‘Well, maybe you Blacketts can crack the mystery where the Larkins failed,’ replied Izzy, toasting him.
‘Look, it’s your boyfriend,’ hissed Ben, pointing over her shoulder.
To his surprise, Izzy jumped and spun around.
When she saw it was the table-top dancer, who had just emerged from inside, she relaxed and laughed. ‘How did you guess? I have a thing for the dentally-challenged.’
‘Just a hunch.’
‘Reckon I’m a bit over the whole relationship thing right now,’ sighed Izzy.
I know how you feel, thought Ben, sipping his beer. ‘Yeah? Someone in Sydney?’ he asked.
‘No … do you really want to know?’
‘If you want to tell.’
‘It’s Mr Wright.’
‘Mr Wright?’ Ben blinked in astonishment. ‘Not Lachlan?’ It had never crossed his mind she would be attracted to someone like that. ‘Bloody hell. So, are you two, like, a thing?’
‘Yes. No. I don’t know!’
‘Oh, right. One of those.’
‘Remember your welcome home dinner? That was the start of it.’
‘But you were pissed out of your head. That’s really off …’ began Ben angrily.
‘Nope. It was all me. I practically put him in a headlock,’ replied Izzy. ‘I liked him from the first time we met in Sydney. He seemed, you know, kind. A bit quirky. A bit creative.’
‘A bit old,’ said Ben.
‘Maybe.’
‘Sounds like it’s not going that well?’
‘I thought it was. I thought he really liked me too. He seemed to want to … kind of … be with me. But now he’s gone all cool.’
So that accounted for her moody silences, thought Ben. ‘I’m sorry, mate. If you want my opinion, you’re way out of his league,’ he said, sculling the rest of his beer. ‘He’d have to be nuts.’
‘It was just a stupid mistake,’ she said. ‘Please don’t tell anyone – I’d be so embarrassed … Not even Nina knows.’
‘It’s in the vault, don’t worry. But if you want to talk some time, I’m here.’
‘Thanks. Anyway,’ she drew a deep breath, ‘trust me to fall for a Mr Rochester.’
Ben looked at her blankly.
‘Hello? Mr Rochester? Jane Eyre? You haven’t even started the next book club pick, have you?’
‘Bugger. Sprung, big-time,’ smiled Ben. ‘Gee, you didn’t waste time getting into it. Have you been up all night reading?’
‘The book is Jane Eyre. Must have read it 20 times at least …’
‘Okay, okay – you and your bloody bonnets.’ Ben paused. ‘About the other thing – seriously, he’s not worth worrying about.’
‘I know, ta,’ said Izzy, draining her glass. ‘I reckon getting rich is the best revenge, so let’s find that gold!’
Subject closed, thought Ben. ‘Any luck getting the letter out of Hilary?’ he asked.
‘She always seems to be busy when we call,’ said Izzy.
‘That’s alright – we’ll pay her a visit. Help rifle through her drawers.’
Izzy laughed. ‘I’ve got a break after lunch tomorrow.’
‘It’s a date.’
‘God … god,’ her breaths were heavy now, her back arched. She cried out once more. ‘GOD!’
As the shudders took hold of the supple body that rocked on top of him, Lachlan allowed himself a brief smile. This was probably the best time she’d had in her 40-odd years. Putty in his expert hands. Hilary groaned as he rolled her over onto her side and held her thigh in the air. His pace quickened. It had taken all his self-control to bring her to the brink and beyond, and now he could afford to relax a little, enjoy the pleasures of his labours. His hands cupped those full breasts and he instantly felt her respond, yet again. Christ, she was exciting. He suddenly needed to look at her. He shifted on top of her, brutally pinning her arms against the bedhead. His eyes locked on her open mouth, her face closed to everything but the pleasure they were both so close to attaining once more. He drove on as her long legs gripped him.
‘You’re wild,’ he gasped, as he sucked her nipples and closed his eyes in a desperate move to hold himself in check. And then she moved again and he was murmuring ‘… beautiful … beautiful’. She arched that long body once again. She was aching for him. He was in control now. Full control. He felt himself grow even harder at the thought. How easy had all this been? All it had taken was charm – and he had that in spades – intellect, and his sheer survival instinct. Expert skills in the bedroom didn’t hurt either. Faster. He was good. His breaths came quick and furious as the final release neared. Yet even then he was in control. No abandoned cries. Just a breathless ‘yes, yes’, as he buried his head in Hilary’s mass of tangled blonde hair and surrendered to the waves of pleasure.
He closed his eyes and sighed.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ came the voice beneath him. ‘I’ve got things to do even if you haven’t.’
Lachlan propped himself on his elbows and looked at the flushed face below him. ‘God, woman. Can’t you at least savour the moment?’ he said with a grin before kissing her softly on each eyelid. He saw a ghost of a smile flicker across her face. ‘I have it on good authority that you were enjoying yourself just a little while back.’
Hilary held his gaze for a few seconds and he thought she was going to say something. Instead, she kissed him briefly on the lips. She was a puzzle, this one. She rolled over and reached for her robe. ‘I think we both enjoyed ourselves. Now please tell me you parked around the side, like I asked you to.’
Lachlan plumped the already plump pillows, and lay back on them, his head resting on his arms. He smiled at her. He knew this drove her mad, this wanting to kick back and relax after having done the deed. She was afraid of anyone finding out, yes, but there was more to it than just that. Probably couldn’t trust herself not to start up again with him if she stayed in bed.
‘Well? The car? Did you move it?’ She turned to him, her face cross.
‘Course I did.’
‘Good.’ She moved to the dressing table where she started to fix her hair. ‘You’d best get going.’
‘Well, you certainly know how to make a man feel wanted.’
She put the brush down and looked at him. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t aware that’s what this was all about – making you feel wanted. I thought it was just supposed to be a bit of fun.’
Lachlan laughed. She was a mad bitch. He’d had plenty of women in his time, but no-one quite like this: independent, feisty, great in bed. And sort of … ruthless. It was a big turn-on. His mind went back to that first time, when he had come over a few days after the ball. He had planned it so well. Jeans. A leather jacket – just like Jim used to wear. At least, according to the photos. He had been at Paramour hardly more than an hour before he was pumping her against the machinery shed wall, Hilary’s pants around her ankles and their bodies slippery with sex and dust and sweat. It had been that way for at least three afternoons a week since then, though their exploits had moved to the comforts of her bed, thank god.
Lachlan luxuriated in the thousand thread-count sheets and rolled over to look at Hilary. Despite her tough exterior, he knew she was slowly falling for him. How could she not? The evenings must be long out here on her own. There were few friends and no other man on the horizon. She was too intimidating.
He was born to this challenge. He patted the sheet beside him. ‘Come here.’
She left the dresser and sat beside him.
‘It was more than fun for me,’ Lachlan said, giving her one of his best ‘from the heart’ looks.
She turned to him and smiled and Lachlan saw the years dissolve in front of him. He ran a finger across her cheekbone, down her neck and put his lips to her shoulder. He felt her tremble.
‘I’m sure that’s what you tell all your women,’ Hilary replied dryly. But she stayed where she was.
‘Steady on,’ said Lachlan. Was she jealous? Now that was a good sign.<
br />
‘What about that friend of Nina’s – the young tour group leader – Isobel,’ said Hilary. ‘Don’t tell me there was nothing between you. I’m not stupid.’
‘Her? Oh god, Hilary, be serious,’ said Lachlan. How much did she know? ‘She’s a child. Schoolgirl crush. Not reciprocated.’
‘Look, Lachlan, it’s no skin off my nose if you’ve been seeing her. I wouldn’t mind having a chat to her myself.’
‘What?’ asked Lachlan. Why on earth …
‘Oh, don’t look at me like I’m a crazy woman,’ said Hilary, cracking a smile. ‘I just want to ask her about something – she has some jewellery that I …’ Her voice drifted away. ‘Never mind. Anyway it looked like you two were getting on cosily at the ball.’
She looked straight through him.
Lachlan cleared his throat. This wasn’t washing. Time to change tack. ‘There was a bit of a flirtation, I admit. But I need intellect, spark as well as sexiness.’ He kissed her.
‘Well, if that’s the case why are you still staying at The Springs? That must be awkward when Izzy’s there.’
‘Because it was nothing, Hilary. Seriously. We even laugh about it. It’s not like we slept together or anything,’ Lachlan said, almost convincing himself.
Hilary looked at him shrewdly. ‘Whatever you say,’ she sighed as she headed to the en suite. ‘But it’s not good to get involved with the boss’s friends. Messy. I’d be out of there if I were you.’
Lachlan considered his response while he waited for her to return. Hilary was right. That fling could have cost him dearly with Nina. He needed to keep on her good side. With his help, her business was a goer. She had a great property – not to mention all those paintings worth god knows how much. And she … she … he just didn’t want her to find out. It was a good thing Hilary and all her gorgeous wads of cash didn’t seem too fazed by the Izzy business. At least not yet. But he would have to be more careful. Hilary was not a woman likely to play second fiddle to anyone else if they got serious. And he needed them to get serious. Then again, she had enjoyed herself this afternoon. A lot. Lachlan felt himself relax. Besides, Izzy didn’t seem like a spill-the-beans type.
Hilary emerged from the bathroom in matching black bra and underpants with a tiny hint of lace. Her toned, round hips, those long, strong legs. It was true what they said about horse-riding being good for the body. All she needed was a black riding crop to complete the picture. He felt himself stir again but he needed to reassure her first.
‘Surely Nina’s told you how much I’ve helped her at The Springs. She needs me, that’s all,’ said Lachlan as he watched her pull clothes from hangers. A white silk blouse. He had seen her unpack that last week from a shopping bag – $400. He had checked. She then pulled on pants, well cut, expensive again, no doubt. And then on went the diamond stud earrings, that gold watch.
‘Besides, I’m a bit cash strapped at the moment,’ he continued. ‘There was a shit storm in Sydney – a buyer scrambling to repay me. You know how these development deals can take ages to finalise. I’m not afraid of hard work. In a few weeks I’ll be right as rain.’
‘Sure, whatever,’ said Hilary. ‘Just be discreet. Very discreet.’ She walked over to the bed and ran a finger down his chest.
‘I did enjoy myself today, just so you know,’ she sighed. ‘But you seriously need to go. I have things to do, and … Christ!’
A doorbell rang out through the house.
‘Who the hell can that be?’ said Hilary suddenly at the bedroom door.
‘Were you expecting anyone?’ asked Lachlan.
‘Of course not! SSSSSHHHHH.’ Hilary held her hand up as a warning.
The doorbell again.
‘Get dressed,’ she hissed, ‘and stay up here. And so help me you’d better have hidden your damn car.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Lachlan, stumbling into his jeans. ‘I’ll be as quiet as a …’
But she was already halfway down the stairs.
Lachlan tiptoed to the landing, doing up his fly and nudging Dolce with his bare foot. Not quite a kick. The terriers had torn into the bedroom the minute Hilary opened the door and were now running around him, the slow old one growling and dribbling. ‘Fuck off,’ he hissed through his teeth and the pair slinked away.
There were two voices. A man and … god, it was Izzy! What was she doing here? For a brief second an image of a crazed Izzy coming to track him down like a demented stalker flashed through his brain. But no, no, the conversation didn’t appear to be about him.
‘So you see, Hilary, it could actually tell us something about …’
It was Ben Blackett. Lachlan could see one of his crutches beyond the doorframe. What could he want? Obviously Hilary didn’t see fit to ask them inside – the three of them remained at the front door.
Now Hilary was speaking. She sounded poised. Together. Who would have thought that just minutes ago they were … Lachlan smiled as he peered over the bannister from his hidden vantage point.
Hilary again: ‘Sounds like a wild goose chase.’
Laughter, then Izzy’s breathless voice. She sounded so young.
‘You’re probably right, Hilary, only we’d still like to see it. Is there a reason why you’d prefer us not to?’
What could ‘it’ be? Lachlan strained to hear.
‘Well, it’ll take me ages to find. It’s packed away somewhere. In some box or other.’
He could hear Ben offering to help search. Cheeky, that one. Lachlan felt a grudging admiration.
‘No thanks, Ben. I think I can manage.’
Hilary was so sexy when she was sarcastic.
‘But if I’m going to all this trouble, maybe there’s something you can help me with?’
What was Hilary up to?
Now the voices were muffled as Izzy, Ben and Hilary spoke over each other.
‘Sure.’ ‘Steady on.’ ‘How do you know about that?’ ‘Fair’s fair.’
What were they talking about?
Here was Izzy again, speaking clearly. ‘I can bring it tomorrow and if you bring the letter we can each look at the other’s.’
‘Deal,’ said Hilary.
He saw a movement as they shook hands.
‘Kurrabar at three then.’
He heard the door shut and he quickly moved back to the bed, but not before he heard Hilary sigh and say, ‘Finally, that bloody locket!’
Ironic. After all the searching she had done these past years, the countless letters to antique shops and the offers of rewards, the second locket had finally found its way back to Wandalla all by itself.
‘Did you send it to me, Jim?’ Hilary murmured.
The one thing that had driven her during the 20-year search for the nugget had been him and only him. The money was of no importance. She had not even considered what she would do with the gold if she found it. She only knew she was destined to fulfil the quest Jim had sacrificed his life for.
Hilary headed to the office at the back of the house. From a pigeonhole in the cedar desk, she fished out a key which she slipped into the lock of the filing drawer.
The letter’s paper was fragile but intact. The writing was spidery, elegant, the phrasing from another era. She scanned its contents once again. When she had found this among the pile of papers unearthed for the exhibition, she knew at once that everything Jim had told her had been right. It was like a sign from him to her.
She remembered that blazing day when she had last seen him. His figure wavering in the heat like a mirage by the side of the road. Her shock at having him suddenly there after almost a decade. Her elation when he had told her he would be leaving his wife and child.
Then the gut-wrenching revelation: ‘No, no, you don’t see. It’s not me and you. It’s me and Harrison. It’s always been us.’
He had ploughed on ecstatically about making a new life with the man he loved. And needing to find the gold to set up Julia and Nina after he left them. She had realised he was having one
of his manic episodes. But even so, what he had told her next, about the history of the Larkin family, the existence of the second locket and what it all meant, had rung true. And now she had the proof.
Jim had said the real story of Barkin’ Larkin had only ever been passed down by word-of-mouth – a family rite of passage.
Now, Hilary carefully folded the letter and put it into a clean envelope. How could she possibly wait till three tomorrow to finally see the clues on this second locket?
The others, of course, were completely mistaken in thinking the exchange would put them on an even footing with her. What she knew might not lead her to the gold first but she didn’t care about that. Holding a secret only Jim and she shared meant everything. Hers alone.
Hilary smiled as she headed back through the white expanse of the lounge. The only shock of colour was the canvas above the fireplace. The portrait Jim had painted of her so long ago at the fountain when she believed that he had seen her, at last. Wanted her. She looked at the curve of her youthful body, its insistent aliveness juxtaposed with the crumbling dead stone of the fountain’s rim. She had been beautiful. But it turned out, to him she’d been just another subject, like a sunset or …
A noise at the top of the stairs. It was Lachlan, bare-chested.
‘What was all that about?’ he asked.
‘Oh, nothing.’
‘Are you coming back to bed, beautiful?’
His cosy tone irritated her.
‘Well, to be perfectly honest, Lachlan, I’m busy this afternoon. You should go.’
Hilary moved her glasses to the tip of her nose and peered closely at the two lockets that lay side by side on the dining table at Kurrabar. ‘Same size, same shape, though Izzy’s looks less worn,’ she said.
‘Who’d have thought?’ said Izzy, her face flushed and excited.
‘Clearly the same provenance,’ continued Hilary, running a thumb over the markings. ‘It’s the same weight.’ She squinted and held the locket to the light. ‘Do any of you have ideas about what these engravings mean?’
The Shifting Light Page 16
