Pure and Untouched Read online

  And yet he could not disguise from himself that he desired her as a woman and that it was not a child who made the blood throb in his temples, his heart beat alarmingly and a desire to kiss her that seemed at times to be almost uncontrollable.

  Then, because the Duke had long practised strict self-discipline, he acted his part with what he told himself was an admirable restraint.

  Only at times he wondered frantically whether he would be able to last one month, let alone three, without taking Anoushka into his arms.

  But he had given Marguerite his word of honour and he could break it only if Anoushka asked him to make love to her.

  As she had not the slightest idea what this meant and did not think of him as a desirable man, he thought despairingly that it could never happen and it was a barrier between them that he saw no way of demolishing.

  ‘What am I to do?’ he asked himself helplessly at night after Anoushka had gone to her own cabin.

  As he could not sleep, he would stand on deck gazing at the stars overhead and thinking that he was more lonely than he had ever been in his whole life.

  He thought of the women who had tried by every known trick to attract his attention and who had contrived in a thousand different ways to get him to themselves.

  He would never have believed that he could be in a position where he could not attract one young girl or bring even an expression of affection to her eyes or to her lips.

  “Now that you have seen something of the world, what do you think of it?” he asked Anoushka.

  He was genuinely curious to hear her answer.

  They had by now sailed past Constantinople without stopping there, up the Bosporus and into the Black Sea, and were sitting comfortably side by side on deck chairs after an excellent luncheon cooked by one of the Duke’s most experienced chefs.

  He thought that Anoushka, in a white gown made of muslin, looked like the wild flowers they had seen growing on the Greek islands and which she had said must have sprung from the footsteps of the Gods.

  “What do you expect me to feel when everything you have shown me is so beautiful?” Anoushka replied. “When I was at the Convent, I used to try to make pictures for myself of the places I read about and they became part of my dreams. Now I think I really must be dreaming.”

  “Are there any people in your dreams?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Real people?”

  The Duke thought she hesitated before she replied again,

  “Sometimes.”

  “Do you think in the future I shall ever be in your dreams?”

  He mocked at himself as he asked the question, knowing it was one he had never asked before because all other women with whom he had talked would have already told him plainly that all their dreams included him.

  “How do I know until I do dream of you?” Anoushka asked in a soft voice, which the Duke had long recognized as entirely impersonal.

  “I shall be extremely piqued if I am not in your dreams,” he said lightly. “After all, I am the only man you know.”

  “Do most women dream of a man?” Anoushka asked.

  “Invariably,” the Duke replied. “Women do not feel complete when they are alone. They feel that they need a man with them, not only in real life, but also when they are asleep.”

  He paused and when she did not answer he added, “The man in their dreams is the one they are always seeking in their hearts.”

  “Do they want to marry him?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then what happens when they are married?”

  He smiled to himself as he thought that this was a question he might have expected.

  “Ideally”, he replied after a minute’s thought, “a married woman will dream of her husband, but I am afraid that does not always happen.”

  “But you said”, Anoushka answered, “that a married woman, if she behaves correctly, can never be interested in any man except for her husband.”

  “That is what a husband expects and what I would expect of you.”

  “But you will not be able to control my dreams,” Anoushka said, “and, if I dream of somebody else, I shall be the only person to know I have dreamed something wrong.”

  “I should be very upset and hurt if I thought you were dreaming of another man,” the Duke countered, choosing his words with care.

  “Then I will certainly keep it a secret,” she said, “and I suppose you are allowed to dream of any woman you like and I must not be upset or hurt!” “Would you be?” the Duke asked.

  It was a leading question, but he had to ask it.

  Anoushka was looking out to sea and he knew that she was thinking seriously over what he had just asked her. Then she gave one of her unexpected lilting laughs.

  “This is a very funny conversation,” she said. “How can we be so foolish as to worry about our dreams? Mine are sometimes extremely complicated. Last night I dreamed that I was flying over the sea – ”

  “Alone?” the Duke enquired.

  “I think so,” she replied. “It was a lovely feeling, sweeping through the air like a bird and I was disappointed when I woke up.”

  The Duke gave a sigh.

  Once again the conversation had veered away from himself and he knew Anoushka was not thinking about him in any way, except as a companion who was a mine of information.

  “You have not forgotten”, she said, “that you promised that when we reached the Black Sea you would take me sailing? I have never sailed in a small boat and I think perhaps it would be almost like flying.”

  “We will sail in an hour’s time, when it is a little cooler,” the Duke promised.

  He had already given the Captain instructions that they were to anchor in one of the small bays along the coast.

  He did not want to arrive at Odessa until early one morning when he intended that there should be plenty of time for him to watch Anoushka’s reaction when she first saw the cypress trees, the spires and the towers of the City ahead of them.

  He would take her ashore and perhaps then he would find out the secret which she had kept hidden for so long and which she had still not made up her mind to confide to him.

  Perhaps then, the Duke told himself optimistically, when that barrier between them fell, she would feel herself closer to him than she was at the moment and the restrictions would fall one by one.

  He was watching her while he thought it over and she was looking exceedingly lovely.

  He suddenly felt such a desire to touch her that only years of self-discipline prevented him from putting out his hands, pulling her to her feet and taking her into his arms.

  It had been an agony, and yet a joy, when a week ago in a small harbour in the South of Italy where they had rested for the night, a band consisting of two violins and a man who beat tambourines and a cymbal, played on the side of the quay.

  They had been in the Saloon with the portholes open to let in the night breeze.

  Anoushka had run to one of them exclaiming with delight not only at the music but the strange way in which the musicians were dressed.

  Then the Duke had suggested,

  “I think this is an excellent opportunity for me to show you how to dance.”

  As he had expected, she learnt very quickly and was so light on her feet that he felt he was dancing with some mythical being rather than a woman.

  He danced her around and around the Saloon and when the music stopped she clapped her hands in delight and begged for more.

  When she became quite proficient and could follow his steps without difficulty, the Duke drew her a little closer and was aware of how much the nearness of her slim body affected him.

  Then, as another dreamy waltz came to an end and they were both still, he kept his arm around her and looked down into her eyes upturned to his.

  “Now we can dance together,” he breathed.

  His voice was very deep and had a passionate note which any experienced woman would have recognised.

 
“It is very exciting,” Anoushka answered.

  “Is it something you want to do again?”

  “Of course! Again and again!” she replied. “Sometimes the girls at the Convent used to say they would like to dance and those who had done so would try to describe what happened, but I never knew it would be like this!”

  “Like what?” the Duke asked.

  “Like being part of the music, so that I am not only listening to it, but it is playing in my feet and in my body.”

  The Duke wanted to say,

  “You will feel the same about love,” but he knew that Anoushka would not understand.

  Quite unselfconsciously she slipped away from his encircling arm and ran to the porthole.

  “We must wave to our little band,” she said, “and tell them how much we enjoyed their playing.”

  She waved as she spoke and the Duke heard the men below them on the quay saying,

  “Grazie, Signora, grazie tante!”

  She turned to smile at the Duke and found that he was very near to her.

  “I should be saying the same thing,” he said. “Molto grazie, Signora!”

  She swept him a deep curtsy.

  “Grazie, Signore,” she replied. Her eyes were laughing up at his but they did not hold the expression the Duke wished to see.

  The sailors had now erected a mast on the lightest of the lifeboats with a bright red sail that was moving slightly in the wind.

  Anoushka seated herself in the stern, the Duke took the tiller and they began to move over the water.

  “This is enthralling!” she cried. “How fast can we go?”

  “That depends entirely on the wind,” the Duke replied. “The Captain thought it would be a little stronger later.”

  “I hope he is right.”

  She looked up at the sky which was clear, although the sun was not so hot as it had been earlier in the day.

  “What you have to do”, the Duke said, “is to whistle. Every sailor knows he must whistle down the wind.”

  Anoushka laughed and pursed her lips.

  The way she did so made the Duke long to kiss her, but, while he was thinking about it, he was busy adjusting the sail, letting the boom swing outwards so that they began to move a little quicker with the wind behind them.

  “It works! It works!” Anoushka exclaimed. “My whistle has brought the wind!”

  It certainly seemed to have been effective and then the small boat increased its speed as the sail billowed out crimson against the deep blue of the water.

  “Faster! Faster!” Anoushka kept crying and the Duke managed by extremely skilful sailing to achieve what he thought to himself was quite an unusual speed.

  They had been sailing for nearly half an hour when he looked up apprehensively and realised that the sun had vanished and instead of the pale clear translucent sky which he expected, it looked grey and somewhat turbulent.

  The Duke looked over his shoulder.

  Intent on pleasing Anoushka, he realised that they had gone very much further than he intended, the yacht was out of sight and he knew it would take them a good long time to sail back.

  “Keep your head down,” he said to Anoushka and swung the boom over to begin what he knew would require all his expertise as a yachtsman.

  The Duke had done a great deal of sailing and was in fact exceedingly proficient at a sport he enjoyed.

  Last year he had won a considerable number of races at Cowes in the Isle of Wight and he always sailed against yachtsmen as experienced as himself when he was in the South of France.

  Now he thought somewhat apprehensively that the weather was worsening rapidly, and knew he had made a mistake to come so far when both the wind and the sea in these parts could be unpredictable and treacherous.

  “Is everything all right?” Anoushka asked him.

  “I am concentrating on sailing us back to the yacht,” he replied, not wishing to frighten her.

  “The sea is getting rough.”

  “I had noticed that,” he replied dryly. “But you told me you were a good sailor.”

  “At least I was,” she said, “but it would be very humiliating if you prove me wrong.”

  “One should never trust the Black Sea,” the Duke replied, “even though it is my colour.”

  He wondered as he spoke what Anoushka would think when she heard the crowds shouting, “Raven black! Raven black!” when his horses thundered towards the winning post.

  It always pleased him to find that he was popular with the racing crowd, knowing they had an instinct that was seldom wrong as to whether a man was a good sportsman or not.

  “Why is black your colour?” Anoushka asked.

  “It seemed appropriate because my name is Raven.” “It does not suit you.”

  “Why should you think that?”

  “Because if you resemble a bird at all, you are more like an eagle. I was watching two this morning when we went on deck after breakfast.”

  “I was watching them, too, but why do you think I resemble them?”

  “They were not only magnificent and they are called the King of the Birds, but they also seemed imperious and disdainful of mere mortals, almost as if they belong to another world than ours.”

  “Do you think I do?” he asked her.

  “I think you are imperious and I think too that, while you take part in many different social spheres and activities, you could never belong to anything or anybody except yourself.”

  “Why should you think that?” he asked sharply. Anoushka did not answer and after he had adjusted a rope he said,

  “I am waiting to hear your answer to my last question.”

  “It is difficult to explain to you, but I feel that you are sufficient in yourself and you do not need, as most people do, others to inspire, guide, lead or comfort you.”

  “I suppose what you are suggesting is flattering in a way,” the Duke said. “At the same time it would be very lonely if I took you literally.”

  “What I am really saying is that people are complementary to you and not you to them. You do not need help, as another man might.”

  The Duke wondered what Anoushka would say if he told her how much he needed her.

  But he knew once again it was too soon – much too soon.

  Then he realised that he had no time to think about Anoushka, but must concentrate on sailing the yacht in what was obviously going to be a dangerously rough sea.

  The Duke remembered far too late that the storms in the Black Sea could blow up in a question of minutes and this was what was happening.

  The wind increased so that he was forced to use all his strength to keep the small boat on course and the sea suddenly changed from rippling white-crested waves to large overpowering ones.

  The Duke looked round and the nearest land appeared to consist of high cliffs and to go near them would be to be dashed against the rocks.

  Then just beyond them he saw what appeared to be a small bay and beyond it a much lower coast line with trees coming almost down to the water’s edge.

  ‘We will make for the shore,’ he decided and realised that he had to shout the words at Anoushka to make her hear them.

  She was sitting on the floor of the boat. She did not answer but gave a smile that seemed to illuminate her face.

  The Duke had no time to look at her again.

  He was trying to work the boat by skilful tacking towards the shore, knowing he must avoid the cliffs and the rocks beneath them and make for the bay or if he missed it the low lying ground beyond it. It was a slow process and an unpleasant one.

  The wind almost tore the main sheet out of his hands, the boat was buffeted and swept from side to side or else it pitched and tossed in the most unpleasant manner.

  The Duke was fighting for every inch, but making little headway.

  Then the rain came.

  It came down torrentially, soaking them to the skin and creating a veil through which the Duke could not see. He could only hope blindly t
hat he was still continuing in the right direction.

  It was impossible to speak to Anoushka, nor could he do anything but attempt to keep the boat afloat while the rain teemed down with such violence that even through his yachting coat it hurt his shoulders.

  Then, as he strove to look ahead, finding it hard to keep his eyes open against the force of the rain, the boat suddenly gave a violent jerk.

  There was a scraping sound and the Duke knew that they had either run aground or hit a rock.

  As he wondered frantically what he should do and how he should save Anoushka, a gust of wind that seemed almost like a whirlwind swung the boom round with a swiftness that took him by surprise.

  It struck him with a violence against which he had no defence and he was thrown unconscious into the bottom of the boat.

  Then there was only darkness – The Duke came back to consciousness from the end of a long tunnel.

  *

  First he was aware that he could think. A long way away there was a glimmer of light – He felt as if he was struggling to breathe, struggling to live, and yet he could not move. Then he heard a voice speaking, a voice he recognized and he knew it was Anoushka’s, but he could not understand what she was saying.

  It puzzled him and he thought for a moment that he had gone mad. Then he realised she was speaking in a strange language and knew it was Russian.

  Her voice was still soft and clear, but occasionally she hesitated as if she was trying to remember a word. Then she went on talking and a man was answering her in the same language.

  He seemed to have quite a lot to say in a voice that was slow and deep and the Duke thought vaguely that he sounded educated.

  Then he drifted away into unconsciousness.

  *

  When the Duke became conscious again there was only silence and he was aware of a pain at the back of his head.

  Then he felt a sudden frantic fear that he had lost Anoushka.

  He tried to open his eyes, but, even while he was trying to do so, the darkness seemed to come towards him from the end of the tunnel and he could not prevent it from overpowering him.

  *

  The Duke opened his eyes.

  There was a bright warm light near him and after a moment he realised it was a fire, the flames leaping high from large logs.