The House at Mermaid's Cove(64)

“That’s very kind of you, but she’s with me.” Jack was suddenly there, beside me. At the sight of him my young partner smiled nervously and backed off.

“I thought you looked as if you needed rescuing,” he said, taking my arm. “I shouldn’t have left you on your own—but I needed to circulate a bit. I thought you’d be safe with the bishop.” There was a wry smile on his face.

“Actually, I was enjoying myself.” I held his gaze, returning the look.

“Really?”

“Well, it was a bit of a shock at first—but I think I could get to like it.”

“In that case, perhaps you’ll have the next dance with me.”

The band had started up again. The rhythm was lively, but not the wild beat of the jitterbug.

“Do you know this one?” He put his hand on my back. His touch was light, but it sent a ripple down my spine.

“It’s a quickstep, isn’t it?”

I placed my left hand on his right arm as he took my other hand in his. Then we were gliding across the floor, picking up speed. It reminded me of being on board La Coquille, with the wind tugging at my clothes.

“I can’t believe you haven’t done this for so long,” he murmured. “You dance as if you’ve been doing it all your life.”

I glowed inside. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to stay like this and dance every dance with him. But I knew that wouldn’t be possible. Even if he wanted to, it wouldn’t be right. What would people think of a man who spent the entire evening in the arms of his cousin?

I realized that this might be the only dance I would have with him. Trapped by the deception that I had instigated, I would have to watch him take to the floor with a procession of other women: women with curvy, gyrating bodies, like Clarissa, or pouting, lipsticked mouths, like Edith and Rita.

His jaw brushed my forehead as we swerved around a couple in our path. The scent of his skin was earthy and piney, a wistful, poignant smell, like long-ago Christmases. The temptation to nestle my cheek in the crook of his neck was overwhelming. And then, just as the music reached a crescendo, the room was plunged into darkness.





Chapter 18

Jack grabbed my hand. People around us were laughing, whooping. No one seemed frightened. I wondered if the lights had been put out on purpose: a prank by one of the soldiers to allow the men to get more intimate with their dance partners.

“I’m not sure what’s going on.” Jack’s lips brushed my ear—by accident, I thought, because he didn’t sound pleased.

Then an American voice shouted from the other end of the room: “The power’s gone down!”

The announcement was greeted with wild cheers from the crowd around us.

“Hold on to me.” Jack pulled me closer. “Let’s try to get outside.”

We fought our way through the press of bodies. I could hear fragments of whispered conversations, men telling women things they wouldn’t have had the nerve to say under normal circumstances. And, judging by the moans and giggles, some of the women were doing things they couldn’t possibly have gotten away with under the spotlights.

I had no idea which way we’d been heading when the power failed. But Jack seemed to know where he was going. By the time we got near the door, someone had opened it, creating a small patch of dark gray in the blackness. We stumbled outside. The air was fragrant with the scent of newly mowed grass. Others came spilling out after us. It was impossible to make out faces, but I thought I heard Edith’s voice close by. When I glanced in the direction it had come from, I saw a procession of couples, arm in arm, heading away from the hall, toward the fields.

“What’s the problem?” Jack was talking to someone whose silhouette showed a military cap.

“Looks like the lights have blown an electrical circuit, sir.” The accent was a deep, slow drawl.

“Any chance of fixing it?”

“I doubt it—not before daylight, anyways.”

“In that case, could you pass on a message to General Gerow? I’d like to thank him in person, but I wouldn’t want to bother him with all this going on. Please let him know that Lord Trewella and his cousin had a marvelous time.”

“Sure, I will, sir. Lord . . .” The man faltered.

“Just say Lord Jack. He’ll understand.”

Jack took my arm, steering me past the looming shapes of US Army jeeps. Even in the dark the elegant lines of the Alvis made it easy to spot.

“I can wait here if you like,” I said, as he held the door open for me. “If you want to say good night to . . . anyone.”

I couldn’t see his face, but I heard what sounded like a grunt mixed with a chuckle. “You mean Clarissa? I had a lucky escape, I think, with the lights going out. She’s a lovely girl—but a bit overpowering.”

I was glad that it was too dark for him to see my expression. He waited for me to climb in, then pushed the door shut. I breathed in the warm smell of leather, watching his dark shape as he moved across the front of the car to the driver’s side. Luckily, he’d reversed into the parking space. Trying to back out with so many people around would have been next to impossible. The headlights were narrow slits—all that was permitted in the blackout. They cast bright arrows on the legs of the men and women still stumbling out of the village hall.