Devil and the Deep Sea (24 page)

time for any other." ' He stared at her. 'And it is for this you have

quarrelled?'

'No.' Samma shook her head wearily. 'That's the least of it.'

'Ah,' he said. 'Then I am truly sorry.' He glanced around casually. 'Is

Elvire in the house?'

'Almost certainly.' She forced a smile. 'Why don't you go and find

her?'

When she was alone, she sat staring at the envelope, fighting back

her tears. So that was it. She was being flung out of his life as

suddenly as she'd been dragged into it. And with no chance of a

reprieve.

She threw her head back defiantly. Well, she was damned if she'd

be—dismissed like this! There were still too many things left unsaid

between them, and Roche clearly intended they should stay that

way.

But maybe this time it was
his
turn not to have a choice.

She picked up the envelope, and went up to the house. Jean-Paul's

car was standing in the drive, the keys in the ignition. She glanced

down at herself. Her pale lemon sundress was respectable enough

for a trip to St Laurent, and Jean-Paul would hopefully be too

occupied with Elvire to notice his car was missing for quite some

time. Therefore ...

She opened the driver's door and slid behind the wheel. The car

started at the first attempt, and she set off down the drive.

The casino was once again a hive of activity when she arrived, but

this time only the cleaners and staff were involved. She received a

few curious glances, but it was clear she was recognised because

no one challenged her as she walked to the lift, and rode up to the

administrative floor.

She went straight to Roche's office, and walked in without

knocking. He was sitting behind that massive desk, staring down at

some papers, an open whisky bottle and a half-filled glass in front

of him.

Without looking up, he said harshly, 'Helene, I told you I would

buzz if I needed you. Now leave me alone.'

She said, 'But I'm not Helene.'

His head lifted sharply, and his expression hardened, but not before

she'd glimpsed the bleakness, the vulnerability in his face.

He said glacially, 'What are you doing here? Did you not get my

message?'

'Every detail of it.' She put the envelope down on the desk. 'And

your little package deal. But aren't you forgetting something?'

'I don't think so. But no doubt you are going to tell me.'

'The reason I came here,' she said brightly. 'Solange, even though

she isn't really your daughter at all, is she?'

'No.' His voice was stark. 'Liliane's story was true in every respect.

Marie-Christine was a whore who needed a husband. She had a

beautiful face and a good body, which I was not permitted to enjoy

until after our wedding. That night, having had too much to drink,

she gigglingly confided to me that she had already had a lover who

was married, and was three months pregnant by him. She seemed to

think I was so consumed by passion for her that I would overlook

so small a detail. She soon discovered her mistake.'

'And the Augustins didn't know?'

'It seems not, or they would have used the information.' He gave her

a long look. 'But make no mistake, Samantha. The lack of a blood

tie makes no difference. Solange needs me, and I have given her my

name.'

'Then having gone to all this trouble to stake your claim, I'm

surprised you want to jeopardise everything now by sending me

away. If the Augustins try again, you could lose her.'

'Then that is a risk I will take.' He paused. 'It does not weigh on me

as heavily as the knowledge that if you remain on Grand Cay, I

shall almost certainly rape you, and end up loathing myself for

ever.' He gave her a blazing look. 'There, you have heard me admit

it.' He pointed. 'The door is behind you. Use it.'

Her heart had begun to beat slowly and loudly. She said, 'I'll leave

when I'm ready. You made me come here—deceived me in all

kinds of ways—disrupted my life. I think I'm entitled to some

compensation.'

'There is cash enclosed with your ticket.'

'But hardly enough to make up for some of the things I've been

made to suffer since I came here.'

His mouth curled. 'Last night,
madame,
you threw my money in my

face, with the accusation that I was buying you in some way.

Naturally, I hesitated to insult you again.'

'I wouldn't be insulted—as I'm leaving, anyway.'

'Very well,' Roche said after a pause. He pushed back his chair, and

walked to the wall behind his desk, touching a concealed switch. A

section of panelling slid back to reveal a wall safe. 'How much do

you want from me?'

She said huskily, 'A very great deal—but I think I'd prefer to be

paid in kind, rather than cash.' She turned and walked across the

room to his bedroom. 'You may leave your clothes on that chair,'

she added over her shoulder.

She stood, her back turned, staring down at the bed, her stomach

churning in mingled excitement and trepidation. She had no idea

how he would react to her challenge. He might have her thrown out,

he might laugh—or he might . . . The silence from the other room

was almost deafening at first, then she thought she heard sounds of

movement, but she did not dare look round to check.

When his hands descended on her shoulders, she almost cried out in

shock because he had approached so noiselessly.

But the arms which slid round her to hold her were bare.

He said with a ghost of laughter in his voice,
'Et maintenant,

madame?'

Colour flooded into her face. She said in a muffled voice, 'I—I don't

know. I thought—you . . .' She stopped with a little gasp. 'I must

have been crazy to come here like this!'

His mouth touched the side of her neck, and trailed small kisses

down to the curve of her shoulder. 'Not crazy.' His voice wasn't

totally even. 'Just very sweet,
ma belle,
and very brave.' He paused.

'And what happens next—is this,' he whispered, sliding down the

zip of the sundress, and pushing its straps off her shoulders, so that

the garment pooled round her feet. 'And this.' Her briefs joined her

dress on the floor.

Roche lifted her on to the bed, and lay beside her, his hands

cupping her face. He said huskily, 'I want you so much I am almost

frightened to touch you.'

Samma wound her arms round his neck. 'I won't break,' she

whispered.

'I think I will.' He began to kiss her, his lips brushing hers in a

myriad of tiny caresses, each as light as a butterfly's wing. 'Into a

million tiny pieces.'

He wooed her slowly and sweetly, his hands exploring with subtle

delicacy every line, contour and curve of her body, making each

pulse, each nerve-ending sing with joy. His mouth adored her

breasts, teasing each rosy peak into throbbing excitement until she

moaned at the wonder of it.

And against her skin he whispered the kind of things she had never

dreamed she would hear him say—endearments, small, broken

phrases of need and longing, words that spoke only of love.

The world had shrunk to the compass of his arms. Nothing existed

outside the slow, delicious torment of yearning he was arousing in

her.

She was making explorations of her own, shy at first, learning the

texture of his skin, and the shape of bone and play of muscle

beneath it. As her hands grew more daring, she felt him tense, his

dark face suddenly strained.

'Don't you like that?' she whispered.

'Too much.' He kissed her deeply, parting her lips so that his tongue

could probe the full sweetness of her mouth.

She smiled at him, aware of a power she had not known she

possessed. 'Shall I stop?'

'No.' He returned her smile.

For slow, languorous minutes, he let her have her way, his pleasure

in her caresses sighing from his throat, but when she bent to touch

him with her mouth, he stopped her, his hand tangling in her hair.

'Ah, no,' he told her huskily. 'My control is not infinite, and I want

this first time to be for you,
ma belle.'

He kissed the thudding pulse in her throat, and let his mouth drift

downwards over her shoulders and breasts with a tantalising lack of

haste. Samma felt as if she was being drawn into some inescapable

spiral of sensation, the breath catching in her throat, as Roche's lips

followed the stroke of his fingers down her pliant body.

She was locked into the spiral now, the ascent to its apex, swift and

sharp and quite inevitable. She no longer belonged to herself. She

was out of control, her whole being mastered by this torturous

ecstasy he was inflicting on her.

Then he lifted himself, moved, and entered her with one fluid thrust.

And, as the first scalding wave of pleasure and release welled

inside her, she sobbed out his name, and her love for him.

When it was over, they lay for a long time locked in each other's

arms, without speaking, kissing a little, touching each other almost

with reverence.

At last Samma said, her voice breaking, 'I—I never dreamed it

could be like that.'

'Nor I.' Roche wound her hair round his hand and carried it to his

lips. 'The first time I saw you,' he said softly, 'you were on the

quayside at Cristoforo. You were laughing and your hair was like

sunlight. I looked at you and thought—with her, I could begin to

live again.' He kissed her mouth. 'After Marie-Christine, I swore

that I would use women as she'd used me.' He grimaced. 'But that

soon palled. Work, making money, became all in all. I told myself

there was no room in my life for love—no need for it.' His hand

cupped her breast, stroking it gently. 'How wrong, how stupid could

I be?'

Samma nestled her cheek again his shoulder. 'But you were going to

send me away.'

'You would never have got on that plane,
ma chere.'
The dark face

was serious. 'I would have brought you back—taught you to trust

me, somehow.' He kissed the tip of her nose. 'How could you not

know I loved you,
ma bien-aimee?'

'There was Elvire,' she reminded him wryly. 'We were totally at

cross purposes there.'

He nodded. 'She is too sensitive about her birth—about the way my

father failed to acknowledge her during his lifetime. She begged me

to say nothing, to allow you to think she was just the housekeeper.

But both of us believed you had guessed or been told the truth

about her, and did not approve.'

'Who could have told me?'

'Liliane Duvalle, perhaps. God knows, she spent enough time on my

family's private affairs to have discovered that Elvire was my sister.

Or Marie-Christine might have hinted something to her.'

'So many secrets.' Samma touched her lips to his skin. 'Learning to

trust is a two-way process,
mon amour.'

'I know,' he said remorsefully. 'But I was so afraid of losing you,

Samantha. After all, you made it clear you had agreed to my

proposal for Solange's sake only. How could I confess she was not

really my daughter, or even hint at the other problems you might

encounter? You might never have married me, and I could not risk

that.'

'And if I had turned you down?'

'Then I would probably have taken a leaf out of
Le Diable's
book,

and carried you off anyway.' He brushed her mouth with his. 'As I'd

have done at the airport tomorrow. But fortunately you needed me,

mon coeur,
although not,
helas,
in the way I wanted you.'

She sighed. 'I thought you wanted to sleep me with me because I

was—there. A—a temporary diversion.'

'If you'd examined the papers you signed last night,
ma belle,
you

would have realised my plans for us were totally permanent.' He

brushed a strand of sweat-dampened hair back from her forehead

very tenderly. 'Why did you suddenly turn on me like that?'

She bit her lip. 'The same thing, I suppose. A—fear of being

used—without love.'

'Ah,
mignonne,
why do you think, in the end, I walked away from

you last night? Because I could not take you with anger between

us.'

She said, 'You walked away once before, when I went to your room

and waited for you in bed.'

His mouth twisted. 'I had been at the casino,
ma belle,
trying to

drown my sorrows, and the memory of our quarrel in alcohol.

When I got to my room, I thought at first I was seeing things. Then,