Her first instinct was to turn and run back up the stairs.
She couldn’t face him now, not when she was so unprepared.
But his eyes held her, and she felt the blood running
hotly in her veins. Longing filled her, so powerful that she
had to grip the bannister to stop herself falling.
‘What are you doing here?’ she said, her voice barely
above a whisper.
Her question seemed to amuse him. ‘I live here,
remember?’
She was in such turmoil that she hardly knew what she
was saying, ‘But… the letter. In the letter you said …’
‘You thought I was never coming back?’ he said. ‘So did I.
At least, I hoped I wasn’t.’
His words viciously stripped away her panic, leaving her
with a raw, aching emptiness. ‘Are you all right?’ she heard
herself ask.
‘As you can see,’ he answered. ‘And you? How are you?’
‘I’m well. Louis misses you,’ she added, after a pause.
He looked away, but not before she had seen the quick
pain in his eyes.
He knew he should walk into the study now, get away
from her before…
‘Francois…’
He looked up, but the hunted, almost desperate look
retreated from her eyes and she only smiled and shrugged
awkwardly.
‘You look lovely,’ he remarked, noting that she was
wearing the short sable coat he had bought her. ‘But then
you always do.’
She watched him take off his hat and put it on the table
beside the front door. Then he looked at her again,
measuring her with an arrogant smile.
‘If you have an engagement, don’t let me keep you,’ he
said abruptly. Then he turned and walked into the study.
How could seven months away from her have done this to
him, he wondered angrily. How could that look in her eyes, the one he had seen so many times before, have suddenly now the power to crack the barrier he had always held
between them? What was happening to him that he should
want so desperately to take her in his arms, when before he
had always managed to resist her?
He tensed as the door opened, and felt the anger spring to
his lips as he turned to look at her. But when he saw the
temper flash in her eyes, his own evaporated, and he
relaxed, smiling, against the edge of the desk. This was the
Claudine he knew, the Claudine he could handle.
Whatever engagement I have can wait,’ she snapped.
‘You owe me an explanation, Francois, and I want to hear it
now.’
He nodded. ‘I take it you are referring to the contents of
the letter I sent my father?’
‘Naturally.’
‘Then I think you can be in no doubt…’
‘But how dare you!’ she seethed, slamming the door
behind her. ‘How dare you think you could dismiss me like a
servant? I am your wife! Louis is your son! Have you no
conscience, Francois?’
‘You need to ask?’ he remarked dryly. ‘And what is all this
anger anyway? I thought I’d given you what you wanted. The
freedom to marry Armand.’
‘The Catholic church does not permit divorce,’ she cried.
‘But it does permit annulment,’ he said, not without
irony.
‘It’s too late for that! We have a son, remember!’
‘Non-consummation is not the only grounds for annulment,’
he answered. ‘And if my father disinherits me, which
I have good reason to believe he will in the next few days, I
think you will find the Bishop of Touraine sympathetic to
your cause.’
She stared at him in horror. He meant it. He did want to
be rid of her. Her feelings were in turmoil. She wanted him.
God, she wanted him so much … But she wouldn’t think
about that now. ‘So you are a traitor?’ she breathed.
‘I’m working with the Germans, yes,’ he said, folding his
arms. ‘In fact they have promoted me to the rank of
commandant.’
‘No!’ she cried, clasping her hands to her head. ‘No. You
can’t! You’re French, your family are French! Haven’t you
considered what this will do to them?’
‘I have considered,’ he said, taking a cigarette from the
box on the desk and lighting it. ‘But we’re getting away from
the point. Which is, that you now have grounds for your
annulment, and this time I will do nothing to stand in your
way.’
‘I don’t want an annulment!’
She cried out as he suddenly gripped her arm and
dragged her towards him. ‘You do!’ he said viciously. ‘Do
you hear me? You do!’
She looked up at him, frightened and bewildered. There
were tears in her eyes, and as her lips started to tremble he
suddenly pushed her away. ‘Go, Claudine,’ he growled. ‘Go
back to Armand. I don’t want you. I never have.’
She stood staring at the window, tears rolling down her
cheeks. ‘But I want you,’ she said quietly, unable to stop
herself.
‘No!’ he roared.
There was a long, long silence. The clock over the mantle
ticked away the minutes, and Francois ground out his
cigarette. It was tearing him apart to hurt her like this. But
why was this happening now? Why was he allowing her to
break down his defences at a time when it was more
important than ever that they remain invincible? And why,
now, was he so longing to tell her how much he wanted her
too? How much he loved her. The words were there in his
throat, clamouring to be spoken, but he wouldn’t, he
couldn’t, utter them. As von Liebermann himself had
pointed out, he was a man who could not allow himself the
luxury of love …
And yet, how could he carry on like this? Looking at her
now, he saw how straight she held herself, how she averted
her head so he could not see her pain, and her courage and
dignity wrenched at his heart. He had always known how
much she loved him. He had known it, probably, before she
knew it herself. But he had hardened his heart, pushed her
away - though there were times, so many times, when it had
half-killed him to do it. It had never been easy, even at the
start, before he loved her, but most difficult of all had been
the times when he made love to her, when her exquisite
body moved beneath his with such hunger that it was
enough to seduce his very soul. But still he had held back,
even though her every move, every breath, every murmur,
was a source of unbearable torture for him. She was his
wife, and he longed for her with an ache that knew no
threshold of pain.
And as that ache once again surged through his loins, he
closed his eyes and willed her to leave. But still she didn’t
move. He wondered how much longer he could hold on.
The desire to touch her, to feel her mouth beneath his, was
becoming so intense that it was almost beyond his control.
Then suddenly his feelings threatened to overpower him.
He knew if she didn’t leave now, that very instant, there
would be nothing he could do to stop himself pulling her
into his arms and crushing her with the full force of his love.
She told herself that soon, any minute now, she would be
able to walk away. She must go, and she must not turn back,
because if she did she knew she would tell him. She knew
that she would be unable to stop herself falling to the floor in
front of him and confessing how deeply she loved him. How
the need to feel his arms around her was tormenting her
beyond endurance. But she would rather die than let him
see her like that. And rather die than see the contempt in his
eyes as she begged him.
She started to move, and for one terrifying moment felt
that she couldn’t. It was as though the tension between them
was holding her back, pulling her to him; but taking a
breath, she willed herself to try again. She heard him move,
and as she felt his hand on her shoulder the breath locked in
her throat. His fingers brushed against her neck, and as her
head fell back she gave a tortured, choking sob.
He grabbed her into his arms, holding her against him,
pressing her face to his neck and breathing the scent of her
hair. He could feel her trembling, just as he could feel his
own need tearing through him. He lifted her face, and as
desire engulfed them he covered her mouth with his.
She clung to him, pushing hard against him, wanting to
lose herself in him so that he would never let her go again.
Her body shook. She could feel his hands in her hair, his
mouth covering her face with kisses, and all she could hear
was the agony in his voice as he repeated over and over
again, ‘Oh my God, my God, Claudine. I love you. I love
you.’ Then his mouth was on hers again, sucking her lips
between his own, thrusting his tongue into her mouth.
The telephone behind them started to ring, and there was
nothing in the world that could have torn him away from her
then - except his fear of Halunke. But as he started to pull
away she clung to him, begging him with her eyes to stay
with her. He kissed her again, more urgently and more
passionately than before, then he gently removed her arms
from his neck and turned back to the desk.
He picked up the receiver, his eyes on Claudine as she
walked to the window. Instead of von Pappen’s voice, as he
had expected, he heard Lucien’s. ‘Yes,’ he said gruffly.
‘Claudine is here.’
She looked up, and the way he was looking at her sent a
shock of such commanding hunger through her body that
she felt herself start to sway.
‘Yes, Lucien, it is Francois,’ he said. Then after a pause,
‘I arrived yesterday.’
He said no more after that, listening to his brother, and
Claudine watched him, unable to tear her eyes away. Then
she saw the blood drain from his face, his knuckles whiten
with the tension of his grip, and in his eyes, as he looked
back at her, a sudden appalling rage. Her heart leapt into
her throat and she started towards him.
‘We’ll be there as soon as we can,’ Francois said finally,
and replaced the receiver.
Already her eyes were wide with terror as she whispered,
‘It’s Louis, isn’t it? I know it. Francois, what’s happened to
him?’
‘Sssh.’ he said sharply. ‘Calm yourself. Louis is all right.’
‘Then what is it? What’s happened? Why are you looking
like that?’
‘It’s Papa,’ he answered, dashing a hand savagely through
his hair.
‘What about him?’ she cried.
He raised his eyes to hers, and his haunted, murderous
face sent a jolt of pure terror searing through her veins.
‘What about him?’ she cried again - then she screamed as he
swung round and smashed his fist into the mirror behind
him.
‘He’s dead!’ he roared. ‘My father is dead!’
By the time they arrived at Lorvoire it had been dark for some
hours. From where she was sitting in the back of the Citroen,
Claudine had watched Francois throughout the journey, every
now and again catching a glimpse of his thunderous face in the
mirror as he drove furiously through the night. Before they left
she had telephoned Tante Celine to ask her to go to the Ritz
for Monique. She would have gone herself, except that she
didn’t want to leave Francois. But as she’d bandaged his hand
and they’d waited for Monique, she had watched him
withdraw so deeply into himself until he had appeared almost
oblivious to her presence.
Absently, she stroked Monique’s hand where it was
resting in her lap. She knew from the steady sound of her
breathing that she had finally fallen into a doze. She had
taken the news badly; as they set out she had become almost
hysterical, recalling the last time they had all been in Paris,
when her father had stood at the drawing-room window
with an arm round Solange, waving her off… To where?
She couldn’t remember. All she remembered was that he
had been standing there, his kind, smiling face reflecting all
the love he felt for his daughter … At that point she had
collapsed into Claudine’s arms, and Claudine had stopped
trying to persuade Francois to let her drive.
Now, as he steered the car into the drive of the chateau,
he said in a voice made hoarse by too many cigarettes, ‘I’m
sorry. I know how much you loved him. You must be hurting
too.’
She was, but that didn’t matter when she could see how
brutally he was fighting his own pain. For now she had to be
strong, and keep herself together for him, and for … She
closed her eyes as she wondered how Solange had taken the
news, and she knew that was uppermost in Francois’ mind
too as he pulled the car to a halt outside the front door.
As they got out, Lucien came down the steps to greet
them. He took Monique in his arms, then turned to
Francois.
‘How is Maman?’ Francois asked.
‘She hasn’t cried yet,’ Lucien answered. Then with a sigh
he added, ‘I wish she didn’t worry about me so, it’s only that
that has stopped her. She feels she has to be strong for me.’
Francois nodded, then turning to Claudine he took her by
the elbow and ushered her into the chateau.
They found Solange in the semidarkness of the family