by Miranda Lee
'I see.'
'No, you don't see!' she snapped. 'He proved that power again the following night even more horribly. I'd already made, my plans to leave him, but it was going to be a couple more days before I could physically leave the house. I invented a headache to get out of making love, but he got round me again, seducing me quite effortlessly. And I enjoyed it, Gareth. Mindlessly. Madly. I cried myself to sleep afterwards.'
'Hell, Leah.'
'Don't worry, it disgusted me just as much as it's disgusting you. So, on the last night I decided I would not let him seduce me again. I could not have borne it. So I did something I'd never done before. I...well, suffice it to say I took the initiative. And he was so darned pleased, not knowing how much it killed me to do such a thing.'
Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of that night again, and the subsequent tenderness Gerard had put into his lovemaking. Any woman would have believed he'd loved her then.
But he hadn't, reminded the cold voice of reason.
Good God, how much suffering did it take for her to ram that simple fact into her thick skull, to put aside her feelings for the man and get on with her life?
She blinked the tears away with a fierce burst of pride, the reliving having reinforced her resolve to have done with Gerard.
'I'm sorry, Gareth,' she said. 'I should not have told you that. It wasn't fair to you.'
'You're wrong, Leah. You should have. I now understand why you ran away from Gerard. I hated thinking you were afraid he might do you physical harm. Other than that, what you've told me is nothing more than I already knew. Gerard is a very experienced and skilful lover.'
'Yes, but...but...'
'But nothing,' he said, overriding any protest. 'I'll be an even better lover. Because I truly care about you: I won't be just trying to prove I'm better than Casanova. Now drink up, darling. Our dinner reservation awaits.'
Leah went in to dinner in a rather dazed state. She'd thought Gerard was a stubborn man. And supremely self-confident. But his brother left him in the shade!
'You're incorrigible,' she muttered to Gareth as they followed the waitress to a table in the non-smoking section.
'Yes,' he returned simply. 'My mother says the same.'
The non-smoking section was a glassed-in nook which resembled a conservatory and overlooked the courtyard from a different angle. The carpet was bluish, the walls cream, the tables covered in rusty, coloured tablecloths with a cream overlay, a brass-bottomed candle-holder in the middle of each. There were several marine souvenirs dotted around the room, Leah especially liking a brass diving bell hat which rested on a nearby counter—a relic from the days when brave men had dived deep into the sea to bring the highly prized pearl shells to the surface. Brass ceiling fans and colonial wall-lights completed the stylish old-world elegance. Anywhere else in the world Leah might have felt under-dressed in such a setting, but here, in Broome, everything was far more casual.
The waitress, who was dressed in flowing black trousers and a simple white blouse, pulled out the cane-backed chairs for them at their table for two, then waited while they sat down before handing Leah the food menu and Gerard the wine list.
'A Chablis do?' Gerard asked after a swift perusal. 'Or would you prefer a Chardonnay?'
'Not Chardonnay,' she said.
Gareth frowned at her sharp tone, then shrugged and selected a local West Australian Chablis, the waitress hurrying off to do his bidding as waitresses had been hurrying off to do handsome men's bidding for centuries.
'You don't like Chardonnay?' he asked.
'No, I don't,' she said, then quickly buried her head in the dinner menu.
Gerard had never ordered her any other white wine but Chardonnay, which had a tendency to go straight to her head. He rather liked her tipsy, he'd once told her as he'd pulled his black Porsche over into a darkened side road on the way home from a dinner party. She was always deliciously co-operative that way, he'd added as he'd switched off the darkly throbbing engine and turned to her.
'Deliciously cooperative', she thought angrily, her upper lip curling with self-contempt. Downright gullible, more like it. A push-over!
'None of the food to your liking?' Gareth asked, misinterpreting her expression. 'Oh, no, no, it's all lovely food. I just don't know what to order.' God, but she was flushing, heat filling her face as what had happened in the car that night flashed into her mind.
Leah was eternally grateful the room wasn't too brightly lit! 'What about good old fish and chips?' Gareth suggested, smiling.
Her laugh sounded strained. 'I don't think that's on the menu. Here. You order this time. I can't seem to make up my mind all of a sudden.'
Or any other time, came a brutal inner voice. If Gerard were sitting opposite you right now, you probably would go to mush. He wouldn't have to touch you. He'd only have to look at you and tell you with his eyes what he'd like to be doing to you—or what he'd like you to be doing to him—and you'd be incapable of either speech or simple thought.
She glanced over the candle to where Gareth was studying the menu, his classically formed features etched into planes and angles by the flickering candlelight,
'Do you look like your father or your mother?' she asked abruptly.
Her head jerked up, his eyes startled. 'My father. Why?'
'Tell me about them.'
'What about them?'
'I want to know everything.'
'That's a tall order—even worse than deciding what we'll eat tonight.' He folded the menu and immediately the waitress was at his side, wanting to know if he wished to order.
In contradiction of his supposed indecision, he crisply ordered spicy Thai pumpkin soup for starters, to be followed by Barramundi wings in lemon butter and caper sauce. He agreed to a suggestion of the waitress for herb bread, but refused dessert at that time—a decision to be made later.
When the waitress had departed he looked thoughtful for a moment, then began fiddling with his fork, drawing patterns on the tablecloth. Leah waited for him to speak first, shifting a little nervously in her seat.
'My father was a carpenter,' he began. 'You know the song about the carpenter in love with the lady? He asks her if she would marry him and have his baby. That was similar to my parents' marriage. He was a carpenter and she was a lady. Only she married him because she was having his baby.'
'Babies,' Leah corrected.
'What? Oh, yes, well, she didn't know that at the time. This was pre-ultrasound. Anyway, it was a disastrous mismatch from the start. Or so I finally realised.'
'What do you mean, finally? Weren't you boys aware your parents didn't get along?'
'Not really. My mother was a lady, remember? She'd been brought up to always be perfectly polite, to always look perfect and to always defer to the menfolk in her life. The facade was more important than the reality. I thought she and Dad were happy enough. I had no idea they were both miserable.
'Mum felt trapped, and Dad was tormented by thoughts she might leave him one day. He knew, you see, that she didn't love him, that he'd just been a mad rebellious fling, that she'd only married him because of her pregnancy. He, however, was crazy about her. He thought if he gained wealth, he might buy her love.
'Unfortunately, he didn't have a business brain. He tried everything but only ever succeeded in losing more money. Mum had to go out to work to make ends meet. Towards the end he began to drink heavily. Then one day, about ten years ago, when he was in a drunken rage, he beat her very badly. And she left him.'
'Ten years ago,' Leah repeated slowly, frowning. 'That was when you and Gerard parted company, wasn't it?'
'Just about then.'
'What happened exactly?'
'The day my mother left, Gerard and I came home to find my father drunk and Mum gone. Dad told us a pack of lies about how he'd found out she'd been having an affair with her wealthy boss for years, that the boss's wife had finally died and he wanted to marry Mum, that she'd left without a backward glance,
not caring about any of us any more.
'He ranted and raved about how she'd always despised being married to a man who worked with his hands, that all she'd wanted out of life was money and material things. He claimed he'd worked his fingers to the bone to provide for her but nothing was ever good enough.
'Naturally, this all came as a bit of shock. As I said, their marriage had seemed reasonably happy on the surface.'
'But you believed him?'
'Gerard did. He'd had a recent experience with a girl dumping him for a guy with a sports car, so I guess he was rather primed to believe badly of women. He'd never been all that close to Mum, either. Dad had been the better parent, affectionate and loving. Mum was far more remote, emotionally. On top of that, things did look damaging against her. Without us seeing her bruises, we had no idea what Dad had done. He'd never even hit her before. She hadn't left any letter for us. Neither did she ring up at that time and explain. We didn't know it then, but she was terrified Dad might murder her. He'd already threatened to kill her, and had actually gone to her boss's home with a loaded rifle.'
'So she was at her boss's house?'
'Yes. He was very fond of her. He doesn't deny that, even today. But he swears they were never lovers. Mum had gone to him for protection when she had nowhere else to run and he'd taken her in. It wasn't till later that they fell in love. Still, her being in his home was another nail in her coffin in Gerard's opinion. He went to the house himself. It was a mansion down on the Gold Coast. Unfortunately, by then Mum and her boss had left for the States together.'
'That must have looked pretty bad.'
'It did. When Dad found out he went crazy. He wouldn't believe Gerard. He accused him of lying. He raced out to the garage, jumped in his utility and screamed off at a suicidal speed. He crashed it on the way and was declared dead on arrival at the hospital.'
'Oh, Gareth...how awful.'
'It was. It really was...'
'So, did your mother contact you eventually?'
'Yes.'
'And?'
' 'Gerard wouldn't speak to her, wouldn't listen. He blamed her for Dad's death. In the end she gave up trying to explain to him. When she actually married her boss, Gerard saw that as final and irretrievable proof that our father had been the wronged party. He told me that he never wanted to see her or speak to her again. She was dead as far as he was concerned.'
Leah could only shake her head. She could imagine Gerard saying that. Once crossed, he would never forgive or forget. No doubt he hated her now.
'He changed after that,' Gareth went on. 'He became ruthlessly ambitious. He dropped out of architecture and—'
'Gerard was an architect too?' Leah broke in, startled.
'He was. But after Dad's death being a fledgling architect just wouldn't do. Not enough money in it. So he went into sales. Selling houses proved far more lucrative than designing them. He worked seven days a week. Had no time for the things we'd once planned to do together. He had no time for me at all. I was a constant reminder of what had happened to Dad.'
'So he cut you out of his life! And his mother as well!'
'He believed she'd lied.'
'Isn't that just like Gerard?' Leah went on with a wealth of feeling. 'You had the decency to hear your mother's point of view and keep an open mind. But Gerard only has one point of view. His.'
Gareth frowned. 'I was hoping you might understand your husband a little better once you knew his background. I was hoping you might have it in your heart to forgive him.'
'Never!' she exclaimed heatedly. 'God, no. How can you possibly ask that of me, Gareth? What he did to me was unforgivable. I don't care what his background was. I'm sick and tired of people finding excuses for their actions because of something that happened in the past. Once you become an adult you make your own choices and decisions. Your background was the same as Gerard's and you didn't turn out to be a cold-blooded conscienceless devil. No, I can't excuse him. He knew what he was doing and he did it anyway.'
'Mmm. That's an impressive speech, Leah, and I understand where you're coming from, but things can be straightforward in theory yet not so easy to put into practice. You're guilty yourself of letting the past colour your present actions. That's why you're hiding away in this remote corner of the world.'
Leah flinched, stung by Gareth's cool reasoning. But then she rallied. 'I think I can be forgiven for going to ground for six months. That's a lot shorter time span than ten years. Besides,' she added her chin lifting, 'I don't intend to keep hiding away. As I already told you, I am going to go back to Brisbane and ask Gerard for a divorce. Next Monday. After that, I'll happily go home.'
'I thought you said you didn't want to let Alan down.'
'Alan won't have any trouble finding a replacement if I give him a few days' notice. My job hardly requires a degree in either sailing or catering!'
'I couldn't do it,' he said drily.
'Yes, well, working on a boat is a bit silly if you get seasick.'
'I don't get seasick.'
Leah was taken aback. 'But last night...when you came down below...after you went to the bathroom...you...you looked quite ill.'
'I felt ill. I'd just witnessed that cosy little scene between you and Alan on deck, which I was already struggling to handle, then I walked past your boss's cabin and saw his double bed, unmade and rumpled as only two lovers could have made it. I can only tell you I was almost sick on the spot.'
'He'd had a lady-friend stay the previous night,' Leah explained, shaken by the extent of his passion for her. He'd felt so strongly about her even then, within an hour or two of their meeting? Amazing!
'Why not put off going back to Brisbane till I can go with you?' he suggested.
'We could fly back on the same plane.'
'When's your return flight?'
'I was originally planning on staying here two weeks.'
'What do you mean...originally?'
'After I met you, I changed my plans.'
'Whatever am I going to do with you, Gareth?' she said, shaking her head at him.
'I could give you heaps of suggestions,' he drawled, and looked deep into her eyes.
The arrival of the pumpkin soup and herb bread rescued Leah. But not for long.
'Do me a favour and forget about Gerard for a while,' Gareth said abruptly once the waitress had departed. 'You have the rest of your life to ask for a divorce. All I want is two or three weeks without any hangovers from the past. Is that too much to ask?'
'I guess not...'
'I want you to pretend we've only just met.'
'We have only just met!'
'Don't split hairs, Leah.' And he set his eyes upon her once more, those intensely penetrating blue eyes. 'An eternity can be fitted into a few hours.'
Something twisted deep inside Leah, something far too darkly sexual for her peace of mind. This was worse than when Gerard had looked at her across a dinner table. Far worse. Back then she'd waited like a good little girl for her husband to do the seducing. Now she was besieged with thoughts of what she might do to his brother when they left this restaurant.
'I'm going out to the Willie Creek Pearl Farm tomorrow morning,' Gareth said as he picked up a chunk of herb bread and broke it apart in his fingers. 'Will you come with me?'
The Willie Creek Pearl Farm was the only cultured pearling establishment around Broome which catered for tourists, doing tours morning and afternoon. Leah had already been once and found it fascinating, especially seeing the way they seeded the live oyster shells to make pearls. They had a fine showroom of locally handcrafted jewellery as well. Not that she'd bought anything. But Gareth might like to buy something for his mother.
An innocent enough outing, she decided. They would not be alone. Leah didn't want to be really alone with Gareth. Not yet. As much as she wanted him, she knew sex with Gareth would confuse her even more.
'All right,' she agreed at last.
'You had to think about it long enough,' he grumbl
ed. 'What was the problem?'
'No problem.'
'Better eat your soup, then, before it gets cold.'
Leah was only too happy to eat her soup. She was only too happy to have a whole meal to devour. Only too happy to be in a very public place where nothing could come of the thoughts running through her mind, and the unchecked desires running through her veins.
But she knew, even when the night came to a thankfully uneventful end, with Gareth amazingly not trying anything when he took her home—other than a goodnight peck—that it was probably only a matter of time before she went to bed with him.
No, not a bed, her mind amended later that night as she lay, wide awake, staring blankly up at the ceiling fan. She wanted to have him where she could see every inch of that beautiful body of his. Not between sheets. Out on the deck of The Zephyr perhaps, in the moonlight, under the stars...
CHAPTER TEN
'So WHAT have you been up to all day?' Alan asked, glancing over at Leah.
They were bumping down the dirt road which led to Gantheaume Point and the spot where Alan parked his jalopy every night. It was three-thirty in the afternoon, and a mild sea breeze was blowing.
'Oh, this and that,' she returned noncommittally, though smiling with pleasure at the memory of the day spent with Gareth.
They'd had such fun that morning out at the pearling farm. They'd driven out together in Gareth's Pajero, but joined up with a party of tourists once they got there.
Everyone had been a bit subdued to begin with, the mostly elderly group traipsing around after the man conducting the tour like chastened schoolchildren. But when Gareth had started asking questions everyone else had suddenly come to life, chatting and laughing together, taking photographs and asking even more questions.
They'd had a delightful mid-morning break of damper bread and drinks on the verandah of the owner's lovely house before strolling through the showroom where she'd turned down Gareth's offer to buy her something. He'd seemed pleased when she'd told him she wanted nothing from him but his company.
