'Three weeks?' She shook her head in total if regretful dismissal of his idea. Men were so impatient, with no idea of what was involved in arranging these things. 'It's just impossible, Patrick. It wouldn't be the kind of wedding your family or mine would expect...'
'It's our wedding, yours and mine, not our families'. What we want is important too. The other things are peripheral. We needn't send out invitations-just ring our friends and tell them about the time and place. You can go out and buy a dress, I'll order cases of champagne and lots of caviare, and-----'
'I'm sure your brothers would be thrilled to be offered little biscuits and blobs of caviare. I do remember they all had pretty healthy appetites. Besides, I loathe caviare.' She uncoiled herself at last from the hammock, stood up, and slipped her arms about his neck. 'You know...' she wriggled in pleasure as his hands spread across her back, pulling her possessively close '...you are quite, quite crazy.'
But the breathless accusation was stifled as his mouth covered hers, and it was some considerable time before he answered.
'I am,' he agreed, 'quite crazy for you. Always have been. And tell you what-----' the teasing look reminded her that she had laughter to look forward to as well as all the tender, sensual joys ' -if you care to go and put on the ballgown you wore at the reception, I'll take you out for dinner and propose all over again, and you can go fault with the shock of it all. That's how I had it all planned, that night in Paris when I lay in the dark beside you.'
'Quite, quite mad,' she said regretfully. 'You do remember that I flew home from Strasbourg and why? It was to recover from a broken heart, and I certainly did not visualise any occasion for wearing that very elaborate dress. I didn't plan to trail round the vicarage, acting Miss Havisham.'
'What you're saying is that the dress is still in your flat?'
'Exactly. But I do have a fairly presentable cotton dress I've worn just once.'
'I'm not so sure I'll fancy you in that, not when I'd set my heart on that blue one with the jazzy little bolero. You know, I felt completely knocked out when you turned round that night. I couldn't believe it at first; I thought I must be in the middle of a hallucination. I even liked that mad hairdo you had then. Maybe,' he hazarded, 'you could wear both for our wedding? It would save you the trouble of buying another dress.'
'No.' She shook her head definitely. 'I don't think so. It'll have to be something off the peg, but it's going to be completely traditional. Not white, perhaps, but----' her face had a dreamy look '-cream. Or ivory. I suppose even those aren't entirely appropriate, but... no one will know except us that I'm not...'
'Shh.' Frowning, he put his fingers over her lips. 'You are. Of course you are. More than any other woman I know. And if it helps to ease your conscience, for everyone's sake I think we should agree-and you must know it's the last thing in the world I want-that it would be best if we made up our minds to be extremely... decorous till the knot is tied.'
She giggled and caught at his hands. 'Well, if you would stop doing that, we might have a chance.' A vibrant, breathless smile was directed towards him. 'And something else-it might be a good idea if we went and told Dad our news, see which days are available for the wedding. And I think we ought to forget about going out to dinner. I made a perfectly reasonable casserole which we can have, and besides, I think we ought to start ringing round. I must contact Mum in New Zealand and you'll have to let them all know in Loughskerrie.' Her expression changed, grew a little more serious. 'I wonder what they'll think of it all?'
'What they'll think I can tell you right now: What took you so long? That's what they'll want to know. They still ask about you from time to time, and Fergal, when he wants to be particularly awkward, tells me I was a fool to let you slip through my fingers.'
'I hope you're telling me the truth, but come on.' Taking his hand, she began to pull him towards the house. 'Dad must be dying with curiosity. Oh, I think maybe it's going to be fun getting ready in such a rush-only hope Mum agrees with me. Oh, Patrick.' Suddenly she stopped, turned to him, her expression thoughtful. 'Thank you. For turning my life round in this fantastic way. I'm still half inclined to think I'm in a dream. An hour or two ago I was so utterly miserable and then you appeared. It's magic.'
'Leigh.' His hand smoothed her hair, then held her head against his chest. 'I wish I could wipe out all the misery. But with all my heart-----' now the deep voice was deliberately lighter '-I promise to do better for the rest of our lives.'
'You'd better.' Infected by the threatened laughter, she raised her head to study his face. 'Positively no more Gillian Places. You do realise that, I hope?'
'Ah, yes.' He frowned. 'Now, there's a name you mentioned once before, though at the time I couldn't place it. It was just the other day I remembered. She was a nurse, I think, who was at one time down to join the group for Ashala, but in the end she was transferred to another project-in South India, I think. I heard she married one of the doctors there.'
'But...' Anguish stabbed at Leigh as she reflected on the effect of that name through the years. 'I thought...' Abruptly she stopped, reassessing things in her mind.
'Yes?' he prompted. 'You thought? What did you think, Leigh?'
'One day, in Oxford, I met Debbie Fleetham. You won't deny you knew her, I suppose?' she asked a little waspishly.
'No, I'd be crazy to deny that.' He spoke so reasonably that she felt ashamed.
'I wasn't accusing you,' she said, with so little truth that they both grinned and he raised a questioning eyebrow. 'Well, maybe just a little. You see, I've always been wildly jealous of Gillian Place ever since...'
'You had no need. But you were saying you met Debbie Fleetham one day...'
'And she told me...' Frowning, she tried to recall the exact wording used. '"She-----" Gillian Place, that was "-she's off to Bangladesh with Patrick Cavour; they must be in New York by this time." Oh, and she said something about it being romantic.'
'And you believed her?'
'Yes.' Now even she could hardly understand why she had been so credulous. 'I suppose at the time I was vulnerable, not entirely logical.'
'Yes, well, I know the feeling.' He sighed. 'As far as Gillian Place is concerned I think she might have been on the same flight, but I couldn't be sure. I don't think I can even put a name to the face. Or vice versa.'
'A beautiful blonde with a stunning figure, according to Debbie,' she put in helpfully.
'Ah, but there were so many answering to that description.'
'So long,' she replied to his teasing, 'as there are none in the future.'
'Anyway, Debbie was most likely just showing her claws. Remember I told you we went out once or twice in a group? Before her birthday party...'
'Yes, you did tell me that. I suppose it should have occurred to me at the time that she was most likely a bit jealous.'
'Ah, well, we all know about that, don't we? But, while we're on the subject, there have to be no more intimate dinners with roués like your employer.'
'Intimate, did you say? Fat chance of that with you around, but, in any case, it was entirely platonic, as I've told you several times.'
'Yes, it looked like it from where I was standing on the river-walk-the two of you locked in a close embrace.'
'I promise it wasn't the least bit like that. He was comforting me because he could see I was so miserable after-----'
'Comforting himself quite a lot, I should say.'
'After seeing you with Inés da Silva,' she said reprovingly.
'Ah, yes. Inés. And did he know why he was comforting you?'
'I didn't tell him, but he might have guessed. I imagine the vibes were pretty strong that night, and we know he is a very sensitive man.' She spoke sardonically. 'Anyway, he was particularly sweet; he knew I was unhappy and did his best to help. I hope you notice that I'm not the least bit curious about your date with Ines.'
'Who might just turn out to be a relative of mine.' He was poker-faced.
'Tell me another,' she scoffed. 'As I was about to say, when I first met Inés at the reception-the one where you treated me with such disdain...' When she giggled he paused dramatically, then continued. 'While you pretended to have difficulty placing me in your long list of lovers, Inés, on the other hand, was very interested in my-----'
'I bet she was.'
'Must you keep interrupting? Now I remember it always was one of your more irritating habits. No, don't do that.' He caught the fist which had been aiming for his chin. 'Don't do that,' he repeated, and they stared intently at each other for a moment, eyes sparkling. 'Not,' he warned, 'unless you're prepared to take the consequences. Interested in my name, I was about to say.' Suddenly his composure cracked, he was grinning, and a moment later they were both laughing helplessly.