Free And Be Thy Love by Rose Burghley Page B

uncertainties—just the delight of discussing something we both know and understand!”
    Her heart had started to hammer wildly, and the hand he had felt taut as a piece of live wire. But she looked away from him desperately, into the leafy green foliage, thinking that he was a man who allowed another man to be responsible for his creature comforts—or largely responsible —and the life he led was not the sort of life she was certain she could ever approve. He had a curious, detached attitude to what was important in life—even loyalty to his friend was not his strong point—and yet Marie-Josette would hurl herself into his arms the instant she saw him coming! Jacqueline, the mother of many kittens, followed him about like a forlorn dog, and Monique’s eyes grew several degrees brighter when his name was mentioned. Marthe Giraud had written from the hospital that he was being kinder to her than she deserved, and she had recommended Caroline to listen to his advice and stay away from sick-visiting for a time.
    “Get well and strong yourself’ she said, “and before long I will be back to look after you both!”
    Which looked as if she was accustomed to Monsieur de Bergerac’s visits, and had decided that this might be a lengthy one.
    And now Caroline could feel him tugging at her hand, gently but insistently.
    “Well,” he said, “isn’t there such a subject we can discuss?” Caroline looked down into his eyes, and it was her undoing. Her eyes became mirrors of all that she was thinking and feeling, and she heard him give a little exclamation—a satisfied exclamation—and then sit up swiftly. He held out his arms to her, and like Marie-Josette she went into them gladly, and he folded her close. She heard him whispering while he rubbed his cheek against hers, and although her other cheek was pressed against him and she could hear the wild thunder of his heart, she could also hear what he said.
    “Little one...! Little, little one! Cheiie...! Oh, Cherie ...!” His eyelashes brushed against her skin, and the wildest of thrills sped up and down her—she felt she was drowning in bliss. Her fingers clutched at him, and she trembled like a leaf in his arms. “I have wanted to hold you like this almost from the very first moment that we met,” he told her dreamily, “and now you are close to my heart! I don’t think I can ever let you go!”
    She felt his hand beneath her chin, forcing her face up, and his eyes above her were ablaze with all sorts of lights, and tender at the same time.
    “Don’t tell me if any man has ever kissed you before,” he said, “because I couldn’t bear it!”
    And then his mouth was on hers, and the ecstasy was complete.
    Later he lay with his head in her lap, looking up at her. “You will marry me?” he said. “I have never asked a woman to marry me before in my life, but you I have got to have! Carol, if I don’t have you I shall pine away and die like one of those comfortless females in English novels of Victorian life! Do you believe me?”
    She traced the arrogant outline of his eyebrows with a slim fingertip, and then gently touched the eyelashes that fascinated her. Marry him... ? She felt bemused, unable to believe that that was what he was asking her to do, unused yet even to the touch of his lips, unsure of the sensations rioting within her.
    “But you hardly know me,” she answered. “I hardly know you!” “And is it necessary to know all there is to know about a man or a woman before it is possible to fall in love with him or her?” he returned, hurt rebuke in his voice. He captured her hand and buried his mouth in the palm. “Is that the way the English fall in love?—Is that the way a cool, remote little girl like you expects to be loved before she can make up her mind to marry?”
    “I am not cool and remote!” Her shaken voiced proved that she certainly wasn’t. “And I do love you, Robert...!” There...! It was out, her doubts vanished forever,