For some irrational reason, I had no problem with the thought that Tristan had sailed the Med with any of a dozen women who'd been pictured with him over the years. If Tristan watched two Barbie dolls do one another and got a charge out of that--not an issue. It was the plain, sweet, utterly ordinary adoring face of Elsa Maynard buried in another woman's snatch while Tristan indulgently watched that attached to my heart like a ten pound lead sinker. Tristan 'indulging the woman whose sexuality he treasures'. What a statement.
How did I allow myself to miss the whole point of this scenario? I was the new Elsa, minus the love and commitment. I was the replacement innocent. He was trying to make sure that I knew if I shared her tastes, it was okay! Maybe even what he hoped for. Fucking hell, Tristan, can't help you out there, buddy. Sorry about your luck but you got a pure, 100% hetero gal on your hands.
"Is there something wrong, Raina?"
Yes, there is something very wrong. "Maybe I've got a bit of a headache."
"A bottle of wine in the afternoon can do that. Why don't you take a short rest in one of the staterooms? I need to make my calls and check some things."
"Okay, that's not a bad idea."
"Don't stay too long, though. Just rest your eyes. I want you refreshed . . . for dessert and tomorrow." He was bright and cheerful and I wanted to slap him.
I didn't even notice the interior of the boat, I just walked through the living area and down a few steps, opened the door to the first stateroom I came and flopped on the bed. I didn't want to sleep, I wanted to cry.
It did occur to me that Tristan still didn't know I was even aware of Elsa. He didn't know that I had seen the wedding announcement on the internet. He wasn't aware of my conversation with Tom about her death. Maybe as far as Tristan was concerned, I didn't know anything about Elsa at all. Hard as it was for me to believe, it was entirely possible that those assumptions were true.
Not everyone spends hours Googling someone they're interested in. Tristan's engagement announcement was buried several pages back, eclipsed in the great search engine's eye by far more important items. And, if I hadn't asked Tom, and I hadn't met Roger and seen the dark cloud he brought to that rehearsal, I wouldn't have known to Google Elsa Maynard at all.
So, at least I had to dismiss the idea that he was deliberately torturing me with allusions to their sexual history. Once that was settled, I began to rethink the rest of my assumptions. What if he was simply talking in generalities? What if it was not his personal experience he was referring to? What if he genuinely wanted to discover what turned me on?
But there was the whole nude beach thing. Obviously he had been here before. Okay, so what? If he'd come with Elsa, so what again? The man wasn't a virgin (thank God) and it was patently unfair for me to expect him never to have experienced . . . well, anything.
I got out of bed and sort of tiptoed up onto the aft deck. I suspected Tristan was buried somewhere further in the bowels of the boat catching up on work. I needed some air. Hopefully the sea could blow some sense into me.
It made me unreasonably happy to see Kwan standing at the transom with a fly rod. He was flipping the line back and forth in a graceful even motion. I crept up behind him, but I should have known better than to sneak up on him. Without turning around he said, "Miss Raina, if I didn't recognize your footsteps, I might have knocked you flat for that."
"Sorry Kwan. I was testing you."
"Be careful what you test."
I stood beside him and watched him flick the line over and over again before allowing the end to land on a spot in the water.
"What are you fishing for?"
"I'm not trying to catch a fish. Nothing caught in this water would be edible at any rate."
"Then what are you doing?"
"Just practicing. Fly fishing is a very meditative sport. Handling the rod just so has a Zen quality to it."
"I see." It was rather mesmerizing to see the brilliant orange line make fluid 'S's' against the backdrop of the blue and pink setting sun sky. "Can I ask you something?"
"You can certainly ask. Whether I answer depends."
"I know about Elsa Maynard."
"That's not a question."
"I mean I know he was engaged to her and I know that she died."
"That much is public knowledge. And you still haven't asked me a question."
"Did you know her?"
"No."
That surprised me. For some reason I figured Kwan had been with Tristan since time began. "How long have you worked for Tristan?"
"Five years."
"So you must have been hired right after she was killed."
"The two events were related."
"He hired you because she was killed?"
"I like to think that was only part of the reason."
"Do you know how she was killed?"
"As much as anyone except Tristan, I suppose."
"Will you tell me what you know?"
"I would consider that a betrayal of trust."
"Well, was it an accident or what?" Tristan had said as much but I wanted to know what the general thought was.
"I think that's something you should ask Mr. Tristan. It's not my place."
I decided to change tactics. "Did Tristan come here, to Cap d'Agde with Elsa?"
"As far as I know, I brought him here for the first time."
"You? Why ever would you bring him here?"
Kwan put his rod down and turned toward me. "In the beginning, he rarely wanted me to be out of his sight. After a few months, I was really longing for a little male companionship other than my boss's. What better place to be able to leave someone alone for a few hours than a nude beach? How much harm can come to a person wandering among naked tourists? I obtained an accomplished and beautiful lady to keep him company and wandered down to my own section. It's at the far end of the 'adult beach'. Five years ago," he added wistfully, "there was a lot more action in the dunes."
At this point, I was ready to hug Kwan. So, it wasn't Elsa who christened the place with him, it was good old Kwan. Kwan, the procurer of whores, Kwan the fashionista, Kwan the protector of mothers. What a great guy he was turning out to be. I couldn't stop grinning at how wrong I had been.
"Miss Raina?"
"Yes?"
"Would you be offended if I gave you some advice?"
"Not at all, I could use all the help I can get. Your boss is a hard one to figure out."
"Actually, no, you're wrong there. He is very simple to figure out."