Chapter Three
They were greeted by a tall, trim station hand the moment they touched down. It came as a relief to Darcey that she didn’t know the man. He tipped his Akubra respectfully. She smiled back.
“Put the luggage in the back of the jeep, Tom,” Scott called to him. “I’ll take it up to the house.”
“Yep, Boss.”
“Tell Linc I’ll meet him at the holding yard.”
“Righty-O.”
Neither of them spoke a word on the trip to the house. They sat side by side like Easter Island statues. Scott circled the home driveway, pulling up at the base of the short flight of steps leading up to the homestead’s broad porch. The huge building of beautiful honey-coloured sandstone, the same Helidon stone used in the construction of the Queensland University, shimmered in the strong sunlight. It was just as she remembered it, a Georgian manor house that belonged in the British countryside, never in the Australian Outback.
Memories of Home, it was called. An attempt to recreate some semblance of the homeland they had left. The original central section was flanked by two large wings. The homestead was universally regarded as a very impressive building. The wings had been added at a later date. In Darcey’s view, they didn’t respect the history, the spirit, or the style of the main dwelling. She knew exactly how she could change that. Once Scott had been prepared to let her. That chance was forever gone.
The luxuriant dry climate gardens she remembered looked parched. All that appeared to be thriving were the evergreen flame trees in gorgeous Christmas colour and the towering date palms that lined the long drive and gave it great drama.
“So here we are again,” Scott said laconically. “Let’s get straight to business.” He hopped out of the jeep to unload her suitcases, carrying them up onto the porch while Darcey stood looking at him. Sophie had given her the opportunity to come, to set things right. Where was Sophie? She felt like some delicate plant hopelessly out of its habitat.
Barely a moment more and Sophie’s small, slender figure came running out of the open front door, holding up her arms, just like the old days before all the grief and anger had set in.
“Darcey!”
Suddenly Darcey was crying. She didn’t deserve this.
“Darcey, love!” Sophie reached her, gathering her into a hug, her body trembling with genuine delight. Her eyes too were glittering with tears.
Scott stood back viewing them both sardonically. “It’s not the Prodigal’s return Mother.”
“Oh, I’m so happy, happy. You’re going to stay for a bite to eat, darling?” she asked her son.
Scott walked swiftly and very purposefully down the steps. “I’ve work to do, ladies. I expect you’ve got plenty to talk about.” His blue eyes held a brilliant satiric gleam.
“Oh, we have!” Sophie cried cheerfully. “Ask Linc back to dinner.”
Scott turned on his heel. “Shouldn’t you check with Sam first? Sorry. You don’t check. How could I forget!”
“Ask him, please, dear,” Sophie repeated, putting her arm around Darcey’s waist and leading her into the cool of the large entrance hall where the Christmas tree in all its glory reigned.
“How beautiful it is!” Darcey exclaimed. “Quite magical.” Once upon a time she had helped Sophie and Samantha decorate the Christmas tree. What joy they’d had! The carefree laughter!
Both of them were looking rather tearfully in the direction of the tree when Samantha, dressed casually in a sleeveless cotton top and short skirt that showed off her great legs, walked down the stairs. Her body language was unmistakeable.
“So you’re back with us, Darcey?” she said.
“Hello, Sam,” Darcey responded with her lovely gentle smile. “It was very good of Sophie to ask me.” She moved towards her once bridesmaid and sister-in-law, holding out her hand. “How are you?”
“I’m well thank you, Darcey,” Samantha responded. “You look as beautiful as ever. I’m sure you know inviting you wasn’t exactly what Scott wanted,” she added, proving her good manners by accepting Darcey’s hand.
“I realise that, Sam,” Darcey said, feeling cut off from the warm friendship she and Samantha had shared. “I’ve promised Scott I’m not going to bother him in any way.”
“But you don’t always keep your promises, do you, Darcey?” Samantha pointed out with just the faintest suggestion of hostility.
Sophie gave her daughter a smile that was decidedly on the frosty side. “We’ve discussed all this, Samantha. There will be peace at Christmas. Darcey is our guest.”
“Of course, I’m sorry,” Samantha responded calmly, though there was a certain lack of Christian forgiveness in her expression.
Darcey wasn’t surprised by Samantha’s attitude. Samantha was a spirited young woman with the redhead’s hot temper. She idolized her brother, the “finest of the finest,” which meant she had an unshakable belief in his word. In Samantha’s eyes, her brother could do no wrong. The wrong would always remain Darcey’s.
While they stood there, a degree of tension between them, a good-natured-looking woman in her late fifties with short blunt cut orange hair, obviously dyed, an apron around her ample middle, bustled into the entrance hall, a beaming smile of her face.
“Mrs. Darcey!” she cried, clearly elated. “I heard your voice!”
Ah, the voice of angels! So much for the divorce then, Samantha thought watching on with some irony while the two came together. It was like a scene out of some tearjerker movie. The renewal of communication. Darcey threw an arm around their housekeeper, giving Clarry an affectionate hug which was warmly returned. Clarry always had thought the world of Darcey. A beautiful soul in a beautiful body. Or so everyone had thought.
Even now Samantha didn’t believe Darcey had been deliberately treacherous—it wasn’t in her nature—more she had been a pawn in the hands of her aunt, who surprisingly had been taken in as well by a lying young tart called Becky. Probably Darcey’s so-called friend had been insanely jealous of her and wanted to wreck her marriage. Why else would she have lied? She must have been extremely convincing to convince the likes of Darcey’s formidable aunt.
The cause for her loss of faith in Darcey was how totally her sister-in-law had trusted her aunt’s judgement. That had been so hard to understand. Gratitude, which Darcey undoubtedly felt, was not love. They all knew Darcey believed she owed her aunt big time, but she didn’t love her aunt in the customary way. Samantha feared Scott’s powerful love for Darcey could put him at risk again. Maybe their mother was right. There was no one else for Scott but Darcey.
Right or wrong.
The kind of beauty Darcey possessed had enormous emotional as well as sexual impact. Samantha prayed the results of their mother’s well-meant experiment would not have disastrous results.
* * *
They walked up the graceful sweep of the staircase together, she and Sophie. Samantha had excused herself saying she had things to do. Darcey walked slowly, allowing her hand to trail over the gleaming mahogany handrail. She remembered how many times Scott had carried her up to bed, both of them hungry for each other.
Sophie turned towards the left wing, a short way along opening the door of the largest and easily the best of the guest rooms. Darcey knew it well.
“I hope this will do, love.” Sophie sounded almost apologetic.
“It’s fine. It’s lovely. You’re so kind to me, Sophie. I feel I don’t deserve it.”
“We all deserve a second chance, Darcey,” Sophie pointed out. “You still love my son, don’t you?” She held the starry silver-grey eyes of the young woman she still considered her daughter-in-law.
Darcey’s glossy head drooped. “Scott has told me he has moved on.”
“Has he? Both of you are still looking backwards,” Sophie said. “There’s no point in that. Both of you must look forwards. That’s why I invited you here. How is your dear aunt, by the way?”
Darcey had to laugh. “She’s spending Christmas in Thailand with a group of friends.”
“So she’s made some, has she?” Sophie asked.
“Not my concern, Sophie. I give my aunt a wide berth these days.”
“I bet she can’t believe it, considering the power she had?”
“I didn’t have all the answers then, Sophie. Scott was right. I was too young for my age. Too easily manipulated.”
“Well, you’re not now,” Sophie said firmly and gave Darcey a quick kiss. “Would you like me to send up tea or coffee?”
Darcey smiled. “No thanks, Sophie. Jet lag has pounced. I’ll have a nap. I’ve been on the go since early morning.”
“Of course, dear.” Sophie walked to the door. “Come down whenever you’re ready. I’ve invited our foreman Linc Enright for dinner. You’ll like him.”
“Enright?” Darcey frowned as she tried to slot in the name. She had a vague recollection of hearing it before. “Lincoln Enright around the same age as Scott? He’s said to be George Challenor’s illegitimate son?”
“Not said to be. He is, but George is a grade-A old bastard, for want of a better name. He refuses to recognize Linc. Illegitimate and all that rubbish!”
“How cruel.” She remembered Challenor as a ruthless old villain, a cattleman, extremely rich.
“Indeed it is. Linc is a fine young man. These have been hard times for people on the land with the drought. Linc had been developing a small holding that went bust for all his efforts about ten months ago. Scott gave Linc a job. He’s been worth every penny. Scott didn’t tell Samantha until afterwards. Sam, being Sam, took it rather badly. In fact, she made a major production of it. She had met Linc several times previously without letting on. It may appear to you she doesn’t like him. She does.”
Darcey was silent for a moment, letting that sink in. “Well, well, well!” she said.
“Couldn’t have put it better myself.”
* * *
As she came down the staircase she heard the sound of voices, the women’s voices overlapping the men’s. She was the last to arrive for a pre-dinner drink. To her amazement she had slept for a solid three hours, but she had awakened refreshed.
Clarry had seen to it her luggage was taken upstairs, unpacked, various items folded into a tall chest of drawers, or in the case of her clothes, hung up. She had no difficulty selecting the dress she intended to wear. A short dress, silk, fluid in motion, emerald in colour. It seemed to change the colour of her eyes. It was simple yet sophisticated and it fitted her body well. Her long hair she wore in the customary updated knot. No jewellery around her throat, but she popped into her pierced ears, her mother’s pavé diamond pendant earrings. Earrings she wore frequently. She had left all the jewellery Scott had given her, including her magnificent engagement ring, behind.
She hadn’t bothered to open the stack of unopened Christmas cards she had received just before she left. She would open them Christmas morning. Probably the once-a-year catch-ups. She had met up with or spoken on the phone to all the people closest to her.
“Ah, here you are!” Scott was the first to speak. He sounded perfectly charming. “We feared you were going to sleep through.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, smiling at each face in turn. “I was a little tired, but I’m myself again.”
“No apology needed,” said Scott expansively. “You were hours in the air. What are you going to have?”
She didn’t feel happy about nominating champagne. This wasn’t a celebration. Instead she said, “A sauvignon blanc if you have it?”
“Sauvignon blanc coming up. Tasmanian. This is Linc, by the way. Linc, meet Darcey.”
Of course Linc knew she had been Scott’s wife. Nevertheless he came forward, a real smile on his handsome face. He lightly took Darcey’s extended hand with her fine-boned fingers. “Good to meet you, Darcey. I may call you Darcey?”
“Please do. I’m happy to meet you too, Linc.” Linc didn’t look like a station hand. He looked like he belonged in this huge grand drawing room with its wall-to-wall treasures acquired down the generations. He was tall. Almost as tall as Scott, deeply tanned, good skin over good bones, wearing much the same sort of outfit as Scott. Dark dress trousers and smart informal open-necked dress shirt. Auburn-headed Scott with his blazing blue eyes wore a black shirt with pearly white buttons; Linc, sun-bleached blond wavy hair clinging to his head, hazel eyes. He mightn’t have had the kind of presence that made Scott the centre of attention even in crowded rooms, but he would fan a few fires in lots of girls’ hearts. Did that include Samantha who was sitting, drink in hand, the expression on her face intent, as though she had a few problems she had to sort out? Both Samantha and Sophie looked lovely in light and airy ankle-length dresses.
* * *
Darcey was amazed and relieved at how well dinner went. Scott, as heir to a cattle empire which entailed many dealings with government and fellow colleagues and cattlemen, both at home and abroad, had been raised to be a diplomat. He was the perfect host, like the Scott she had first met, but she knew better than anyone what went on behind his eyes.
Conversation ranged over a number of non-controversial subjects. Darcey didn’t have to work at taking part. She had become something of a conversationalist herself. Linc opened his hazel eyes wide when Scott told him Darcey had recently won a prestigious architectural award for a country farm building.
“That’s wonderful!” Linc’s face was alight with genuine interest. “You must be gifted.”
“Inherited genes. My father is an internationally recognized architect. He works in London these days. I always wanted to be an architect from when I was a small girl.”
Architect. Not a wife.
She could see the thought in Scott’s blue eyes that moved constantly over her. Her reactions were disturbing, but she was prepared for that. She had to find a way to get through to him. With the passing of time, lost bits of memory were returning, the force for good that Scott had been in her life. She had stepped closer and closer to the realization she could have made a terrible mistake. Closer to declaiming her accusations.
“Did you bring your riding gear, Darcey?” Samantha asked, sounding hopeful.
“She brought everything she owns,” said Scott so laconically it raised a laugh.
“Great!” Samantha brightened up. “The cousins will be arriving tomorrow. Not a one of them knows one end of the horse from the other. Apart from Duncan, that is.”
“Exaggeration, darling,” said Sophie. “You remember Duncan, Darcey?”
“Of course.” Duncan had been a guest at their wedding.
“Duncan is captain of the opposing polo team,” Scott offered.
“You play, Linc?” Darcey turned her head to ask.
“Love it. I’m on Scott’s team, needless to say.”
“Why needless?” Samantha interjected, suddenly looking like a girl on fire.
“Because he’s way better than anyone else on Duncan’s team,” her brother responded.
“Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” Samantha said, as though she wasn’t expecting Linc to shine.
What was the problem? Darcey thought. She had caught Samantha staring at Linc when he wasn’t looking, then hurriedly looking away. “I’m looking forward to the match,” she said gently, to fill the awkward gap. “It seems so long since I attended one.”
Part of the MacArthur portfolio was the ownership of one of the finest breeding establishments for polo ponies. She knew from experience polo had to be one of the most exciting and demanding sports in the world. It was hard to avoid dangerous collisions at top speed. She had worried a good deal when Scott played. Though he was one of the highest ranked players in the country, the game could be seriously dangerous even for him.
“I don’t get out much,” she confessed.
“That’s hard to believe,” said Sam in her straightforward fashion. “You must be overwhelmed by invitations to all kinds of functions.”
“Not many tempt me, Sam. I work full days.”
“You have to know when to stop, Darcey,” Samantha said seriously. “You must take a look at the Great Hall in the morning. Nothing has changed since you had it repainted. Mum and I did the decorating, but gosh, we missed”—she caught herself up before she added you—“decorating isn’t really our scene, is it, Mum?”
“I’m sure Darcey will have plenty of ideas,” Scott broke in. “There’s all day tomorrow to make any changes.”
* * *
The entire station was abuzz, but Samantha found time to take Darcey out to the Great Hall where the Après Polo Ball was to be held Saturday night. Guests would stay well into Sunday, when they would begin their return home for Christmas Day, which fell on the Monday.
“Say exactly what you think,” Sam invited as they walked into the vast space used for all sorts of meetings.
Darcey lifted her head. “I mean, can I?”
“Of course. You’re an artist, Darcey. An architect. Do you still paint?”
“When I have time, which isn’t often. I’ll never be as good as my mother.”
“You could be. Does dear Auntie still handle your mother’s work?”
Darcey had to smile. “There aren’t any more paintings left except for those belonging to my father and me. We will never part with them.”
“I bet Auntie has tried to persuade you,” Samantha suggested, sardonically.
Darcey didn’t answer. Of course she had.
“You’re not impressed?” Samantha asked, somewhat worriedly as Darcey walked farther into the hall, looking about her.
“Sam, Sam, you’ve done extremely well.”
“Any suggestions?”
“Let me think about it.” She already had a few in mind. “What’s with you and Linc Enright?”
“Don’t ask,” Samantha said drolly.
“I am asking as someone who cares about you. Someone who has made a lot of mistakes.”
Samantha turned to her, her blue gaze serious. “This is vital, Darcey. Why are you here? Do you still care about my brother? I need to know. I’m the sort of person who needs things out in the open.”
“I know that, Sam,” Darcey said, tears in her throat. “I left the love of my life. He left me. I wouldn’t recommend that course of action to anyone. I work hard. I’m praised. I can’t connect to any other man. What I wanted from Scott was total commitment. Total fidelity. It may have been a moment of aberration with Rebecca, but I found to my grief the kind of love I craved was unattainable.”
Samantha fought down her exasperation. She could see Darcey was utterly sincere. “So you still believe Scott betrayed you? How sad that is. How insane.”
“Well, you are and always will be on Scott’s side. That’s part of being a loving sister.”
“Let’s try again,” Samantha said patiently. “We MacArthurs don’t lie. Scott even as a boy was never known to be caught out in the tiniest fib. I think you should consider very seriously there may have been a conspiracy.”
“You think I haven’t?” Darcey’s silver eyes sparkled. “Whatever faults my aunt has, she doesn’t lie either.”
“But that little ratbag Rebecca was surely up to it?”
“To what end?” Darcey asked, having pursued that very question endlessly. “I’ve never spoken to her from that terrible day to this.”
Samantha shook her rich auburn head. “So where is she? You don’t know?”
“I had heard she was travelling, maybe settled in Ireland. She had relatives of her mother’s there.”
“So where did she get the money?” Samantha asked, refusing to let go now that she had the opportunity. “Did you give her some? You used to, didn’t you?”
“Sam, I gave her nothing,” Darcey cried in despair. “I did tell her to disappear.”
“Strange that she did. One needs money to disappear,” Samantha pointed out. “Our understanding was she used to borrow from you and perhaps others to survive. She was just an ordinary working girl living from week to week.”
“Day to day was more like it. Obviously she borrowed from someone to get out of the country.”
“Sure it wasn’t Auntie?” Samantha fixed Darcey with the piercing MacArthur regard.
“For God’s sake, Sam. My aunt despised her.”
Samantha gave a tight smile. “Your dear aunt despises everyone on the planet. But take note, she wouldn’t be above using that Becky. One or both are lying.”
“No, no!” Darcey shook her head.
“Didn’t you tell me once your dad thought your aunt Rachael was secretly very jealous of your mother?”
“Well . . .” All kinds of emotions flitted across Darcey’s face. “My mother was so beautiful, so gifted, so loved. She had a husband, a child.”
“In short, she was everything your aunt was not. Mum and I believe your aunt might have had an enormous crush on your father. He’s a very impressive man, and you said yourself that your aunt knew him first.”
“Only Aunt Rachael is a man-hater, Sam,” Darcey pointed out, her jaw tight.
“We all are, but we still love them.”
Darcey walked on. “Don’t go ahead with this, Sam,” she begged. “You’re suggesting my aunt is a monster?”
“The grim reaper.” Samantha only half joked.
“She would never deliberately set out to break up my marriage. She loves me in her own way. I know she’s very hurt at the way our relationship has gone.”
“Shoot the messenger?” Sam asked, with perfect accuracy.
“It happens. She told me I lacked maturity.”
“Is that what she said?” Samantha fumed.
“It’s what Scott said as well,” Darcey reminded her. “And that’s not all.”
Sam flushed. “Darcey, you broke his heart. It was like his whole world had come to an end. God, Darcey, he adored you, and you accused him of being unfaithful. It would make any innocent husband as mad as hell. I bet your aunt is pleased at the way things have turned out. She has you to herself again. She had to take a huge step back when you married Scott. She would have judged that as entirely unfitting to her exalted position in your life.”
Darcey touched her temples with her fingers. “Sam, Aunt Rachael can’t possibly be as black as you’re trying to paint her. Dad has never once said or implied Aunt Rachael ever was in love with him.”
Samantha made a face. “Maybe he thought it best to keep it to himself. I bet your aunt hates Anne?”
Darcey blushed. Only too true. “I don’t know that Aunt Rachael really likes anyone. There are people like that. You’ve asked your questions. I repeat mine. Why are you hostile to Linc? He’s a very attractive man. Is it the illegitimate thing?”
“Good grief, no,” Samantha replied in an instant. “I couldn’t care less about such things. The thing is, Linc hurt a friend of mine rather badly. He led her on and then dumped her. She was a real mess.”
Darcey bristled. She had liked Linc instinctively. “So who’s the friend? Do I know her?”
“Julie Sanderson.” Samantha supplied a remembered name. “She’ll be here for the polo match and the ball. She’ll be staying in the house.”
“Well isn’t that the strangest thing!” Darcey exclaimed. “You believe her?”
Samantha’s blue eyes glowed hotly. “How can I not? I’ve known Julie all my life. We were at boarding school together.”
“I recall that. But what if she’s trying to persuade you of something against him because she can see—as I can—Linc is deeply attracted to you?”
Samantha straightened her back. “Hang on!”
“Think about it,” Darcey urged. “I remember Julie. She once took it upon herself to inform me Ashlee was just waiting for the moment when Scott would ask her to marry him.”
“What?” Samantha couldn’t hide her amazement.
Darcey gestured to the high ceiling. “I think we can make this more Christmassy, don’t you? For that matter we can do some more decorating in the entrance hall and up the staircase?”
“Is that what Julie really said?” Samantha asked, still caught up in Darcey’s allegation.
“With a tiny touch of menace. Julie didn’t take to me any more than Ashlee did.”
Samantha covered her brilliant eyes with her hands. “Oh, for God’s sake!” Her tone was dismayed.
“When you think about it, Sam, it’s easy to destroy lives with lies. The victim of the lies sees nothing at the time. Liars are actually believed. Why is that? I think it must go deep into the psyche of the person who is lied to. The truth is more difficult to accept. We self-destruct when we listen to liars. It could well have happened to me.”
“Only one way to find out,” Samantha answered, with grim determination. “The two of us could take a trip. Your aunt won’t talk, but we might be able to track down Rebecca.”
“I think I know the answer already, Sam,” said Darcey.
* * *
The day was spent with treks to and fro to the house and conservatory to add more glamour to the decoration of the Great Hall. It took time and manpower up and down ladders. Scott saw to many of the treks, but the real power was laid on in the form of two young, very fit station jackeroos.
“It’s marvellous what you can achieve,” said Sophie, greatly admiring of Darcey’s decorating skills. “I know this weekend is going to be a great success!”
* * *
Despite a full day on the go, she was wide awake long after midnight. Her mood was curiously glittery. On the one hand she was excited, keyed up. On the other she was assailed by a sense of hopelessness. The damage she had done, not only to the husband she had professed to adore but to his family and extended family and friends, was too extensive. She had been deported. Deposed. Lovely, warmhearted Sophie had clearly forgiven her. Even Samantha’s hostility was lessening. But Scott was toying with her. He knew her by heart.
Tomorrow she would come in contact with another woman who loved him. Ashlee. A woman she had never had a hope of being friends with. She could just imagine how Ashlee would be seething at her return. To everyone it would look like Darcey was trying to get Scott back.
Well, aren’t you?
She suspected a great many women regretted their divorce, no matter how long the marriage was. As she drifted aimlessly around her bedroom in her blue negligee and robe, her eyes fell on the small pile of presents she had bought on a shopping spree for the family. She had included one for Clarry, who she knew would never leave the MacArthur family’s service. She had intended to hide them away in the pile Sophie and Samantha had already placed around the tree. Why not now, when no one was about? The family had retired hours ago. It seemed the right time to head downstairs. She placed the four beautifully wrapped presents back in the carry bag, taking hold of the plaited string handle. She needed to do this in private.
When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she found the silvery moon making glorious rectangles of light through the tall windows. All that light made it easy for her to make her way to the tree with its sparkling ornaments and jewelled glints. She had just placed the carry bag gently on the floor—there were bottles of beautiful expensive French perfume inside—when she heard a sound, soft, unidentifiable, maybe a faint scrape. She looked around. She saw nothing. Nothing was moving in the dimness beyond.
Maybe it was Santa arriving early?
The fanciful thought eased her slight panic. There was no one here to hurt her. Swiftly she brushed back her long fall of hair, allowing it to tumble over her shoulders. In her working life she always pulled her hair back. It made her feel more professional, more in charge. She couldn’t help knowing people found her beautiful as her mother had been beautiful, but she concentrated on being the ultimate working woman.
She took a few more steps towards the tree when a powerful arm suddenly came out of nowhere. It snaked around her waist, nearly lifting her off her feet. She kicked and struggled when she already knew who it was. Frozen stiff in a snowdrift, she would still be able to recognise his touch.
“That’s enough now,” he whispered, his sensuous mouth pressed against her ear.
“You frightened me!” All the nerves of her body were jumping at once. Her heart palpitated, a fevered by-product.
“Darcey darling, I wouldn’t hurt you for all the world.” He sounded amused.
“Are you going to let me go?”
The pity of it all is that he did.
“As long as you promise you won’t scream for help,” he said, breathing in the subtle fragrance of her. Not some created perfume, but her. He had never forgotten. Darcey exerted a gravitational pull like the moon with the tides, he thought, entrapped yet again.
“What use would a scream be?” she asked. “I only wanted to put a few presents under the tree.”
“It couldn’t wait until morning?” he queried with heavy sarcasm.
“I couldn’t sleep. Besides, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.”
“That’s a joke, right? Darcey, you were born to draw attention to yourself.”
She might as well have been naked, so acutely did she feel his touch on the flesh of her body. “Hardly my doing. Are you going to let me go?”
He laughed quietly. “If you know anything at all, you know I love holding you. But don’t worry. That’s the extent of it. A man can become starved for the feel of a woman in his arms.”
Tremors were passing through her limbs. Tremors he had to be aware of since he was holding her so tightly. “As if you couldn’t find such intimacy tomorrow. You could have your pick of any number of women.”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “What is the difference between women? Beautiful women a man can admire or women that can fill a man with a pain-filled desperate longing? I’ve been shocked to find I don’t hanker for any woman at all.”
“I’m glad!” She couldn’t help her little outburst. She couldn’t bear any other woman to take her place.
“You would be,” he said, caustically. “As I recall, you wanted me damned.”
She leaned her upper body forward over his locked arms, to ease the pressure on her heart. “I didn’t. How can you say that?”
“You said it,” he replied with a voice full of sharp accusation.
“I didn’t mean to say it. I was half out of my mind.”
“Indeed you were,” he said, handing down his harsh judgement.
“You’ll have to find the right woman sooner or later,” she said, bringing herself upright again. “You need an heir. You need a woman for that.”
“That much is very clear, Darcey darling, only a lot seems to have gone wrong for me. Your fault, of course. I’m not really sure why you came downstairs at this time of night? You must remember I do a lot of prowling about.”
Her voice sounded unconvincing, even to her own ears. “I promise you, Scott, I never thought for a moment I would meet up with you.”
“I think you did. Somewhere some part of you did.” Very slowly his hands moved up from her waist to her breasts. She was utterly ensnared. “I think I deserve a little something from you, Darcey.”
She let him do it. Caress her, her breath coming shorter and shorter. The roughened tips of his long, elegant fingers teased her sensitive nipples, calling up wave after wave of sensation that rolled in like surf. Deliriously erotic.
He laughed softly, turning her in his arms. “I can almost forget what it was like without you,” he muttered. “It’s perfectly possible to want a woman one no longer loves.”
She knew there was truth in what he said. “So the plan is to punish me?”
“You used me, Darcey.” He looked down on her lovely face, her skin spangled by multicoloured lights. “I thought you were the last person on earth to betray me.”
“It was the last thing I wanted,” she protested in a soft, heartbroken voice.
“Yet you allowed all the accusations and lies to get a stranglehold on you.”
It was something she could never deny.
“What is it you want of me, Scott?”
“I don’t know yet.” His hands came up to cup her face. She was as beautiful as any woman had ever been or would ever be to him. He lowered his head, pulling her to him with a frustrated oath.
She swayed violently at the first touch of his mouth on hers while he moved into kissing her as passionately as any woman could hope and pray for.
Over and over. Just like before, when they had belonged together.
Her whole body was in a state of surrender, reacting to the barely containable excitement. She remembered all the times she had climaxed with a high-pitched sound he had always muffled gently with kisses. The high keening had been her signal she needed no more to achieve ecstasy. She had already reached the stars.
The delirium abruptly stopped.
It was Scott who appeared desperate to break free; Scott who wanted to break the spell.
“God, what’s the matter with me?” he asked of no one. Roughly he put her from him but continued to hold her by her slender arms. “A few kisses, a few caresses, do they actually mean anything to you, Darcey, beyond a moment’s release?”
She was shaking like a leaf, unable to speak.
“You’re a witch,” he pronounced. “Witches can bring everything to life again.”
Out of nowhere a sense of righteousness came over her. “I’ve suffered too, Scott. Look gently on me. I’m not a witch or a bad woman. I’m just . . . me.”
“You are indeed,” he agreed, staring down into her delicate finely wrought face. “Now,” his tone sharpened, “time for bed, wouldn’t you say?”
She was shocked. “I want nothing transient, Scott. I need your respect.”
“I mean bed alone,” he reproved her coolly, allowing that to sink in. “Come along, Darcey darling. I don’t think you could make it up the staircase on your own.”
“I’m going to try.” She tightened her robe that had long since swung apart.
“Remember when I used to carry you up the stairs?” he asked. “Your head resting on my shoulder. It was pretty well madness.”
“Isn’t that one of the conditions of being passionately in love?”
“You have the gall to remind me?” he asked angrily.
Suddenly she was seized by a fierce exhilaration. She took flight, only he went after her, as she hoped he would, catching her up into his arms in unforgettable fashion, making for the grand staircase.
When they reached the gallery he caught his breath. It wasn’t from exertion, she knew. It was one of those moments in life when things were set to explode. It was all or nothing for Scott. In anyone else it would have been a sigh of regret. Not Scott. He lowered her to the floor, putting a gap between them. “Fools rush in and so on and so forth,” he declaimed in a maddeningly theatrical voice. “Goodnight, Darcey. I’m sorry I can’t tuck you into bed, but sleep well.”
They were staring at each other like duellists. Certainly not the loving man and wife they had once been.
“Goodnight, Scott.” She found she was able to match his tone.
One did what one had to do, she reasoned. Not what one wanted to do.