by Margaret Way
“Florence Nightingale, nothing! More men died in her hospital than on the front line. Infection, poor hygiene— life-and-death matters they weren’t properly aware of at the time, sad to say. You know when she returned home she went to bed for the rest of her life?”
Dev held open the passenger door of the Jeep for her. One of the men would return Gunner to the stables. “I dare say she got around to bedside chats with family, friends and neighbours,” he suggested. “I’m really impressed with the things you know, Mel.”
“More like what I don’t know,” said Mel tartly.
CHAPTER NINE
They were back at the homestead, in the well-stocked first-aid room. “All right, you first,” Dev said briskly.
“What?” Mel turned away from the large cabinet that held all sorts of dressings.
“You heard. You hurt your elbow and you’re holding your arm a bit oddly.”
“It’s stinging, that’s all,” she said dismissively. It was quite tender, but then the elbow always was a sore spot.
“Let me see.”
No point in arguing with him. Mel proffered her arm. Dev turned it gently so he could see her elbow. It exhibited a sore-looking red patch, a result of skinning it in her fall.
Dev manoeuvred her to the nearest sink. “I’m sorry I had to be so brutal,” he said. “But there was no time to lose.”
“God, Dev, you saved me from injury.” She uttered a small sound of gratitude and admiration.
“So I did. I believe that puts you in debt to me for the rest of your life. Just goes to show how much I love you, Mel. I’d die for you.”
Although he spoke lightly, something in his tone drew her lovely dark eyes irresistibly up to his. “I think I know that.”
He gave a sceptical grunt. “You think?”
“All right. Expect me to die for you,” she answered.
Dev watched her face. Always the magic with Mel. “That settled, I beg you to stand still while I clean this up.”
“You said that like you expect me to argue,” she retorted.
“Well, don’t you always?” He slanted her a devastating smile.
She gave a lilting girlish laugh. Just like the old days. “I’m not going to allow you all your own way, James Devereaux Langdon. Say, would you like me to call you James from now on?”
“Don’t try it.” He set his chiselled jaw.
“Maybe I’d like to hear it. James…Jamie…Jimmy…Jim…” She tried variations of his given name on her tongue, only he caught her unawares.
His hand moved under her chin and his mouth came down to stop her little taunts with a hard kiss. It deepened and deepened, enough to take her breath away. Their mouths locked. Their bodies locked. Their hands locked. Eternity wouldn’t be long enough.
Long minutes later, Dev hauled himself up by his strong arms to sit on the wide bench than ran the length of the room. His blood-stained shirt Mel had soaking in cold water in one of the stainless-steel sinks. The sight of his body stirred her blood—his wide shoulders, the bare bronze chest that showed off his fine physique, the hard muscle, the tapering waist, his stomach as flat as a board. Mel thought he probably had the best workout routine in the world just being what he was, the cattle baron.
“This is deeper than I first thought,” she said, swabbing the long gash very gently. “But it’s stopped bleeding.”
Dev pretended a nonchalant yawn. “Mel, I’m not a bleeder.” He wanted her to finish so he could carry her up to bed, make love to her in broad daylight. He remembered the times they had made love under a million blossoming desert stars, the constellation of the Southern Cross overhead, the galaxy of the Milky Way luminous and glittering like a river of diamonds spanning the black velvet sky.
Mel was his other half.
Mel didn’t answer. She was absorbing his want. Only she had an agenda that badly needed addressing and she wouldn’t be deflected. She kept busy swabbing little coagulated beads of blood from the wound. When she was done, Dev drew her body in between his long legs while Mel, from long familiarity, let her head slump against his uninjured shoulder.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Dev muttered into her herb and citrus-scented hair. “I want to make love to you. Love in the afternoon. How does that sound?”
Ferociously exciting. “As much pain as pleasure,” she said. Despite her resolution to keep her cool, sexual hunger was blotting all else out. She touched her mouth to his bare collarbone, inhaling the scent of his skin. Emotion was flooding her. She wanted certainty, an end to all the lies. She wanted a perfect world where sordid scandals of the past couldn’t intrude. Could she get it?
“Don’t think I’m going to wait forever for you, Mel. I’m not a saint.”
“I know that.” Little shivers of excitement were racking her whole body.
“Neither are you,” he whispered in her ear. Whatever he said, he knew he would wait. His intention was to make her feel unsure of him. God knew she had caused him enough pain and frustration. Frustration was a dangerous emotion. “Your room or mine?” he asked, staring into her large lustrous eyes.
Mel’s husky murmur came from under her breath. “It’s all the same to me.”
Dev moved off the bench, slinging his arm around her. He wanted Mel all to himself. He wanted her above everything. He had taken her virginity, the two of them so young and mad with longing, struggling to hold off consummation. He would never forget their first time. He had done a lot of time-travelling over the years, reliving the whole ecstatic experience that was still, after all these years, crystal-clear in his mind. Mel was and always would be the one in his life. That one person who meant more to him than all the rest.
* * *
Dev punched in the number of Sarina Norton’s luxury hotel while Mel was taking a shower. They had arrived at her apartment only twenty minutes before, after a long tiring flight. A mellifluous male voice—really should be a newsreader—told him with regret that there was no guest of that name staying at the hotel.
Dev feigned a short laugh. “Scusi, I should have said Signora Cavallaro.” Sarina had reverted to her maiden name, it seemed.
Immediately he was put through to her room. Sarina answered after the third ring. “Buongiorno.”
How was that? Sarina had invented yet another persona. “Quanto bello!” Dev responded in kind to Sarina’s sexy opener. “Bene in meglio, Sarina.” It did, indeed, get better and better.
Instantly Sarina switched to cool, clipped English. “Who is this?” she asked in the imperious tone of a dispossessed contessa. “I am expecting a call from the concierge.”
“Cancel it, Sarina.” Dev spoke in his normal commanding tones. “Dev Langdon here. Surely you remember me?” he asked with deep cynicism. “It happens I’m here on business, but it’s imperative I have a few final words with you. This morning, if you wouldn’t mind,” he said with exaggerated cordiality.
Sarina took a moment to catch her breath, then her voice rose on a melodramatic note. “I thought I had answered all your questions.”
“How could you have done that?” Dev challenged.
“Aaargh, Amelia has gone to you,” Sarina said in a deeply wounded voice.
“You make that sound like a betrayal. Mel always comes to me, Sarina. You know that better than anyone. I’ve heard this riveting new episode in your life story. I need to establish if it’s God’s truth.”
“So what are you going to do, sue me if it isn’t?” Sarina tried the challenging approach.
“No,” Dev answered coolly. “The Langdons as a family will contest the will.”
No sound from the other end, then Sarina’s quiet moan. “Jesu!”
“As a good Catholic, surely you shouldn’t be taking the Lord’s name in vain?”
“I knew you’d try it.” Sarina saw herself as forever the victim.
“Not if there are no more fabrications. Mel and I intend on going to Silverton, by the way. If that’s a lie, you’d better stop me now. I have precious
little time to waste, Sarina, so it won’t do to cross me.”
“Cross you?” said Sarina. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“The only way to go.”
* * *
Dev had only just put down the phone when Mel, wrapped in a pink towelling robe, walked into the living room. “Who was that?” she asked, staring across the room at him. “And don’t say wrong number.” Her antennae were up and working.
“You’re going to insist on a name?” Dev leaned back in the leather armchair.
“You’re up to something, aren’t you?” she persisted, fixing him with her great dark eyes. “I know you, Dev. Just like you know me.”
Dev’s laugh was off-key. “Sometimes this knowing gets out of hand.”
“You can’t laugh it off, Dev. It was my mother, wasn’t it?”
“Is your mother Signora Cavallaro?” he queried.
Mel slumped onto the couch. “Is that what she’s calling herself now?”
Dev nodded. “She’s a true chameleon, able to blend into whatever surroundings she finds herself in. She has a full-blown Italian accent, too. Very sexy.” Dev took note of her troubled expression. “Don’t let her drag your mood down. I’m here, Mel. We’re together. I’m not prepared to travel to Silverton on a wild goose chase.”
“You’re going to see her? Again? You don’t need to see your stockbroker?”
“I most certainly do,” he clipped off. “This trip is in the nature of killing two birds with the one stone. Sarina always claimed her family settled in Sydney. We’re here now. For all we know, this could be in the nature of a homecoming for her,” he said acidly. “I don’t trust Sarina at all. Neither do you. She’s like a scriptwriter, making it up as she goes along. You can come with me if you like. Or I can see your mother alone.”
Mel fired up. “She could try to seduce you.”
Dev held up his hands, palms turned out. “Hey, hey, Mel, take it easy.”
She fixed her pink bath robe modestly across her knees. “Sorry, but I’ve reached the stage where I feel my mother is capable of anything.”
“Perish the thought she’s capable of seducing me.” Dev spoke with more than a hint of contempt in his tone.
“What’s the betting, as we thought, she finds herself a rich husband?” Mel asked, thinking she would never solve the enigma that was her mother.
“One would have to feel sorry for the poor guy,” Dev offered dryly. He rose to his splendid height. “I’m seeing her this afternoon. I’ve told her we want the final draft of the soap.”
“Or you’ll send some of Tjungurra’s mob after her.”
“Better. I’ll say I brought him with me. It’s all down to Sarina. I’d do anything for you, Mel.”
“Anything but propose marriage again.”
“That, Amelia bella, is the last thing I’m going to do,” Dev confirmed. “For your sins, you’re going to have to propose to me. A novel twist, but absolutely necessary.”
“The miracle is you still care about me at all.” She gave him a small sad smile. “Do you despise all my hangups, Dev? All the barricades I’ve erected?”
His expression hardened. “I despise your mother for what she did to you. Our biggest folly was ever believing her. Now, I’m going to take a quick shower. We’ll dress, then go out for a leisurely lunch. After that, we’ll call in on Signora Cavallaro.”
* * *
Sarina greeted them at the door. She was dressed for the occasion, the very picture of European elegance. Her thick glossy hair had been recently styled in an updated, side-swept curving pageboy to just below her ears. Her deep natural wave had been straightened. She was wearing a sapphire-blue silk dress with strappy leather heels in a contrasting bright green with a matching green leather belt around her waist. To set it all off, she was wearing dazzlingly beautiful diamond and emerald earrings. They looked extremely valuable. A present—probably one of many—from Gregory Langdon, Mel thought, and stashed it away for the right moment.
Apparently Sarina had judged the time had arrived.
“Come in,” she invited with cool poise, studying with approval Dev’s tall, lean body and wide shoulders, the perfect clothes hanger. He was wearing a dark charcoal Armani suit with a beautiful pale blue shirt and a blue, silver and red-striped silk tie. He looked extremely handsome, reminding her of how impressive Gregory Langdon had once been.
Mel felt unnerved by her mother’s pronounced Italian accent, the educated accent she had learned from the cradle and had toned down for years on end. Now it had come to the fore. “Just one question, Dev.” Sarina smiled at him as though they communicated on a different level. “Why is Amelia here?”
Dev took a firm hold of Mel’s hand, moving past Sarina into the deluxe hotel room. “I’m the one asking the questions, Sarina,” he said in a clipped voice. “Let’s all take a seat, shall we?”
Mel realized this was crunch time. Her mother was making a show of confidence but Mel knew better. Under the polished veneer, she was afraid of Dev. She knew he wasn’t a man to mess with. Sarina, at bottom, was no fool.
“So, we’re all here together again,” Dev said suavely. “All your fault, Sarina, because you simply won’t come clean. Maybe you’re incapable of it. I’ve heard the latest story. I need it confirmed. We’re done with wading through lies. More of them and I’ll commence legal action against you. You were a young, beautiful, married woman. My grandfather was a man with an unhappy home life. He was old enough to be your father. Seduction. Manipulation. Fortune-hunting. My grandfather’s declining physical and mental health, the fact you nursed him in his last days. Telling things like that.”
Mel winced. That was a powerful battery of charges.
Sarina didn’t deign to look at her daughter, as though she were but a minor player. “No need to go there, Dev,” she said, playing the woman of the world to the hilt.
“Give it up, Mum,” Mel begged, sympathy rising irresistibly.
Sarina turned on her. “Why don’t you keep out of this, Amelia? I told you the truth.”
“Maybe, but it’s absolutely amazing how well you can lie. I don’t know the name of my biological father, yet. Look on the bright side, Mum. You might be able to hold on to your fortune.”
Dev broke in. “We need that all important name, Sarina. No problem, surely? You’re big on names. Think carefully before you answer. You may have exerted influence over my grandfather, but not me. You have a duty to Mel to put things right.”
Sarina blinked at the forcefulness of his tone. “I have your word you won’t take any action against me?”
Dev gave a sardonic laugh. “I won’t repeat myself, Sarina.”
Sarina, the born actress, the fantasist, inventing scenario after scenario, began to speak…
* * *
As they were leaving, Dev held out his hand. “The earrings, Sarina,” he said, startling Mel. “I’d like them back. They look brilliant on you, but they happen to be the Devereaux emeralds, the possession of my grandmother. They were to come to Ava. She has the necklace and the bracelet, all part of the set, but we were wondering where the earrings had got to. Now we know. My grandfather had no right to give them to you, if indeed he did.”
Mel reacted with dread. Her mother couldn’t possibly have stolen them. Her whole being shied away from theft.
“Of course he did!” Sarina cried, scarlet flags in her smooth olive cheeks. “I am not a common thief. Would I have worn them had I stolen them?”
“Wouldn’t put it past you,” said Dev, still with his hand out.
“Give them back, Mum. You’ll be able to buy plenty of expensive jewellery when your money comes through.”
Sarina lifted a hand to her ear. She removed the magnificent earrings with their large Colombian emeralds, then handed them over to Dev, who slid them into his inner breast pocket. “Gregory tricked me in so many ways,” she said with extreme bitterness. “He swore he would marry me as soon as he was able.”
Dev’s tone was cu
rt with disbelief. “I think it was more a question of self-deception. He wasn’t going to marry you, Sarina. Ever.”
“Like you won’t marry Amelia here.” Sarina threw back her head in such a way that Mel had the awful image of a taipan about to strike.
“It’s eating you up, isn’t it, Sarina?” Dev said smoothly. “You just can’t suppress your jealousy. Even of your own daughter. Let’s go, Mel,” he said. “If you’ve held up your end of our deal, Sarina, I’ll have your money released quickly. That’s all you were ever going to get. Money.”
* * *
Back at the apartment, Mel was trying to cope with the layer upon layer of deceit and betrayal that had been allowed to accumulate over the years.
Dev, too, was very quiet. He took off his tailored jacket, then loosened his silk tie and the top button of his shirt before pulling the tie down. “I feel like a drink,” he said. “What about you?”
Mel huffed. “I don’t think I should go there.”
“Maybe a G&T?” Dev said, walking into the galley kitchen and opening the refrigerator. He knew there were a couple of bottles of tonic inside. The gin, vodka, et cetera were in the drinks cabinet.
“The thought of any of this getting out is appalling.”
“It won’t come from my family,” Dev reassured her. “They all know better. Whatever else Sarina is, she’s not a complete fool. She won’t talk.”
“You don’t think it will get into the newspapers?” Mel asked with a flare of hope.
“Is it so terrible?” Dev responded.
“I think it is. My mother manipulated everyone who got in her way. Your high-and-mighty grandfather included, it seems.”
“Beautiful women have been doing that since the beginning of time,” Dev said. “The great courtesans. Your mother is rarin’ to go.”
“La dolce vita!”
“Big time.” Dev found crystal tumblers and fixed their drinks, aware of the swirling tensions between them. One wrong word from either of them and they would be in over their heads. So many fiery clashes in their time. Sometimes it was her fault. Sometimes it was his. His mind understood all the humiliations Mel had suffered as she’d progressed from childhood into adolescence, then adulthood. He had done everything he could to ease her pain. Only now he had to cope with a powerful opposing force. Frustration. Frustration and a lack of patience that became more and more driving as the years had passed. Mel had lacked a father and in essence a good mother to guide her. She could even be defined as an orphan, with no real sense of identity.
