Prince Caspian -Jung Yoonoh NCT

14. The Night Out

"Not yet," he says meaningfully, "but who knows what may happen? You may fall heavily for me. I've put a love philtre in your coffee." 

Involuntarily I glance at my empty coffee cup, then laugh self-consciously. 

"How absurd! How could you have done so, anyway? There aren't such things."

I try to speak lightly, but I am aware of a deeper undercurrent beneath his nonsense. 

"Don't be too sure, and I'm a resourceful man," he says softly. 

I am very familiar with the Round Table stories. They have been the centre of my adolescent imaginings. The romances have always been very real to me. The story of the lonely Isolde has always intrigued me, fuelled no doubt by our similar sounding names, and has always appealed to the romantic in me; Isolde, who married Mark of Cornwall, yearning for Tristan, the knight who had brought her from Ireland, and on the voyage drunk with her the potion that had caused them to fall in love...

Caspian is cunningly linking me with the legend, and his subtle insinuation is discomfiting. He is telling me with those wicked eyes, and those sensual lips, that though my Mark waits for me in Cornwall, he, Caspian, is no Tristan, and has not been sent on a knight's errand to bring me to him. 

"Anyway, you're not in the least my idea of Tristan," I say untruthfully, for he would have made a good model for Tristan, Lancelot or any one of the more exotic of Arthur's knights. 

"Really? You disappoint me. I thought I could look the part, even if I don't play it."

"Which of course you wouldn't dream of doing," I say hastily, for there is a grain of truth in his teasing, he is altogether too attractive for my peace of mind. 

He looks at me for a moment, and his eyes soften.

We are sitting on the terrace in the open, amid a cluster of red-and-white checked tableclothed round tables. A cool spring wind is rustling through the leaves of the pretty flowers in the boxed flowerbeds placed all along the terrace.

"Ah, I was only teasing," he murmurs, and again his eyes are oddly tender, like they way they were when he kissed me that sunny morning beneath the cliffs. "I am such a brute...but it is so delightful to tease you..." He stretches out his hand, and closes it over mine. A tremor passes through me at his touch. I should pull it away from his grasp at once, but I don't. I let it lie in his warm grip, his fingers stroking mine lightly, hynoptically. "Forgive me..."

I look into his eyes, and the air goes very still suddenly.

It is as if the whole world has ground to a halt.

My mind is in a whirl.

My heart is in turmoil.

How strange, that I am so restless. when everything has stilled, has come to a complete stop.

He looks into my eyes, and there is something in his eyes again, a restlessness that echoes mine, a blaze of heat.

The restlessness surges and becomes a fever, and suddenly, I want to feel his lips on mine.

A door slams in the distance.

He blinks, and the spell is broken. Or perhaps I had only imagined it, for when he looks at me again, his eyes are calm, steady.

He glances at his watch. 

"If we're to be in time for Mrs. Lee's excellent lunch, we'd better be on our way."

On the return journey he talks easily about sport and the scenery. It is as though that moment had never been, that moment when we locked eyes across the table, and I wanted him to kiss me.

Chloe has returned from her abortive expedition and over lunch she eyes me reproachfully, while she says to Caspian, "I had no idea that you had the time off. I would have much preferred to go to Annecy than bump about in the forest. Do you have much free time?"

"I take it when it suits me,' he says indifferently, "but I'm sure your coming made poor Alistair very happy, and the memory will sweeten his sandwiches." 

Chloe preens herself. "I think that he was pleased to see me."

"Let me make amends," Caspian says charmingly. "Let us all have an evening out. My treat all the way."

This offer drives away the last of her reproaches.

And so, the next evening, we set off for our night out. Mr. and Mrs. Lee are agreeable - they like to see young people enjoying themselves - and Chloe appears for the expedition dressed in a striking black trouser suit. She raises her brows as I come downstairs in my green silk. 

"Did you bring nothing else except that?" she whispers. 

"Only one other evening dress. I wasn't expecting a whirl of gaiety," I tell her.

"Would you like to borrow one of my dresses?" she offers.

I thank her warmly, but say I do not think I would fit her styles. I can't imagine myself in the exotic ensembles that I had glimpsed in her vast wardrobe. 

Caspian makes certain that we have our passports, as he is contemplating running into Geneva, a choice which disappoints me, because I am familiar with the town, and would have preferred somewhere unknown. 

I am not sure how it happened, but I find myself beside Caspian in the car, with Chloe and Alistair firmly relegated to the back seat. He stops in a small town, where a florist's stall still displays its wares, and buys a bunch of sweet-smelling violets for us - purple for Chloe, and white for me. 

As I fasten them into the front of my dress, I can't help it, I turn to him, and say breathlessly, "I think this is going to be a night to remember."

"I mean it to be," he says, leaning close to me, his words almost a whisper, and meant for my ears only, and my heart skips a beat.

Crossing the frontier, the Geneva that presents itself to me is very different from the daytime city. 

Caspian drives along a tree-lined avenue by the waterfront, and all the myriad lights from the hotels and bridges are reflected in the lake, glittering jewels upon black velvet. Tall, majestic towers look down upon us, bathed in the glow of floodlights. 

"It's a fairy city tonight!' I exclaim. 

"The right setting for romance?" Caspian smiles, with a sidelong look. 

We dine at one of the big, shining hotels. We eat lobster with prawn sauce, veal with cream sauce and fried potatoes, served with onions and butter, sweet and tender little peas, and have decadent chocolate cake lashed with cream for dessert. Caspian orders a bottle of golden sparkling wine, under the influence of which, Alistair becomes almost gallant, paying both Chloe and I lavish compliments. He even ventures to hold Chloe's hand under the table, and she, despairing of Caspian, allows him to do so with a heartfelt, regretful sigh.