Substitute Engagement. Jayne Bauling
vague about his previous engagmenet when I questioned him about it. Unfortunately I did it in my sister’s presence as I couldn’t really credit that he’d be so stupid as to be engaged to two women at once. I could see her growing uneasy.
‘He didn’t even mention your name—I got that from Hassan Mohammed—so she won’t wonder at my failure to mention the coincidence when she realises who you are, and I know she’ll have questioned Olivier about you by now.’
‘Sorry for me!’ Lucia’s face had flamed at the phrase and she had barely absorbed the rest of his words. ‘No one has any need to feel sorry for me! If any of this is true, then this girl, your sister—what’s her name?’
‘Nadine.’
‘She has stolen Thierry from me and I’m going to get him back! Let me past, please!’
Past him was the only way she could go, she had discovered, because a semicircle of close-growing fran-gipanis blocked her way in all other directions.
‘You’d want him back when he has treated you like this?’ He was deeply contemptuous. ‘Everything else is understandable, but his failure to end one engagement before contracting another is mind-boggling. Presumably he couldn’t know how well you’d time your arrival—or how badly, depending on who is looking at it—and was intending to tell you when the new one was an acomplished fact.’
‘And you think this man is a suitable husband for your precious sister?’ Lucia flared, long acquaintance enabling her to understand Thierry’s behaviour—if any of this was true.
‘It’s complicated, and my absence is delaying the announcement,’ he returned impatiently. ‘It’s enough to say that he suits her, and I happen to think that she’ll suit him better than you would. It’s obvious to me that you’ve been a weakening influence there as it’s only in relation to you that he seems to become less than a man, whereas with regard to my sister I’m satisfied that he is what she needs—strong without being oppressive. Take off that ring, Lucia.’
His eyes had fallen to her hands in which she still held her sunglasses, her fingers twisting and turning tensely. Following his gaze, Lucia forced them to be still.
‘And because that’s your opinion I must simply give him up?’ she taunted. ‘If any of this is true.’
‘Why would I invent something like this?’
Yes, why? The simple question forced her to accept that he was probably telling the truth, and her face went still and closed as she looked away, staring unseeingly at one of the massive old baobabs that grew here on Grande Comore as they did on the African mainland to the west.
In a short while, when the sun’s reunion with the horizon began to streak the sky with lemon and amber, the giant bats of the Comoros, which hung motionless in such trees by day, would begin to emerge, but for now the sun was still a dazzling disc in the blue sky, as bright as the diamond on her finger, and the breeze that caressed her skin was tropically warm; the chill that she was beginning to feel was strictly an interior one and clashed oddly with the heat of rage.
If Thierry truly had done this to her…! The combination of pride and sensitivity that was such an intrinsic part of her nature made the humiliation unendurable, and she thought that she hated this man—this Rob Ballard—for having been the one to deal her the humiliation, knowing, as he had to, that she hadn’t seen it coming; and knowing too that a man had so little regard for her that he had left her to learn of his rejection from a stranger, which was how it would appear to Rob.
Assaulted by a sudden, panicky suspicion that she must be revealing all the anger and shame just beginning to manifest themselves, Lucia hastily put her sunglasses on before looking at him again.
Such a short while ago, before all this, Rob’s dark individuality had been appealing, even arresting—loving Thierry hadn’t diminished her healthy appreciation of personality and sex appeal—but she could no longer find anything attractive about him.
Viewing him now, from behind concealing dark lenses, all she could see was the enemy, tall and dark, the fit lines of his body relaxed beneath the casual but obviously good-quality shirt and trousers that he wore. And yet at the same time he gave the impression of being on the alert and in control, ready to deal with anything.
She hoped that she would never have to see him again. Lucia started to remove her ring, her shaking fingers a betrayal now that rage was a buffeting storm within her.
‘Don’t touch me!’ she ordered him furiously when she found her hand in his as he took over the operation.
‘I know!’ He was sardonically comprehending. ‘Right now you’re very busy hating me, aren’t you? I’m the messenger, and you want to kill me. Illogical but inevitable!’
His perspicacity infuriated her still further. ‘You enjoyed being the messenger!’
‘Someone had to be.’ He didn’t deny the accusation, but his expression had hardened. ‘I’ll keep this for you.’
He had slid the ring from her finger quite easily, and Lucia couldn’t honestly feel its removal as a loss since she wasn’t really accustomed to its light embrace, having preferred not to wear it on campus, especially as her course had entailed so much laboratory work.
‘Give it to me,’ she demanded, seeing him slip it into the breast-pocket of his dark green shirt.
‘I will when you’ve calmed down sufficiently not to make it a prop in a public performance.’ He ignored the hand that she stretched out to him while her other one was busily opening the small bag that hung on a strap from her shoulder. ‘Then you can give it back to Olivier some time when my sister isn’t around, or throw it back at him if that’s what you prefer. Unless you’d like me to do it for you?’
‘He’s not getting it back,’ Lucia stated tautly. ‘He gave it to me. It’s mine and I’ll do as I please with it.’
‘Ah! You’re going to be theatrical and hurl it into the sea,’ he guessed, a gleam of amusement appearing in his mysteriously coloured eyes.
‘I’m going to flog it and keep the money,’ she correct him impulsively. The reasoning behind her defiance was somewhat confused, except that if Thierry really had done this to her he didn’t merit any grand gestures.
Rob’s amusement had increased. ‘Very practical. Now, try to look as if we’ve just enjoyed a passionate reunion and we’ll join the party.’
Lucia hesitated, making a business of closing her bag to give herself time to think, although she already knew that she had no option. Intense pride was reminding her that several people who knew her had seen her arrival. If she failed to reappear they would guess why with some accuracy, and she could no morè bear the idea of being the subject of pitying gossip than she could have endured public ridicule.
Lifting her head, she looked at Rob Ballard and said tightly, ‘The act is unnecessary—I couldn’t enjoy a passionate anything with you—but all right, let’s go.’
‘Then smile,’ he adjured indifferently, and stood aside to allow her to precede him.
The only passion he aroused in her was passionate dislike, she reflected, with rather desperate humour. It occurred to her that she ought to be grateful to him for saving her from making a fool of herself by intercepting her search for Thierry. Lucia’s face burned as she entertained a picture of herself finding Thierry, innocently inviting his embrace and being publicly rejected, but the fact that she had something for which to thank Rob Ballard only exacerbated her resentment.
As they joined the crowd in the beautiful, big courtyard she felt his arm slide about her waist, and she stiffened.
‘I said there was no need for that,’ she reminded him stiltedly. ‘Let go.’
‘When I’m sure I can trust you to behave.’
‘Won’t your wife or girlfriend object?’ she asked tartly, chagrined to