by Margaret Way
“Goddamn it to hell!” he muttered fiercely, letting her slide to the floor. In a heartbeat his anger faded to self-disgust. “Go back to bed, Laura. I’m sorry if I hurt you. But don’t even attempt to try to seduce me again.”
He started to the door, a big, angry disillusioned man, leaving Laura, trembling and bereft, staring after him. The door closed with a very loud click.
Exit Evan from my life, Laura thought fatalistically, dropping to her knees like a penitent.
But he doesn’t know the half of it, a quiet, authoritative voice in her head told her, promising hope. You made a bad job of telling him. He’s shocked, hurt, feeling betrayed. You can understand that, can’t you? You’ve steeled yourself for it. Evan’s a man who feels things deeply. He’s taken this hard, the loss of trust. You know he wants you. As lovers you’ve experienced overwhelming rapture.
Pray God it was enough. She had to reach out to him again. She had to keep a straight head. Get focused on what she wanted to say. She’d been the victim of marital abuse. He must know what that meant. She’d lived in fear of her husband, who’d sworn he would follow her to the ends of the earth should she ever try to escape. Shocking when one thought about it. One human being terrorizing another.
Her flight from reality was over. In a curious way she knew relief. She had come a long way with Evan. Her new-found courage was a wavering thing. But even if she had to put herself in real physical danger she was going to confront Colin.
Hold onto that, Laura, the voice in her head urged her.
It was only much later that Laura came to believe the voice she heard that night was the voice of her beloved father.
When he returned he found she had fallen into an exhausted sleep. The thin strap of her nightgown had fallen off her shoulder, exposing the beauty and delicacy of her breasts. She was lying in a near abandoned position, one arm flung above her head, the other wide, the hem of her long nightgown rucked up on one side to reveal a straight slender leg. What lovely limbs she had! Petite of stature but everything in proportion.
He’d had this crazy dream they could make a go of it. He felt a mixture of grief and a hard self-contempt. It was sheer coincidence Laura had a look of Monika. What he had felt for Monika was nothing compared to this feeling he had for Laura. It consumed him. But he couldn’t handle the fact she was married. Deception versus reality.
Yet there was so much excitement in looking at her. He backed away from the bed to a chair, slumping into it. The sun was rising over the desert, turning the eternal sands and all the great monuments pink into rose, into orange-gold.
They would have breakfast and be on their way. After that? He closed his eyes for a few moments, falling deeper into a brooding melancholy with no wish to control it.
Why wouldn’t the husband, poor devil, come after her? Wouldn’t he himself? The husband was probably just as madly in love with her as he was. Any man looking at her would describe her as wonderfully alluring. It was a combination of innocence and a powerful but elegant sex appeal.
He’d thought he was so damned experienced in the ways of the world. Well, he’d been tricked by his own perceptions. He’d been so sure she was exactly what he thought she was. So sure of what went on between them. The passion and the tenderness, the euphoria that came with believing one had found one’s soul mate.
He’d all but finished his book. It was good. Real. Her influence had been far-reaching. He’d wanted to return to life. Not life as he had lived it, on the extreme edge, but a new life, with Laura. She’d become his world. A world more vivid than he, world-traveller, had ever known.
Now this!
Secrets, secrets, secrets! Yet who had taught her to fear?
Only then did he start to consider the source of her obvious problems. Unless she was the world’s greatest actress—and she might be—he was convinced she hadn’t been treated properly. He held the image of her as she’d come out of her dream. She’d been terrified. On the brink of blind panic.
Of what? He hadn’t really let her speak. There had been so much bitterness and disillusionment on his own palate.
Didn’t hope spring eternal? No sooner had he come to the decision he must follow his own direction than he was back to trying to make a meaning of all that had gone between them. He remembered her saying once she wasn’t good at making love. Now, that was really ridiculous.
But was it a deeply ingrained taunt? Had her husband allowed her to believe that? Tried to fool her into thinking it was the truth? She was a dream to make love to. A man could savour the experience for ever. One reason suggested itself. The husband wanted her entirely to himself. He wanted her easily manipulated, controlled. Yet the marriage bond seemed strong. It was a real puzzle.
“Evan?”
He turned his face to her. She was sitting up in the bed, watching him, her beautiful cascade of hair almost black against the white bedlinen, her green eyes shimmering like jewels in the dawn glow.
He straightened slightly in his chair. “You’re awake.
“I have been for some minutes,” she admitted. “You were so deep in thought I didn’t like to disturb you.”
His laugh was off key. “Well, you’ve made a thoroughly good job of that.”
“I was wrong.” She was out of bed, shouldering into her ivory satin robe.
“Laura, if you’re going to tell me you must go back to your husband, please let it alone,” he said wearily. “I thought we were celebrating the love of a lifetime, but maybe it was just one hell of an affair.”
“Don’t insult both of us,” she said. “I need you to know precisely what went wrong with my marriage. Why I felt little guilt loving you. Only then can you judge me.”
She walked towards him, with no hint of the thrilling, unconscious seductiveness that always left him tingling. She looked like a woman hell-bent on holding nothing back.
“You won’t want to hear this,” she said in a low, perfectly steady voice, taking the armchair beside him. “And to tell it will only cause me pain and humiliation. But it must be said. I was an abused wife. Physically, mentally, emotionally. The ugly truth. I don’t want to talk about it at all, but I must. You need to understand what drove me to break my vows.
“The vows were meaningless. Colin turned his back on them the same day we made them. The abuse began on my honeymoon and continued for almost a year. Finally I found the courage to escape and come here. I felt so battered I’d almost resigned myself to a life on the run.
“You might say I should have gone for help. Once I went to a friend, but Colin persuaded her I was the one having problems. He’s super-convincing. I could have gone to lawyers. But wherever I went I knew he was going to find me. He’s been concentrating his attentions on my mother in New Zealand, certain she’s helping me hide. But he’s not giving up. Until I confront him I’ll never have any peace of mind.”
It was the easiest thing in the world to change one’s appearance, he thought, lightly fingering his dark moustache into position. He thought he actually looked better with dark hair. It made for a startling contrast with his eyes. Of course he’d had to mask his natural elegance. He wore the Outback tourist’s ordinary gear. Bush shirt, jeans, high boots, warm coat for the evenings.
He smiled to himself every time he put on his black akubra, which he’d punched into well-worn shape. People might have remarked on his skin colour, which was pale, so he’d invested in some fake tan. He sure as hell was handsome with smoothly polished gold skin. But he had to hide these qualities a little, letting his beard grow into a fuzz, pulling the akubra down over his head.
He’d been in town—or rather on the outskirts of town—in a caravan park for two days. His dark blue Mercedes was in the garage at home. He was driving around in a dusty four-wheel drive, the tyres caked in red mud. It looked a bit on the battered side, which was what he wanted, but it was in tip-top condition. If they had to get away he had to do it right.
He knew where they’d been. According to the inform
ation he had received Ayers Rock. How absurd. He’d never thought Laura the type to go bush. He knew they were home. He knew where they lived. God, could you believe it? Side by side.
He’d driven past—fairly fast the first time. Some old girl had been coming out of the front door, probably taking care of the place in Laura’s absence. The second, he’d taken his time. So his darling pampered wife had rejected his state-of-the-art home for some pitiful worker’s cottage that looked more like a doll’s house? God, it had made him so angry he’d had to stop and massage his temples.
At least the private investigator he’d sent out here had done a good job. He’d found out more than where they lived. Something unexpected. The guy’s name. Amazing what one could learn from a photograph. Evan Kellerman, not Evan Thompson as the town knew him. And his darling little unfaithful wife. Laura Graham. He’d only just recently discovered Laura’s mother’s maiden name.
He had succeeded in getting a ticket for a concert they were giving tonight. How many top-flight foreign correspondents—and apparently Kellerman had made quite a reputation for himself—also played the bloody cello? Now, wasn’t that too richly bizarre? They must have had wonderful musical evenings together.
He knew he was taking a bit of a risk, going to the concert, but he couldn’t sit calmly back at the caravan park, slumming it while his wife and her lover were part of a concert in the town. Not that he would hear the music! But it would be fun watching them.
His face abruptly twisted itself into fury. No way was Laura getting away with it. She’d never run from him again.
The concert was going to be very successful. Apparently the whole bloody town had turned out. It was as crowded as an opening night at a city theatre. Surely they couldn’t actually be interested in classical music? Beethoven. Schubert. And something else on the programme. A local guy. Alex Matheson.
That’d be good, he thought with weary contempt. He didn’t care. This lot were just making the best of what was on offer. He hunched himself in a back seat, all nerves and quivering anger. People glanced at him. After a while he remembered he ought to nod and maybe give a smile here and there.
An hour and a half passed, during which his stomach churned so much he felt like rushing out of the theatre and being ill. The old girl he’d seen at the house was one of the quintet. And treacherous Laura, looking absolutely beautiful in a long black skirt of ribboned lace with one of her glittering little tops, sat at the piano, fingers running up and down with brilliance, full of music.
Damn her! Pulses were beating a rhythm in his head like one of those old military band marches. He turned his attention again to Kellerman. Big guy. He looked as if he’d have bone-crushing strength. Until this moment he’d thought playing a musical instrument wasn’t manly, but this guy laid that idea to rest. He was damned good. The whole ensemble was damned good. He had expected the recital to be pathetic.
Before the deafening applause was over he got quickly away. He’d left his vehicle in a side street. He felt stupid. Almost bested. Badly shaken by what he had seen and heard. He had a career. A reputation. His peers considered him brilliant. There was no place in his life for violence. Except he wanted Laura back.
Harriet had organised the supper—marvellous food—everyone was on a high, enjoying themselves immensely, mixing with all the locals who had been invited.
“I feel so much like celebrating!” Harriet cried warmly, her manner so vivacious she might have received a light electric shock. She put an affectionate arm around Laura’s waist. “We’re so proud of you, Laura. It isn’t always easy settling into a group, but you’ve done wonderfully well. So in possession of your instrument, and such a lovely touch! I think we did extremely well. So does the audience, apparently. I take it you’ve told Evan about you know who?” she whispered, leaning her head closer.
“I have.” Laura smiled.
“How did he take it? Forgive me for being an old busy-body, but I have to know.”
“He was appalled, Harriet. First of all that I had a husband. But then when I told him all about the ruins of my marriage he forgave me. He’s determined to go to Brisbane and confront Colin. I can’t stop him. He won’t listen and he insists he doesn’t want me there. At first anyway.”
“Probably he’s got a point,” Harriet considered.
“I’ll be starting divorce proceedings as soon as possible after that.”
“And marrying Evan, my dear?” Harriet’s grey eyes were full of sympathy and interest. “Seeing you both together, I can’t believe it’s just an affair.”
“I love him, Harriet, and he loves me.”
“The most beautiful words in the world. You both have to get on with your lives.”
“I don’t want you to go in the morning.” They were inside the house and she was speaking very softly, almost whispering.
“We’ve discussed this, Laura,” he said firmly, picking her up in his arms and carrying her through to the bedroom.
“I don’t want you to go on your own.”
“And I don’t want you there, my darling, when I confront him. You’ll have your turn. I’d like to see to Dr Colin Morcombe privately. It’s one thing to terrorize a woman, and quite another to try the same tactics on a man. I’d be quite happy to slap him around a bit so he knows how it feels.”
“He certainly needs it, but that might rebound on you in some way. He’s very vindictive. He’d say and do almost anything to cause you harm.”
“We’ll see about that,” Evan said grimly.
“You might find it difficult to reach him. He has people fronting for him. Staff.”
“You just leave that to me,” Evan said, fiercely despising the man Laura had married. “For now I want to make love to you. Okay?”
“Perfect. I’m terribly terribly sorry I married Colin. I only want you.”
“That’s why I have to get things settled,” he said, gently starting to undress her. “What sort of a man is he to willingly and brutally abuse you? A doctor too. It’s beyond imagining. I don’t fancy he’ll want the story to get around, or people wondering where he got his black eye.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“My darling, I’m going to make him perfectly well aware of what might happen to him if he dares approach you again,” Evan said, very crisply.
He reached out a hand to caress her—just a brush of the skin, yet it sent desire rippling all over her.
This was Evan’s great gift to her. This wonderful sense of herself as a woman.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IT WAS going to be a very long day, Laura thought. Evan by now would be at the heliport, awaiting his connection for the long flight to Brisbane.
He’d already called ahead to make sure Colin was at his city practice, inventing a story about needing urgent medical attention. Dr Romsey, Doctor Morcombe’s partner, had a cancellation the following day, he’d been told. Would Dr Romsey do? No, Evan insisted. He was coming a long way to see Dr Morcombe on excellent recommendation.
The truth. There was something urgent to be dealt with. Still, she wished he’d let her go along with him all the same. She wouldn’t be able to stop worrying until he got back. It wasn’t easy dealing with a man who was sick in the head. That was how she thought of Colin. Sick in the head. And because of it very dangerous.
It was everywhere, his threat: I’ll never let you go.
How far would he go to keep her? Evan was an experienced man, big and powerful. A man who had lived through many dangers. He would be able to handle Colin, she comforted herself. Colin wouldn’t be so shockingly aggressive with Evan around. Neither could Colin afford a scandal. His parents would hate it. They might even consider censuring their son. Laura flipped back and forth with the positives and the negatives until she heard a rap on the back door.
No one came the back way, she thought in surprise. Then she remembered a woman who made excellent jams and preserves sometimes left her car in the vacant allotment to the rear of the cottage when s
he worked the area.
With her darling little Freddy purring happily in her arms, Laura went to the door. She was already smiling as she opened it, standing back framed in the doorway.
For an instant she had a sensation of being separated from her own body. Her eyes were wide open, yet she felt she might be in the middle of a nightmare.
Colin! She understood the deadly seriousness immediately.
“Having a good time in Koomera Crossing, are we, darling?” he asked with a sinister smile.
She might be fooling herself, but she no longer felt completely at his mercy. “Get right away from here, Colin,” she warned with considerable fire. “This is my home.”
The anger in her voice and body alerting Freddy to the fact that the visitor wasn’t welcome. Instead of high-tailing it out through the back door, the kitten flew for Colin’s chest, claws digging in so sharply Colin gave an involuntary yelp.
“Bloody thing!” His face contorted as he tried unsuccessfully to fling Freddy away. Only Freddy was no longer a sweet little kitten, but the complete cat ready for a scrap. “Bloody thing scratched me,” Colin howled in amazement, continuing to wrestle the kitten until finally he managed to rip it from his shirt and throw it forcibly outside.
“Did you have to do that?” Laura watched the kitten collapse, then struggle up.
“Boy, have you got problems,” he chided. “Listen to you. All up in arms about a cat.”
“How did you get here, Colin?” Laura stood her ground. “You’re supposed to be in Brisbane.”
“Ah, yes! That worked just like I thought it would.” He pushed her so hard she had to clutch at something to prevent herself from falling. “I told my staff not to give out any information to the contrary. Good thinking, eh?” He gave her the familiar look of triumph. “So your lover went rushing off, delivering you nicely into my hands. Bitch!” He reached out a long arm and slapped her so hard across the face she thought her neck would snap.
