The Monte Carlo Proposal

spreading over it, as though all the world was hers to laugh at.

She was laughing at me, big, stupid clown that I was. And everything was wonderful.

She moved towards me, still holding that hideous nightdress. I suppose I must have seized it and tossed it away, but I don’t remember doing so. But I seized her-I remember that-and pulled her hard against me and kissed her in a frenzy.

I may have been fiercer than I meant to be because I was past my limits of endurance by then. But she didn’t seem to mind my rough hands. From the way she pressed against me I could almost believe she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

I loved how she pulled open the buttons of my shirt, not coquettishly, but in a way that was rather businesslike. She just wanted it off. No nonsense. She’d probably have had my trousers off the same way, but I beat her to it.

We’d been naked together before, but it had been an act for Grace’s benefit. This time she was really mine. She was going to marry me. She hadn’t actually said so, but who needed the words? I could feel her consent in the soft movements of her hands over my chest, and the even softer movements of her lips, teasing mine.

No other woman made love like this, as if it came from the heart. Every caress, every whisper was a gift.

She was sweet and melting, heart-stopping and glorious. I thought I knew her body. I’d seen it so often in a bikini, and had it pressed against me for a fleeting moment on that first morning. Now I discovered that I didn’t know it at all.

How could anything feel as smooth as her skin, or as delicate? I was several inches taller, but she solved that problem by standing on my feet and then going on tiptoe, so that my hands could rove more easily over her, rejoicing in hills and valleys. I wanted her more with every moment that passed.

I heard her whispering incoherent words that might have contained my name. I think I spoke her name, or maybe I only spoke words of desire. I’m not sure, because by that time I was beside myself.

When we were together on the bed her face happened to lie in a shaft of moonlight, so that I could see her expression, and it startled me. There was a wildness that I’d never seen before, almost as though she were far away in another world, and not here with me at all.

There was wildness, too, in the way she made love, with nothing held back, inviting me into herself with whole-hearted passion, welcoming me to the heart of her.

We lay together a long time, and when we draw apart it was to return again almost at once. And when desire had abated the love was still there, as bright as ever-brighter, perhaps, now that it was all that was left. We slept in each other’s arms.

I awoke after an hour, convinced I’d heard the noise of weeping. I listened, but there was only silence.

Beside me, Della lay facing in the other direction. I leaned over her.

‘Are you all right?’ I whispered.

She made a muffled sound, then resumed her deep, even breathing.

I settled down again, snuggling up with my arm around her.

When I next awoke it was in the half-light. I’d dreamed of her, and now my dream ran into my waking vision. I wanted her as much as ever.

‘I’m incorrigible,’ I said aloud. ‘I ought to be ashamed of myself.’

Somehow I’d been certain that she would awake at the same moment, and I waited for the enchanting little chuckle I adored. It didn’t come, and suddenly I was aware of some quality in the silence that made me nervous. I switched on the light.

The bed was empty.

There was nobody in the bathroom either.

I toyed with the idea that she might have gone up on deck: anything to avoid facing facts, I suppose. But I had to face them when I saw the letter that she’d left propped up on the dressing table. It was addressed simply Jack.

I stared at it for a long time before I opened it, because I didn’t want to know what it said. Even though I already knew.

Forgive me for leaving you this way, but I’m afraid if we talked face to face I might lose my nerve.

It’s been a wonderful time, so wonderful that it was unreal. Now it’s time for reality again, and that’s where we have to cease to exist for each other. I can’t cross into your life, and you can’t cross into mine.

I cannot marry you, my darling, but I will always treasure the fact that you asked me.

Perhaps I should have left without making love to you, and I tried to. I really did. But I couldn’t make myself refuse. I think you know why. We met for a little time, and it was perfect. We’ll always have that.

But it’s all we can have. Let’s not spoil it by asking for more.

I’ve taken the clothes you bought me, and Charlie. But I couldn’t take the rest of the jewels. You’ll find them locked in the second drawer down on the right.

I hope I gave you something. If I did, it’s nothing to what you gave me. I won’t spoil it by harming you, which is what I would do if I stayed in your life. I’ll never forget you, but I can never see you again. I can’t tell you why.

One last thing. Please, please don’t try to find me. It would be no use, and I truly beg you not to try, because if you found me it would break my heart.

Dearest Jack, goodbye. Goodbye.

Della.

I never knew what winded in the gut meant until I read that letter. For a while I just didn’t believe it. It hadn’t happened because it couldn’t have happened.

We’d found our dream and it would go on and on. Wasn’t that how the story was supposed to end?

But dreams don’t come true like that, and Della, being a woman, was more of a realist than me.

Maybe my mistake came from having too much money. For too long I’d snapped my fingers and what I wanted had been served up on a plate. I’d known straight off that I couldn’t treat her like that-something about the way she kicked my shins, I think-but I’d become used to the luxury of always having her there.

Now it was time for the real world again, and I didn’t like it.

The hints she’d dropped about her other life made me realise how well she’d kept her secrets. I’d angled and teased and fooled myself that I was learning something. But now she’d gone and I didn’t know where to start looking-even if she hadn’t begged me not to.

I checked the drawer, and of course the jewellery was all there, just as she’d said, because she was the most honest person alive.

I dressed and went out to find someone who was up. The sailor on watch was young and not very bright. He told me cheerfully that Miss Martin had left an hour ago.

‘I called a taxi for her, and helped her with her bags.’

‘Did she say why she was leaving so early?’

‘She said there’d been a sudden change of plan and she had to leave urgently. She also said you didn’t want to be disturbed. I hope you weren’t, sir?’

‘No, I definitely wasn’t,’ I said heavily.

He was like an eager puppy, expecting a pat on the head for devastating my life. I resisted the temptation to say he should have awoken me whatever she’d said. He wasn’t my policeman.

I packed the jewels with a heavy heart. With any other woman I’d expect her to come back for the goodies, but not this one. She didn’t want goodies.

I only wished I’d known what she did want. I might have found a way to give it to her.

CHAPTER EIGHT