by Margaret Way
Wasn’t that your objective? her inner voice questioned sharply.
Yearning rose in her body as his mouth came down across her hair, her forehead, her nose, her cheek. She tipped her head back so he could kiss her throat, before he came back to settle on her receptive open mouth. No feigning of emotion with Varo. No pretence. No mechanical movements. No sense of a deep inner loneliness, lying beneath a man unfulfilled. Varo had lit up every last little part of her with passion. Pure passion. How often did one meet a man with whom one was in perfect accord?
She stood quietly while he removed her beautiful glimmering dress with extreme care, leaving her body covered by the mauve silk slip. Her light, slender limbs had turned heavy, as if she wanted to lie down. He must have known, because he lifted her high in his arms before placing her very gently on the turned-back bed.
“I would not harm you for the world, Ava,” he murmured. His lustrous eyes burned. “I only want to love you a little. Give you pleasure. I will wait for you. For the right time. Have no fear. You have only to tell me to stop if you fear I go too far. I want making love to you to be so natural.” His eyes on her were very brilliant, very tender.
Her whole body was drowning in sensation. She closed her eyes, feeling the heat of her sex but knowing this time was not to be their ultimate encounter. There were demands to be met. “Everything is natural with you,” she whispered, as he kissed her inner wrist with its white translucence and faint tracery of blue veins.
“As it should be,” he said softly, bending his head to kiss her gently, so gently, cupping her face with his hands.
All he knew was his desire, but he had made a vow not to seduce her into giving herself. The depth of feeling he had for her, the tenderness, the sense of protectiveness, was as potent as it was astounding. He broke contact with her mouth, controlling the fever. His eyes followed his hands. He drew them, imperceptibly trembling, down over the length of her, the indentation of her narrow waist, her hips, her thighs, her long slender legs. He didn’t realise it but he was murmuring in Spanish.
“You are a revelation to me.”
Such beauty!
He was inhaling the fragrance that rose from her body, his sex hardening, but that was something he could not control. Lovemaking without penetration could be an enormous stress on a man’s body, but the lovemaking still retained many elements of rapture.
Convulsively Ava moved, so he could lie more comfortably beside her on the bed. These were Varo’s hands on her, kissing, stroking through the silk of the light bra and wisteria-coloured silk slip that covered her. Oddly, it seemed incredibly erotic. At some point she felt the cool breeze hit her naked breasts. Her senses were flooded with the warmth and the clean male scent of him. Lovemaking with Varo was an extraordinary bewitching ritual. She could hear little whimpering sounds. They were issuing from her own lips. All there was was her desire for him; his desire for her. She kept her eyes tightly closed, lost in a world of exquisite sensation.
At one point she found herself gripping his strong naked back in an effusion of heat and light, desperate to give him as much pleasure as he was giving her. He had thrown off his shirt long ago. They were both turning and twisting, bodies interlocking, totally absorbed the one in the other, their bodies imploring, wanting consummation. Varo wanted to know the whole of her, her glorious white flesh. She was allowing it. He was finding it near impossible to hold off the brilliant, overpowering rush of blind sex. Her beautiful body had already dissolved beneath his hands. He knew, like him, she could barely withstand the flood of sensation.
His steely resolve was under threat. She was his. Those inciting little exhalations! They were like a torch held against his skin.
With a deep groan, his handsome face near tortured, he began to breathe deeply, mustering control. Then he very gently began to ease her bra and her silk slip back onto her delicate white shoulders, kissing one and then the other.
“Ava, I have to stop,” he muttered.
She opened her jewelled eyes to him. “I know.” She put up a caressing hand to stroke his handsome chiselled face, moving her hand to clasp his nape, damp from his rising temperature. Their lovemaking, however curtailed, had been agony and ecstasy both. A rapture too extravagant to describe. She had to marvel, and then bless Varo’s capacity for control. She had been lost, adrift in a sea of sensation.
He fell back on the bed beside her, staring up at the orante plaster rose in the ceiling. “I knew it would be you,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I knew it in that very first moment.”
“As did I.” Ava’s response came from the depths of her heart.
That was the great mystery of it all. Destiny at work. Only the heart, once given, could never be recalled.
Ava knew beyond all question that she had given hers.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE first thing Luke Selwyn did when he got up that morning, after yet another anger-racked night, was check his e-mail. He was hoping for some communication from Karen. Karen was a good sort—a loyal pal. He should have married someone like Karen, only she was totally lacking in sex appeal. That his poor Ava had in abundance. The joke was she didn’t know it.
He was absolutely furious—his parents were too—that they hadn’t been invited to Langdon’s wedding to that woman’s daughter. He would always think of Amelia as that. The irony of it all. She was now mistress of Kooraki, wife to the man in control of the Langdon fortunes. Amelia—who had looked at him with blazing contempt.
Bitch!
Karen hated her too. There were five messages from her in his in-box. Only one was he interested in. He opened that message first, read the contents—his wife was having a great time, was she?—then opened the attachment, wondering what it would contain.
What he saw made him sit down joltingly hard at his desk. How dared she? How dared she? A peculiar fury was racing through him. He had always had the upper hand with Ava, physically and psychologically. She had never rebelled, never protested—except at anything a bit adventurous he had wanted in the bedroom. Such a prude!
Her first and only deliberate act of rebellion had been in defying that tyrannical old bastard of a grandfather to marry him. Her second major rebellion had been in leaving him. Her betrayal would have left him desolated—only he knew he could force her back, and when he did he’d make her pay. No one was going to ditch him. Not even the heiress Ava Langdon-Selwyn. Her shocking lack of allegiance would cost her. He couldn’t wait.
He clenched his fists in his lap, biting down involuntarily on his tongue. He tasted blood in his mouth. The attachment showed three shots of his wife dancing with some South American gigolo. As flamboyantly handsome as any matinee idol and a polo-player of all things. He couldn’t believe their body language. His Ava! She looked like a member of some professional dance troupe, strutting her stuff. The final shot had him swearing aloud. The dance was a tango. Anyone would know that. And there was his precious frigid Ava, holding a pose that should never be. This was his wife, dammit! The fact that Ava could act in this abandoned way made him dizzy with rage. She wasn’t going to be allowed to make a fool of him. No way!
The insufferably arrogant Langdon was away on his honeymoon with his equally arrogant wife. He hoped they had a miserable time of it. Terrible weather. Food poisoning. Lost luggage. Anything to spoil their dream time. He hated his brother-in-law with a passion. Now he hated his own wife. But he still wanted her. Oh, yes, he wanted her. He enjoyed their life together. He enjoyed controlling her. Only she had hurt him. So it was only fitting he would hurt her. The gigolo wouldn’t present a problem, even if he did manage to stay on a while after Ava’s parents returned home. He could easily find out when the Langdons were back in town. Arranging a charter flight to Kooraki would be easy enough.
Perhaps he ought to adopt the grieving-husband role? Enlist the gigolo’s
sympathies if he were still there? He was the husband, after all. It might not be far off but the application for divorce had not been filed. There was time for reconciliation. Ava knew her duty. Her duty was to him. The gigolo would see that. It wasn’t as though he was after commitment. His life was in Argentina. Ava would never go there. The very thought of being away from her family would alarm her. A real cream puff was Ava.
Nevertheless, the shock of what he had seen had him still sitting in his chair a good twenty minutes later, staring all the while at a silver-framed photograph of his beautiful wife. It had pride of place on his desk. He still had her photograph on his desk at the office too. He knew Ava so well he took cold comfort in the fact she was extremely cautious by nature. No way would she have sex with a stranger. God, no! Ava had dozens of ardent admirers, who would give anything to spend a stolen hour with her. But Ava had never been unfaithful, was totally loyal. He trusted her completely. He’d had other women, of course. But that was different. Men were different. Men had different needs.
* * *
Her parents stayed on for a few days, at peace with one another and clearly enjoying themselves. They had taken a great liking to Varo, drawing closer to him every day. Clearly he was an exceptional young man who loved his family, his extended family, his country.
“Varo has a wonderful blend of sense and sensibility,” Elizabeth remarked to her daughter. “It has such power to attract.”
Elizabeth and Erik had derived great enjoyment from Varo’s sense of humour, and his fascinating tales of Argentina and his family life there. He had invited them to stay at Estancia de Villaflores whenever they visited South America, which he hoped would be soon. The invitation had been issued with such genuine warmth both felt they might indeed take him up on it. Varo had assured them most charmingly that the estancia had as many guest rooms as Kooraki. His parents loved entertaining.
On the morning Ava’s parents were to return home, Elizabeth sought a few private words with her daughter.
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Elizabeth asked calmly and without preamble. She was half reclining on the chaise in Ava’s bedroom, looking across at her daughter, who was sitting very quietly on the carved chest at the end of her bed.
Ava took a deep breath. She’d known this was coming. Her eyes met those of her mother. “I thought I was being friendly,” she said, with a wry smile.
Elizabeth couldn’t help laughing. “My darling, I’m a woman. I’m your mother. I understand perfectly why you’re in love with him. What woman wouldn’t be? He has everything.” Elizabeth made an expansive little gesture. “He’s everything Luke isn’t.”
Ava looked out at the gently swaying palms. “Of course he is. Do you think he loves me?”
Elizabeth smiled. “I may not have personally experienced the legendary coup de foudre, but I would say you two have. Your father agrees. He’s very happy about it. The more the two of you attempt to play down your feelings, the more intense they appear. Have you slept with him?”
Ava felt her hot blush. “Mum!”
“Sorry, darling,” Elizabeth apologised. “Only, you have the radiance of a woman who is not only in love but is loved. What is Varo saying about the future?” she questioned with a slight frown. “He has deep ties to his family. He loves his own country.”
Ava sighed. “I know that, Mum. All he says is, ‘We wait a while.’”
“Implying?”
“I don’t ask.” Ava’s shrug was a shade helpless. “I can’t believe what is happening to me, Mum. I need a little time for the miracle to sink in. I never thought I could ever feel like this. I even thought I had a cool heart, if not cold. No, don’t scoff. Luke was forever driving that point home. Maybe I can’t believe it could ever work out for Varo and me. I can’t even believe the divorce will proceed without incident. Luke is storing up trouble. He’s like that. He’ll throw anything he can in the way of holding up proceedings.”
“So who’s to talk?” Elizabeth asked derisively. “We’re a thousand miles from anywhere. Luke knows nothing. Although I realise that dreadful girl Karen has always been his informant. Are you sure she’s not keen on him herself?”
Ava shook her head. “Luke doesn’t find Karen attractive. In fact he’s said many an unkind thing about her. Her figure, in particular. How thin she is. He uses her, that’s all.”
“She could tell him about your famous dance…” Elizabeth said reflectively.
“Heard about it, did you?” Ava asked. Her parents had gone to bed before then.
“Certainly did.” Elizabeth laughed. “You’ve always been a lovely dancer, but from all accounts you excelled yourself.”
Ava’s eyes were glitter-bright. “You know perfectly well how a wonderful partner can raise your performance. The tango is in Varo’s blood.”
“I bet!” Elizabeth laughed again. “The two of you must promise a repeat performance some time.” Reluctantly she rose. “The wedding was simply marvellous. And it was lovely to hear from Dev and Amelia and know they’re so blissfully happy.” And now it seemed to Elizabeth her beloved daughter might have found the man of her dreams. “When is Varo going home?” she asked as they walked to the door. “He’s come a long way. He will want to see lots more. The Red Centre was mentioned. Uluru and Kata Tjuta. He’s so enjoying himself.”
“I’m not pressing him for an answer,” Ava said. “Rather the reverse.”
She didn’t say such thoughts and accompanying fears were never far from her mind. What would Varo’s inevitable return to Argentina do to their relationship, for one? That was the burning question. She had to accept conflicts would arise. Could she give up her homeland for Varo? Could she leave the people she loved? She couldn’t see that far into the future. Really, it all came down to Varo. If Varo loved her, all would be well.
Elizabeth put her arm around her daughter, hugging her close. “I want you to be happy, Ava. I pray for you to be happy. You’re a lovely woman—inside and out. A wonderful loving daughter. Don’t let Luke Selwyn intimidate you. I know it was the case in the past, his manipulation, though you never said anything. Dev and Amelia will be back home by the separation date—the year and the day. You have me and your father. We will be with you. Staying with a loveless marriage would be like being in a prison. The divorce will go through, my darling. You’ve a top lawyer. You’re going to come out of this.”
“One day, Mum,” Ava said, her lovely smile a touch on the melancholy side.
* * *
She had to go in search of Varo. They had seen her parents off, and had a leisurely lunch over which they’d discussed where they would go on the station that afternoon.
It was a strange time for Ava, a euphoric time. She had the feeling the whole universe had changed. Simultaneously she wouldn’t be shocked if it reverted to what it had been. Love affairs always started out with high hopes. She had even had hopes for herself and Luke, but never euphoria. Euphoria was like riding an ocean wave.
She thought she might take Varo out to see Malyah Man. The extraordinary rock formation was semi-sacred to the aboriginals on the station. It was a truly amazing spectacle, some eight feet tall, and resembled an aboriginal head atop a fiery limestone column rather like a Henry Moore sculpture or the Easter Island figures. Malyah Man stood alone in the remoteness, quite a distance beyond where they had so far gone.
She had been in awe of the rock all her life. There was something daunting about it, but it was certainly a sight worth seeing. Like all the rock formations on the station it changed colour from dawn to dusk. At midday it was a furnace-red that quickly lost intensity and became a reddish brown. By the end of the day it glowed a deep purple. She had seen Malyah Man in all his colours. What he was doing out there on his own in the wilderness no one knew.
She finally found Varo in a storeroom, crouching b
efore a cupboard.
“Come on in.” He made a wide sweep of his hand.
He looked wonderful to her eyes. Blazingly alive, exuding energy. What would she do if he disappeared out of her life? The pain would be excruciating.
Everything in life has its price.
She understood that. There might be a crushing price for her behaviour, although she and Varo had not slept together as her mother might have supposed. In any case, they had both become very aware of the proximity of her parents. It was agonising not to be together, but what option did they have? The high emotion of the wedding day had taken them by storm, sweeping aside their defences. Neither had set out with the intention of deliberately seducing the other. Fate had to take responsibility for that.
And here they were again.
Quite, quite alone.
She moved into the well stocked room, wondering what he was doing. “Can I help?”
“I’m after a powerful torch,” he explained, turning his dark head to her. “The most powerful you’ve got.”
“They’re in the drawer over there.” She pointed to the opposite wall of cabinets. “There are any number of powerful torches in use around the house. We have had floods and loss of power situations. The station store supplies the workforce.”
“Presente!” Varo gave a cry of satisfaction, withdrawing a handheld torch. Ava could see the flashlight comprised an LED, not an incandescent bulb. This was the most powerful version of torch they had, with a solid waterproof assembly.
It suddenly struck her what he wanted the torch for. “You want to explore the hidden cave?” Her voice rose in sharp alarm.
