Bride Of Desire. Sara Craven

find it hard to believe? Yet I assure you it is true,’ he said. He made a slight inclination of the head. ‘Remy de Brizat at your service.’

      As she hesitated, he added, ‘Now you are supposed to tell me your name, mademoiselle. Or is it a secret?’

      Not a secret, she thought. But not the whole truth either, which is very wrong of me. But perhaps this is my morning for behaving badly. And anyway, we’re unlikely to meet again, so what harm can it really do?

      She said, quietly and clearly, ‘I’m called Alys, monsieur. Alys—Colville.’

      ‘Alys,’ he said reflectively. ‘A charming name—and French too.’

      She wrinkled her nose. ‘In England, I’m plain Alice.’

      At the top of the slope, he halted Roland and stood looking up at her, his smile faintly twisted. ‘You are wrong,’ he said softly. ‘You could not ever be plain—anything.’

      There was an odd, tingling silence, then he added briskly, ‘Now, move back a little, Alys, if you please, so that Roland can take us both.’

      She did as she was told, feeling awkward, and hoping the exertion would explain the sudden surge of colour in her face. Remy de Brizat mounted lithely in front of her.

      ‘Hold on to me,’ he instructed. ‘The medical centre in Ignac opens in one hour, and I must be there.’

      Reluctantly, she put her hands on her companion’s shoulders, then, as the big horse moved off, she found herself being thrown forward, and hastily clasped her arms round his waist instead.

      ‘Ça va?’ he queried over his shoulder, as Roland’s stride lengthened into a canter.

      ‘I think so,’ Allie gasped, clinging on for grim death, and heard him laugh softly.

      It wasn’t really that far, she realised, as the grey stones of Tante’s house came into view. If she’d been wearing shoes she would have walked it easily, and saved herself the embarrassment of being forced to hug her unwanted rescuer, let alone be forced to travel with her face pressed against his muscular back.

      When they reached the cottage, he insisted on dismounting and lifting her down.

      ‘Thank you,’ Allie said stiffly, trying not to overbalance. ‘For—everything. I—I owe you a great deal.’ She held out her hand. ‘Goodbye, Dr de Brizat.’

      His brows rose. ‘Not Remy?’

      ‘It’s hardly appropriate,’ she said, in a tone borrowed wholesale from Grace. ‘After all, we’re hardly likely to see each other after this.’ She added pointedly, ‘I don’t intend to dice with death a second time.’

      ‘Very wise, ma belle.’ He took her hand and raised it swiftly to his lips, making her start at the casual intimacy. The pressure of his mouth and the graze of his unshaven chin against her fingers was an experience she could have well done without. ‘Because tradition says that now I have saved your life it belongs to me, and I 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