she was going, it didn’t matter she

wanted only to drive. And she did drive, furiously, for

over half a hour, before she realized she had come

dangerously close to running out of petrol and was miles

from the nearest pump.

But as she abandoned the Lagonda on the side of the hill

and started to walk up over the brow, she didn’t care how

she was to get back, or what she was going to do when she

did. The drive had succeeded in calming her a little, but she

still needed to think; she needed time to sort out in her mind

the appalling events of the past twelve hours.

As she walked she took deep, calming breaths, but the

shock of finding her father in bed with her aunt was still raw.

Every time she thought of it she could see her mother’s face

… How could they have done it? How could they, when

Beavis had loved Antoinette so much he would have died for

her? But it was Antoinette who had died, and wasn’t it just

like Celine to be there with her own special kind of solace? Celine, who had as many lovers as she had dresses, who could have anyone she wanted, had seduced her sister’s

husband. Perhaps she hadn’t even waited for her sister to

die.

That thought was so terrible that Claudine buried her

face in her hands, and at last, as she sank to her knees in the

early morning dew, she allowed the tears to fall. Sobs racked

her body, the pain and confusion seemed to tear her heart

apart. She wanted her mother now as she had never wanted

her before.

It was a long time before she lifted her head again, but

when she did, gazing down into the valley of Lorvoire, she

found that she felt a little steadier. She was sitting at the top

of the hill on the far side of the valley, almost opposite the

spot where she had stood with Francois the first day she met

him. What a long time ago that seemed now - and she

cringed as she remembered the childish way she had

behaved at the fountain. But that was nothing to the way she

had acted since.

She recalled the dreadful circumstances of Francois’

proposal, the way she had made herself so ridiculous in her

determination to marry him. There was no denying now that

she had made the greatest mistake of her life, and it didn’t

help to know that she had only herself to blame. Everyone

had warned her against him, but in her arrogance she had

refused to listen, certain that she could be the one to change

him. How badly she had needed to grow up! The whole

world would know now that Claudine Rafferty had latched

herself onto a man who didn’t love her, didn’t even want

her. How they would laugh when they heard what had

happened, and how they would pity her.

Engulfed in a wave of desperation, she fell back in the

grass, beating her fists against the ground and screaming up

at the sky. How could she have done this to herself? How

could she have been so stupid and pigheaded?

She thought of the gypsy then, and gave a bitter laugh.

Things aren’t always what they seem, the old woman had

said. And she, like the fool she was, had applied that to

Francois. A great love and a great danger, the gypsy had

said. Well, there was no doubt in her mind now that

Francois was the danger. She had only to remember what he

had told her about Hortense to know that he was capable of

any evil. How she was sickened now by her refusal to believe

him! How simple she had been; how unspeakably obtuse…

By the time she pulled herself to her feet it was

approaching midday, and yet despite her sleepless night she

was feeling as though she had at last awoken from a state of

stupefying somnambulance. Her mind was finally beginning

to clear. One day, she knew, in the not too distant

future, the anger and resentment she bore Francois would

cease to exist. But for the moment she must live with it, and

she must face him with it - for much as she blamed herself

for what had happened, there was no reason on God’s earth

why he should have treated her the way he had. Now she

must face this last hurdle. She must confront him, prove

that she could be dignified in defeat, and then she could put

the whole thing behind her.

As she wandered back across the hilltop in her crumpled

navy suit, she lifted a hand to her face and pressed gently

against the bruises on her jaw. Then, as she glanced at the I

angry red marks that circled her wrists, she became aware,

too, of the dull ache at the top of her thighs.

She tossed her head as again the flame of anger she had

struggled to suppress suddenly flared. But she had reached

her decision, she was going to give up the fight, and she

must not allow herself to think of revenge: who could win

against a man like Francois? An image of his naked body

came unbidden to her mind then, and she faltered. But she