CHAPTER XIII
When night came Pansy tried not to think of Le Breton, but the idea of him out there in the moonlight haunted her. She wondered how long he would wait; patience did not look to be one of his virtues.
There was a dance at the hotel again that evening. As she whirled round and round, slim and light, looking in her chiffon and diamonds a creature of mist and dew, her thoughts were with none of her partners. They were out in the garden with the big, masterful man who was so different from all others of his sex who had come into her life.
By midnight the gaieties were over. Pansy went up to her room. But she did not go to bed. Dismissing her maid, she went out on the balcony, and stood there watching the sea, as she had watched it barely a week before, when Le Breton had come into her life.
The world was as white and peaceful as then; the sea a stretch of murmurous silver; the garden vaguely sighing; the little, moist, cool puffs of wind ladened with the scent of roses and the fragrance of foreign flowers.
As she watched the scene, an overpowering desire to go and see if Le Breton were still there seized her; a desire that rapidly became an obsession.
Of course he would not stay from nine o'clock until after midnight!
For all that Pansy felt she must go. That she must linger for a moment in the spot where he had lingered.
She turned quickly into her room; then out into the corridor; down the stairs and on towards a door that led out into the grounds.
Once there, the moonlight drew her on towards the fountain.
On reaching the trysting-place there was no sign of anybody there.
With a feeling of intense disappointment Pansy turned towards the sea-wall, and stood there with the soft light shimmering on her, her face wistful as she watched the molten sea.
Now that she had come, to find Le Breton gone hurt her.
If he really liked her, he would have stayed all night on the chance of her coming. She would, if she were really fond of anybody.
A tear came and sparkled on her long, dark lashes.
He could not love her very much, or he would not have left.
A slight movement in the shadows behind made her face round quickly, her heart giving a sudden bound.
"Well, Pansy," the voice she knew so well said in a caressing tone.
She laughed tremulously.
"I thought you'd gone hours ago," she said.
Le Breton came to her side, a mocking look in his dark, smouldering eyes as he watched her.
"There are two things a man will always wait for if they cut deeply enough," he replied. "Love and revenge."
"How dramatic you sound! Which has kept you on the prowl to-night?" she asked lightly, edging away from him.
But his arm went round her quickly, and she was drawn back to his side.
"No, my little girl, not this time," he whispered.
She tried to free herself from his embrace.
"I didn't mean to come. I really didn't," she said breathlessly.
He laughed in a tender, masterful fashion.
"Possibly not, but since you're here I intend that you shall stay."
"No, no," she said quickly. "Let me go."
Pansy struggled after a liberty that she saw rapidly vanishing. But he just held her, firmly, strongly, watching her with an amused air.
"I shall spoil my dress if I have to wrestle with you like this," she panted presently.
"Don't wrestle then," he said coolly. "Stay where you are, little moonbeam, and no harm will come to the dress."
It was fatal to be in his arms again. She stopped struggling and stayed passive within his embrace.
With easy strength Le Breton lifted her. Going to a bench, he sat down with her on his knee.
"Why did you run away from me the other night?" he asked.
A slim finger played rather nervously with a black pearl stud in the front of his dress shirt.
"I don't know," she said, her eyes avoiding his.
Then she laughed.
"Oh, yes, I do," she went on. "Because I couldn't do as I liked if I stayed with you."
"I could never be a hard taskmaster. Not with you," he said softly.
"Are you with some people?" she asked.
Le Breton thought of the desert kingdom he ruled alone, and he laughed. Then he kissed the little mouth so temptingly close to his own; a long, passionate caress that seemed to take all strength from the girl. Her head fell on his shoulder, and she lay limp within his arms, watching him in a vague, dreamy manner.
For a time there was silence. Le Breton sat with her pressed against his heart, as if to have her there were all-sufficient.
"I feel like Jonah," Pansy said presently. "All swallowed up. There seems to be nothing in the whole wide world now but you."
With a loving hand he caressed her silky curls.
"And I, Heart's Ease, want nothing but you, henceforth and forever."
Pansy snuggled closer to him.
"To think I'm sitting here on your knee," she whispered. "A week ago I didn't know there was any you. And now I only know your name and——"
She broke off, a blush deepening the roses on her cheeks.
"And what, my darling?" he asked tenderly.
"Put your ear quite close. It's not a matter that can be shouted from the house-tops."
He bent his proud head down, close to the girl's lips.
"And that I love you," she whispered.
Then she kissed the ear the confession had been made into.
"And that you will marry me," he added.
"Perhaps, some day, twenty years hence," she said airily. "When I've had my fling."
Le Breton had never had to wait for any woman he fancied, and he had no intention of waiting now.
"No, Pansy, you must marry me now, at once," he said firmly.
"What a hustler you are, Raoul. You must have American blood in you."
She said his name as if she loved it: on her lips it was a caress.
With a touch of savagery his arms tightened round the girl. Even with her in his embrace he guessed that if she knew of the Sultan Casim Ammeh there would be no chance for him. His dark blood would be an efficient barrier; one she would never cross willingly.
"Say you will marry me next week, my little English flower," he said in a fierce, insistent tone.
"I couldn't dream of getting married for ages and ages."
He held her closer, kissing the vivid lips that refused him.
"Say next week, my darling," he whispered passionately. "I shall keep you here until you say next week."
Pansy looked at him with love and teasing in her eyes. "It's midnight now, or perhaps it's one, or even two in the morning. Time flies so when I'm with you. But at six o'clock the gardeners will be here with rakes and brooms, and they'll scratch and sweep us out of our corner. Six hours at most you can keep me, but the gardeners won't let you keep me longer than that. Good-night, Raoul, I'll go to sleep in the meantime."
In a pretence of slumber Pansy closed her eyes.
With a tender smile he watched the little face that looked so peacefully asleep on his shoulder.
"Wake up, my flower, and say things are to be as I wish," he said presently.
One eye opened and looked at him full of love and mischief.
"In ten years' time then, Raoul. That's a great concession."
"In a fortnight. That would seem eternity enough," he replied.
"Well, five years then," Pansy answered, suddenly wide awake. "I could see and do a lot in five years, if I worked hard at it. Especially with the thought of you looming ominously in the background."
"In three weeks, little girl. I've been waiting for you all my life."
Pansy stroked his face with a mocking, caressing hand.
"Poor boy, you don't look like a waiter."
He took the small, teasing hand into his own.
"Never mind what I look like just now," he said. "Say in three weeks' time, my darling."
"Two years. Give me two years to get used to the cramped idea of matrimony."
"A month. Not a day longer, Heart's Ease, unless you want to drive me quite mad," he said, a note of desperate entreaty in his voice.
Suddenly Pansy could not meet the eyes that watched her with such love and passion in their smouldering depths.
This big, dark man who had come into her life so strangely, seemed to leave her nothing but a desire for himself. At that moment she could refuse him nothing.
"In a month then, Raoul. But it's very weak-minded of me giving in to you this way."
He laughed in a tender and triumphant manner.
"My darling, I promise you'll never regret it," he said, a slight catch in his strong voice.
Then he sat on, with Pansy pressed close against him. And the latent searching look had gone from his eyes, as if the girl lying on his heart had brought him ease and peace.
And Pansy was content to stay.
Just then it was sufficient to be with him; to feel the tender strength of his arms; to listen to the music of his deep, caressing voice; to have his long, passionate kisses. Nothing else mattered. Even liberty was forgotten.