ARMAND HAD BEEN away from Lorvoire for almost three months, but now he was back. He had returned three days ago. Claudine knew because Liliane had told her, but she hadn’t seen Armand, nor had she heard from him. She knew he was deliberately avoiding her – and today she had decided to put an end to it. She had left the château half an hour ago and come to stand here, in the shade of the forest, just beyond the waterfall. At the heart of the valley the church clock rang out the midday hour, and a few minutes later, just as Liliane had told her he would, Armand started up through the vineyards.
Claudine watched him as, engrossed in thought, he strolled towards her. He couldn’t see her, the sun was behind her; and besides, he was staring down at his feet as 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 François’. 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, chérie,’ 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 François 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, chérie.’
‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘I know, 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. François 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, chérie, 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 château 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 love-making 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 François. 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 brassière 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 François? Do you think it’s François 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, 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 François, then found herself remembering what he had told her about Hortense.
Armand sat down and reached for her hands. ‘What are you thinking?’ he said gently.
She took a while to answer, but finally she said, ‘I was thinking about a woman called Hortense de Bourchain. Have you ever heard of her?’
‘Yes,’ he answered, and she thought she sensed him withdraw.
‘What do you know about her?’ she asked.
‘Why do you ask?’
‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’
‘Yes.’
Armand saw that this answer had unsettled her even further, but he still wasn’t sure what direction her thoughts were taking.
‘I didn’t believe him,’ Claudine said at last. ‘When he told me, I thought he was just saying it to try and stop me marrying him. Then after we were married, I thought …’ She shook her head, as if trying to clear it. ‘I keep telling myself that if he had killed her, someone would have …’
‘Just a minute,’ Armand interrupted. ‘Are you saying that François told you he killed Hortense?’
She nodded. ‘But if he had, surely it would have gone to trial? People don’t get away with murder, do they?’
Her eyes were beseeching him for the reassurance she craved, but as he continued to say nothing he felt her horror as if it was almost tangible. ‘Did he kill her, Armand?’ she whispered.
When again he didn’t answer she felt a scream of denial curl through her gut. ‘He did, didn’t he?’ she croaked.
‘Yes. I saw him do it.’
‘You saw him!’ she gasped. ‘But how? What happened? Oh my God, I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it.’
‘Ssh,’ he said, trying to calm her.
‘But why?’ she cried. ‘Why did he kill her?’
‘All I know is that it had something to do with Lucien. I don’t know what exactly, but when I heard them fighting in the wine cave, I heard Lucien’s name …’
Her mind was racing and her skin was beaded with a cold sweat. She took a deep breath. ‘You’d better start at the beginning, Armand.’
He nodded slowly, then letting go of her hands he stood up and started to pace the room. Her eyes never left him, following him back and forth as he told her everything he had seen and heard that night in the wine cave. He even told her of Louis’ involvement, and his own reasons for not informing the police.
‘Maybe if Jacqueline hadn’t been so close to giving birth,’ he said, as he reached the end of his story, ‘I’d have acted differently, but I’m not sure. The de Lorvoires are a powerful family, to stand against them alone would have been madness. Then when Louis told me Hortense’s family did not want to press charges, it showed me more than anything else what pressure the de Lorvoires could bring to bear. But even then I might have done something if I hadn’t known that a scandal would break Solange’s heart – not to mention what it would do to Lucien’s career and Monique’s hopes of marriage … I’ve known that family all my life, I just couldn’t do it to them.’
She was silent for a long time, trying to take it all in. Finally she said, ‘Does François know that you know?’
‘I don’t think so. If he did …’ He left the sentence unfinished as he suddenly realized what she was getting at. ‘You think that perhaps he does, that that’s why he’s having us watched? But why should he be afraid of me telling you when he’s already told you himself?’
But as she continued to look at him he saw that her mind was travelling much further than that. As reassuringly as he could, he said, ‘You aren’t in any danger from him, chérie. He must be only too aware that if he did anything to you, his father wouldn’t stand by him again. Besides, he has no reason to want to harm you.’
‘So why is he having us watched?’
‘We’re only assuming that it’s him.’
‘But who else could it be?’
He smiled. ‘I’m afraid there are people with some rather odd sexual habits. It could be one of them.’
She laughed half-heartedly, and got up to put her arms around him. He held her tightly, stroking her hair as he mulled everything over in his mind. Then, deciding that there was only one way to take her mind off her fears, he took his coat from her shoulders and lowered his mouth to the most beautiful breasts he had ever touched.