by Margaret Way
By the time they reached the hotel—was it minutes or hours? time had dissolved—she felt almost too shaky to walk. For someone who had lived on the outskirts of passion, her lust for him seemed shocking. They didn’t speak at all in the elevator, heads near turned in opposite directions as though they were indifferent to each other. Strangers.
“Have you your entry card?” he asked outside the door of her suite. Who needed a suite? She’d only booked it because of him. Because of the inevitable. Extra privacy. Sleeping together. With the enemy?
It was a miracle they’d got this far. Once inside the door she fell back against it as if she’d walked miles, his strong arms reaching for her, holding her up. He began to kiss her deeply, madly, without pause; all over her face, her mouth, her ears, her neck, hungry nuzzling kisses that had long moaning breaths sighing out of her. He must have worked out in advance the best way to get her out of her dress, not letting it slide to the floor, but moving her with him, so he could drop it gently over a chair.
They hadn’t paused to turn on the lights. The room’s illumination came from the glitter of the city’s towers. Urgency mounting, he lifted her, carrying her from the sitting room to the bedroom, where he let her fall onto the bedcovers already turned back by a maid.
“The more I have, the more I want.” He leaned above her in the semidarkness, his voice harsh with desire.
“You’re good at everything, aren’t you?” she whispered back. “Consummate lover. My knight in shining armor.” The words held the merest flicker of a taunt. Such extremes of feeling were in her: love she felt she needed to cover up, at the same time an underlying resistance; yet she was yearning for him, her blood turned to mercury, allowing him to undress her so slowly, so voluptuously that in the end she was almost thrashing.
He left her naked, defenseless. Sex, even great sex, couldn’t be labeled love.
“My funny Nicole!” He bent to kiss her, tempering the turbulence of his desire with a mocking lightness. “You’re compelled to fight me.”
Light fell on her upturned face. “I might be like my mother. I might bring punishment down on our heads.”
He shuddered involuntarily, also carrying his share of devastating memories. “Nic, for God’s sake, stop!” He stood away from her, deftly stripping off his clothes, totally unselfconscious in his nakedness, his erection rearing.
He was so beautiful to see. So beautiful to touch. Such a man. Nicole let her body take over.
Ungently he rolled her across the bed, stripping off the heavy quilted bedspread and heaving it on the floor.
“Come here to me.” He lay down, pulling her backward into his arms, allowing his rock-hard penis to slip between her legs when he wanted to sink it deep within her.
Not yet, though his veins seemed to be exploding with sparks.
She bent like a willow to him, fitting her supple back and neat buttocks to his torso. With his fingers he began applying increasing amounts of friction to the swollen nipples of her breasts, dark as mulberries against the luminosity of her skin. Excitement spurted, unbearable, panting, excruciatingly exquisite. Her body began to buck, her pelvis lifting upward and outward, following its own will.
A hundred more excitements were to follow. He flipped her this way and that, a master, fully in control of her, his eyes glowing even in the low light.
Her fluttery moans became so agitated they sounded heartbroken to his ears. Wrenched from some secret place deep within her. Somewhere she didn’t want him to see, but prised out of her by passion. He eased back slightly; the need to have her so intense he felt near-insane with frustration.
“You want me? Tell me.”
Her throat was so crowded with cries Nicole was soundless when she wanted to shout yes! He had her legs spread, tonguing her, every curve, every crease, every crevice, savoring texture and taste, until she thought she couldn’t bear more excitement and not expire.
Now she acted on her own. She climbed over his long splendid body, her thighs shutting tight, riding him like a favorite stallion, swaying, flying, letting her tapering fingers with their long polished nails, curl around him, guiding him into the entrance to her womb, glorying in his deep plunge.
He filled her.
This was where she wanted him to be.
Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever.
DRAKE HAD TO RETURN to Kooltar, but Nicole spent several more days in Brisbane attending to unfinished business. Her solicitor’s office was prompt coming up with a number of options for Dot’s retirement home. In the end she and Dot chose a villa with immediate occupancy in Brisbane’s beautiful bayside area. Dot was ecstatic about it, which pleased Nicole. She left her solicitors to complete the sale. They would pick up a generous fee for their time and attention. It was a simple matter to pick out suitable furniture—completed in an afternoon—delivery date to be set by Dot. At least in that direction things were moving.
“You’re an angel,” Dot told her, overcome by her good fortune and Nicole’s generosity.
“I’m not that good. You like it? You really like it?”
“It’s marvelous,” Dot said, far happier than she’d been only days ago.
“I want to make you as comfortable as I can.”
“You’ve done that, love.” They were having coffee at the retirement village’s attractive lakeside restaurant, Dot gazing about with interest. Most of the tables were full of pleasant-looking retirees, with others, couples and singles, wandering the shady paths down by the lake. The whole atmosphere was easy and relaxed. Nicole was sure it wouldn’t take Dot long to make friends.
The business of tracking down Jacob Rosendahl’s widow proved a lot harder. Nicole had met Sonya, a psychiatrist like her late husband, on many occasions. She was a woman of calm inner strength. Sonya would have been devastated by her husband’s senseless death. It took a number of calls—nobody seemed to want to give out information, probably being protective—to finally get the phone number of Sonya Rosendahl’s sister, Mrs. Irene Stellmach. Listening to the area code, Nicole realized Mrs. Stellmach lived in Brisbane. A great piece of luck!
She consulted the phone book. Four Stellmachs. None with the initial I. She settled herself on the side of the bed and began pushing buttons. It took three calls to finally get Irene, who sounded extremely wary until it sank in that Nicole was an ex-patient of Dr. Rosendahl’s. Mrs. Rosendahl would know her, Nicole said; she’d been living in the United States and had only recently heard the sad news. She fully expected Irene to say she would pass on the message; instead, she brought her sister to the phone.
“Why don’t you come visit me,” Sonya invited. “We can talk.”
IT WAS SUCH a beautiful day they sat on the stone terrace at the rear of the house with steps leading down to manicured lawns and beautiful tropical gardens. The Stellmachs—he was an eminent surgeon—lived on acreage in the affluent western suburbs. The residence was large, light-filled and beautifully decorated. Clearly, the Stellmachs didn’t want for money, something that was supported by Irene Stellmach’s immaculate appearance. The resemblance between the sisters was marked, though Irene dressed in the height of fashion and Sonya was far less conventional. Arty, people would have called her, with her long skirts and peasant blouses, rather like a costume, long dangly earrings, her naturally blond hair a fuzzy mop, unlike her sister’s classic pageboy. Both sisters had voices like cellos. Both still retained slight Hungarian accents, though they had been in the country forty years.
“There’s something you want to know, Nicole, I can tell.” They had been speaking for well over a half hour, Nicole finding out almost immediately the police had never tracked down the hit-and-run driver. It had been raining. Dusk had been closing in.
“It was Jacob’s time,” Sonya said philosophically. “We can’t evade the call when it comes.”
“Such a tragic waste!” Nicole sighed deeply. “It was Dr. Rosendahl who helped me get on with my life. He was the one who really started me on my painting.”
/> “And you are already becoming famous.” Sonya smiled.
“Not exactly, but my showings gave me a lot of encouragement.” Nicole paused a moment before she found the courage to ask, “You never ever thought the hit-and-run may not have been an accident?”
Sonya’s smile faded like a dark cloud sailing over the sun. She looked suddenly old and shaken. “My dear, why would you say that?”
“I’m so very sorry if I’ve upset you,” Nicole apologized.
“You wouldn’t do it without good reason,” Sonya stated. “You’re a young woman of sensitivity. Who would want to hurt my Jacob?”
“He treated a lot of disturbed people, Sonya. He treated me.”
“You were always going to be cured.” Sonya’s mellow voice was soothing, safe.
“I still have ongoing problems, Sonya.”
“Don’t we all.” Sonya shrugged. “It was good your cousin, Joel, found the courage to come to Jacob for help.”
Nicole sat back in her chair. “So he did come?”
“But of course. That young man was churning with troubles. Didn’t you know?”
“It’s as I’ve told you, Sonya. I’ve only just returned. Joel has never mentioned it. Could you tell me when and for how long he saw Dr. Rosendahl?”
Sonya hesitated, looking concerned. “I suppose that would be all right. I think the final visit was shortly before Jacob’s fatal accident. Let me think for a moment… I suppose he came on and off, when he could, for nearly a year.”
Nicole was shocked. “That long? I can’t believe it.” Why had Joel never told her?
“Why, my dear? Your cousin suffered, too. Not to the extent you did. It was your beloved mother, after all, but Joel was so young. He had to live with the tragedy.”
“Of course he did. I’m just amazed he never told me about it, that’s all. Neither did my aunt. She realized Joel was seeing Dr. Rosendahl?”
“That, my dear, I wouldn’t know. I think I can safely say your cousin, Joel, is a very secretive young man.”
“Whatever happened to Dr. Rosendahl’s files?”
Sonya’s expression changed. “Nicole, I could never allow you to look at your cousin’s file. That’s confidential. My own life cracked wide open after Jacob was killed. I’ve had to come to Irene to find some comfort. Her husband, Carl, is a wonderful man. So understanding. When I can, I’ll have Jacob’s files destroyed. For now they’re in a safe place. Why would you want to see your cousin’s file?” Sonya stared deeply into Nicole’s eyes. “You do want to see it?”
Nicole flushed. “I realize I have no right. All I’m saying is I would give a lot to know what Joel’s problems are.”
“Why don’t you ask him?” Sonya suggested briskly. “It took me about one minute seeing you two together—that’s many years ago—to realize your cousin adores you.”
Nicole looked at her in dismay. “I don’t want him to adore me, Sonya. Adoration isn’t normal.”
“Between cousins, perhaps not. The file is protected, my dear. Can you tell me anything about your ongoing problems? You know, I practiced along with Jacob for many years.”
“Yes, of course. I’m terrified, Sonya, that my mother’s death wasn’t an accident. My intuition about it over the years has only grown stronger. Lately it’s as if my mother is urging me to discover what really happened.”
“Wouldn’t that put you in danger?” Sonya’s voice was concerned.
“I don’t care. My desire to find out who did it and have them punished outweighs my concerns for my own safety.”
“That can’t be wise, Nicole. Surely you should approach the police, shouldn’t you, my dear? If you’ve uncovered new evidence, even a shred?”
Nicole shook her head. “All I’m going on is gut feelings.”
“They won’t work no matter how strong they’ve become. The law deals with facts, not feelings. Is there someone you suspect? It’s no secret you were estranged from your father. Most people knew that.”
“He’s on Eden now. That’s why I returned. He’s come home to die.”
“Poor man!” Sonya’s finely cut features were somber. “Of what?”
“Cirrhosis of the liver.”
“That’s bad.”
Nicole nodded. “It seems more like suicide to me. He always was a heavy drinker. I imagine his drinking got a lot worse after my mother died…the way she died. It was ghastly! The pain, the scandal, the ugliness.”
“And you want to reopen the whole terrible episode?”
“Wouldn’t you, Sonya, if you thought the husband you so loved and respected was cut down in cold blood?”
Sonya’s gray eyes blazed silver. “You think there’s some connection between Jacob’s death and your family tragedy?”
“I don’t know, Sonya. Forgive me please for even mentioning it. But I’m eaten up with all sorts of bizarre theories. What’s not bizarre is my conviction it was no accident. My mother loved me. She would never have left me. Not for anyone. She would never have put David McClelland’s life in danger. It was suggested she might have caused him to lose control of the vehicle.”
Sonya nodded. “I remember the whole business vividly. Even as a child you made a great impression on Jacob and me. Both of us would have done anything to help you.”
“You did!” Nicole assured her. “It would help me enormously to know why Joel sought out Dr. Rosendahl. I know this won’t concern you—so many people who don’t know what they’re talking about ridicule ‘shrinks,’ which is what Joel called them. He was like that. So it must have been something compelling to get him into therapy.”
Sonya considered deeply. “Even if I knew, my dear, I couldn’t tell you.”
“You might if you realized not telling me could put me or some member of my family in serious danger. You may not believe this, either, but I’ve given my heart to Drake McClelland. If you remember, Drake is David McClelland’s nephew.”
“You’re in love with him?” Sonya brightened.
“I’m madly in love with him, but I don’t trust him, or me.”
Sonya’s eyes widened and she gave a little gasp. “Why not?”
“I’ve lost the knack of trusting, Sonya.”
“You were separated so violently and so suddenly from your mother. You don’t trust life.”
“It’s a little more complex than that. Drake has inherited Kooltar from his father. Kooltar is our neighbor. Drake has his maiden aunt still living with him. She hates me as much as she hated my mother.”
“I remember the story, Nicole,” Sonya said quietly. “You think McClelland revenge is somehow mixed up with the relationship? He and his aunt have a plan?”
Nicole gave a deep anguished sigh. “It’s such an extreme view, melodramatic, but the fact is, Drake wants Eden. He makes no bones about it, although he says he’s prepared to wait until such time as it ever comes on the market.”
“You’ve considered selling?” Sonya raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“No. Drake won’t get it. Unless…he marries me.”
“I see.” Sonya glanced away over the garden. “He’s been very successful so far. You said you’re madly in love with him.”
“Which doesn’t mean it will lead to marriage. Marriage is a very serious step.”
“You feel you would be selling yourself and Eden? You can’t conceive he may love you for yourself alone? You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman. You would never lack suitors.”
Nicole kept her eyes on the garden, its latticed walls covered in white iceberg roses. “I know he wants me. But I torment myself with the idea I might only be part of the picture. Drake is very ambitious. He has big plans.”
“Surely you’re not the only girl in the world for such a man?” Sonya asked dryly.
“I’m the only one who owns Eden,” Nicole said wryly. “Eden boasts a fine stream, the Minareechi, that cuts a swathe through the station. Permanent deep water, priceless in drought.”
Sonya frowned, staring at her
hands. “Is it possible someone could be poisoning your mind? Your cousin, Joel, hasn’t he been managing the station in your absence?”
“Yes, but not all that well, Sonya. No one can match my grandfather.”
“He’s a hero in your mind?”
“Of course,” Nicole answered without hesitation, though she had heard the surprise and doubt in Sonya’s tone. Obviously not everyone saw her grandfather the way she did, a man who’d shown her unconditional love. “Joel dislikes Drake. He’s been jealous of him since we were children together. Drake is everything Joel is not.”
“That would motivate Joel to put Drake down at every opportunity.”
“I suppose. I rely too much on my instincts.”
“Which, my dear, can be amplified and distorted by emotions—anxiety, fear, anger, falling in love. Your Drake sounds like a dominant person. Perhaps you fear being controlled? Perhaps you fear love itself? In your mind you may not clearly be distinguishing between love and loss.”
“It’s a great pity you’ve retired, Sonya,” Nicole said with a sigh. “I’d have to come to you for further counseling.”
“I can recommend an excellent colleague should you really feel the need,” Sonya answered very seriously. “Staying sane is a battle when so many things work against us. Modern life, old traumas. Are you going to allow this love affair with Drake McClelland to continue?”
Nicole felt the betraying blush move over her skin. “Caution is thrown to the winds when I’m in his arms. Being in love is so…disruptive.”
“It’s also the most wonderful feeling in the world.” Sonya smiled warmly. “Love is the great healer. It’s our best chance at the future. The right man, Nicole, will be the embodiment of your dreams, as Jacob was mine. I’ll think carefully on all you’ve told me. Would you like a stroll around the gardens? Irene and Carl have five or so acres, three of them devoted to gardens—the rest is bushland. Gardens are marvelous when one is under stress.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
