Dark Blue: Study in Seduction, Book 1 (24 page)

“Carla, you should never stand in anyone’s shadow, least of all mine. I’ll tell you about my father, but I won’t sensationalise it. I’ll give you the plain facts.”

Alex had cursed Gaby for all of a few seconds before realising that it was he who should be cursed. It was he who should have told Carla way before about that day at La Bastide, knowing that Gaby wouldn’t be able to resist telling her. Yet their time so far had been so bright and sunny, so sensual and beautiful, there had never been a moment when he’d wanted to sully the pool.

He started to tell the story, imagining that in a moment, he was going to discuss it with his tutor group, as dispassionately as a text written by someone else. That was how he’d always coped with anything painful or upsetting or intense, and how he’d escaped the lonely times at boarding school, by slipping into the fictional world.

“It happened one summer when my parents were still together at La Bastide. My father, Peter, had met my mother while she was visiting an old friend in London. He was ten years older than her, she fell for him and they got married. He spent a lot of his time in Britain, though our main home was here at La Bastide, which my mother had inherited when she was young. Olivier and I went to the local
primaire
, but my father always intended to send us to England when we were thirteen, and my mother agreed. She wanted us to be bilingual and have a correct English education, and even if she hadn’t wanted it, my father would probably have forced her.”

“Did he hurt her too?” she asked.

“Hurt? Not physically, as far as I know, but she wasn’t happy. The honeymoon didn’t last long. I think he had other women in England. I’m sure of it, even though Olivier and I never talked of it.”

“And Gaby?”

“She used to visit all the time. My Aunt Sylvie and my mother were close, which is saying something, because my mother isn’t the most demonstrative of women. I’m not criticising her; it’s just her way. One summer when Gaby and I were about thirteen and Olivier was eleven, we went into the woods around the house. We were all together and we were very young but also growing up. You know what I’m saying. We were experimenting with love and sex. Gaby and I, we…touched each other and other things… We’d thought Olivier was playing by the stream… Then we realised that he’d seen us. That was it. He started to cry and ran back home, and my father caught him.”

“And did he tell your father?”

“I’m afraid so. Poor Olivier. He was a young eleven, and he didn’t really know what he was saying. I’d shouted at him when he’d found me with Gaby, and she had too. We’d been frightened, I suppose, of someone seeing us, of our parents finding out and of what we were doing—the first tentative steps to discovering sex and our bodies. It’s hardly surprising that Olivier freaked out and ran back home.

“Of course, our father scared him even more and made Olivier tell him what he’d seen, or thought he’d seen, in the woods. I think Dad thought I’d attacked Gaby, and even though she swore she’d been part of it, which was incredibly brave of her, Dad blamed me. When we got back, he was waiting in the courtyard with the martinet. He held me over the stone trough and whipped me raw in front of Olivier and Gaby. He called me filthy and perverted.” He paused, to calm his voice and not betray the slightest hint to Carla that the memory of that horrible day still haunted him at times. “We really were innocent back then, all three of us. It was my father who had the sick mind. I’ve since come to believe that it was his guilt he was beating out of me. The guilt he felt at having all those affairs.”

“Yes, I’ve often thought that those who bleat loudest about the ‘filth’ inside others are most afraid of the cesspits they fear in themselves. Alex. I’m so sorry. Gaby said you were hurt badly.”

“It wasn’t pleasant, but I was young, and I healed fast. The worst part wasn’t the pain, it was the humiliation.” Alex remembered. It was an effort of will not to tell Carla that the memories were fresher than he thought and vivid even now. His father had made him cry and beg for mercy in front of his younger brother and Gaby—those who’d always looked up to him. “It was years ago now. I got over it fast, but Gaby has never forgotten it. It upset her more than me, which I’m sorry for. She had to have counselling afterwards.”

“What did your mother do about it? Surely she didn’t stand by and let your father hit you? Or couldn’t she do anything to stop him?”

“My mother ran out of the house and screamed at my father, and eventually he did stop beating me. And I suppose in a way, that day saved us all. For my mother, it was the last straw. She threw my father out and started divorce proceedings. Her uncle was a lawyer in Marseilles, and I suspect he had something to do with the wrong side of the law as well—the Firm, you might call it. Whatever she did or said, my father never dared set foot in this house again or see us in England, and she made sure we were brought up with her family name. Effectively, she wiped him off the face of the earth.”

“Yet she still sent you away to boarding school?”

“Oh yes. My mother wanted us to have an English education because she genuinely she thought it was the right thing for us. Boys from the Lemaitre family only have the best, and in truth, I don’t think she could have coped with two teenage boys for the whole time.” Not two rebellious, questioning, challenging boys especially, he might have added.

“Alex?” Carla touched his arm, her eyes full of sympathy that hurt him more than any blow. Yet he understood why she pitied him, even while he hated receiving it.

“How did you cope with being sent away from home to a foreign school?” she asked.

“I survived, as did Olivier. The boarding school was perfectly normal, if any education that separates young people from their families for two-thirds of the time can be said to be normal. It was safer than being with my father, that’s for sure.”

“It doesn’t sound very happy.”

“It was fine. I buried myself in sport and my studies and got my place at Cambridge. Olivier went to the Slade to study art.”

That was it. The easy part was done, if you could call telling Carla he’d been thrashed half-senseless by his father “easy”.

“I see you’re wondering how this has affected me. If what happened that day is the reason why I’m like I am. I’ve spoken to a college friend, a professor of psychology. He said it might be, but there doesn’t have to be any reason for it. In fact, he told me that his best theory was that it’s my mother’s coldness and distance that’s made me want to control everything to be able to cope.” He said it with a smile, as if the whole situation were no big deal.

“There doesn’t have to be some terrible reason why I—and you—or anyone enjoys the kind of pleasure and desires we do. Because if that one episode really were the reason, I have to ask why you enjoy our games so much too? Why are you so wet when I tie you to my bed and whip you until you cry out? Why do you kneel at my feet and suck my cock when I order you to? Is that normal behaviour? What dark and terrible incident from your past has made you want to strip naked in front of me and long to feel the sweep of my palm on your bare flesh?”

Carla squirmed. Fierce heat rushed into her cheeks. Alex was right. She did long for him to dominate, control and discipline her. She needed it, and the pleasure of his strict hand combined with his tender comfort drove her beyond insane. Even now, she wanted him deep inside her. She was stunned by what he’d told her but didn’t know what to think about the situation. Alex had shaken her assurance and challenged her assumptions. And now he’d thrown the gauntlet back to her.

“Why do you enjoy these things,
cherie
?”

“I…I don’t know. I’ve always had these feelings. I can’t remember quite when they started. Perhaps, like you, in my teens. I squashed them down in a dark place because I didn’t understand them, and I definitely can’t trace them back to some terrible incident like you can. My childhood was boringly free from drama. I saved that up for when I got married.”

He touched her hand. “So Stephen never knew about these desires?”

“God, no. I was curious, of course. I bought a couple of erotic novels and hid them in the back of the wardrobe, but I didn’t dare surf the Internet to find out more in case Stephen found out. He would definitely not have understood. He had his way of doing things, and that applied to the bedroom too. I hinted, even jokingly pointed out a few paddles and canes in a shop once. He just ridiculed them. When your own partner laughs at your sexual preferences, you don’t say anything again.”

“No. I can imagine. It’s not a subject you can easily bring up over dinner, is it?”

“I settled for what we had, and I thought I was happy. I was happy. Who would have asked for more when they had what I had? I did love him. He was funny and kind and very successful. Everyone liked and respected him.”

The chill set into her bones, despite the heat of the day. Right now the fantasy that Alex would even stick around for long enough to father her children seemed further away than ever. There was a shift in the connection between them, sensed rather than actually shown.

“You see, Gaby has made more of this than it really is.”

“Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know. We’ve always had a tricky relationship. Maybe it’s because of what happened here or maybe not. I could spend my life trying to analyse her, but life’s too short, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Alex…”

“Yes?”

She hadn’t even asked him what had happened to him in the States. Dare she, or would it pile too much of a load on him? “Nothing,” she said.

They saw more of Provence over the next few days. Gaby joined them one evening for dinner but seemed subdued, not even hinting at any more revelations. Carla felt a little sorry for her. Her life didn’t seem very happy, and there was no mention of a partner.

After the meal, Alex and Olivier went to play boules on La Bastide’s court, and she heard them laughing and joking in French and English. She’d had a couple of glasses of wine and told herself she was being paranoid. Nothing between her and Alex had really changed.

Carla made her way to the guest suite to visit the bathroom, and on her way back wandered through the garden, enjoying the scents and sounds of the Provençal evening. It was a magical night. The stars twinkled, and the cicadas struck up a loud chorus. As she neared the terrace, a figure detached itself from the shadows.

“Hello. I see the boys are playing together again,” said Gaby, blowing smoke into the air from her Gauloise.

Carla decided to be brisk. “Yes. In fact, that’s where I’m going right now.”

“So you asked Alex about us?”

“It’s none of your business, but yes, I did, and he’s told me what happened.”
 

Gaby puffed on her cigarette and then sneered. “You mean you got his version of the story.”

“I got the truth.”

Gaby smirked. “You mean Alex’s truth.”

“I’m going back to the house.” Carla tried to walk on, but Gaby called after her.
 

“Wait, Carla, I have not finished.”

“Really? Well, I have. I trust Alex, and nothing you say will make me change my mind about him.”

Gaby threw her cigarette to the ground and stamped it out. “Did he tell you what happened in the States? About that girl who tried to kill herself because of his kinky habits?”

“What?”

“
Non
. I thought not. You should ask him that, then see what happens. And I also hope you liked my little gift to you.” Gaby’s fingers dug into Carla’s arm. “I found it on one my visits to La Bastide, and when I heard Alex was bringing you to meet his family, I thought I would have a little joke. I know how much you English like jokes, and there is no way Alex would ever get so serious over a woman who did not share his tastes in the bedroom. You must be very good, Carla.”

Carla’s pulse raced. The martinet. Gaby had put it there…and Alex must have guessed. Carla knew she should just walk away, but she couldn’t. Gaby had tipped her over the edge. She lifted Gaby’s hand from her arm and stepped back, injecting pity into her voice while fuming inside. “You know, Gaby, anyone would think you were still in love with Alex.”

Gaby threw back her head and laughed, her dark eyes gleaming with contempt. “In
love
with him? Of course I am in love with him. Everyone is in love with Alex, and that is his problem—and your problem too now.”

Carla felt a stab to her heart. There was no way she would take any more baiting. Without speaking, she pushed Gaby aside and hurried to the boules court and tried to focus on the game while her confrontation with Gaby replayed in her head. Mme. Lemaitre joined them, followed by Gaby, who watched her like a hawk. Carla toughed it out until Alex finished his
digestif
and suggested they go to bed.

She’d decided she would ask him about what had gone on in the States the next morning, the moment they woke, even if that was what Gaby wanted. It was now or never, and she’d had enough of secrets and games to last a lifetime. If Alex couldn’t be honest with her today, he never would be, and they’d never have a chance.

Chapter Twenty-Five

In the morning, after breakfast in their room, Alex held up a map. “So, where do you want to go today, madame?”

“I’m not sure I want to go anywhere.”