think you should live it to the full, and that I should help you to do so.’
He swung himself back into the saddle and grinned down at her. His teeth were very white against the darkness of his skin. ‘And eventually,’ he told her softly, ‘you will call me Remy. I promise it. Au revoir, ma chère Alys.’
And, with a word to Roland, he cantered off, leaving Allie staring after him, aware of the sudden, uncomfortable flurry of her heartbeat.
As she went into the cottage Tante was just coming downstairs, trim and elegant in black tailored trousers and a white silk shirt, her silver hair confined at the nape of her neck with a black ribbon bow.
‘My ears are playing tricks on me,’ she complained. ‘I thought I heard a horse outside…’ She stopped, her eyes widening in alarm as she surveyed Allie. ‘Mon Dieu, chérie—what has happened to you?’
Allie sighed. ‘I stupidly let myself get cut off by the tide,’ she admitted. ‘In a place called the Cauldron.’
‘Alys.’ Tante sat down limply on one of the kitchen chairs. ‘People have drowned there. You could have been one of them.’
Allie forced a smile. ‘Except that your doctor’s son came riding by, and gallantly carried me off across his saddle bow.’ She stretched, wincing. ‘I’m now a walking bruise.’
‘It is no joking matter. You could have lost your life.’
‘But I didn’t. I’m simply minus a pair of shoes.’
Tante shuddered. ‘You must never take such a chance again.’
‘Believe me,’ Alice said grimly, ‘I don’t intend to.’
‘And it was Remy who saved you?’ Tante made the sign of the cross. ‘I shall go to see him, thank him for giving you back to me.’ She brightened. ‘Or, better, I shall invite him to dinner.’
Allie shifted restively from one bare foot to another. ‘Is that strictly necessary? I did thank him myself, you know.’ After I’d taken a hell of a tongue-lashing.
Tante pursed her lips. ‘Madame Lastaine, who keeps house for the doctors at Trehel, is no cook,’ she stated decisively. ‘Remy will be glad of a good meal, le pauvre.’
‘He seemed perfectly fit and healthy to me,’ Allie said coolly.
Tante gave her a long look. ‘Dear child, you seem—put out. Is it possible that you are blaming Remy in some way, because he did not let you drown?’
Allie bit her lip. ‘Naturally, I’m grateful. But that doesn’t mean I have to like him. Or that I have any wish for another encounter,’ she added clearly, tilting her chin. ‘And I hope his patients don’t expect to receive any sympathy when they go to him.’
Tante’s brows rose. She said mildly, ‘I have never heard of any complaints about his attitude since he returned to Ignac. Au contraire. He is said to be skilful, and well-liked.’
Allie paused on her way to the stairs. ‘He’s not always worked here, then?’ she asked, before she could stop herself.
‘After he qualified he worked for a medical charity, firstly in Africa, then in South America. But it was always understood that he would one day fulfil the wishes of his father and grandfather and join the practice in Ignac.’ Tante’s smile was bland. ‘I have always found him both charming and considerate. However, I shall not invite him here against your wishes, chérie.’
‘Thank you.’ Allie hesitated, her fingers beating a tattoo on the stair-rail. ‘I just feel we’re—better apart, that’s all.’
‘D’accord.’ Tante’s gaze shifted from her great-niece’s flushed face to her restless hand. ‘I notice that the sea took more than just your shoes, ma mie,’ she remarked. ‘It seems that your wedding ring, too, has gone.’
Allie’s colour deepened. ‘Not—entirely. It’s upstairs. I—I simply decided not to wear it, that’s all.’
‘Ah,’ Madelon Colville said meditatively. ‘I am interested that you found that a simple decision.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Allie took a deep breath. ‘I took it off because I wanted to find the person I used to be—before my marriage. Somewhere along the way she seems to have vanished, but I really need to have her back.’ She lifted her head. ‘To be—Alys Colville again. Even if it’s only for a little while.’ She hesitated, sighing. ‘But I suppose that’s impossible. Everyone round here—all your neighbours—friends—will know I’m married. You must have mentioned it.’
‘I told no one, mon enfant,’ Tante said quietly. ‘It was not news I ever wished to share. I have always believed that mistakes in one’s family circle should be kept private. And I had known for some time—long before his tragic accident—that you did not love this man. Your letters made it clear.’
‘But I hardly mentioned him.’
Tante’s smile was kind. ‘Exactly, chérie.’ She paused. ‘When I received the invitation to your wedding I wrote to your mother, begging her not to allow you to ruin your life. Saying that such a marriage would have profound difficulties, even if you adored each other.’
She shrugged wryly. ‘Her reply was very angry. She said that I knew nothing about it. That you were devoted to your fiancé, that my interference was not needed, and it would be better for everyone if I stayed away.’
‘She said you’d decided the journey would be too much for you.’ Allie bit her lip. ‘Oh—I should have known…’
‘Well, that is all in the past now. It matters only that you are here now, ma chère. And if you wish to be Alys Colville again—then that is how it shall be.’
She became brisk. ‘Now, go and change, and I will try to repair the damage the sea has done to those expensive clothes.’
Allie turned obediently, then paused. She said in a low voice, ‘Am I crazy—to pretend like this?’
‘Not crazy,’ her great-aunt said slowly. ‘But perhaps—not very wise.’
Allie’s smile was swift and bleak. ‘Then I’ll just have to be very careful, too,’ she said, and made her way to her room.
CHAPTER THREE
THE sun had gone behind a cloud, and Allie got up from the bench, shivering a little.
She’d sat there long enough, she thought, tormenting herself with her memories. Now it was time to go back to the house and draft a letter to Tante, explaining why any return to Les Sables was impossible for her—now or in the future.
I can’t do it, she told herself with anguish. Because, even now, the pain of that time is still too vivid and too raw.
She entered the house through a side door, and went straight upstairs. After Hugo’s death, and in spite of Grace’s protests, she’d moved out of the master suite she’d reluctantly shared with him into this smaller room at the back of the house. It wasn’t as grand
