Read Online Secret Harbor by Barbara Cartland - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Cartland
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thought that if she was instrumental in causing the Comte to be killed or wounded she would never forgive herself.
“Not worry, Lady,” Abe said. “When Master come we ready.”
“Thank you, Abe.”
Because it was much hotter now than it had been earlier in the morning she went upstairs to collect one of her new sunshades which she had brought back with her from London.
She came downstairs again to find the Comte waiting for her in the hall. She felt like a child who was being taken on an unexpected treat, and she had the idea that he felt the same.
Without speaking they walked out onto the verandah and when they started to descend the wooden steps which were slightly rickety as they needed repairing, the Comte put out his hand to help her.
Grania put her own hand into his and as he took it she felt again that strange vibration that she had felt before, only this time it was more insistent.
His fingers closed over hers, and when the steps ended he still held her hand.
“I am looking forward to having a French luncheon,” she said.
“I am afraid you have not given me enough time to prepare what I should like to offer you,” the Comte replied, “but Henri, who has been with me for several years, will do his best.”
“I also want to see the rest of your ship. How long have you had it, and did you build it yourself?”
The Comte gave a little laugh.
“I stole it!”
Grania waited for an explanation and he said:
“When the English invaded Martinique I knew that I must leave and I intended to do so in my own yacht. But when I went down to the harbour I saw the ship which you have already seen lying at anchor, and as I looked at it one of my friends who was with me said:
“ ‘It is sad that the man whose company owns that ship is in Europe at the moment. It is too good a vessel to fall into the hands of the English.’ ”
“So you agreed with him and took it?”
“It seemed the proper thing to do.”
“I think it was very sensible and practical, which are two things you like to be.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, “and it meant that I could bring more people with me than I could have done otherwise, and I also transported a great amount of my furniture and my family pictures to a place where they will be safe until hostilities cease.”
“Where is that?” Grania asked curiously.
“St. Martin,” the Comte replied.
He said no more and she thought he did not wish to discuss it.
They walked in silence through the palm trees until when the ship was in sight she took her hand from his.
It was now very hot but there was a breeze from the sea.
The ship was still, only she noticed that the sails were no longer tied down, but ready to be raised at a moment’s notice.
“Once he is gone I shall never see him again,” Grania thought.
She felt these moments when she could be with the Comte were somehow very precious and something she would always remember.
They walked across the deck and down into the cabin. The port-holes were open and the sunshine came flooding in.
There was a table laid for two with a spotless white cloth and fresh flowers in the centre of it.
There was also besides the smell of bees’-wax a delicious aroma of food, and before she could say anything the French servant who had been with Abe came into the cabin, carrying a tureen in his hand.
They sat down at the table and Jean, for that was what she had heard the Comte call him, filled two beautiful porcelain bowls.
There was crisp French bread to eat with the soup and when Grania tasted it she knew it was made of stock, herbs, and other ingredients which she thought were fresh from the sea.
It was delicious and she realised that the aroma of it made her hungry and she and the Comte both ate without speaking.
The servant brought wine that was golden like the sunshine and poured it into the glasses and as they smiled at each other across the table Grania thought suddenly that she was happy.
For the first time since
“Not worry, Lady,” Abe said. “When Master come we ready.”
“Thank you, Abe.”
Because it was much hotter now than it had been earlier in the morning she went upstairs to collect one of her new sunshades which she had brought back with her from London.
She came downstairs again to find the Comte waiting for her in the hall. She felt like a child who was being taken on an unexpected treat, and she had the idea that he felt the same.
Without speaking they walked out onto the verandah and when they started to descend the wooden steps which were slightly rickety as they needed repairing, the Comte put out his hand to help her.
Grania put her own hand into his and as he took it she felt again that strange vibration that she had felt before, only this time it was more insistent.
His fingers closed over hers, and when the steps ended he still held her hand.
“I am looking forward to having a French luncheon,” she said.
“I am afraid you have not given me enough time to prepare what I should like to offer you,” the Comte replied, “but Henri, who has been with me for several years, will do his best.”
“I also want to see the rest of your ship. How long have you had it, and did you build it yourself?”
The Comte gave a little laugh.
“I stole it!”
Grania waited for an explanation and he said:
“When the English invaded Martinique I knew that I must leave and I intended to do so in my own yacht. But when I went down to the harbour I saw the ship which you have already seen lying at anchor, and as I looked at it one of my friends who was with me said:
“ ‘It is sad that the man whose company owns that ship is in Europe at the moment. It is too good a vessel to fall into the hands of the English.’ ”
“So you agreed with him and took it?”
“It seemed the proper thing to do.”
“I think it was very sensible and practical, which are two things you like to be.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, “and it meant that I could bring more people with me than I could have done otherwise, and I also transported a great amount of my furniture and my family pictures to a place where they will be safe until hostilities cease.”
“Where is that?” Grania asked curiously.
“St. Martin,” the Comte replied.
He said no more and she thought he did not wish to discuss it.
They walked in silence through the palm trees until when the ship was in sight she took her hand from his.
It was now very hot but there was a breeze from the sea.
The ship was still, only she noticed that the sails were no longer tied down, but ready to be raised at a moment’s notice.
“Once he is gone I shall never see him again,” Grania thought.
She felt these moments when she could be with the Comte were somehow very precious and something she would always remember.
They walked across the deck and down into the cabin. The port-holes were open and the sunshine came flooding in.
There was a table laid for two with a spotless white cloth and fresh flowers in the centre of it.
There was also besides the smell of bees’-wax a delicious aroma of food, and before she could say anything the French servant who had been with Abe came into the cabin, carrying a tureen in his hand.
They sat down at the table and Jean, for that was what she had heard the Comte call him, filled two beautiful porcelain bowls.
There was crisp French bread to eat with the soup and when Grania tasted it she knew it was made of stock, herbs, and other ingredients which she thought were fresh from the sea.
It was delicious and she realised that the aroma of it made her hungry and she and the Comte both ate without speaking.
The servant brought wine that was golden like the sunshine and poured it into the glasses and as they smiled at each other across the table Grania thought suddenly that she was happy.
For the first time since
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