CHAPTER 36

"Merci, Maurice," said Roland.

Grace waited until the door clicked behind him and then walked to the centre of the beautiful bedroom. She couldn't contain her feelings and twirled round on the spot, arms outstretched.

"It's beautiful, Roland."

"I detect Annette's hand behind this."

The room was tastefully decorated in a pale gold Chinese print silk, a huge bed piled high with bolster and cushions, facing a cream chaise longue standing by French windows, which opened onto a balcony overlooking the garden. Bedside cabinets, topped with opaque art nouveau glass lamps, sat either side of the bed, casting a warm glow over the dark gold embroidered crushed velvet coverlet. In the centre of the room was a wood inlaid round table bearing a crystal bowl overflowing with the last fragrant cabbage roses of autumn. Grace was overwhelmed. It was perfect. At opposite ends of the room were doors leading into private bathrooms and dressing rooms.

"Is this really ours?"

"Of course, my love. Philippe took me at my word."

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted this to be our time and space, to be everything which I couldn't give you before, to be perfect for you."

Grace looked at Roland's face as her eyes filled with tears. "You are everything; I need nothing if I have you."

"Come here, my love. No tears; not tonight, not ever."

Grace threw herself into his arms and held him close. "I have something for you, too, but you have to wait until after dinner."

"Why? Can't I have it now?" So saying Roland tickled Grace's waist. Try as she might she could not escape. One arm held her fast as his free arm roamed with impunity, seeking out those points of greatest sensitivity, making her cry out with laughter, until she begged him to stop for fear she would disgrace herself.

"So, I've learnt how to bring you to complete submission," he joked.

"You can do that with one glance."

"Until later then, my ticklish darling. Go and get ready. I'll wait for you downstairs, as I'm sure I shall take less time. Besides, I want to savour this moment."

"You will be horribly disappointed, Roland. I'm no beauty."

"Stop!" His fingers rested against her lips and he said "You are the most beautiful creature alive. Get ready and don't make me wait longer than absolutely necessary. I hunger for much tonight." He smiled at her and kissed her before heading off towards his dressing room. He felt more nervous than he had ever done. Tonight, he wanted to bring Grace to a level of longing that only he could assuage, for her to remember tonight for all the right reasons, and for their mutual desire to erupt from smouldering sensuality to a full conflagration. A sense of responsibility hung over him and he realised that he was losing sight of the important thing: they loved each other. Everything else would flow from that and he had the time here to devote to making love in the fullest sense of the words. He bathed and shaved and then went to retrieve his dress shirt and dinner suit from the dressing room. He found it newly pressed and hanging up for him.

"Bless you, Annette," he thought. He dressed quickly and took a look at himself. He was not a vain man in the slightest, but he looked different tonight and he knew that Grace was the reason why. He took a small package from his bag and left the dressing room without a backward glance, keen to get downstairs and to await what the evening would bring. As he passed her dressing room, he fought the urge to knock and to see her. He had to exercise patience and it would be worth it.

When Grace had entered her dressing area, she found that someone had already unpacked and put away her clothes. She had become unused to such attention since leaving India, but smiled when she realised her dress had been pressed. It looked lovely on its padded hanger. She saw an envelope, hand addressed in her name, on the dressing table. She opened it and found a little card bearing a few words.

"Dearest Grace, I am so happy to have met you at last and you are every bit as delightful as Roland told us you were. Forgive my maid unpacking your things, but I want you and Roland to have every minute to yourselves. I thought it would save you time. I have left fresh roses in the little vase on the table in case you would like them for your hair. I have also left you some powder and rouge. Use them if you wish. He will think he has seen a goddess in any case. Ever your friend, Annette."

Grace was touched by the kindness. She had thought to use one of the cabbage roses, but Annette clearly thought like her and had left smaller versions, which would be easier to pin into place. Grace quickly bathed and scented her body with the fragrance Roland had admitted to liking. Next she donned her undergarments, stockings and the pretty lace corset. She looked in the mirror, realising that she was still slim and, in the evening light, had a classic beauty refined by the recently fanned flames of love and passion. She sat before the dressing table and combed out her hair, whose strands shone in the lamplight like the pale gold of the Lorelei. She did not coil it at the nape of her neck, but brushed it up and created a loose chignon, which she deftly pinned into place, small combs holding the base firm.

Next, she turned to her dress. She gently removed the lustrous silk from its hanger and dropped it down, stepping into it, pulling it up over her shoulders, and fastening it at the side. Then, she bent forward, smoothing it down over her breasts and waist. The delicate draping, at her shoulders and hips, accentuated her curves. It was a perfect choice; simple, yet effective. The fabric with its delicate beading was so beautiful it needed no other adornment. Grace had one final touch; the roses. She picked up the mother of pearl comb, which Roland had given her, and threaded the stems through its teeth, finally anchoring it to the right of the chignon. A couple more pins, a dab of powder and rouge to cheeks and lips, her evening shoes and she was done. She looked again at the finished article and knew she could do no more. She hoped it would be enough; it had to be. She left the dressing room and made her way to the door of the bedroom. As she opened it, she suddenly felt nervous.

This was their first time together as an ordinary couple, away from the military life against which they had found love. "Oh God, let me be what he truly wants." As she left the room and walked on to the galleried landing she heard someone to her left. She turned round startled and immediately a soft hand settled on hers.

"Grace, ma chère, comme tu es belle." It was Annette. "I am sorry for scaring you but I wanted to see you. I think you are worried and you do not need to be. You look beautiful. He loves you, only you. Go to him now and know that you are all he needs. I tell you this as the wife of his oldest friend and, I hope, as your friend too. He has long told us of his love for you. I think we knew before you did!"

"Thank you. You are so perceptive. I know his marriage is a shell, but I only know him here in the theatre of war. I am frightened he may not need me beyond this, that he may be disappointed. I don't have all the material trappings of the kind of woman a man of his status would usually attract." Grace had turned her hand and was holding fast to Annette's.

"Il t'aime, il t'adore. N'ayez pas peur. Don't be afraid. Your love for him lights you from inside. You need nothing else; no material trappings as you put it, I know this for certain, but if you are worried about this, I shall help you with tomorrow's wardrobe needs." Reassuringly Annette embraced Grace and, for the first time in her life, Grace realised that she had a friend on her side and she returned Annette's embrace. Annette beamed at her and said "Now go! Be you, for you are the person he loves and, when you lie together, you will know this for the truth it is. This is your night, n'est-ce pas? God bless. Philippe and I will be in the other wing of the house. We shall not disturb you. You may do whatever you wish." Annette blew her a kiss and quietly disappeared.

Grace walked to the staircase and, holding the rail, she slowly descended. As she reached the final curve of the stairs, Roland stepped forward from the shadows below her, and looked up at her. The expression on his face was one of pride and passion. He devoured her with his eyes and could not tear his gaze from her for one second. She would never forget this moment, but would keep it safe in her heart forever. He took her hand, as she reached the end of the stairs, and raised it to his lips, never breaking eye contact for a moment.

"You have intoxicated my senses, Grace, my most beautiful love. You are breath-taking."

Grace shyly smiled at him. She had hoped he would appreciate her efforts, but his response totally overwhelmed her. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time and, in truth, he felt the same way. She was stunningly lovely; perfect in his eyes.

"If I am, it is for you alone, my love," she replied.

He was still enraptured and moved to cup her cheek in his hand, pulling her so gently into his arms that she felt like the most delicate china, and then he kissed her. Time was meaningless and when they broke apart, breathless and flushed, they knew this was the moment they had been moving towards since they had first met.