Читать книгу Fugitive Bride - Miranda Lee - Страница 5

SIX months.

Leah leant against the mast of the old pearling lugger, dragged in a deep breath of sea air, then let it out slowly.

Six months…

Time to relax at last, perhaps? Time to stop looking over her shoulder and expecting Gerard to be standing there?

He hadn’t found her yet.

Which still surprised her.

Admittedly, she’d planned her escape well, had known how imperative it was not to leave anything for him to go on. She’d taken nothing which belonged to her life as Mrs Gerard Woodward. Not her gleaming white Porsche. None of the glamorous clothes hanging in her massive walk-in wardrobe. Certainly none of her credit cards.

Only cash. And then only as much as she needed.

Leah had wanted nothing from her marriage except escape.

She hadn’t gone home to Hidden Bay, not even for a moment, because that would have been the first place Gerard would look. She’d fled to Townsville where her brothers had organised for her to help a friend take a racing boat to Indonesia, after which she’d crewed on another racing boat, returning it to its rich owners on the Riviera.

Now she was back in Australia, but in a place Gerard would not think to look.

Leah closed her eyes momentarily, a tremor racing through her. She might have physically escaped, but it would be a long time before she found emotional escape. Gerard was out of sight, but would he ever be dispelled from her mind? Or ejected from her traitorous body?

She still dreamt of him at night, disturbing dreams in which Gerard was inevitably making love to her as only he could. She would always wake just as the act was being consummated, leaving her hot and trembling from a desire as real as the dream had seemed.

How long, she agonised, before the fires Gerard had carefully and callously stoked within her were extinguished? How long before she stopped needing what he’d made her addicted to? Him, every night in her bed. Him, making her respond, even when she didn’t want to.

Leah shuddered at the memory of her appalling weakness for the man, even after her shocking discovery that Sunday.

How could she have let him make love to her that night when she’d known what he was? Worse, how could she have found pleasure in it?

She shuddered again, despising herself anew. It was wicked for a man to have such power over a woman. There again, Gerard was wicked.

Leah sighed. He’d looked anything but wicked that day eighteen months ago when he’d come striding down the pier at Hidden Bay, wearing dazzlingly white shorts and T-shirt, perfect foils for his deeply olive skin and jet-black hair. Perfect vehicles to display his tall, superbly muscled body.

Leah was not to learn till after their marriage how hard Gerard worked on that body, witnessing herself the gruelling daily weight routine he put himself through in his private gym to achieve such physical perfection.

He didn’t have to work on his face, however. It had been born perfect, with classically sculptured features, a mouth to die for and come-to-bed blue eyes.

Leah would never forget the instant lurching in her stomach when she’d looked up and seen that handsome face for the first time…

‘Hi, there,’ he said, coming to a halt near the prow of her brothers’ fishing charter boat and giving her a very slow and sexually charged once-over. ‘You for hire, honey?’

She just gaped at him, colour flooding up her throat and into her cheeks.

‘The boat, darling,’ he drawled, his eyes gleaming with wry amusement. ‘I meant the boat.’

‘Oh.’ She straightened from where she’d been swabbing the deck with a mop and bucket.

Of course he meant the boat! How could she have possibly imagined a man like him meant otherwise, even for a moment? Good grief, she must look a sight, with perspiration running down her face, her hair half falling down, and her shorts and top soggy from the water she’d been sloshing around in somewhat of a temper.

‘Hot and bothered’ did not begin to describe her at that moment, her discomfort not helped by this amazingly good-looking man who kept staring at her.

Not at her flushed face, however. At her…

A panicky downward glance confirmed that one of her braless breasts was clearly outlined against a patch of damp cotton, the startlingly erect nipple making a real exhibition of itself.

Embarrassment snapped Leah’s hands together across her chest, the inadequately shielding handle of the mop clasped between them.

‘Yes, it is,’ she said, hating her high-pitched voice. ‘But Mike and Pete aren’t here at the moment.’

‘Mike and Pete?’

Leah gulped down the lump in her throat and gathered a modicum of composure. ‘My brothers. They own the boat. They should be back soon. They went trail-bike riding with some mates early this morning.’ Which was the only time to go, before the heat of the day. If living on the Queensland coast had one major drawback it was the sometimes debilitating humidity.

‘And left you to do all the dirty work, I see.’

Leah didn’t like the criticism in the stranger’s words. No one was allowed to criticise her brothers except herself! ‘Not at all,’ she defended. ‘They work hard and deserve a morning off. It’s just that I have an aversion to washing floors. Any other cleaning job I’ll do quite willingly. But not floors.’

‘In that case I promise never to ask you to wash my floors.’ He smiled widely at her, his blue eyes dancing.

Leah found herself smiling back, even while her heart fluttered and her stomach flipped over. Never had a man affected her like this. There again, never had a man like this come to Hidden Bay before.

They didn’t call the bay ‘Hidden’ for nothing. The pear-shaped cove was well disguised from the sea by overlapping headlands, high hills and thick vegetation. A small community of whalers had settled there a hundred years before, the protected bay a perfect sanctuary for their boats during the cyclone season.

Nowadays it only boasted about two hundred permanent residents. The electricity had finally been connected a few years back, and last year they’d celebrated the first sealed road leading out of the place, finally giving the world access without having to use a four-wheel drive.

Despite such stunning progress, not many outsiders knew of Hidden Bay’s existence, and those who did guarded its location like a guilty secret. There were several families from down south who came up for their holidays during the cooler months, putting up with the lack of facilities in exchange for no pollution, warm waters and perfect peace and quiet. They’d begun arriving last week.

Despite his casual gear, the man standing before Leah didn’t look as if he was attached to those intrepid holidaymakers, who were salt-of-the-earth types, people who liked nothing better than to sit around a campfire after a lazy day fishing, drinking a tinnie or two and discussing the ones who’d got away.

Leah suspected this fellow was used to more sophisticated pastimes. There was something about the cut and grooming of his thick black wavy hair which shouted money. That gold watch on his wrist looked very expensive as well, as did the wraparound sunglasses dangling from his left hand.

She wondered what on earth he was doing here, and why he wanted to hire her brothers’ boat. There seemed only one likely explanation.

‘I suppose you want Mike and Pete to take you deep-sea fishing,’ she said, more of a statement than a question. They did get the odd marlin-manic millionaire finding his way to their boat charter business, hoping that the less-fished waters would provide some spectacular catches. But in truth the ocean just off Hidden Bay rarely gave up its really big fish. But there were loads of coral trout, red emperor and snapper to be had.

‘No, I’m not interested in fishing,’ he said.

‘Well, we don’t do holiday cruises, if that’s what you’re looking for. Only fishing charters.’

‘That’s all right. I don’t want a holiday cruise, either,’ he said, his gaze travelling over her from head to toe a second time.

Leah had always had to put up with a degree of male attention, being tall, blonde and pretty, with a good figure. Normally she didn’t mind, except when the male in question was being really objectionable. Her over-protective older brothers, however, always went ballistic.

Ever since their parents had passed away they’d assumed the roles of her guardians with a vengeance, being incredibly strict for two modern lads who thought nothing of the fact that they were both sleeping with their girlfriends—both of whom weren’t much older than Leah.

If a local lad had the temerity to ask their kid sister out, he was issued with such dire warnings that Leah’s relationships with the opposite sex never lasted long. Never got off the ground, really.

She was a week short of twenty and still a virgin.

Not that she minded her inexperience. She’d never thought she was missing out on anything. In truth, she’d never felt the slightest inclination to go beyond kissing and hand-holding with any male.

Till now…

‘Well, what do you want, then?’ she asked, mildly exasperated and more than a little agitated by the alien feelings flooding through her.

‘Just to have a good look around the bay,’ he said coolly, even while his eyes kept eating her up. ‘I’d heard about this place, but had no idea it had such hidden… treasures.’

Leah could hardly believe the messages he was sending, both with his smouldering blue gaze and this last astonishing double entendre. She stared back at him, beyond blushing now, beyond anything but savouring the seductive thought that this incredibly handsome, suave, sexy, assured man seemed to be finding her as irresistibly attractive as she found him.

‘My name’s Gerard, by the way,’ he said, climbing over onto the deck of the boat and holding out his large tanned hand. ‘Gerard Woodward.’

‘Leah,’ she returned breathlessly, and placed her own slender and slightly shaking fingers within the confines of his longer and much stronger grip. ‘Leah… um… um…’ Panic set in as her befuddled brain blankly scoured her memory for her own silly surname!

‘Leah Um-Um,’ he said teasingly. ‘What an interesting name.’

The blush rushed back, hotter than ever.

‘It’s White,’ she blurted out at last. ‘Leah White.’ Dear Heaven, but why did she have to make a fool of herself in front of him?

‘Well, Leah White,’ he said, his smile soft and warm, ‘I think that’s a very nice name and suits you admirably. But Woodward would be better.’

‘Woodward?’

‘That’s my name. Have you forgotten it already? What fun it will be to tell our children that when their mother met their father she forgot her own name, and then his.’

‘Our children?’ she choked out.

‘You do want children, don’t you?’ he asked, for all the world as if it was a serious question.

‘I… I…’

His smile became both admiring and indulgent as he lifted her fingers to his mouth. ‘I can see I’ll have to make all the important decisions in our marriage. But that’s all right by me,’ he murmured as he kissed each fingertip in turn. ‘I’ve always believed that a man is head of his family and king of his castle.’

Leah snatched her hand away from him. ‘You’re crazy as a loon!’

‘Not at all,’ he returned, without turning a hair. ‘In fact, I could give you a hundred references testifying to my sanity. But I appreciate I am rushing you a little. I promise to slow down if you promise to have dinner with me tonight. Ah… these must be your brothers now. Mike and Pete, did you say?’

She nodded dumbly, and watched while he charmed her two normally wary big brothers as effortlessly as he had charmed her.

He explained he was a property developer from Brisbane who was interested in buying some land in the area—with a view to building a small but exclusive resort. Any quibbles or qualms the boys raised about such a development were quickly waylaid by Gerard’s ready reassurances. Anything he built would fit right into the environment and not spoil the area. It would also bring some much needed money into the local community. He would guarantee it!

By the end of the day neither Mike nor Pete made any objection whatsoever when Gerard politely asked their permission to take Leah to dinner. He wasn’t given a single warning. Not one!

As it turned out, he didn’t need one. For he didn’t lay a finger on Leah, just a small peck goodnight on her cheek.

She lay awake into the wee small hours, thinking of him…

And so began their whirlwind courtship, Gerard sweeping Leah off to the altar barely three months after their first meeting.

She went to his bed on their wedding night still a virgin.

Not that she’d wanted to be. The moment she’d set eyes on Gerard he’d stirred a sensuality in her she hadn’t known she possessed. But he’d wanted to wait, he’d told her.

At the time she’d thought that was so sweet. Now she realised it was all part of his Prince Charming act. In reality he’d probably had some other woman on the side, catering to his carnal needs, while he made silly Leah wait. By the time the wedding had come along she’d been consumed by the most excruciating sexual tension, a ready slave for whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it.

Prince Charming indeed! He was the devil incarnate!

Leah sometimes wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t decided to go for a walk in the garden that fateful night, if she’d never overheard that appalling conversation. The realisation that she would still be going along blithely and blindly as Mrs Gerard Woodward brought mixed feelings. Maybe it would have been better if she’d never found out. She’d been happy, hadn’t she?

Not entirely, she was forced to concede. Oh, yes, Gerard had given her everything she could possibly want. He’d spoiled her outrageously.

And it had been wonderful for a while. Gerard had swept her into a world she hardly knew existed, a sophisticated glamorous world of designer gowns, dinner parties and decadently expensive restaurants. She’d been agog with excitement over it all for the first few months.

But eventually her privileged and pampered lifestyle had begun to pall a little. She’d become bored with having nothing to fill her days but dress-fittings and hair appointments. Her only activity had been to make herself beautiful for the evenings she spent with her husband.

Once the honeymoon was over, she’d rarely seen Gerard during the day, and he worked six days a week. Sundays hadn’t been much better. He’d spent so much time on the telephone, even in the car when they were driving somewhere. Mobile phones, she believed, were a menace.

When she’d mildly complained over breakfast one day of her loneliness and boredom, Gerard had suggested charity organisations, flower-arranging classes and cordon bleu cookery courses. When she’d hinted at a baby instead, he’d vetoed that for another year at least. He wanted her all to himself for a while, he’d said.

That night he’d come home with two dozen red roses and made love to her for hours.

Looking back, Leah could well understand why she hadn’t been really content! Gerard had reduced her to nothing but a glorified mistress and hostess. He hadn’t discussed his business with her, except in scant detail. She knew nothing much about his past, or even his present, except what he’d chosen to tell her. Which wasn’t much. She’d had no friends of her own. No life of her own, except as Gerard’s wife.

It had been her growing discontent which had driven her into the garden that fateful evening. One of Gerard’s business colleagues had come over for dinner, and, true to form, after coffee Gerard had taken him into his study to talk business, leaving Leah at a loose end. As usual.

So she’d decided to walk down to the garden seat which overlooked the Brisbane river. Water always soothed her. It was a very pretty spot at night, looking across from their exclusive position on Kangaroo Point to the Story Bridge, and the lights of the city beyond.

She’d left the house by a side door, and had been walking along a path not far from the study when the open French doors and the stillness of the sultry evening had caused Gerard’s voice to carry far beyond the room.

‘You made a big mistake marrying a woman you loved so madly, Steven. Such passion destroys a man’s brain cells. And his judgement. Marriage should be approached like a business deal. With lots of cool thought and calculated research.’

On hearing those first shocking comments, Leah became riveted to the spot. But there were more shocks to come.

‘There are two types of women,’ Gerard continued. ‘Soft and hard. The givers and the takers. The first wants to love and be loved in return. The second wants everything else. Believe me when I tell you that these days the soft ones are getting rarer. You have to get them young, before they’re contaminated by other men. And life.

‘Take Leah for instance. She was only nineteen when I met her and had had no serious boyfriends before me. Naturally, she wasn’t from the city. Generally speaking, city girls are bad news. I knew from the moment I met Leah that she was just what I was looking for. Perfect wife material in every way. Innocent, sweet, beautiful. A natural giver.’

‘And very much in love with you,’ Steven remarked drily.

‘Still is,’ Gerard pronounced with a casual arrogance that took Leah’s breath away.

‘Of course, we’ve only been married a short time,’ he went on. ‘But I have no intention of ever becoming too complacent where Leah is concerned. You know what happens when you neglect a business. Before you know it the damned thing folds. I gave up a whole month for our honeymoon, and still pour a lot of time and money into my beautiful new bride. I don’t neglect her in the bedroom and I give her every material thing any woman could possibly desire, in return for which she gives me what every man wants. Complete love and loyalty.’

‘But don’t you love her, Gerard?’ came Steven’s troubled question.

‘Love wears best on a woman,’ came his coldly cynical reply. ‘As I said before, a man who loves is weaker for it. It makes him stupid. And vulnerable. The last thing a woman wants is a husband who’s weak, stupid and vulnerable. In the ends she falls out of love with such a fool and leaves him for another, stronger individual. Of course, I’m not saying you don’t tell them you love them. Amazing what those three little words can do for a marriage. I don’t let a day go by without telling Leah how much I love her.’

‘That sounds awfully callous, Gerard…’

‘Not at all. It works, Steven. You won’t find my marriage ending in divorce, you mark my words.’

Leah had certainly marked them. All of them.

What a pity she hadn’t had the courage to throw them in his face, personally!

She’d been going to confront him that night, as soon as Steven had left the house. But the wretched man had stayed for ages, till her own misery had forced her to go upstairs to bed.

Not that she’d slept. Midnight had found her lying wide awake in bed, tensely listening to Gerard’s footsteps on the stairs.

‘Waiting up for me, darling?’ he said on entering the room. ‘How sweet,’ he murmured, smiling softly down at her as he undressed.

Leah watched him, dry-mouthed, her stomach swirling with a mixture of distress and dismay. She felt sickened by the situation, and her foolishness in being taken in by him so easily.

And yet, how could she have known what he was? He’d always been so incredibly good to her, had fulfilled all her romantic dreams, especially in bed. No man could have been a better lover. Or more considerate.

Her mind was whirling with all these thoughts when he slipped into bed beside her. Her mouth opened to say something, only to be covered by his in a gentle kiss. Much more gentle than was his usual style. Leah hoped that meant he wasn’t going to continue, that it was just a goodnight kiss. But it seemed stopping was not on Gerard’s mind. Soon, it wasn’t on her mind, either.

Afterwards, she lay there, stunned, shattered. How could she have let him? And how could she possibly have found pleasure in it?

It was then that she knew she had to remove herself completely from his corruptive physical presence. She had to flee. If she confronted him with the truth—that she’d overheard what he’d told Steven in the study after dinner—he would find some way to explain it, to convince her that he didn’t really believe what he’d said, that he did really love her.

Gerard was a natural born salesman. A clever and convincing talker. He could almost make people believe black was white when he wanted to. On top of that he would surely use sex against her, seducing her to his will, corrupting her with the pleasures of the flesh.

Leah believed if she let him do that, she would be lost. She could bear a lot of things in life, but she could not bear to live a lie. Gerard’s love had meant the world to her. Dear heaven, it was her world! She’d given up everything for him. Her family and friends. Her home. Her beloved ocean.

All for nothing. An illusion. A trap.

On the Monday, she made her secret plans to flee the marriage, and this man who had such terrible power over her—demonstrating that power again that night, despite Leah finding what she hoped was the perfect excuse to be left alone. A migraine.

Her claim of a headache, however, brought nothing but solicitous offerings of painkillers and an aromatherapy massage. Admittedly, it had been a very long, very sensual massage. In the end she succumbed to those knowing hands, despising herself all the while she was wallowing in her husband’s erotic expertise. When she sobbed afterwards in his arms, he actually thought her still in pain, and was so apologetic she almost thought she had to be mistaken about him.

But that was just desperation talking, silly Leah not wanting to believe she could still love and want any man who could speak of marriage—their marriage—as he had that Sunday evening.

The final night she spent in their marital bed did not include any further humiliation. Leah could not have borne it. She’d come to the difficult decision to take the initiative in the bedroom that last night, thereby salvaging what little pride and self-respect she had left. Better she accept the inevitable with some dignity than act like some ninny of a victim who could not help herself.

So she climbed into their bed naked and reached for him first, startling him. Not once during their marriage had she done that. Perversely, he’d seemed very pleased. He didn’t realise her actions were inspired by desperation. And despair.

It was ironic that his subsequent lovemaking carried a sweet tenderness Leah had never previously experienced in his arms. She responded to that tenderness, even more than she had to his passion the previous two nights.

Gerard would never know how much he had lost in losing her. She would have devoted her life to him, if only he’d loved her back. Instead, he’d reduced her to nothing but a shell of a woman, tormented by thoughts of what might have been, tortured by what her marriage had actually been.

A cruel, cynical, cold-blooded sham.

‘Got the food and drink ready, Leah?’

Leah spun round, the sea breeze whipping her long honey-blonde hair across her face. ‘Yes, Alan. Everything’s ready,’ she called back.

‘Good girl. Hold the fort while I collect tonight’s party,’ he said, nodding towards the distant figures on the beach.

Leah shaded her eyes with her hands and peered to shore. She knew they had a booking for six, but not the ages or sexes of the people. It looked like two couples, a single woman and a single man. You could usually guess their status by the way they stood, either in close pairs or out on their own.

‘Won’t be long.’ Alan undid the rope, jumped into the Zodiac dinghy and fired the outboard motor. Within seconds the small craft was speeding across the water towards the beach, its flat bottom slapping across the tops of the waves, salt spray flying everywhere.

He was a bit of a cowboy, was Alan.

He was also the captain and owner of The Zephyr, an old pearling lugger built back in the 1920s. Alan had bought it a few years back, and now made a tidy living carrying tourists up and down the West Australian coast, his speciality being sunset cruises along Cable Beach during the Broome holiday season, which ran from late May till early September.

Six weeks ago Leah had heard on the yachtie grapevine in Darwin that the owner of The Zephyr wanted a female deck-hand, someone young and attractive who knew about sailing boats and who could handle the hostessing part of the job. So she’d applied and been immediately offered the job. Once she’d assured herself Alan didn’t think he was hiring himself a live-in lover for the duration, she’d had no hesitation in accepting his offer.

He’d been a perfect gentleman so far. Not so perfect a gentleman with other members of her sex, however. A steady stream of women had trailed through the captain’s cabin since The Zephyr’s arrival in Broome.

Alan had this thing for older women, it seemed. He had no trouble reeling them in, either. Around thirty-five, he wasn’t what Leah would have called handsome. But it seemed his long blond hair, bronzed body and soulful brown eyes always got the women in, especially the ones around forty.

Leah wondered if the unattached woman standing alone on that beach might be in Alan’s required age bracket. It was a distinct possibility, and she watched him angle the boat further in than usual.

The wide flat tides around Cable Beach made it impossible to use a regular dinghy to pick up their clients. Most times, Alan still couldn’t get the Zodiac right in, and the people had to wade out a bit into the water. He only made this kind of extra effort when a lady he fancied was concerned.

Leah shook her head. Some men were devils when it came to women and sex, she decided. She wanted nothing more to do with that type. Not ever!

Alan turned the Zodiac—now lined with people—and headed back towards the lugger, going as fast as ever. Show-off, Leah thought wryly as she moved to stand at the side railing, ready to help everyone aboard. Twenty seconds later, the small craft was close enough for her to make out the various eager and expectant faces.

When her gaze moved to the man sitting alone at the back her eyes flung wide, her heart missing more than a beat.

‘Oh, no,’ she groaned. ‘No, it can’t be.’

But there was no mistaking that handsome face. Or those penetrating eyes.

Her husband had found her.

There was no escape this time, not unless she flung herself into the depths of the Indian Ocean.