columns that guarded the entrance to the estate. What are we going to
do? They swam and they played tennis and took Peter's Arrowhead-class
yacht Apache on a long reach up the coast as far as Menton and then
raced back, gull-winged and spinnaker set on the wind with the spray
kicking up over the bows and flicking into their faces. They laughed a
lot and they talked even more, and while Nicholas changed for dinner, he
found himself caught up in the almost postcoital melancholy of too much
happiness - happiness that was transitory and soon must end. He tried
to push the sadness aside, but it persisted as he dressed in a white
silk roll-neck and double-breasted blazer and went down to the terrace
room.
Peter was there before him, early as a child on Christmas morning, his
hair still wet and slicked down from the shower and his face glowing
pinkly from the sun and happiness.
Can I pour you a drink, Dad? I he asked eagerly, already hovering over
the silver drinks tray.
Leave a little in the bottle/ Nicholas cautioned him not wanting to deny
him the pleasure of performing this grown-up service, but with a healthy
respect for the elephantine tots that Peter dispensed in a sense of
misplaced generosity.
He tasted the drink cautiously, gasped, and added more soda, 'That's
fine/ he said, Peter looked proud, and at that moment Chantelle came
down the wide staircase into the room.
Nicholas found it impossible not to stare. Was it possible she had
grown more lovely since their last meeting or had she merely taken
special pains this evening?
She was dressed in ivory silk, woven gossamer fine, so it floated about
her body as she moved, and as she crossed the last ruddy glow of the
dying day that came in from the french windows of the terrace, the light
struck through the sheer material and put the dainty line of her legs
into momentary silhouette. Closer to him, he saw the silk was
embroidered with the same thread, ivory on ivory, 4 marvelous
understatement of elegance, and under it the shadowy outline of her
breasts, those fine shapely breasts that he remembered so well, and the
faint dusky rose suggestion of her nipples. He looked away quickly and
she smiled.
Nicky/ she said, I'm so sorry to have left you alone.
Peter and I have had a high old time! he said.
She had emphasized the shape and size of her eyes, and the planes of the
bone structure of her cheeks and Jawline, with a subtlety that made it
appear she wore no make-up, and her hair had a springing electrical fire
to it, a rich glowing sable cloud about the small head.
The honeyed ivory of her skin had tanned to the velvety texture of a
cream-coloured rose petal across her bare shoulders and arms.
He had forgotten how relaxed and gracious she could be, and this
magnificent building filled with its treasures standing in its pine
forest high above the darkening ocean and the fairy-lights of the coast
was her natural setting. She filled the huge room with a special glow
and gaiety, and she and Peter shared an impish sense of fun that had
them all laughing at the old well-remembered jokes, Nicholas could not
