by Margaret Way
* * *
And so they came to the night of the party.
Ava knew she had far more in the way of formal eveningwear than most women. God knew she had attended any number of grand and boring balls, parties, fundraisers and other functions. She counted herself most fortunate in lots of ways. Not all. Luke had once sent her back upstairs to change one of her gowns because he had considered it not stunning enough. In actual fact it had been a designer outfit, purchased when she and her mother had been in Paris, the City of Light. It just went to prove Luke knew nothing about style and haute couture.
For tonight’s party she chose the same full-length gown. Her mother had insisted on buying it for her because of its masterly cut and glorious colour. She knew Mel had a beautiful gold full-length gown, with bare shoulders and a richly embroidered top. Karen would be channelling Chanel again. Probably slinky black. Karen was forever quoting the infamous Wallis Simpson remark, “A woman can’t be too rich or too thin.” The other women guests would have brought something to dazzle. Every woman loved to dress up, and there weren’t all that many occasions. When one arose they made the most of it.
Ava debated whether to pull her hair back or leave it loose. Men loved long hair. In her experience they considered it an unparallelled look for a woman. In the end she decided to go with movement. She did a little teasing to her thick gleaming locks, and even she thought the end result was very glamorous. It was party-time, after all. The satin gown in a lovely shade of purple hugged every curve, every line of her body. The bodice, ruched from below the bust, was held up by a shoestring halter with a long scarf-like pleat falling down the centre of the gown. Right now Ava felt as attractive as she could get.
For her twenty-first birthday her parents had given her a white-gold sapphire and diamond necklace, with matching sapphire and diamond drop earrings.
She realised what was happening. She was making herself as beautiful as possible for one man. Even thinking it brought out a rosy blush. Juan-Varo de Montalvo had had an enormous impact on her from the moment her eyes fell on him. Now she knew all about his powerful charm.
Turning about, she addressed her glowing reflection. “You’ve changed, Ava. You’re almost a dual personality.”
Cool, calm Ava and the woman who turned to flame in a near stranger’s arms. A man, moreover, from another land.
For all she had lived life as a married woman, she had never felt remotely like this. She had never been in this intensely emotional state or felt such feverish excitement. And she was taking a huge gamble. One she might never win.
“It isn’t like you at all,” she told herself. “But it’s magic!”
And how was it going to end? There were always consequences to actions.
On one side euphoria. On the other a certain trepidation which she sought to subdue but couldn’t. She really knew very little about Varo. She could be playing with fire and she had always thought of herself as governed by cool logic. Falling madly in love was madness in its way. And she had a past. Some men didn’t like a woman to have a past. Not to marry, anyway. Was it conceivable Varo could be regarding her in some way other than she believed? There was passion on both sides. Neither could deny that. But she would die of shame if he was only thinking of her in terms of a wild affair. How did she really know if he didn’t have someone waiting for him at home? Now, that was logical. A man like Varo—a man of strong passions—surely would have a special woman tucked away. Karen had hinted at it. But Karen was not to be trusted. Karen only wanted to hurt her.
Momentarily her heart sank. Then she made the effort to throw off any negative feelings. She was like a woman who had been buried alive. Now she was going to enjoy herself. Enjoy life. She had been unhappy for such a long time. That had to change. She had to work at making her life change. She wanted to be a stronger woman than she had ever been. It seemed to her this man who had come into her life, Juan-Varo de Montalvo, was helping her be just that. Her anxieties dissolved.
A few minutes later, looking supremely beautiful and composed, she made her way down the rear staircase to the kitchen, greeting Nula and her helpers with a warm smile. “Everything going okay?”
“All under control!” Nula assured her.
“Great!”
“You look absolutely beautiful!”
Nula spoke for all of them, charmed and delighted. Miss Ava, such a lovely, friendly person, had never been treated the way she should have been. The Old Man, Gregory Langdon, had been a genuine tyrant. Everyone on the station, family and employees alike, had taken a good deal of punishment from him. Miss Ava’s husband—from the viewpoint of the staff, at least—wasn’t half good enough for her. Good riddance, they all thought, now they knew Miss Ava was well into the process of divorcing him. She deserved and hopefully would find a far better man.
* * *
The party had already started. Music was playing through the house. All the exterior lights, and the lighting around the pool, the pool house and the landscaped gardens, were turned on, transforming the whole area into a fairyland. Couples were dancing in the Great Hall and out on the rear terrace. She had a good view of Dev, with his beautiful Amelia clasped in his arms. Her heart shook with love and gratitude. Everything at long last had turned out so splendidly for them. These were two individuals who had been made for each other. Wasn’t that a source of wonder? Everything was so much better with Mel around. She found herself rejoicing that in one week’s time Mel would become her sister-in-law—the sister she’d never had.
* * *
The instant she spotted the fabulous Argentine momentarily alone Moira O’Farrell broke away from her group, crossing the room swiftly to speak to him while she had the chance. Ava’s cousin, the pretentious Karen Devereaux—so terribly hard-edged, wearing a very stylish black jersey dress—had actually unbent sufficiently to tell her Juan-Varo de Montalvo had picked her, Moira, out of the crowd.
“It’s your wonderful red hair, darling,” Karen had pointed out in a voice that hid insincerity. She really disliked red hair.
So he had noticed her! Moira had the sensation she was awakening to a dream. The Argentine was gorgeous, and Karen had let drop that he came from a fabulously wealthy family. Not only that, he was unattached. She didn’t know if she believed that was true or not. How could such a man be unattached?
* * *
Well used to the ways of women, especially women dead set on chasing him, Varo was soon alerted to the redhead’s intentions. She was very pretty, her small neat head a mass of silky curls, and she was wearing a lovely spring-green dress, but all he could think of was Ava and when she was going to appear.
The intensity of the feelings he had for his friend’s sister was threatening to overwhelm him. He was always gentle with women, and tender too, he supposed, but he had never experienced such a potentially dangerous passion. He wanted her. Very, very badly. He had not been prepared for her. He wasn’t one to fool around, treating women with a callous hand.
He had no idea where these feelings were going. Ava was still married. He could not stay in Australia, despite the country’s great appeal to him, the people, the way of life. He had to go home. He was his father’s heir. He and his father had great plans. He might be able to grow to love Australia, especially the vast Outback, but a woman like Ava would be extremely unhappy away from her homeland. That was if her feelings even came remotely close to his own.
At the moment it was a dilemma. All of it. He cared too terribly much.
The redhead raced up to him, her face full of animation and, it had to be said, invitation. “Please, Varo, I’d love to dance—wouldn’t you?”
She was so sweet, so openly flirtatious, he couldn’t help but smile back at her. Very gallantly he took her arm, leading her out onto the terrace where everyone was in a rather loving dance mode.
* * *
“Fabulous party, Ava,” one of the male guests said as she passed him. “You look glorious!”
Ava didn’t reply, but she smiled and blew him a kiss. Invitations to join different groups were called to her as she made her way from the Great Hall into the living room, wondering all the while if Varo was out on the terrace. He was so tall, so much a stand-out figure, she would have spotted him easily had he been inside the house.
Easier still to spot him on the terrace. He was dancing with Moira O’Farrell. Moira’s pretty face was uplifted to him, her expression one of almost delirious excitement.
Ava found herself standing perfectly still, her heart rocked by an unfamiliar pang of jealousy laced with an irrational sense of betrayal. Surely Varo could dance with whomever he pleased? He couldn’t help being so devastatingly attractive to women. He appeared to be staring down into Moira’s melting blue eyes. There was very little space between their bodies, although in height they were mismatched. Varo’s raven head was bent to hear what Moira was saying. Ava saw him smile—that beautiful white flash that lit up his polished bronze complexion. He would draw any woman and compel her to follow him.
Unnerved, inhaling quickly, breasts steeply rising, Ava turned back into the living room. She was caught by a sudden fear that Varo might be toying with her. Then she reminded herself she had always suffered from a lack of confidence.
About time you took trust as a maxim.
Some time later, someone suddenly and very precipitately bumped into her.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m sorry, Ava.” It was Moira O’Farrell doing the apologising.
From looking radiant, Moira now looked hectically flushed and, yes, distressed. What on earth had happened to cause such a change?
“That’s okay, Moira,” Ava said companionably. “You look like you’re leaving?” She was half joking, half serious. She put out a steadying hand. Moira was a guest.
“No, no. I’m having a marvellous time,” Moira’s protest had a touch of mild hysteria. “Look, I shouldn’t say this, but that bitch of a cousin of yours, Karen Devereaux—” Moira broke off as though she’d suddenly realised to whom she was speaking.
“Whatever has she said to upset you?” Ava asked, staring into Moira’s face. She took Moira’s slender arm, moving them away to a relatively quiet corner.
“It was unforgivable, really.” Always chirpy, Moira now looked both downcast and angry.
“Sure you’re not being over-sensitive?” Ava questioned.
“She’s nothing like you!” Moira shook her head so vigorously her curls bounced. “I always thought she was a bit on the vicious side.”
“Tell me, Moira,” Ava insisted.
Moira’s face contorted into a grimace. “She tried to make a fool of me. You’d better ask her.”
“I’m asking you, Moira. I prefer to speak to you.” Ava spoke firmly.
“All right!” Moira made her decision. “She told me Varo had picked me out of the crowd. Her very words. Picked me out of the crowd. The implication was he fancied me. Like a fool I believed her. Men do fancy me, as I expect you know. But obviously she was having a good laugh at my expense. I practically forced Varo to dance with me. Don’t get me wrong. He’s a great guy—a perfect gentleman, lovely manners, and a super dancer. Stupid me, pressing myself against him… I could die. But it seems he has a girl back home. Of course he would, wouldn’t he? A drop-dead gorgeous guy like that. Oh, God, I feel such a fool.” A sound like a hot rush of self-loathing escaped her.
“Why would you?” Ava tried hard to sound understanding. Indeed she was. But her own fearful thoughts were spinning out of control.
“Oh, Ava, I was so obvious,” Moira wailed. “I was flirting with him for all I was worth.”
Ava gathered herself. Her voice, miraculously, sounded nice and normal. “Nothing much wrong with that, Moira. If you look around, everyone is playing the flirting game. It’s a party. Cheer up.” There seemed little else she could say.
Varo has someone back home. He’s admitted it. Moira wouldn’t lie.
“I’ve never told you this before,” said Moira, “but that smug cousin of yours is very jealous of you. I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time now. You’re so lovely too.” Moira’s eyes were suddenly brimming with tears. “Just you be careful of her.”
Ava lent forward and spontaneously kissed Moira’s flushed cheek. “Come on, Moira. So Varo has a love interest at home? You can easily find one right here. Blink the tears away and go enjoy yourself. That’s an order.”
Moira lifted her head with smiling gratitude. “Thanks, Ava. You’re an angel.”
They parted company with Moira looking brighter. Ava, however, had to take her usual three calming breaths. She tried hard to hold on to some steadying memory. Surely her mother had once said, “You’re always good in a crisis, Ava.”
She had to cling to that.
Varo, promised to someone else, had got in over his head. So had she. It had all happened so fast. The effects had been mesmerising.
Ava moved to join Dev and Amelia’s group. “You look ravishing, Ava!” Dev’s tone spoke volumes of pride, while Amelia’s expression showed her shared pleasure. “I have two beautiful women in my life.”
Dev hugged Amelia to him. Plainly the two of them were enjoying themselves immensely. What she had to do now was not spoil things.
Plant a smile on your face.
A few moments later she felt without seeing that Varo had come to stand directly at her shoulder. He was greeted warmly by everyone, but it was Ava he had come for.
“I hope you realise, Ava, that as the captain of the winning team I am owed a dance by you. Several, in fact,” he said, with his captivating smile.
She knew their guests were waiting for her response. And Mel, sharp as a tack, was watching her rather closely.
“Of course, Varo.” She turned to him, her eyes ablaze in her face, brilliant as jewels.
Inside she might feel pale with shock, but outside she was all colour—the golden mane of hair, dazzling eyes, softly blushed cheeks, lovely deep pink mouth. She was determined now to play her part, her only wish to get through the night with grace. For all he hadn’t been completely honest with her, Juan-Varo de Montalvo would never leave her memory, even when he disappeared to the other side of the world.
Varo took charge, as was his way. He clasped her hand in his, entwining his long fingers with hers, then led her away. Shaken, sobered, incredibly Ava felt desire course through her. Where had all this sensuality come from? These wildly extravagant reactions that touched every sensitive spot in her being and body? She had never experienced those feelings before. They had been drawn out of her by this man who had stolen her heart. There was just no fighting it. The connection was too strong.
Oh, God, she thought prayerfully. Oh, God! Her head was telling her what to do. Her body was ignoring the dictates of her mind. She had imagined him making love to her. Not a day had gone by when she hadn’t fantasised about it. She felt possessed by him. Drawn like a moth to the flame. The huge problem was she couldn’t seem to turn away from the flame, though she knew it could devour her.
“Wait,” he murmured, steering her to the far corner of the loggia, just as she had known he would. In the light-dappled shadows he slowly turned her into his arms, his brilliant gaze questing. “What is troubling you, Ava?”
The sound of his name on her lips was like the softest swish of air. Yet pressure was expanding in her. Be brave. Tell him.
“Nothing.” To her surprise her voice sounded normal. Or normal enough.
“Do you think I don’t know you by now?”
The honeyed tenderness was almost her undoing. “But you don’t know me, Varo. I don’t know you.”
He gave a soft laugh
. “That is not quite correct.” He took her into his arms as though the sole purpose for their coming to the far end of the terrace was to find a relatively quiet area to dance. “This is not the ideal moment to sort it out,” he said humorously. “Too many people. Too many glowing lights. I cannot embrace you, or kiss your lovely mouth. I can only tell you I want you desperately.” His full attention was focused on her. “You look incredibly beautiful.” His arms tightened around her, guiding her in slow, sensual, graceful movements. “Exquisito.”
What should she do? Their bodies were touching. She couldn’t break away. Her muscles seemed to be locked. All she could do was stare into his dynamic dark face, wondering how she could live her life without him. It was quite frightening that she should think this way. But passion was frightening in its way.
He was wearing a white dinner jacket that served to emphasise his darkly tanned olive skin. It had to have been tailored for him because it fitted his wide shoulders like a glove. “Are you trying to woo me, Varo?” she asked, gripped by her undeniably erotic reaction. But this man was erotic. She had grasped that from the moment she had first laid eyes on him.
He was sensitive to her as well, because he had picked up on her mood. “Ava,” he sighed over her head. “Ava. You want me to win you? Is that it?”
She placed a staying hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating strongly beneath the pristine white dress shirt. “You can’t do that, of course,” she said with a flare of spirit. “You have to return home soon.”
“What should I do?” he countered swiftly, as though daring her. “Not for us coffee and conversation. Tell me, please, Ava.”
It was a demand couched in exquisite gentleness. She struggled to find an answer but she was encased within his arms, her own heart beating as fast as a wild bird confined to a cage. “Is this all part of the adventure, Varo?”
The tenderness had alchemised to anger. Abruptly he pulled back, his handsome features tautening. “An adventure? What adventure?” A vertical line formed between his black brows. “I should stop your mouth with my own. Only I want to hear about these feelings that are plaguing you. You think me insincere? A social playboy?” He looked passionately affronted at the very idea. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Ava. Love is a force. The most powerful force on earth. I didn’t expect any of this. I was not prepared. But we made an instant connection. You cannot deny it. Except, of course, as you say I don’t really know you. However, you’ve allowed me to believe you are seriously affected as well. Or are you a witch?”
