Never Leave Me (38 page)

‘Nothing,' Luke snapped tersely, and then, seeing the puzzled expression on his wife's face, aware that both Henri and Heloise were looking at him curiously, he forced a grin. ‘Just don't do it too often. I want to make it on the board at Thomsons and I won't be able to do so if I keep losing accounts to Derings.'

The conversation turned to advertising. To speculation as to how long it would be before de Gaulle came out of his self-imposed retirement and assumed power again. Luke raged inwardly, knowing that further conversation was impossible between himself and Lisette while Greg was in the room. He had not realised how hard seeing her again would be. How impossible it would be to hide his feelings. The silk dress hung gently from her shoulders, swirling about her knees, disguising but not concealing her pregnancy. A spasm of jealousy knifed through him. He had never been to bed with her. Made love to her.

Ever since he had spoken to her she had kept her violet-dark eyes carefully averted from his. Now, as the conversation turned to America's plan for aid for Europe, she ran her forefinger thoughtfully round the rim of her sherry glass. She had beautiful hands. Long and narrow with pearl-lacquered, almond-shaped nails. He imagined them moving languorously over his body. Caressing. Arousing.

‘Greg says we should visit Paris for a day while we are here,' Annabel was saying to him. ‘That would be nice, darling, wouldn't it?'

He had almost forgotten Annabel's existence. Unwillingly, he dragged his thoughts away from Lisette and turned his attention to his wife.

‘I haven't escaped from London to plunge almost immediately into another capital city,' he said tersely. ‘If you want to do a day's sight-seeing, and if Greg is going, perhaps you could go with him.'

Greg's eyes narrowed. It was obvious that Lisette would not be going on any trip to Paris. Luke was not being very subtle.

‘I'd love to escort Annabel and Lisette around Paris,' he said easily, ‘but it would be too tiring for Lisette. We shall be staying at Valmy until the baby is born.'

Annabel looked disappointed. ‘We're here for two weeks, darling,' she said persuasively, reaching across from where she was sitting and taking hold of his hand. ‘Surely one day in Paris wouldn't spoil the holiday for you?'

It would be one day less with Lisette. One day of not seeing her; not hearing her voice.

Annabel's eyes were pleading. She was his wife. She adored him. It wasn't her fault that he didn't love her.

‘Just one day,' he said and then, making an enormous effort at normality, ‘but no shopping, Annabel. I haven't come to France to be financially ruined by Paris couturiers!'

They had all laughed and the atmosphere had lightened, becoming once more carefree. Heloise de Valmy was delighted to be reunited with her daughter. Henri was relieved to find that Lisette's marriage to Greg was apparently a happy one. Annabel was pleased to have at last met Lisette, who had saved Luke's life, and Greg, who had shared the horrors of D-Day with him. Lisette, reassured by Luke's response to Annabel's request, was smiling at a remark of her father's.

Both Greg and Luke looked at her. Her head was tilted slightly to one side, the thick sweep of her lashes soft against her cheeks, the delicately etched line of her cheekbones and jaw heartbreakingly pure.

Luke's heart banged against his ribs. America had not changed her. She was still exquisitely French – effortlessly graceful, vibrantly sensual.

Rage and longing soared through his veins. Rage at having lost her; at seeing her with Greg's ring on her finger, Greg's baby in her womb. He wondered if she had told him yet about Dieter Meyer. If he still believed Dominic to be his son. If she had, and the marriage had survived, then he knew there was little hope for the future he was dreaming of. But if she hadn't, then there was still a chance. He still had the power to wreck Greg Dering's life. To destroy his marriage.

He barely gave a thought to his own marriage. He had known Annabel for over ten years. She was in love with him. She had money. She was pretty and charming and intelligent. She was a superb hostess and she was good in bed. She was, all in all, a very satisfactory wife. But he wasn't in love with her and he knew he never would be in love with her. He was in love with Lisette. Now that he had seen her again, he knew it was ridiculous for him to envisage a life without her. Determination tightened within him. The first thing he had to do was talk to her. He had to find out how much Greg Dering knew.

Greg was marvelling at his ability to present a cool facade to the world. Inside he was furious with Luke. His pretty new wife hadn't heard the urgency in his voice when he had asked Lisette to meet him in private, but he had. If it hadn't been for the de Valmys'presence, and Annabel's, he would have slammed his fist into his jaw there and then. From the minute they had arrived at Valmy he had been aware of every word, every look, that had passed between Lisette and Luke. So far he had seen no sign that Luke's still burning passion was reciprocated. Lisette had greeted him warmly, but nothing in her manner or voice had indicated that she was meeting again a man she had loved, or still loved. Watching her now, as they all sat in the same room, Greg knew he had no need for jealousy. But he was angry. Luke was risking distressing Lisette by his behaviour. Not only that. He was going to make his new wife very unhappy.

He shot her a quick glance. She was a pretty girl, slightly plump, her fair hair worn in a fashionable shoulder-length bob. As he watched her, she stretched out her hand, setting her sherry glass on to the coffee table and he saw with shock that she wasn't plump at all. She was pregnant. Fury licked through him. What the devil was Luke playing at? He'd been married for only six months. His wife obviously adored him. He was about to become a father. And he was risking it all for a woman who was no longer in love with him. A woman who had never been in love with him.

‘Shall we go in to dinner?' Heloise de Valmy asked, rising to her feet.

Greg stood up and crossed the room towards Lisette. As he approached her chair, she looked up at him, all the love she felt for him shining in her eyes. His breath caught in his throat. Luke Brandon could go to hell for all he cared. He wouldn't destroy their marriage. Nothing on earth would do that.

She slept very little that night. It was strange to be sleeping beneath Valmy's roofs again. Memories crowded in on her, thick and fast, and she made no attempt to stifle them. In a room far above her, the tiny turret room, Dominic had been conceived. She remembered the way the lamplight had flickered against the the tapestried walls. The sound of the distant sea as it had surged up onto the shingles. It all seemed so long ago, so far away. She realised that, for the first time, she was remembering Dieter without pain. Greg stirred slightly in his sleep, his arms still around her. She remembered how unfaithful she had felt when she had first entered his arms on the night of their marriage. As if she had been about to commit an infidelity. His hand was around her waist and she covered his strong fingers with her own. As she did so, past and present seemed to dovetail together. She had loved Dieter, and because of her love for him she was better able to love Greg. And Dieter would have approved of Greg Dering. He was the kind of man he would have admired.

It was early dawn when she slipped quietly from the chateau, gathering a posy of winter aconites and purple irises. The rose gardens were stark and bare as she hurried through them, the dew wet on the grass beyond.

She entered the small churchyard with its tumble-down walls, walking swiftly past the graves of long dead de Valmys to the two graves that rested without headstones in the far corner. She saw with a spring of gratitude that her father had carefully tended both graves, Dieter's as well as Paul's. Winter jasmine had been planted, and hyacinths and Chinese witch hazel.

She laid a cluster of winter aconites and irises on Paul's grave and then walked the few yards to where the cherry tree leaned protectively over the green mound that covered Dieter. She stood there for a long time, the December sun slowly rising, touching the bare branches with golden light.

She folded her hands across her swollen stomach. The baby would be born within a few weeks. The guilt that was marring her life with Greg would soon be lifted. The future stretched out before her. Greg and Dominic and the new baby. ‘It's going to be all right, Dieter,' she said softly. ‘Everything is going to be all right for me. I know it is.' She felt closer to him now, secure in her love for Greg, than she had done since the day he had died. She laid her posy of flowers tenderly on his grave and walked back towards the chateau, certain that the shifting pattern of her life had changed for the last time.

Luke was waiting for her in the rose garden. ‘Does Greg know of this early morning visit?' he asked tersely, white lines etching his mouth, his brilliant blue eyes hard with the jealousy he could not conceal.

It was an encounter she had known she would have to face sometime. His manner the previous day had made it obvious that there were questions he was going to ask about Greg and Dominic. Questions to which she had no satisfactory answers.

‘No,' she said, wishing he would put an end to his torment and to hers. ‘Greg still doesn't know about Dieter, or Dominic. That's what you want to ask, Luke, isn't it?'

He stepped towards her, seizing her wrists. ‘For God's sake, can't you see what a mistake you made?' he rasped, his eyes blazing. ‘He wouldn't stay with you if he knew! You're building your marriage on a sham, Lisette!'

She tried to wrench her hands free of his grasp. ‘I'm building it on love!' she cried, her voice anguished. ‘Let me go, Luke! Nothing can be achieved by talking like this. Nothing!'

‘Who else can you talk to about it?' he asked savagely. ‘Your mother doesn't know! No one knows! Only I know.'

‘My father knows,' she said, her eyes bright with pain, ‘and he doesn't make me suffer over it as you do, Luke!'

‘Your father wants to believe it never happened,' Luke snapped cruelly. ‘But it
did
happen, Lisette. I
know
it happened. Dear God in heaven, I killed Meyer! He spoke his dying words to me! I have every right to talk about it with you!'

‘You have no right to cause me anguish! I made my decision and I'm living by it If you're a friend then you will support me, not try to destroy me!' The agony in her voice was naked.

He groaned, folding her in his arms, burying his head in her hair. ‘I'm sorry, my love,' he whispered hoarsely. ‘I don't want to hurt you. I just want you to understand what a mistake you made.' He lifted his head from hers, his lean, dark face tortured. ‘I want you to love me, Lisette, not Greg. Not the memory of Dieter Meyer. But me. That's all I've ever wanted.'

She took hold of his hand and pressed it against her cheek. ‘I do love you Luke. I love you as a friend. And I don't want to lose you as a friend. Don't drive me away from you, please.'

He turned away from her defeatedly. ‘It's been a year,' he said, his voice bleak. ‘I thought by now there would be a chance. That you would have discovered it was impossible to live with Greg and not tell him.'

She thought of the misery of the last few months. Of the shame and suffering she endured every time Greg referred proudly to Dominic as his son. Every time Isobel Dering rhapsodised over her grandson.

‘No,' she lied, ‘I haven't. I love Greg and I'm happy.'

He stood silent for a long moment, his back to her, his hands thrust deep into his pockets and then he shrugged. ‘Then there's no more to say,' he said at last, turning towards her with the lopsided grin she remembered so well. ‘As Greg said yesterday: he won, I lost.'

‘Rubbish,' she said, relieved that they were back on the old familiar footing of friendship, and taking his arm. ‘You haven't lost at all, Luke. You have Annabel and she's far, far too good for you.'

Luke laughed. ‘I won't argue with that,' he said as they began to walk back together towards the chateau. ‘She's expecting a baby at Easter, did you know?'

‘No, I didn't, but it's wonderful news, Luke. I'm so happy for you.'

‘I wish I could be generous hearted and say that I was happy for you,' he said, his eyes darkening. ‘But I can't. Don't ask it of me.'

‘I won't,' she said gently. ‘But you'll feel differently soon, Luke. I know you will.'

Her fierce optimism sustained her all through Christmas and the New Year. They were staying in Normandy until the baby was born. When they returned to America it would be as a happy, united family.

‘How do you think Dominic will react to his sister or brother?' Greg asked her as they walked along the clifftops and he carried a warmly wrapped and rosy-cheeked Dominic high on his shoulders.

‘He will be very pleased, won't you darling?' Lisette said, raising her face to Dominic's and blowing him a kiss.

In the second week of January Luke and Annabel returned to London. ‘Promise me you'll let me know immediately the baby is born,' Luke said to her, as he helped Annabel into their waiting car.

‘I will,' she promised, her hand in Greg's. ‘We want you to be godfather, remember?'

‘I will be. London is only six hours away.' He remembered when Dominic had been born; when they had been so close that he had thought nothing could separate them. ‘Goodbye Lisette,' he said, his voice thick with emotion. ‘Take care.'

Together she and Greg waved as the car sped down the drive and then turned and walked, hand in hand, into the chateau.

The next two weeks were the most emotionally peaceful she had ever known. She was certain of the future, confident of recapturing the happiness they had known in Paris, and looking forward to the birth of their child.

‘It's a pity Auge has retired to Nice,' her father said to her as they shared a pre-dinner drink. ‘He would have liked to have delivered this baby. Your coming back to Normandy for the birth would have pleased him.'