Mistaken Mistress

by Margaret Way

  “And you fear that state?”

  “Yes I do,” she said passionately, her intensity even shocking her. “You’ve gained a lot of ascendancy over me in a very short time. You sometimes behave as if…”

  “I own you?” he asked, putting emphasis on it.

  “Yes,” she said huskily, while shockingly tears sprang into her eyes.

  He looked at her with anger and compassion in equal measure. “I realise Delma has upset you but don’t do this,” he warned. “I can’t take your tears without wanting to gather you up. It was no game of seduction last night, Eden, if that’s what’s causing this anxiety state. I stopped playing games a long time ago.”

  She ran the back of her hand over her eyelashes. “I’m sorry. I admit I’m off balance, but too many things are coming at me at once, Lang,” she endeavoured to explain. “I’m trying to work through my relationship with Dad. I haven’t had a father for the past twenty-four years. It’s wonderful how easily we’ve fallen into one another’s arms—the same goes for Robbie—but Robbie’s only a little boy. My father is a grown man. A powerful man. And deep down, a very complicated man. A man who has lived largely in the past. Emotionally anyway.”

  It was his own perception. “You mean he continued to stay in love with a woman who only existed in his memory?”

  Eden nodded, for a moment unable to speak. “There are some lines in poetry—I can’t remember who wrote them—about who stayed in the imagination most. The woman won or the woman lost.”

  “I’d be damned if I’d lose the woman I loved,” Lang said in a voice that was loaded with passionate force.

  “That’s you,” she retorted. “Your personality. You’re the quintessential all-conquering male. Dad has near wasted his life living with a dream. It’s so sad. I don’t really wonder why Delma feels so insecure. In fact, I sympathize with her to some degree. Dad isn’t exactly a doting husband, is he? Then there’s you.”

  Lang half turned to look at her. “I knew I’d come in for my share of criticism. You make meeting me sound like you’ve been plunged into fire.”

  “Fire is a good example.” She moistened her mouth, tasting salt. “I need time, Lang. I’m used to being cool not frantic. You go right beyond any boundaries I’m used to.”

  “You mean your own sexuality comes as a big shock?”

  “Yes.” She licked her dry lips. “Isn’t that pitiful?”

  He reached out to tuck a long windblown curl behind her ear. “It’s perfectly understandable. You’re troubled enough. And you’re right about Delma, in case you don’t think I’m on your side. She does see herself in jealous competition with you for Owen’s love. You can’t solve that no matter what you do and neither can I. The only one who can bring Delma peace is Owen. He made his choice. Delma is his wife. She in turn might be doing herself a huge favour if she stopped screaming and yelling all the time. As for us, I don’t think I was putting so much pressure on you, Eden. What I feel for you is far more than sexual desire if that’s what’s frightening you.”

  Brilliant lorikeets swirled in the air, before dive-bombing the grevilleas. Eden turned her head to look at him. He was so handsome and vital, carelessly elegant in a pearl-grey cotton sweater over a pair of taut jeans. His hair, like hers, was tousled by the wind, one glossy lock rested rakishly on his forehead. She had to admit that she loved him. The first passionate love of her life. “It is and it isn’t,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry I’m so intense about everything, but you have such an element of excitement and danger about you.”

  He rolled his eyes satirically. “Oh, come off it, Eden. I don’t accept that. I think what you’re talking about is emotional risk. You find me as compulsively attractive as I find you, but you’re frightened to show too much of yourself. That’s okay.” He shrugged a nonchalant shoulder. “I’ve led a guarded life myself. Forming an intimate relationship is a very serious business. You can’t do it if you’re determined on keeping your distance. Which is what I’ve done by and large. Becoming a big success has assumed too much importance in my life.”

  “But you’re not obsessive like Dad. Or in the way he is. You did most of it for your family.”

  He raked a hand through his wind-ruffled hair. “I wouldn’t allow my mother to suffer. Losing my father was devastation. I couldn’t change that for her. Losing Marella was a mere setback after that, but I could and did effect change.”

  “And this is love,” she said. “Your mother must be very proud of you.”

  “She is and she always makes that abundantly clear to anyone who will listen,” he said a little wryly. “I come from a loving family. It’s a good start in life.”

  “I believe the best,” she answered quietly.

  Driven by compassion, he reached out and ruffled her curls much as he would Robbie’s. “So okay, young Eden, relax. You look about fifteen anyway. We can draw back from any deeper relationship if that’s what you want. This is a fragile time for you. I’m quite happy to play big brother.”

  She began to smile. “As if that were possible!”

  “Don’t be so certain of that!” His silver eyes mocked her. “I see your point. Things have been happening too damn fast. Even for me.”

  She nodded as if in agreement, but one part of her was contradicting the other. “I don’t think I want to go in to breakfast,” she said, uncertain of the atmosphere inside.

  “No one is going to bother you,” he told here reassuringly. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat something on the terrace. If you feel like escaping for a while, a few days, a week, you could always visit Marella. Now the party is over, you can expect my mother’s call.”

  “That’s very kind of her.” Pleasure lit up Eden’s small features.

  “She is kind. As for me. Ah, well…” He smiled at her enigmatically, extending a hand-up. “By the way, do you ride?”

  She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes full of delight. “I was lucky enough to be put on a pony before I could even walk. My mother and grandfather loved riding for relaxation. Both of them used to take me aboard. I went to the local gymkhana, then a good equestrian centre.”

  “You sound quite nostalgic.” He continued to hold her hand as they walked back across the emerald-green lawn.

  “Those were the good times.” She released a poignant sigh.

  “Then you’ll love Marella,” he promised. “I’ll speak to Owen. You’ll find he’ll be delighted to let you come.”

  Blue sea, blue sky and the dazzling brightness of glorious sunlight was undiluted by cloud. Being out on the water shocked Eden out of the morning’s upset, acting like some miraculous balm on her mood. A light trade wind was blowing across the deck where she and Lang were lying, he in full sun; she mostly shaded. The sheltered waters around the off-shore islands were incredibly luminous, close to the colour of a gas flame and as smooth as glass in the calm conditions. The surface glittered with a billion needles of sunshine. Even now with her eyes closed and hidden by sunglasses Eden was able to “see” Lang clearly. She only had to move scant inches for her fingers to touch his bare tanned shoulder. She was taking everything in through her senses, for all her talk about backing off, by far the stronger part of her clamoured for him.

  He had a superb body, beautifully made. It resembled an athlete’s body, his wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and long lean flanks. Even in a pair of board shorts he looked so good he made her mouth go dry. Her father was up at the helm, thoroughly at home on the water. Delma was in the galley with Robbie, deeply absorbed in the preparation of the lunch. She had subtly excluded Eden as she did with everything but Eden was determined not to mind.

  “How’s it going?” Lang raised himself onto one elbow, staring down at her. She was right when she said her white skin didn’t take a tan or burn. It looked like unflawed porcelain, emitting light.

  “Isn’t this simply glorious?” she breathed, taking off her sunglasses to smile at him. “I feel so peaceful.” Not strictly true, when all her meditatio
n included him.

  “Would you like to go over to one of the coral cays?” he asked, looking away from her breasts.

  “I’d love to!” She’d been half reclining under the umbrella, now she sat straight. “That beautiful little one over there.” She pointed to the nearest coral cay in the area. Native casuarinas grew along the strand line along with the picturesque pandanus with its segmented orange fruits and characteristic prop roots. A grove of coconut palms waved their fronds from nearby. They must have been introduced. “Are we allowed to go there?” She was thinking of the colonies of sea birds or perhaps nesting turtles.

  “Of course,” he nodded. “I know these waters well. That’s not a turtle breeding ground. There are two species. The green and the loggerhead. The birds will take off in clouds the moment we arrive but they soon settle back. Breeding activities are usually related to the amount of vegetation on the island, with particular species concentrating on particular cays. We’re pretty near the mainland so these cays are home to sea and land birds. The sea birds play a big part in the cycling of plant nutrients from the sea to the islands. Those slender birds, circling overhead with the narrow wings and the pointed bills are terns.”

  “They have forked tails?” Eden commented, staring up.

  “That’s why a lot of people call them sea swallows. The noddies are the medium-sized birds. The ones with the dark plumage and the white heads. You can’t miss the gulls. There are countless thousands of birds on the wooded cays and islands of the Reef. I’ll have a word with Owen about visiting the cay. Robbie will enjoy it.” He glanced away as he spoke, lifting a long arm to acknowledge Delma’s wave.

  “Looks like lunch is ready,” he told Eden. He stood up, hand out, looking down at her. She was so beautiful. Her slender body was just covered in a high-cut one-piece swimsuit of purple Lycra with a diagonal trail of pink hibiscus. All the time they’d been lying there he’d wanted to seize her, to bury his face in her flowery fragrance spiked by the scent of the sea, to rain passionate kisses down on her. But he wasn’t going to touch her. He was going to treat her like his favourite young cousin. He well knew that was going to be painfully difficult.

  As he brought her to her feet, she looked into his eyes. Not a deliberate siren call but it might as well have been. It made his heart contract. It was more a plea mixed up with a little personal agony. I want you, even as she pulled back.

  Woman, thy name is perversity!

  Ah, well, he could wait, he thought, releasing her the instant she was upright. It wasn’t every man who had such impressive self-control!

  Lunch was delicious. Fresh crab with little home-baked rolls, ocean prawns, tiny lobsters, Queenslanders called “bugs”, some really luscious home-grown avocados, a beautiful green salad and the best potato salad Eden thought she’d ever tasted—pesto in the mayonnaise—though it didn’t appeal to Robbie who made his mother make him a basket of chips.

  At first Delma declined a trip to the coral cay saying she’d seen it all before, but Robbie, as excited as if it were a trip to Treasure Island, insisted she come.

  Lang rowed them over the crystal-clear waters, scorning the outboard. Eden watched his sleek muscles move beneath his dark golden skin unable to break her fascination. Nearing the shore she plunged into the sparkling, clear water, heart fluttering in delight, striking out towards the shore.

  “Eden, Eden!” she heard Robbie call excitedly after her. She stopped, trod water watching him jump in feet first. She already knew he could swim. In fact Delma had told her proudly Robbie was the best swimmer in his class in a part of the world where children became proficient from age two. As the two approached the shore, just as Lang told her, their arrival put to flight clouds of sea birds that wheeled and dipped while emitting loud shrieks. Eden had never seen such a display, on the one hand not wishing to cause the birds alarm, but thrilled by the sight of them so abundant in the sky. Hand in hand she and Robbie set foot on the coral sand, which was pure white in the brilliant sunlight.

  “Do you think we’ll find treasure?” Robbie asked. “It could be over there in those silvery trees. Do you know what they’re called?” he asked with an owlish air.

  “No, I don’t. I hope you can tell me.” Eden shook back her long wet hair, revelling in the refreshing coolness of her body after its contact with the sea.

  “Tawny forts. I think that’s it,” Robbie said, screwing up his eyes.

  “Oh, I know.” It suddenly came to her from her visits to the tourist islands. “Tournefortias. They make quite a contrast to those big strap leaves of the pandanus.”

  “With the orange pineapples?”

  “Right.” Eden turned her head as the others came ashore, not surprised that Delma made a beeline for her small son, her bare feet sinking into the sand.

  “Don’t ever do that again, Roberto,” she cried, the words spraying out of her mouth with the wind. “You could have stood on something in the water.”

  “Like what?” Robbie demanded, looking very much like his father as his sunny mood changed.

  “Like a piece of coral,” his mother told him crossly.

  “Not around here. There’s no reef,” Robbie pointed out intelligently, taking hold of Eden’s hand.

  “There could have been some coarse rubble,” Delma insisted.

  “He’s right, Delma.” Eden tried a soothing voice, when she really wanted to vent her irritation. “And he’s a good swimmer.” She smiled down on the child.

  “Please don’t try to go over my head, Eden.” Delma crouched down to peer at Robbie’s mutinous face. “I know what’s best for my son.”

  “No you don’t!” Robbie mumbled, already in revolt with his mother’s possessiveness.

  “Everything all right here?” Owen asked, coming slowly across the sand to them, while Lang dragged the boat up the strand.

  “Everything’s fine!” Eden told him calmly. “I can’t wait to explore. Robbie thinks there might be treasure.”

  His father laughed. “There could be at that.” Owen fully intended to leave a handful of coins tied into a handkerchief some place where his son could find it.

  “Don’t go too far away,” Delma warned predictably, un-suctioning her frown.

  “God, Delma, do you ever let up?” Owen flashed his wife an impatient glance. “There’s nothing on this little cay that could possibly harm anyone. We’ve been on coral cays like this a million times.”

  Robbie waited for Lang to join them, then he yanked on Lang’s hand. “Come on, Uncle Lang.” He pointed to the silver-leaved trees. “Dad thinks there could be treasure.”

  “You lot go ahead.” Owen took his wife’s hand to move up the beach into the shade. “Delma and I are going to relax.” He needed them to be gone in order to hide the little cache of glinting coins.

  They had a fine time exploring the coral cay.

  “One day we’ll come back here alone,” Lang promised her, his glance filled with pure desire.

  “I’d like that.” Vast areas of experience awaited her! She had never known a man who could make love with his eyes.

  They walked together, hands and arms sometimes touching, an incredible intimacy, while Robbie ran a little way ahead. Lang pointed out all the things of interest while Eden looked about her with dazzled, love-struck eyes. Some of the trees had attained quite a height, soaring some seventy feet into the air. Once, looking up at their large pale green leaves, she had almost tripped over a buttress root only to have Lang haul her back. A few isolated moments crushed against his warm sea-sheened body. A kiss on her nape. Not brotherly at all. Moments that left her feeling her blood was full of burning stars.

  Of course Robbie found his treasure, knowing perfectly well where it came from but keeping up the adventure. He fell into his father’s lap shouting about his discovery. Delma smiled her pleasure, though it occurred to Eden her father and Delma had been having “a discussion.” Taking time off at Marella Downs was starting to sound better by the moment.

&nb
sp; It wasn’t until they were almost ready to leave when Delma’s ever-present fears actually materialised.

  Eden and Robbie were standing in the shallows, Robbie playing some game of his own, when with a loud whoop he suddenly decided to race back to where his mother and father were sitting beneath the coconut palms. Lang was a distance off, looking over the dinghy. From nowhere, out of the cloudless blue sky, a large white bird with a frightening wingspan flew out of the trees gliding like a missile towards the running child all the while emitting raucous croaks.

  “Robbie!” Eden cried frantically, her heart lurching. “Stand still.” She swung her arms in a futile effort to divert the huge bird. Surely it couldn’t mistake the running child for prey? She was close enough to see its large hooked beak and the powerful talons.

  Robbie kept running, too frightened to stop. Eden gathered herself then launched herself across the sand, reaching the child with a dazzling burst of speed. She shielded him with her body bringing them both down onto the sand. She felt the bird move down over her. She could smell it. She could hear the continual flap of its wings. The nape of her neck hunched in revulsion and panic. It kept up its gut-shaking shrieks, the span of its wings throwing a large shadow on the sand.

  She heard human voices, though she couldn’t emit a single sound. Next she felt the bird’s talon. She was now the focus of its rage. Please, God, don’t let it hurt me! she prayed.

  She felt the sharp sting, and then the pain.

  Feathers were flying, grey and white. She could see strong brown legs. Lang’s. Hear his harsh shout. Then he was lifting her up, holding her against his hip, while he got a hand to Robbie, who was lying pressed into the coral sand.

  Owen and Delma had come running. Delma frantic with distress.

  “God Almighty! I’ve never seen anything like that!” Owen burst out in horrified amazement, his face set with shock. “A sea eagle. A rogue. I think you’ve knocked it out, Lang. Maybe killed it.”

  Lang didn’t respond. He was blaming himself. He wondered how he could possibly have missed the sea eagle’s nest. Usually they were in the fork of trees. Or maybe the nest was on the ground. Either way in the breeding season the nests became too large to miss. This wasn’t the breeding season yet this bird had attacked. There was no other word for it. Eden had a long bleeding scratch on her back, that followed the shape of the bird’s talon. He didn’t have to point it out. Everyone looked at her in utter dismay.