Danielle Steel: The Kiss

“What are you smiling at?” he teased, as they ambled slowly down the street, in no particular direction. They both felt that, for now at least, they had nothing but time on their hands.

“I'm just happy. I've never done anything like this. I feel so far removed from all my worries here.” She knew Teddy was in good hands and all was well with the world.

“That's the way I want it to be for you. I just want you to relax and forget about everything.”

They hopped in a cab a few minutes later and went to a little place Bill remembered in Shepherd Market, it was near the embassy, and he had gone there many times to catch a quick bite to eat between meetings. It had a garden, and the owner was delighted to see them when they arrived. They were well dressed and elegant, and there was something enormously charismatic about both of them. He showed them to a quiet table in the back. He brought the wine list to Bill, handed them both menus, and then disappeared.

“This is perfect,” Isabelle smiled as she sat back in her chair and looked at him. The last time she'd seen him had been in Paris the previous winter, just before Christmas, he'd given her a beautiful Hermes scarf, and a first edition of a book they'd talked about. It was leather bound and extremely rare, and she cherished it, as she did everything he'd given her over the past four years. “I feel very spoiled.”

“Good,” he said, patting her hand. They agreed on a pizza, he ordered salads, too, and a bottle of Corton-Charlemagne.

“Now you're going to get me drunk in the middle of the afternoon,” she teased. He knew from previous lunches that she hardly drank, but it was a wine he knew she liked, and a very good year.

“I don't think there's any risk of that, unless you've acquired some bad habits in the last six months. I'm much more likely to get drunk than you are,” he confessed, although she'd never known him to drink too much on any of the occasions she'd seen him. He was a reasonable person with no apparent vices, other than a tendency to work too hard. “So what are we going to do this afternoon?”

“Whatever you like. I'm just happy to be here.” She felt like a bird that had escaped a gilded cage, and he suggested wandering through some galleries and antique shops, which sounded very appealing to her. They chatted all through lunch, and it was four-thirty by the time they left the restaurant, and he hailed another cab. He had a limousine waiting for him at the hotel, but they were both enjoying the freedom of simply wandering around London on their own. And after the galleries and the shops, they strolled back to the hotel. It was after six o'clock by then.

“Dinner at nine?” he asked, smiling at her. “We can have a drink in the bar here, and then go to Harry's Bar.” She had admitted long since that it was her favorite restaurant, and it was his as well. It was all very respectable, and neither of them felt awkward about being seen there. They had nothing to hide, and even if Gordon heard about it eventually, she had no qualms about telling him she'd seen Bill Robinson. She didn't intend to volunteer it to him, but she had no cause for guilt, and nothing to apologize for. “I'll pick you up at your room at eight,” Bill said, and he had an arm around her shoulders as they walked into the elevator. No one who saw them would have believed that they had separate rooms and weren't married to each other. They looked so totally familiar and at ease, that at the very least it would have been easy to believe they were having an affair. But they seemed oblivious to all that as they talked on the way to the third floor and he walked her to her door.

“I had a wonderful afternoon,” she said, and then stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “You're very good to me, Mr. Robinson. Thank you, Bill,” she said solemnly, and he smiled.

“I don't know why I should be good to you. You're such a dreadful person, and such a bore. But I have to do a little charity work now and then. You know, political wives, the halt and the lame… and time with you. Brownie points.” She laughed, and he gently touched her arm as she opened her door. “Have a little rest before we go out tonight, Isabelle. It'll do you good.” He knew how stressful her life was, how on duty she felt all the time, caring for her son, and he wanted her to relax and have a real vacation here. He knew from what she said that no one took care of her normally, and he wanted to do that for her now, for the short time he could. She promised him she'd take a nap, and then lay there thinking about him once she was alone in her room, lying on the bed. It was remarkable to think about how he had come into her life, by sheer happenstance years before, and how lucky she was.

She wondered why he stayed with his wife sometimes. It was easy to figure out that there was no real communication between them, and he deserved so much more. But she also knew that he didn't like talking about it. The state of his marriage to Cynthia was something he accepted, and a balance he chose not to disturb. She suspected it would have been awkward for him to challenge that anyway, he wanted no breath of scandal near him, to draw attention to him. Part of his strength was keeping well out of sight, so he could wield his power without any focus on him. A divorce would have brought too much attention to him, particularly if it was acrimonious, and he often said that Cindy liked things just the way they were. She wouldn't have gone quietly into the night, she liked the practical advantages of being Mrs. William Robinson, particularly in Washington, or anywhere. Although she said she hated politics, having a husband who had considerable influence over the president was not a bad thing in her mind. But Isabelle felt sorry for him. He deserved so much more than he had with Cindy. But he said the same thing about Isabelle. The life she led with Gordon was certainly not the marriage she'd envisioned or hoped for twenty years before, but it was something she accepted now. She had made her peace with it, and she didn't think of it, as she lay on the huge bed at Claridge's, anticipating an evening of conversation and laughter with Bill. At that exact moment, Gordon seemed part of a distant, almost nonexistent world. Bill always made her laugh and feel so safe and comfortable. And being in London with him was everything she had hoped it would be.

She dozed for a few minutes, and then got up at seven o'clock, and took a bath. She chose a narrow black lace cocktail dress and a silk wrap, with black satin high-heeled pumps, a pearl necklace she'd brought, and a pair of pearl and diamond earrings that had been her mother's. The dress was very respectable, but very feminine, and just like Isabelle, it had a faint air of subtle sex appeal to it. She brushed her hair into a smooth French twist, and applied her makeup carefully, and when she stood back and looked at herself, she saw nothing remarkable. But she was startled by his reaction when he came to her door at exactly eight o'clock, just after she'd called home and talked to Teddy's nurse, and was relieved to hear that all was well. Gordon was out, and Teddy was already fast asleep, so she didn't talk to him, but she was happy to hear that he'd had a good day. Knowing that would allow her to have a good time that night with Bill.

“Wow!” Bill said, taking a step back to admire her. She had the silk wrap thrown easily around her shoulders, one nearly bare shoulder peeked through, and the lace dress molded her figure exquisitely. She looked elegant and very ladylike, but far prettier than she realized, which was part of her charm. “You look incredible. Who did the dress?” he asked knowledgeably, and she laughed. She didn't think he knew anything about dress designers nor cared to.

“Saint Laurent. You surprise me. Since when are you interested in fashion?” He had never before said anything like that to her. But things were different here. They had the luxury of time, knowing they had two days stretched out before them.