Читаем Forever Amber полностью

“Yes, it is. It’s beautiful. I don’t think there can be more handsome men or beautiful women any place else on earth. When were you there last?”

“Two years ago. I spent several months in London when I returned from my travels. Many of the paintings and hangings had been brought back to Court then, but I understand it’s even finer now. The King is much interested in beautiful things.” His tongue talked but his mind did not follow it; his eyes were hot and intense, and as he swallowed she saw the bobbing movement of his Adam’s apple in his thick corded neck. “I think we’d better start back now,” he said suddenly. “It’s—it’s growing late!”

Amber shrugged her shoulders, picked up her skirts and began to make her way back through the tall grass. She did not see him at all the next day, for to tease him she pleaded an attack of the vapours and ate dinner and supper in her own chambers. He sent up a bouquet of roses with a formal little note wishing for her rapid recovery.

She expected to find him at the stables when she went out the following morning, waiting there like a schoolboy hanging about the corner where he hoped his sweetheart might pass-but he was nowhere in sight and she had a brief angry sense of pique, for she had thought him badly smitten. And she had been looking forward herself with some excited anticipation to their next encounter. Nevertheless she set off alone in the same direction they had taken two days before. In only a few moments she had completely forgotten Philip Mortimer and also his father—who was considerably more difficult to force out of her mind—and was wholly engrossed in thoughts of Bruce Carlton.

He had been gone for almost six months now and once again she was losing hold of him—it was like a pleasant dream recalled vividly in the morning but fading to nothing by noon. She could remember many things: the strange grey-green colour of his eyes; the twist of his mouth that always told better than words what he thought of something she had done; his quietness that carried in it the perpetual promise and threat of suppressed violence. She could remember the last time he had made love to her, and whenever she thought of it her head spun dizzily. She had a poignant painful longing for his kisses and the knowing caresses of his hands—but still he seemed to her like someone half imagined and her memories were small comfort for the present. Even Susanna could not, as Amber had expected and hoped, make Bruce seem any nearer or more real to her.

Amber was so absorbed that when her horse shied suddenly she grabbed at the reins and all but sailed over its head. Recovering herself and looking about for whatever had caused the animal’s nervousness she saw Philip—red—faced and guilty-eyed —astride his own horse near the three sentinel poplars that stood alone in the midst of the meadow. Immediately he began to apologize for having startled her.

“Oh, your Ladyship! Forgive me! I—I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’d just stopped here a moment to enjoy the morning when I saw you coming—so I waited.” The explanation was made so earnestly that she knew it was a lie and that he had not wanted his father to see them ride off together.

Amber regained her balance and laughed good-naturedly. “Oh, Philip! It’s you! I was just thinking about you!” His eyes shone at that, but she stopped any foolish comment he was about to make. “Come on! I’ll race you to the stream!”

He reached it just ahead of her. When she swung down from the saddle he immediately followed, making no argument this time. “How beautiful it is in England in May!” she exclaimed. “Can you imagine why anyone would want to go to America?”

“Why, no,” he agreed, bewildered. “I can’t.”

“I think I’ll sit down. Will you spread your cloak for me, Philip, so I won’t spoil my gown?” She glanced around to find the most pleasant spot. “Over there against that tree, please.”

With a display of great gallantry he swirled off his long riding-cloak and laid it on the damp grass. She dropped down easily with her back against the dainty birch, her legs stretched out straight and crossed at the ankles. She flung her hat aside.

“Well, Philip? How long are you going to stand there? Sit down—” She indicated a place beside her.

He hesitated. “Why—uh—” Then, with sudden resolve, he said briskly, “Thank you, your Ladyship,” and sat down facing her with his arms resting on his drawn-up knees.

But instead of looking at her he kept intent watch on a bee which was going hurriedly from flower to flower, caressing the surface of each, lingering occasionally to sip the last bit of honey. Amber began idly picking the little white daisies that grew profusely in the grass and tossing them one after another into her lap until she had a mound of them.