Читать книгу Seduction And Sacrifice - Miranda Lee - Страница 8

‘SHE’S become impossible, Nathan. Simply impossible!’ Lenore glared at her ex-husband as he sat behind that damned desk of his, looking not the slightest bit perturbed.

‘Kirsty is a typical teenager. You shouldn’t let her upset you so.’

‘That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to live with her.’ Lenore slumped down into a chair and sighed heavily. ‘I’m at my wits’ end. They’re threatening to expel her from school. She’s smoking on the sly, swears like a trooper and dresses like a trollop. I...I’ve been thinking of sending her to boarding-school,’ she finished, flicking a nervous glance at Nathan through her long lashes.

Lenore knew what he thought of boarding-school, having been dumped into different ones by his drug-crazed mother whenever a new man came on to the scene, only to be dragged out once she was alone again and wanting company. By the time he was sixteen a totally screwed-up Nathan had run away from the latest five-star school, just in time to find his mother, dead from a heroin overdose.

With such a history, it was no wonder Lenore felt a little edgy about suggesting boarding-school for their daughter.

Nathan reacted just as she’d feared.

‘She won’t be going to bloody boarding-school,’ he bit out, snapping forward on his chair. ‘She can come live with me for a while.’

Lenore’s lovely green eyes widened with genuine surprise, then narrowed into a frown. ‘Where? Not at that beach-house of yours. Who would mind her till you got home from work?’

‘I’m living at Belleview till Byron gets out of hospital and on his feet again.’

‘Oh, yes, I forgot. Poor Byron. How’s his leg?’

‘On the mend. He might have to use a cane for a while, though.’

‘He’ll hate that.’

‘Better than being dead, like Irene. Though maybe Irene’s death isn’t such a tragedy. She was a miserable bitch, and she made Byron miserable too.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Nathan, don’t you ever have any pity for anyone?’ Lenore snapped, irritated with this hard man whom she’d tried to love, but failed. He just wouldn’t meet her halfway. Or even a quarter way.

‘I have pity for a daughter whose mother doesn’t want her around,’ he said coldly.

‘That’s not true and you know it! Oh, Nathan, you can be so cruel sometimes. Cruel and heartless.’ Tears flooded her eyes and she rummaged in her handbag for a tissue.

Nathan watched her mop up her tears without turning a hair.

‘Let’s get back to the point, shall we?’ he said when she was sufficiently composed. ‘I suggest you go home, get Kirsty to pack her things and bring her round tonight after dinner. But if she comes to live with me, she comes for a whole term at least. No chopping and changing mid-stream.’

Lenore felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Maybe Nathan would straighten the girl out a bit. Kirsty loved her father. And Nathan loved her too. His daughter was the only female who’d ever been able to get past the steely cover Nathan kept around his heart.

Kirsty was the main reason Nathan had married Lenore. That, and his mistaken belief that she would be the sort of wife to suit him: an independent woman who wouldn’t lean or demand, who would be there at his side when he needed a social partner, and there, in his bed, when he needed sex.

Well, Lenore had needed more than that. Much more. So after twelve years of the loneliest marriage she could ever imagine she’d called it quits. People had condemned her for their divorce, saying she’d put her acting career in front of her husband. And maybe there was a bit of truth in that. But she had to have something.

A depressing sigh wafted from Lenore’s lips. If only things had been different with Zachary all those years ago. If only he hadn’t been married. If only he’d loved her as intensely as she’d loved him, as she still loved him.

‘If you’ve finished daydreaming...’ Nathan drawled caustically.

Lenore blinked and looked up.

‘Maybe you’d like to tell me what or who is bringing that wistful look into your eyes. Surely not Kirsty. It wouldn’t be Zachary Marsden, would it?’

‘And if it is?’ she retorted, piqued by his sarcasm. ‘Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Nathan. Jealousy is an emotion reserved for people in love. You never loved me any more than I loved you so don’t pretend now, thank you very much.’

‘I never pretended a thing with you, Lenore. It was you who seduced me in the first place, you who used my body, not the other way around, you who pretended I meant more to you than I ever could mean.’

‘Are you saying you wanted me to be in love with you?’ she asked, disbelieving.

‘I’m saying no man likes to be had on the rebound. We could have had a good marriage, if it hadn’t been for Zachary Marsden lurking around in your heart. We could still have had a good marriage if you hadn’t indulged in sentimental rubbish and deliberately kept your supposed love for him alive. Do you think I didn’t notice how often you contrived to put yourself in Zachary’s company? The poor bastard. You’ve done nothing but tease him for years. You know he’s a decent sort of man, that he wants to stay faithful to his wife and family. Give him a break and find someone else to try out your femme fatale talents on.’

‘Oh!’ Lenore jumped to her feet. ‘Oh, you’re just impossible! You don’t understand true love. But one day, Nathan, one day you’re going to really fall in love and then you’ll know what it’s like. Who knows? Maybe it’ll make you human, like the rest of us. Maybe I might even learn to like you, as I once mistakenly thought I did.’

* * *

Gemma was sitting in a deep leather two-seater in the plush reception area of Whitmore Opals when the most stunning-looking woman she’d ever seen stormed out of Nathan’s office, masses of gorgeous red hair flying out behind a face so arrestingly beautiful that one could only stare. She banged the door shut behind her before covering her luminescent green eyes with sunglasses and striding across the grey-blue carpet on the way towards the exit.

‘Bye, Moira,’ she threw at the receptionist on her way past. ‘My commiserations that you have to work for that man. He’s impossible!’

‘Goodbye, Mrs Whitmore,’ the middle-aged receptionist called after her.

Gemma’s head snapped round to stare after the redhead. So! Nathan Whitmore was married.

She shook her head, smiling ruefully at her own stupidity. Of course a man like him would be married.

Gemma almost laughed at the silly thoughts that had been tumbling through her head since she’d parted company with Nathan in Lightning Ridge three days before. It had been crazy of her to imagine he’d been genuinely attracted to her, that he’d been loath to let her go. He’d simply been kind to her, that was all. Nothing more.

I’m as naïve as Ma said, Gemma realised with some dismay.

When she’d told Ma about what happened at the motel, the old woman had been aghast.

‘Good God, girl, and there I was thinkin’ you’d got your head screwed on where men were concerned. But you’re just as silly as the rest. Fancy huggin’ a stranger like that in his motel room. And acceptin’ a drink as well. The danger wasn’t from that ugly old bugger outside, love, but the handsome one inside!’

Gemma didn’t agree with Ma about that. She was sure Nathan Whitmore was a good man. But she had to agree about herself. Clearly, she was as vulnerable to a handsome face as the next girl, and twice as silly as most. Her actions in that motel room had been incredibly naïve and foolish. If Nathan hadn’t been an honourable man, God knew what might have happened, for there was no doubting she’d been blown away by how she’d felt when in his arms. Her only consolation was that the incident had eliminated her worry that a man’s touch would repel her.

The receptionist stood up from behind her desk and went over to knock on the door that Mrs Whitmore had slammed shut. After a brusque command to enter, she went inside, exiting a few seconds later with a polite smile on her face. ‘Mr Whitmore will see you straight away, Miss Smith. Please go right in.’

Gemma stood up, feeling suddenly fat and frumpish in her new pink cotton sundress with its tight bodice constraining her full breasts. Yet that morning, she had thought she looked...inviting. But seeing Nathan’s wife, so sophisticated and slim in a green silk suit, had put a dent in Gemma’s confidence over her appearance. She should have left her hair out, she thought unhappily, not tied it up into a childish pony-tail with an even more childish pink ribbon.

A dampening dismay was beginning to invade when Gemma checked her self-pity with a stern hand. What did it matter what she looked like? The man was married. Decent girls did not try to attract married men. And she was a decent girl. Or so she hoped.

Clutching the straw handbag in which she’d placed her precious legacy that morning, Gemma lifted her chin and strode purposefully into the office. But the moment her gaze rested once more on that handsome blond head and those fascinating grey eyes, she was lost.

Was she imagining things or was he looking at her the way some of the male customers at the café back at the Ridge had started looking at her? As though they’d like to have her on their plate and not a hamburger and chips. Gemma was quietly appalled that for the first time in her life she liked being looked at like that.

His hunger was fleeting, however, if that was what she’d glimpsed, Nathan Whitmore getting to his feet and coming round to shake her hand with a cool and impersonal politeness. ‘Miss Smith,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘How nice to see you again. Would you like to sit down while I get the door?’ And he indicated an upright wooden-backed chair that sat in front of the desk.

Gemma sat down, trying not to look as depressed as she suddenly felt. Couldn’t he at least have called her Gemma?

She watched him walk back round behind his impressive desk, equally impressive in a dark blue suit which fitted his body to perfection and highlighted his golden hair. He’d had it cut since she last saw him, she realised, for when he bent forward slightly on sitting down no wayward lock fell in boyish disarray across his forehead. The sleek, ultra-groomed look gave him a crisp, no-nonsense, almost forbidding air which she still found disturbingly attractive.

Her mind flew to his wife and her dramatic exit. What had he said or done to upset her so much? Why had she called him impossible?

The man who’d been so kind to her out at the Ridge was far from impossible. He’d been sweet. Sweet and warm and caring. Still, it appeared that man had been left behind in the outback of Australia. The pragmatic individual sitting behind his city desk in his plush city office seemed like a different person.

‘So, how can I help you?’ he opened up.

Gemma stared at him. No questions about how she was, or how was her trip to Sydney, or where was she staying, just straight down to brass tacks. Her disappointment was sharp, but she gathered herself to answer coolly.

‘I have an opal I would like valued.’ If he was going to be all business, then so was she. ‘You do valuations here, don’t you?’

‘We do.’

‘I realise they aren’t free. I’m quite prepared to pay whatever the going price is.’

He waived her offer with a dismissive gesture of his hand. ‘That won’t be necessary. Do you have this opal with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I could give you a reasonable estimate immediately, if you like.’ He smiled, and she felt a lurch in her stomach.

‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that.’ Gemma was only too glad to drag her eyes away from that handsome smiling face to dig the opal out from the depths of her handbag. She’d wrapped it in an old checked teatowel. As she stood up to place her treasure on the desk before him, butterflies crowded her stomach. What if it wasn’t worth as much as she hoped? What if she’d been mistaken about its rarity? Maybe it would prove to be flawed in some way. She didn’t have any experience with opals of this size and quality. Nathan leant over and picked the stone up, turning it over in his hands as she had done.

‘My God,’ was the first thing he said, his voice a shocked whisper.

He peered down at the black opal for a long time, turning it this way and that to catch the brilliant and glowing flashes of light. Finally, his gaze snapped up to hers. ‘Where did you get this?’ he demanded to know.

Gemma was startled by the accusation in his question. It flustered her. ‘I...I...my father left it to me.’

‘And where did he get it?’

She blinked. ‘I suppose he found it. In one of his claims.’

‘I doubt that very much,’ he said slowly.

Gemma’s mind was racing. What was he thinking? That Dad stole it?

This solution to her father’s possessing such a treasure had not occurred to Gemma before. The ramifications of it being true struck a severe blow. Ashen-faced, she stared across at the man peering at her with steely eyes.

‘You think he stole it, don’t you?’ she cried.

When Nathan didn’t deny it, she groaned, and slumped back into her chair.

‘Oh, my God...’ Her head dropped into her hands, all her dreams crumbling on the spot. She should have known, should have guessed. Her father would have sold that opal if he’d had a legal right to it. But he hadn’t... And neither did she...

‘Gemma...’

She glanced up through soggy lashes to see Nathan squatting beside her chair. His face had softened to a semblance of the face she remembered from the motel and her heart turned over.

‘I have no proof at this moment that your opal was stolen,’ he said gently, ‘but it resembles a stone that disappeared over twenty years ago. If you like, I can have it looked at by the man who owned it before it vanished. Believe me when I say you will not get into trouble, no matter what happens.’

‘Who...who is the rightful owner?’

‘If it is the opal I think it is, then it’s Byron...my father.’

Gemma gasped. ‘But how incredible!’

‘Not so incredible. There was a time when Whitmore Opals was one of the only two opal-trading companies in New South Wales. They owned many precious opals, this one included.’

A thought struck Gemma and she frowned. ‘How do I know you’re telling me the truth?’

Nathan stood up, his eyes cooling. ‘The theft was registered with the police at the time, as was a detailed description of the opal. You can check it out if you like.’

Gemma felt small for having doubted him. ‘No,’ she mumbled. ‘I believe you.’

‘If you like I will have a photograph taken of the opal and give you a receipt for it, then if it turns out not to be the opal in question it will be returned to you. Of course, if this happens, we would like the opportunity to buy it from you. An opal of this beauty and rarity does not come up for sale very often.’

Gemma decided it would be foolish to be too trusting, so she accepted this offer, at the same time agreeing to give Whitmore Opals first right of purchase. But intuition told her this would never come about. The opal had not legally been her father’s, and it would never legally be hers. All her dreams had been dashed. Suddenly, she was here in Sydney, staying in a cheap hotel, with just under a thousand dollars in her purse, no job, no friends and no opal.

A deep depression settled on her, making her shoulders sag.

‘I’ll have Moira get you a cup of coffee while you wait,’ Nathan said. ‘Or would you prefer tea?’

‘No, coffee,’ she said limply.

‘Black or white?’

‘White with one sugar.’

Moira brought her a couple of biscuits with the coffee, which Gemma ate gratefully, knowing she would have to conserve her money now. She was thinking about what her next move would be when Nathan returned with the photo and receipt, and a black leather briefcase.

‘I’ll take the opal to the hospital for Byron to look at this afternoon,’ he said, patting the briefcase.

‘The hospital?’

‘Byron was in a boating accident a few weeks back. He was lucky to survive. His wife and a couple of friends were killed.’

‘Oh, how awful! The poor man.’

‘Yes.’

Gemma interpreted Nathan’s curt tone as grief, since Byron’s wife would have been his adopted mother. But his closed face didn’t allow gushes of sympathy and she fell silent.

‘I can understand this opal business has come as a great shock to you,’ Nathan resumed. ‘You were probably relying on the money. But I’m sure Byron will give you a substantial monetary reward for its return.’

Gemma brightened. ‘Do you think so?’

‘I guarantee it. Call back in the morning and I’ll have either the reward for you, or your opal back again. Where are you staying, by the way?’

‘The Central Hotel for the present.’

A dark frown scrunched up his high forehead.

‘That’s no place for a young girl like you to be staying. Look, you’d better come home with me. We’ve plenty of rooms, then tomorrow we’ll see if we can’t find you a decent flat.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Come on, I’ll take you to your hotel right now and get your things, then I’ll drive you home to Belleview.’

Gemma scrambled to her feet. ‘Oh, but I...I can’t let you do that. What will your wife say?’

‘My wife?’

‘Yes. Mrs Whitmore.’

His smile was ironic. ‘I dare say Mrs Whitmore might have plenty to say. But it won’t make a blind bit of difference. Lenore Langtry ceased to be my legal spouse two years ago. Does that put your sweet mind at rest?’

No, Gemma thought as he swept her out of his office. Not at all, she reaffirmed once herself being settled into the most luxurious car she’d ever seen. Most definitely not, when Nathan stayed leaning over her for a second longer than necessary, peering down her cleavage then up into her eyes with an expression no female could mistake a second time.

Ma’s warnings came back to haunt her. What was she getting herself into here? This was no schoolboy she was going home with. They were easy to ward off. Neither was he a safely married man with a chaperoning wife in tow. He was a mature man, a divorced man, a...a city man. And she was letting him take her home for the night. Ma would be having apoplexy by now if she knew!

But no sooner were they under way than Nathan started chatting away with her quite naturally, putting her at ease, making her feel very relaxed in his company. Soon she began wondering if Ma’s warnings had made her paranoid about city men. So he’d glanced at her a couple of times. What did she expect after wearing this type of bare-necked dress? She’d bought it specifically with Nathan Whitmore in mind after all. Oh, she’d denied it to Ma at the time, but there was no point in denying it to herself. She’d wanted him to look at her and he had. But looking was only looking. Nothing to work up a head of steam about.

Finally, the questions came about her trip down and her impressions of Sydney, Nathan listening with gentlemanly politeness as she babbled on about how large and intimidating she found everything, how she hadn’t been able to sleep the night before because of the traffic noise, how she thought everything was awfully expensive, even a rather dingy hotel room.

‘I don’t think I’ll ever get used to a sandwich costing over three dollars,’ she said, with awe in her voice.

‘Yes, you will,’ he returned drily, then smiled across at her. ‘But not too soon, I hope. I like you just the way you are.’

Gemma flushed with pleasure at what she saw as his seal of approval. He liked her. He really liked her. How exciting. Not even thinking about Ma or her warnings could still her dancing heart.

It must have taken them over an hour to get from the city office block which housed Whitmore Opals down to the hotel then back over the Harbour Bridge. But Gemma didn’t really mind. Her eyes were everywhere. There was no doubt that, despite the claustrophobic feeling the city gave her, it had the most beautiful setting in the world.

Her mouth remained open as they drove across the Bridge. There was so much to see with Darling Harbour and the Opera House and the Quay and all that lovely blue water. How different from the dry, dusty, grey crater-filled landscape that had been her world for eighteen years.

No, twenty, she corrected herself again, a frown forming as she remembered her other mission in coming to Sydney. Would she be able to find out more about her mother? A trip to the registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages would be a start. Hopefully, she’d be able to get a copy of her parents’ marriage certificate, which she hadn’t located among her father’s things. Then there were electoral rolls to check. Motor registry lists, maybe. Driving licences, perhaps.

But would the authorities give her such information freely? If not, maybe the missing-persons division of the police could help, because she certainly couldn’t afford a private detective. Not now. She had to be very careful with her money. And she simply had to get a job.

‘Mr Whitmore. Nathan...’

‘Mmm?’

‘Do...do you think there might be a job for me at Whitmore Opals? I’ve learnt a lot about opals over the years, you know.’

‘I’m sure you have. What would you like to do?’

‘I don’t know. I could serve behind the counter, I guess. Do you have shops like that, ones that sell opals to the public? Or do you just make jewellery?’

‘We have two retail outlets. One down at the Rocks, and one in the foyer of Regency Hotel. Yes, I’m sure we could use someone with your knowledge behind the counter, though you’d be required to do a course in Japanese first. A lot of our customers are Japanese businessmen and tourists.’

‘How long would it take me to learn Japanese?’ she asked, concerned about her money situation, not to mention her ability to learn another language. She’d only been average at school.

‘With intensive lessons, most people are able to communicate on a basic level after a couple of months.’

‘A couple of months! But I’ll have run out of money by then.’

‘I doubt that. I’m sure Byron will be very generous with his reward. That opal is conservatively worth over a million dollars.’

‘You’re joking!’ Gemma gasped.

‘Not at all. Prices are on the rise again.’

‘A million dollars...’

‘Are you upset that you’re probably not going to be an instant millionaire?’

‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘I am.’

‘Money doesn’t always make you happy, Gemma.’

She laughed. ‘Neither does being poor.’

Now he laughed. ‘You could be right there. Well, at least you have a better chance than most poor people of ending up rich.’

‘How do you figure that out?’

His head turned to rake over her once more. And once again, Gemma was shocked. Not so much by what she saw behind those grey eyes, but by the way they could make her feel. All hot and heady and helpless.

‘A beautiful young girl like yourself should have no trouble ensnaring a rich husband. Who knows? I might even marry you myself.’

Gemma sat there, stunned. Till he bestowed a wry little smile on her and she realised he was only teasing.

‘You shouldn’t make fun of me,’ she said with reproach in her voice, but turmoil in her heart. For she would marry him in a flash if he asked her, this man she’d only met twice, but who already had her in the palm of his hand. It was a shocking realisation and one which underlined her own foolishness where Nathan Whitmore was concerned.

Gemma had often wondered why women made fools of themselves over men, not having ever understood the strange power of that alien emotion, love. She’d also scorned girls who claimed to have fallen in love at first sight. What rubbish! she had used to think.

Now, as she wallowed beneath the onslaught of a tidal force of longing, she had to accept she’d been wrong. This had to be love, this dreadful drowning feeling, this mad desire to go along with anything and everything this man suggested, even something as insane as marrying him.

But of course he hadn’t meant it. She had to keep reminding herself of that. No doubt city men couldn’t resist teasing silly, naïve country girls. She simply had to pull herself together.

He was smiling at her again, amusement in his eyes. ‘Who says I was making fun of you?’

A very real resentment began to simmer inside Gemma, who was not a person to simmer in silence. ‘I can just see you marrying someone like me,’ she countered indignantly. ‘People would think you’d gone mad after having someone like Mrs Whitmore as your wife. Now she’s what I call beautiful!’

‘Is she now?’ he drawled. ‘Yes, well, Lenore is lovely to look at, no one would deny. But there are all kinds of beauty, my dear Gemma, and all kinds of wives. Speaking of which, you’ll be meeting Lenore tonight. She’s bringing my daughter over to stay for a while. Apparently, the little minx has been creating merry hell at home and is in need of a firm hand.’

‘How old is she?’ Gemma asked, picturing a recalcitrant six-year-old.

‘Fourteen.’

Her head snapped round before she could stop it.

‘Yes, I know,’ he said drily. ‘I was a child groom. Twenty-one years young the day before my wedding. And yes, it was a shotgun affair.’

Gemma caught his bitter tone and wondered if his marriage had been under duress right from the start. Marriage simply because the woman was pregnant seemed fraught with danger. The couple had to be in love as well. Still, it was hard to imagine a man not being in love with Lenore Whitmore. Maybe Nathan’s bitterness came from her not being in love with him.

‘Kirsty’s basically a good kid,’ Nathan went on. ‘But the divorce hit her hard. She just can’t seem to come to terms with it. Not that I blame her.’

‘You...you shouldn’t be bothering with me, then, if you’ve got your daughter coming.’

‘Why not? As I said, there’s plenty of room. Besides, you’re not that much older than Kirsty. She might relate to you better than Melanie or Ava.’

‘Melanie and Ava?’ Gemma must have sounded as perplexed as she felt, for Nathan chuckled.

‘Don’t worry. I haven’t got a harem installed. Melanie’s Byron’s housekeeper. She’s not that old—thirtyish, I guess—but unfortunately projects a personality that would make Mrs Danvers seem warm.’

‘Who’s Mrs Danvers? The previous housekeeper?’

Nathan smiled. ‘A housekeeper certainly, but one of the fictional kind. I’ll tell you about her one day.’

‘Perhaps you should tell me who Ava is first.’

‘Ah, Ava. She’s Byron’s kid sister. A change-of-life baby. As scatty as anything and young at heart, but as old as Melanie. No, I think Kirsty’ll get along best with you. In fact, I might hire you as her minder while you learn Japanese. What do you say? Bed and board for nix in exchange for keeping an eye on the little devil before and after school?’

Gemma’s head was whirling. Everything seemed to be going so fast. In the beginning, she’d only been going to stay the night. ‘I...I’ll have to think about it.’

‘Will you? Pity. I was hoping you’d just say yes. It would have been the perfect solution.’ His sideways glance carried an odd little smile which Gemma found quite unnerving. It was as though it hid some secret plan only he was privy to.

‘Perfect solution?’ she found herself stammering.

‘Yes. You would be safely accommodated till you find your feet and I wouldn’t have to worry about my wayward daughter. Still, I have to warn you, Gemma, I don’t take no for an answer lightly. I can be a very stubborn man when I want something.’

Gemma gulped. She didn’t doubt him for a moment. But what, exactly, was he wanting?

Oh, Ma...I’m trying to keep my head. I really am. But it’s hard. It’s really hard. If only he weren’t so...so...

‘How long before we get to your place?’ she blurted out, her stomach in knots.

‘Not far now. But it’s not my home. It’s Byron’s. It’s called Belleview Manor. But mostly we just call it Belleview.’